TCBW C79

Chapter 79

“Please, calm down. We tested the bodily fluids afterward—there are no traces of the drug left in his blood. It seems to have been a one-time reaction. However…”

“However?”

“Well, this may not be something of immediate concern, but… if Madam wakes up, could you inform me right away?”

“…Pardon? Ah—yes, of course.”

Haeon frowned slightly at Professor Eun’s hesitant tone, as if wondering why such a trivial thing mattered, but he nodded nonetheless. He remembered that moment clearly now—how he had been the first to inform her the moment Suhoe awoke.

When Professor Eun arrived, she had gone straight to Suhoe’s bedside, performing what looked like a discreet examination. Haeon had pretended not to notice but couldn’t help being curious about the urgency behind her earlier request.

Once she left, a line of doctors came in one after another, like ants following a trail, to check on Suhoe’s condition.

The consensus was unanimous: his body was weak—fragile enough to require at least another month of hospitalization—but none of the injuries were life-threatening. With rest, they said, he would recover.

Relieved, Haeon was about to enter the room when Professor Eun reappeared, saying she had one last test to conduct. She requested a moment alone with the patient.

Haeon hesitated. He told her to go ahead—but once the door closed, unease gnawed at him again.

Just in case what I know might help, he told himself.

He leaned closer, pressing an ear to the door.

“What are you doing.”

“Ah—ha, ha…”

He barely got the words out before a strong hand gripped the back of his neck. Dowoon had arrived.

His eyes were sunken with fatigue, dark shadows smudged beneath them. It was clear he hadn’t slept—or eaten—properly in days.

“Ah, ha… it’s just—”

“Don’t. Eavesdropping doesn’t suit you.”

“Ha-ha… yes, sir. Then let me at least guide you to the lounge.”

“No. I’ll stay right here.”

Haeon studied him quietly. Dowoon looked worn down, thinner than before. But as always, he was immaculately dressed—his tailored suit sharp, shoes polished to a mirror’s shine, hair perfectly combed.

Anyone unfamiliar with him would never have guessed how unsteady he was beneath the surface.

He exhaled heavily, leaning back against the wall. It wasn’t exhaustion that trembled through that breath—it was restraint.

If not for Madam, he wouldn’t have fallen this far, Haeon thought.

And yet… he’ll have to let her go eventually. What does he plan to do?

Dowoon must have sensed the unspoken gaze because he turned slightly, his voice quiet but crisp with authority.

“The Saeman Group matter will wait until I return from the trip. I’ll have to meet Chairman Han directly, so make preparations.”

“Preparations, sir?”

“Yes.”

His tone left no room for delay. Haeon straightened immediately, bowing slightly as he accepted the USB drive Dowoon handed him.

Moments later, Professor Eun emerged.

“CEO, you’ve arrived. You may go in now.”

Dowoon’s jaw tensed. For all his composure, the thought of facing Suhoe filled him with an uncharacteristic fear.

He didn’t know what had happened during his rut—what he might have done—but the thought that Suhoe might now hate him was unbearable.

Pain began to crawl up from his left wrist, spreading to his shoulder. He slipped off his watch as he entered the room.

Suhoe sat by the window, staring outside.

“……”

“…Madam! The CEO is here!”

The tension was suffocating. Haeon’s cheerful voice broke the silence as he stepped forward deliberately.

Dowoon couldn’t look away from the back of Suhoe’s head—his stillness, his quiet.

Then, suddenly—

“Ah! Dowoon-ssi!”

When Suhoe turned, smiling faintly, Dowoon’s face eased in relief. His dark hair was tied neatly to one side, gauze covering one eye, but his expression was bright.

“…Have you eaten?”

“Yes! I heard you sent breakfast for me this morning.”

Dowoon’s question was awkward, almost clumsy. Suhoe’s smile softened it, light and sincere—like a gentle assurance that the wounds between them hadn’t cut too deep.

Outside the room, Professor Eun stood by the door, pretending to check her notes but quietly listening, gauging how much she could hear.

Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she’d had with Suhoe earlier.

“You’re asking if there was… knotting?”

Suhoe had blinked, lost in thought, before slowly lifting his gaze to her.

“Yes. If there was knotting during the rut, please tell me.”

“Why…?”

“Because, Madam, upon examination, your body has sustained significant internal damage. That’s why I must ask.”

Professor Eun’s tone had remained professional, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

Suhoe swallowed dryly, unsettled by the doctor’s gravity.

“What… did Dowoon-ssi say?”

“The CEO wouldn’t know. He remembers nothing from that period.”

Silence.

“So I’ll be direct,” Eun continued softly. “At this rate, it would be dangerous for you to become pregnant. If you try now… your body won’t endure it.”

“Professor Eun?”

“I’ll help you, discreetly.”

Her voice was low, firm with resolve.

“I understand the situation between you two. Your condition is poor, but if you agree, I can provide medication—quietly. The rut ended some time ago, but your body may still respond. If you refuse the drug, there is another way—exposure to the pheromones of another extreme-type Alpha. It’s risky, but possible.”

It was an unethical suggestion—one a doctor shouldn’t have made.

And Suhoe knew it.

“Professor Eun, thank you. Truly. But… I’m fine.”

He raised his head, a faint but steady smile curving his lips.

“Because there wasn’t any knotting this time.”

His tone was calm, but final.

Professor Eun had no response. She knew it was possible—that even during an Alpha’s uncontrolled rut, knotting could fail to occur—but still, doubt flickered in her eyes.

After rain, the sky always clears.

Under the soft afternoon light, Professor Eun sat with her colleague Myunghoon in the hospital courtyard, reviewing Suhoe’s medical charts.

Myunghoon flipped through a file containing ultrasound scans, his expression indifferent.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing. And honestly, given her condition, it’s good that there’s nothing visible. Why are you so obsessed with checking again and again? This Omega belongs to the CEO of Yongseong Finance—why’s a salaried doctor sticking her neck into a rich man’s love life?”

He swirled his paper cup lazily, his tone half-teasing, half-annoyed.

He already knew Eun had been visiting Suhoe’s room every morning, running silent pregnancy tests, unable to let the matter go.

“He’s not just a lover,” Eun murmured.

She took the file from his hands, ignoring his careless remark, and stood. Her thoughts drifted back to that night—the night Suhoe was brought in—and to her earlier conversation with Dowoon.

“I’ve seen a case like this before,” she had said gently then. “If conception occurs while the womb is in a weakened state, the pregnancy often doesn’t last. In severe cases, it can destroy the mother’s body.”

Dowoon hadn’t spoken. He had only taken Suhoe’s hand—the one attached to the IV—and pressed it to his cheek. His broad shoulders had trembled faintly, his head bowed.

When he finally did speak, his voice had cracked with restrained pain.

“…When you say ‘destroyed,’ do you mean… infertility?”

Eun had injected a sedative into his arm then, to quiet the storm of pheromones rolling off him, before answering quietly.

“Yes. That’s what I mean. So please, tell me honestly—was there knotting?”

“…I don’t remember. I’ll have to ask him when he wakes.”

He had looked exhausted, drenched in sweat, his tie undone, hair disheveled. Yet his voice—low and sunken—had carried the weight of something deeper than fatigue.

Eun had watched him, thinking, So this is what it looks like when a man’s heart breaks.

The great Lee Dowoon—brought to his knees, wishing he could trade places with the fragile Omega lying unconscious in the bed.

That image of him—silent, desperate, and utterly human—was something Professor Eun knew she would never forget.