TCBW C91

Chapter 91

Of course, such thoughts gradually faded as the seductive aroma of food began to urge his hungry body on.

The louder his internal clock clamored for survival, the faster it drowned out everything else.

Even so, Suhoe waited for Dowoon to wake.

He held his breath, remaining still in Dowoon’s arms, hesitating to disturb the deep sleep he seemed unable to escape.

No matter how much time passed—no matter how insistently Suhoe’s stomach growled—Dowoon remained sound asleep, utterly unresponsive.

In the end, after a long moment of hesitation, Suhoe carefully eased Dowoon’s arm away and slipped down from the bed.

Hunger was instinctive, impossible to ignore. He placed his feet silently on the floor and glanced back at Dowoon once more.

Still asleep.

It was a side of Dowoon he had never seen before—so defenseless that it felt unfamiliar, almost unreal.

Had he ever slept this deeply?

Unable to take his eyes off Dowoon’s sleeping face, Suhoe groped along the floor with his foot, searching for his slippers.

“Ah!”

A sharp pain stabbed into his sole, drawing a small cry from his lips.

Lowering his gaze, he saw what lay there—an Omega pregnancy test, the kind he had seen every day at the hospital.

Why would something like this be here?

Rubbing his eyes, he picked it up. It wasn’t a mistake. He had used this exact kind throughout his hospitalization; there was no way he could be mistaken.

“That looks like you slept well.”

Dowoon’s low, steady voice sounded behind him at that very moment.

Startled, Suhoe instinctively hid the test behind his back and turned to face Dowoon, now awake.

Dowoon was already leaning back against the headboard.

“D–did you sleep well?”

“I did.”

An unbearably awkward silence followed.

Suhoe edged sideways, intending to slip out of the room, but stopped when Dowoon gestured for him to come closer.

Still hiding the test behind his back, he reluctantly took one step at a time toward him.

“About yesterday—”

“A–ah! I—I’m hungry!”

The moment Dowoon mentioned yesterday, Suhoe spun around and bolted from the room, clearly unwilling to continue that conversation.

“I’ll—I’ll be in the dining room first!”

He hurried off down the corridor.

His foot had been pricked by a needle just moments ago, but Suhoe couldn’t spare a thought for the pain.

He had already forgotten about hunger. All he could think about was getting away from Dowoon—putting distance between them as quickly as possible.

Walking and walking in that daze, he realized too late that he had reached somewhere unfamiliar instead of the dining room.

Looking around, it seemed to be a greenhouse.

Only after wandering about the empty space for a while did Suhoe lower his head and look at his injured foot.

It was bleeding, but the wound was shallow.

And only then did he finally look at what he was still clutching tightly in his hand.

Two lines.

“…Ah.”

A small sound escaped him before he could stop it.

At the hospital, the tests had all been negative—but he had already known, from the dream, that the child was there.

Seeing it confirmed with his own eyes filled him with a surge of emotion far stronger than even the taemong had brought.

Without realizing it, Suhoe cradled his still-flat stomach with both hands.

“So there really is…”

He wanted—desperately—to tell Dowoon, to tell everyone, to share this joy at once.

But that impulse was halted by the solemn warning from his dream the night before.

Hide the child’s existence. Tell no one until the birth.

Though he didn’t know the reason, the sensation lingered—that the warning was meant to protect him, that it would never bring him harm.

So Suhoe chose to obey the voice from the dream.

If you become pregnant now, it will be dangerous.

Remembering Professor Eun’s concern as well, it seemed wiser not to say anything yet.

He realized, bitterly, how contradictory his situation had become.

This was the child he had longed for so dearly—yet he couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t receive congratulations or blessings.

He had finally reached the last stage of his calling, and yet even that truth had to remain hidden.

He didn’t know how long he would have to keep this secret.

The thought made his chest feel tight.

If only he could tell Dowoon, even just him—perhaps it would ease this tangled storm of emotions.

I’ll be gentle, since you haven’t fully recovered yet.

…The memory of Dowoon from the night before surfaced unbidden.

Suhoe’s face flushed so hot it felt ready to burst; he shook his head hard, banishing the mortifying recollection.

It was a dream where even a god had appeared—surely it carried deep meaning.

Reaching that conclusion, he steeled his resolve to keep this secret from everyone and began retracing his steps.

Come to think of it—why had he acted that way yesterday?

Because he couldn’t remember the latter half of the dream, even Suhoe himself didn’t understand why he had behaved as he did.

The more he thought about it, the more it felt like something he would only come to regret.

When he finally found his way back and timidly entered the dining room, Dowoon had not arrived yet.

Only a bowl of sweet meat stew, steam rising gently from its surface, awaited him on the table.

The rich, mellow aroma cleared his muddled thoughts as though mist were lifting.

In their place remained only hunger—the insistent chime of his internal clock, loud and unavoidable.

As if entranced, he hurried to his seat and lifted a spoon.

Just as he was about to bring a tender piece of meat to his lips—

One of the attendants standing near the entrance bowed deeply toward the doorway.

“You’ve arrived.”

“Kh—!”

Suhoe didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Dowoon.

He hadn’t expected him to arrive so soon. The surprise made Suhoe choke, coughing harshly.

The heavy sound of footsteps echoed against the marble floor, and his grip slackened without him noticing.

Clink.

The silver spoon struck the white porcelain bowl with a sharp sound.

Unbothered by Suhoe’s fluster, Dowoon took his seat calmly.

With a small gesture, he had a newspaper placed into his hand.

The staff moved in perfect coordination to prepare coffee. As Dowoon opened the paper, the sound of liquid filling the cup lingered softly in the background.

While Dowoon sipped his coffee at leisure, Suhoe hurriedly picked up the spoon he’d dropped, at a complete loss.

Not knowing where to look, he glanced at the table, then quickly lowered his head again.

He tried to read Dowoon’s mood, only to avert his gaze instantly, afraid their eyes might meet.

His eyes darted restlessly; his fingertips hovered in the air, damp with cold sweat. His toes wriggled against the floor.

Without lifting his eyes from the newspaper, Dowoon spoke indifferently.

“Go on. Eat.”

“I—I’m done. I’ll excuse myself.”

Leaving the untouched stew before him, Suhoe cautiously began to rise.

“Sit.”

The firmness of the command froze him in place.

Without realizing it, Suhoe slowly sank back into his chair.

Before Dowoon could begin his questioning in earnest, Suhoe hurried to speak first, face flushed.

“About yesterday… I don’t even know why I acted like that.”

Dowoon answered not with words, but with a gesture.

At once, all the attendants withdrew. The aides standing quietly nearby exited the dining room as well, until only the two of them remained in the vast space.

“I think… I must’ve been out of my mind. I’m sorry.”

“Out of your mind?” Dowoon asked flatly. “Do you really mean that?”

Suhoe’s face reddened further.

“…I don’t know.”

Under the weight of Dowoon’s cold, impersonal questions, Suhoe finally bowed his head deeply.

“You don’t know? Whenever it’s inconvenient, you always dodge it like that.”

“That’s not—”

“Then explain it properly. What exactly happened?”

Explain?

All the heat from last night had long since vanished, and Dowoon’s voice—sharp, pressing, like an interrogation—made a lump of resentment rise to Suhoe’s throat.

Dowoon from last night and Dowoon now felt like two completely different people.

And he hated not knowing why he himself had acted that way, what kind of dream had driven him.

The questioning continued, relentless—and in the end, tears welled in Suhoe’s eyes.

“…Why are you being so cold?”

“…What?”

At last, Suhoe spoke, his voice heavy with hurt.

“I told you I like you. So couldn’t you at least talk to me a little more gently?”

“…You said you were out of your mind.”

“It’s my feelings.”

“……”

“I told you during your rut, but you don’t remember… I planned never to say it again. But yesterday—I don’t know why, I just…”

Almost pleading, he added softly,

“I’m not asking you to accept my feelings. I just want you to know that they’re there… so please, don’t be so cold to me.”

Tears pooled in his wide eyes.

Seeing him like that, Dowoon’s expression shifted—an unfamiliar trace of discomfort crossing his face.