TCBW C94

Chapter 94

In truth, the reason Suhoe contacted Dowoon was not what it might have seemed.

For several days now, he had been suffering from a feverish illness so severe that it left him nearly unable to speak.

Yet with a child in his womb, he could not recklessly take medicine, nor could he visit a hospital. There was always the risk that the child’s existence would be discovered.

The real problem was the attendants assigned to remain by his side. They were, quite literally, at their wits’ end.

With Suhoe preventing them from reporting anything to Dowoon while he lay alone in his room, groaning through the pain, they had no idea what to do.

To make matters worse, morning sickness had begun. For days on end, he had barely been able to eat or drink.

Even the scent of fruit made bile rise in his throat, and it had become routine for him to vomit everything back up—unable to keep down even a single bowl of warm stew.

Already thin, his body grew more emaciated by the day, driving those who watched over him nearly mad with worry. At times, he was so weak that even sitting up was difficult, and most of his days were spent lying down.

On the rare occasions he ventured out for a light walk, three or four guards followed him like shadows.

Though they always kept their distance—likely under Dowoon’s orders—Suhoe grew reluctant to go out once he realized that his movements caused trouble for others.

He never said it aloud, but he tried to act with as much consideration for those around him as possible.

As the number of attendants assigned to him increased day by day, he even asked the chef to prepare separate meals for them.

Thus, one day after another passed. It was true that carrying a child made his body suffer, and that he felt lonely without Dowoon, yet his days were not unbearably miserable.

If anything, as time went on, the estate became an increasingly dear place to him. Filled with the sound of the sea and the scent of peach blossoms, it felt like the ideal environment for prenatal care.

If there was one problem, it was the constant pressure from the attendants, who kept insisting that he contact Dowoon. Each time, it took considerable effort to dissuade them.

And so, on this eighth day since Dowoon had left the estate, Suhoe finally promised—having no other choice—that he would contact him himself.

‘Please do it in front of us.’

‘Pardon? Th-that would be far too embarrassing…’

‘If you don’t tell him properly again this time, we’ll have no choice but to report it ourselves. That you’ve stopped eating entirely, and that you’re growing thinner by the day!’

‘I-I’m really fine…’

‘Your fever is burning, yet you refuse to go to the hospital. You won’t take medicine either. At this rate, something truly serious could happen.’

And then, as if resolved, the man added one final remark.

‘And if something truly does happen to you, then all of us will be observing our memorial days.’

Thus, today—unable to withstand the pressure any longer—Suhoe finally picked up the phone.

“A-are you… very busy?”

The words he forced out sounded awkward, not even properly like a greeting. He half-hoped Dowoon would say he was busy and hang up.

But, strangely enough, he did not.

—It’s fine.

“But I heard you stepped out during a company dinner just now—”

—…You don’t need to worry about that. More importantly, why haven’t you been calling?

“Huh? Th-that’s because I thought you might be busy.”

—Every day, at this time. If you’re not asleep, contact me.

“…Is that really okay?”

When Suhoe failed to mention the reason he had promised to call, one of the attendants beside him grew impatient and seemed ready to speak up.

But an older colleague tapped his shoulder and shook his head.

“Don’t interrupt. His complexion’s improved, hasn’t it?”

It was true.

Just as he said, a faint flush—long unseen—had returned to Suhoe’s face.

Being overseas did not mean that Dowoon neglected domestic affairs. If anything, he drove himself harder, using the time difference—handling Seoul’s work at night and local schedules during the day.

The world did not know his true nature. People were interested only in his looks, his family background, and the glittering shell of an extreme-dominant Alpha, not in his effort.

Rather than resenting those gazes, he silently did what needed to be done, sparing no expense to reclaim Yongseong Electronics and earn recognition through sheer competence.

Yet the man who found stability through immersion in work began to change noticeably on this business trip.

At first, it was trivial.

He found himself checking his phone more often than was typical for him.

Even when it didn’t vibrate, his hand wandered to the inside pocket of his jacket. Before long, he began leaving his phone directly on the desk as he worked.

Haeeon found it odd, but Dowoon, as if he no longer cared to hide it, alternated his gaze freely between documents and his phone screen—like someone waiting anxiously for an indispensable call.

Naturally, those around him knew the call he was waiting for would be Suhoe’s.

What they could not fathom was why Dowoon was so fixated on him.

“Do you think… perhaps the CEO has genuinely fallen for Madam?”

“Secretary Kim, that’s a bit much.”

Even when such speculation arose among the secretaries, someone would inevitably dismiss it as nonsense.

Yet as it became increasingly clear that Dowoon’s sense of calm derived from work was fading, and that he regained his composure through phone calls with Suhoe, rumors began to circulate.

That Dowoon had fallen deeply for Suhoe.

And this became unmistakably evident when meetings with clients dragged on, preventing him from speaking with Suhoe for consecutive days.

On the first day—and even the second—that he missed their call, Dowoon felt only mild disappointment and a touch of irritation.

But by the third day, the fourth… as the calls that had repeated like a fixed ritual ceased, something within him began to twist.

And on the fifth day without contact from Suhoe—

Dowoon finally exploded.

It was not a loud outburst.

Like a black hole swallowing even the smallest sound, Dowoon froze the spines of his direct secretaries and accompanying staff without raising his voice once.

When he did speak, it was in an icy tone, pointing out flaws in the meeting materials.

“Manager Choi.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When was this report prepared? None of today’s situation is reflected here.”

“Well, th-that is—”

“Page five. Projected third-quarter revenue. What’s the basis for this figure?”

“Th-that’s based on last quarter’s performance and overall market growth—”

“Based on?”

“…Th-that is—”

“I didn’t set aside time to hear you stammer through a briefing.”

Whenever this happened, the employee whose materials were scrutinized would bow his head like a condemned man, cold sweat pouring down.

“I—I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t a matter of apology. I’ll ask again. Where exactly did you pull this absurd number from and dare call it a basis?”

“We will revise it again before the main meeting.”

For a full three hours, only sharp questions pierced the oppressive silence of the preliminary briefing. Everyone present felt Dowoon’s fury against their skin.

Only late that night did Dowoon finally step outside the client’s building.

It was impossible to imagine that this calm, composed man—wearing an easy expression—was the same one who had ruthlessly exposed his subordinates’ mistakes earlier.

With a perfectly neutral face and gentle tone, he accepted the clients’ courteous send-off, playing the role of a trustworthy partner to the end.

As his gaze settled on the black sedan waiting by the roadside, Haeeon, who had been standing by like a shadow, approached and opened the rear door.

Dowoon gave the executives a brief nod and entered the car without hesitation.

The vehicle glided straight toward the hotel without wandering. As the nightscape of an unfamiliar city slid past the window, Dowoon said nothing.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, but rest did not come. Behind his closed lids, only Suhoe’s face appeared.

When the car stopped before the hotel, Haeeon stepped out first and opened the door. Dowoon exited and inhaled slowly, as though savoring the night air of a foreign city.

Then, suddenly, he turned his head—as if searching for something.

His gaze drifted through empty space before locking onto a single point in the crowd. Sensing an unfamiliar current in his motionless profile, Haeeon spoke cautiously.

“CEO?”

But his voice did not reach him. All of Dowoon’s senses were focused on the silhouette of one person.

Just as he had once been drawn by a familiar scent to find Suhoe at the previous company, he now reached out unconsciously—on a dazzling foreign street, in a city where Suhoe could not possibly be.

Without hesitation, he seized the arm of an East Asian man whose figure resembled Suhoe’s.

“Suhoe.”

And the instant he felt that the texture beneath his hand differed from the Suhoe in his memory, he frowned—before even seeing the man’s face.

The illusion shattered in an instant.

He released the stranger as if he had touched filth, turned on his heel, and walked away in the opposite direction.

And at the realization that he had lost his reason and grabbed a stranger’s arm over nothing more than a familiar silhouette, Dowoon lost a composure he had never once lost in decades.