TCBW C27

Chapter 27

Six days ago, on the day at the Balhwa‑dong residence when he had, uncharacteristically, come out a little later than usual, Haeeon had felt not only a twinge of anxiety but also a flicker of anticipation.

Could there really be a change big enough to shake my robot‑like boss?

But that fleeting illusion shattered almost as soon as the car set off.

Dowoon immediately instructed him to arrange an appointment with Han Sara, an executive of the Saeman Group, and when an opening came up that very evening, he actually went to meet her.

Not only that, but after his dinner with Sara, he returned straight to the office to work again.

A day exactly like those before bringing Suhoe home.

Now, coupled with what Dowoon had just said, Haeeon felt that even looking back on why he had expected anything—and why he had been anxious—was meaningless.

When Suhoe woke from shallow sleep, the world outside the window was already sunk in deep darkness.

He seemed to have grown accustomed now to dozing and waking on the sofa, and as he pushed himself upright, he glanced at the clock on the wall. The hour hand was well past midnight.

In the shrine, where days began early, this would have been long past the time one fell fast asleep. But since coming to live in the Balhwa‑dong house, it had become normal for him to be awake at this hour.

He had chosen, in order to wait for Dowoon—who might come home on any random day of the week—to live in a blurred rhythm where day and night meant less.

He had decided to sit all day on the living‑room sofa, barely moving, keeping up an indefinite vigil so he could welcome him home at any time.

At the same time, though, he questioned whether it was right to spend the hours when Dowoon was away doing nothing at all. Having always been told about his own usefulness and utility, sheer idling was an oppressive thing.

That doubt gradually turned into wondering if there was something he could do.

The more he watched Kim work busily every day, the more the thought deepened.

By today, he had gone so far as to think that maybe even during the daylight hours when Dowoon was absent, he could find some work outside.

When Dowoon-ssi comes home this time, should I bring it up?

He had no idea what the reaction might be, but he thought that with enough explanation he might get permission.

Just then, from the direction of the entryway, came the click of the door. Suhoe started in surprise and rose from the sofa.

Huh? At this hour? Who…?

When the hallway light clicked on, he began to guess at the visitor’s identity, stepping carefully toward the corridor.

Kim had never come at such a late hour.

Then… could it be Dowoon-ssi?

He certainly hoped so, but he didn’t want to be disappointed after raising his hopes for nothing, so what came out of his mouth was an absentminded call for someone else:

“Secretary Choi?”

But there was no reply.

“Secretary Choi!”

Calling again, more firmly, got him no answer—the only sound was of heavy footsteps coming closer.

A twinge of unease traced down his spine, and he hesitated mid‑stride toward the door.

It couldn’t be… a ghost?

He didn’t want to act like a fool trembling at shadows again, as he had the day he’d mistaken Professor Eun for one. Shaking his head briskly to scatter the thought, he moved on and came to stand at the end of the hall.

There stood a man, much larger than Haeeon.

“Oh?”

It was Dowoon.

“Looks like someone’s looking for you.”

Six days—no, since it was past midnight, perhaps seven. A whole week since they’d last met. Seeing her husband after so long, Suhoe found his own expression going dazed without him meaning to.

Coming into the hall after Dowoon, Haeeon smiled awkwardly in greeting.

“Madam, have you been well?”

But Suhoe, frozen, could hardly manage a proper greeting.

Dowoon brushed past him without a word and started up the stairs.

“Ah—hello. W‑wait, Dowoon-ssi.”

As Dowoon’s footsteps receded toward the second‑floor stairs, Suhoe dipped a bow to Haeeon and then turned to hurry after him.

Haeeon watched him rush after Dowoon, then carefully set the president’s luggage on the sofa and left the house.

“You’re back?—ah.”

Crossing the bedroom in quick steps and stepping into the dressing room, Suhoe was met by the sight of Dowoon removing his shirt, and he turned away at once.

He couldn’t face so calmly those strong shoulders and waist, the hard lines of a body clearly trained.

Even having shared a night with him, seeing his body bare was hard.

Fanning his face to chase away the heat that had rushed into it, Suhoe decided to steady himself with mundane conversation.

“I… heard you couldn’t come because you’ve been so busy with work.”

Dowoon watched the back turned to him. Red‑tinged ears, a posture frozen by startlement… it was almost amusing that just seeing his bare torso could make him lock up this stiffly.

“Who told you that?”

“M‑Mr. Kim.”

At that reply, Dowoon’s gaze chilled.

“So he’s still working here.”

“He’s very good. Meals are always delicious… he works so quickly that when I try to help, I just get in the way.”

Not hearing Dowoon’s muttered aside, Suhoe went on talking gladly, happy for the rare conversation.

“You help him?”

“Yes, I try to, but he doesn’t let me.”

But to Dowoon, the words were less welcome.

“Don’t waste your time.”

“What?”

“Do your job. I put someone here so you wouldn’t have to trouble yourself with anything else.”

“But…”

Striding past him in a few long steps to sit on the bed, Dowoon shot him a look sharp enough to pin him.

“…Don’t confuse what your job is.”

Glancing toward him without thinking, Suhoe caught sight of the open front of the gown across his chest, and turned away again.

“I haven’t forgotten, or confused it.”

“Then why are you wasting your time?”

“I just… wanted to work at something.”

“Do you need money for something?”

He shook his head.

“No. Just… sitting all day in an empty house, I start to feel like I’m not even in my own skin.”

He trailed off, and though the words were indistinct, the bits he caught weren’t enough for Dowoon to guess his thoughts, so he frowned.

Still turned away, Suhoe didn’t see his expression and went on.

“Since coming here, I’ve been in the house all day. And if you only come twice a week from now on… I want to do something rather than just wait for you.”

“Why?”

“…I feel at ease only when I’m doing something, only when I’m acknowledged as useful.”

Useful. A calling…

Dowoon thought he seemed overly fixated on such concepts.

“So you worked in the shrine? I’m told you had no special skills—what did you do?”

“It wasn’t really work, but living on Mount Unbang I spent my days at rites and ceremonies, and helping prepare food for guests.”

“Then you can spend your time here holding whatever rites you want. Whether here or there, you’re still the aegbaji.”

It wasn’t untrue, but it rubbed him the wrong way, and his mouth pushed into a pout.

“I have no spiritual power, so I can’t perform rites myself. And that’s separate—I just want to work. Please let me.”

“‘Let you’? You can’t even control your pheromones and have no skills—what could you possibly do?”

Even without that specific jibe, Dowoon’s words were always cutting.

“I can learn. Even difficult things. I think it’s better to start learning now.”

If the shrine’s hired hands were ones who would coat a finely honed blade with scented poison and present it with a polite smile, Dowoon was the sort who would simply plunge the knife in without disguise, digging an existing wound deeper.

“Someday the contract between us will end, and I’ll be on my own. Controlling my pheromones will be hard, yes, but I have the medicine from Professor Eun.”

He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity.

After barely a week, to talk about going out to work?

Dowoon watched him with incredulous eyes, suspecting he must have been thinking hard while he was away.

Without the least inclination to meet his gaze, tense, that was all this omega could do—until Dowoon seized his wrist roughly and flung him onto the bed without ceremony.

“Ah—!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he climbed onto the narrow body, pinning his arms above his head so he couldn’t move.

“Finish your contract with me first. Don’t think about anything else until then.”

“B‑but even if we conceived immediately, that’s ten months… Until then, just waiting for you every day is—mmph.”

Reaching to silence the chattering mouth, Dowoon abruptly seemed to think better of it, and instead caught him by the waist, hauling him bodily up toward him.