NLFSD Chapter 93

Chapter 93

“Um, Deputy Min.”

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t mind… would you please catch the bouquet at my wedding?”

“…Me? Really?”

Min blinked, startled.

“Yes. I’d like for you to have it.”

“Well… why not! I’d be honored.”

She hesitated only briefly before grinning. The office couple she had quietly championed was actually making it — and now she was being asked to stand at the end of the aisle for the bouquet? There was no reason to refuse. More than that, she genuinely wanted something good for Jiwoon.

Just then, across the cafeteria, a cluster of staff approached the counter and murmured, stealing glances toward Jiwoon. Their voices dropped low, but the intent was obvious.

“He really is an Omega.”

“Look at those Omega eyes — perfect for catching an Alpha.”

“See those lips? The angle of those eyes? Total seduction.”

They smirked, voices crude. Then one voice muttered about walking over “to see him up close,” as though they were talking about an exhibit, not a colleague.

“Hey! What exactly did you just say? The carols are loud, I couldn’t quite hear.”

Deputy Min’s bark silenced them. They startled, gesturing defensively.

“N‑nothing at all.”

“Really? Then were you staring at this table? Window seats are over there. Move.”

“…R‑right.”

Eyes glowering, Min’s presence cowed them into retreat.

“…Deputy Min.”

“People like that, best shut them up hard,” she growled.

“…It’s fine. It can’t be helped.”

“Can’t be helped? They should be taught a lesson.”

“…Fundamentally, it won’t stop. Until we formally announce we’re married, rumors will follow us like shadows.”

Jiwoon let out a small, tired sigh. Compared to his current happiness, it was a small trouble — but other people’s stares still stung. He rose, deciding to bury it for now, and returned to the office.

That evening, even at home, his chest carried the weight of worry. Slouched on the sofa, nibbling fruit Taecheon had cut for him, Jiwoon sighed without noticing.

“Haaah…”

Beside him, Taecheon froze in the middle of massaging his arms and legs, having been fussing over him with fruit, drinks, and every kind of service.

“What’s wrong? Something troubling you?”

“N‑no. Just… wondering if Mango’s alright.”

A clumsy lie. In answer, Taecheon slid behind and drew him into a gentle embrace, settling one hand across Jiwoon’s belly. Still in early term, his stomach was flat, showing no sign of pregnancy at all.

“They’re doing fine.”

“…How do you know?”

“I know.”

Jiwoon laughed at the confidence. Truth was, their baby flourished thanks to Taecheon’s regular Alpha pheromone envelopments at night, stabilizing Jiwoon’s body and child. He could feel it too — Mango was loved by both parents, growing steadily in that balanced chemistry.

“You heard at the night clinic yesterday, didn’t you? Mango is developing fine.”

“True. They said progress is healthy, nothing to worry about.”

“Then don’t sigh.”

His hand stroked Jiwoon’s abdomen with careful tenderness. The comfort lulled Jiwoon, eyelids heavy. Nodding off, he was quietly swept up in Taecheon’s arms and laid to bed.

As his forehead was kissed, Jiwoon murmured half‑asleep:

“…More… kiss me.”

Amused, Taecheon chuckled.

“As many as you ask for.”

He pressed kisses to brow, cheeks, nose tip — each one lifting Jiwoon’s lips into a drowsy smile. Then he cradled his face and captured his lips with a deep kiss. Heat and softness mingled between them, breaths shortening.

“…Mmh.”

The kiss deepened, Jiwoon’s arms pulling around Taecheon’s neck. Pheromones stirred thick in the room. The hunger in each touch grew urgent.

“…Doctor said nothing vigorous until the second trimester,” Taecheon whispered, breaking first. He shifted back, but Jiwoon clung.

“Just a little more.”

“If we push it, I won’t stop myself.”

“…Then… we can, just not— you know.”

“…Not what, exactly?” he teased in his ear.

“Y‑you know…!”

Shame and want painted Jiwoon’s cheeks crimson.

“I’ll restrain myself… barely.”

With a crooked smile, Taecheon lay beside him, facing him again. Instantly, their lips found each other once more.

The next day on their way to work, Jiwoon spoke up suddenly.

“Let me off here. I’ll take the bus.”

“You don’t need to anymore. Come with me.”

“No. Really, I…”

“You’re not riding public transport, not while carrying. Forget it.”

“But if we arrive together, the staff—”

“…What about them?”

Too late — the words slipped out. Awkwardly, Jiwoon forced a grin. Better not let Taecheon know about the gossip swirling at work.

“…Nothing.”

“What’s troubling you?”

“No, just—let’s keep driving.”

His evasions only sharpened Taecheon’s suspicion. Even when they parked, Jiwoon dragged his feet, hesitant, reserved.

“Hurry. We’ll miss the elevator.”

“…Could I ride separately?”

“No point. Come.”

And so into the elevator he went. Unfortunately, staff followed at the last moment.

“Good morning, Director.”

“…Good morning.”

But every darting glance turned to Jiwoon. One even flinched in surprise, then cut him side‑eye. Taecheon noticed instantly. Jiwoon shifted, shrinking away toward the corner, trying to distance himself.

So. Rumors are out.

By the time they stepped into the office corridor, whispers were audible.

Well, aren’t they bold now. Coming in together.

Guess he bagged himself an Alpha prize. What’s his secret?

Secret? Pure persistence, what else…

The moment Taecheon’s cool eyes raked the hall, silence fell like ice. But Jiwoon had already edged away, widening their distance.

Rotten gossip. And about us.

Suppressing a sigh, Taecheon walked into his office without a word. Still, he paused.

“Have a good day, Assistant Lee.”

Jiwoon startled, then nodded with extra formality.

“…Yes, Director. You as well.”

Back at his desk, surrounded by whispers, his mood soured. Still — for Mango, for Taecheon — he gripped his stomach with a small smile. I’ll endure it.

“Everyone’s attending the year‑end party in two days, right?” asked the department secretary, waving bound files.

It was tradition: “Christmas and New Year are for family” was Sehwa Hotel’s creed. So employees held the company’s Year‑End Banquet a little early, in the last week of December. At Sehwa Seoul Hotel’s banquet hall, champagne and buffet galore.

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Me too.”

“Assistant Lee?”

“…I’ll go.”

Jiwoon wanted to thank his colleagues, show his face, and reward himself. No demon team leader this year, and Sehwa’s buffet is delicious…

So two days later, gathered in the grand hall, staff chatted around round tables in cheerful groups. The buffet was expansive, attendance enormous.

Even amidst laughter, Jiwoon could sense glances from afar — eyes watching, some pretending to pass near his table, observing him like an oddity. It grated, but tonight was for celebration. He refused to taint the new year with bitterness.