Divorce Contract C106

Chapter 106

Watching Go Igyeol’s flustered reaction, Yoon Jaeseon thought, Of course. He urged Igyeol to take his time, to read the documents carefully, but Igyeol shook his head, insisting there was no need. Even if the contents held clauses disadvantageous to him, it didn’t matter. The only part that mattered to him was custody.

“Still, don’t you think you should at least understand the overall content…?”

“It’s fine.”

“In that case, I’ll deliver them to the Executive Director as they are.”

Suppressing the heaviness in his chest, Jaeseon gathered up the papers. As he rose, his eyes fell—almost involuntarily—on the pale smudge across Igyeol’s shoulder, then drifted past him toward the nursery behind. Noticing his gaze, Igyeol spoke quietly.

“The baby was discharged safely. We brought him home without trouble. And… please thank the Executive Director for me. I didn’t know, but I heard he was the one who arranged it so I could stay here with my aunt. I’m grateful.”

He lowered his head slowly. Though Jaeseon had not been the one who prepared all this for him, he bowed in return. And yet—Igyeol had changed the way he addressed Seo Dohyeon. The crack of it showed faintly across Jaeseon’s smiling face. He thought of his superior, who had been drowning in alcohol for days, and raised his head with effort.

“Yes, I’ll pass it on.”

“Yes.”

“You may already know this, but you’ll need to be present when the documents are filed. The Executive Director couldn’t come today due to a personal matter—he may come tomorrow…”

“Just let me know the time, and I’ll be ready.”

Igyeol replied with a small, awkward smile, while Jaeseon stumbled uncharacteristically over his words. When Igyeol’s gaze dropped to the floor, Jaeseon turned away.

“If there’s anything you need, or if you feel any discomfort, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“I will.”

Jaeseon heard the reply, but he was certain Igyeol would never call first. Slipping back into his shoes, neatly placed at the entry, he bowed once more. Igyeol bowed deeply in return.

“Thank you for everything until now.”

“…I’ve done nothing. If anything, I owe you an apology.”

Jaeseon’s mind flickered back to that day—the day they had wrapped Igyeol’s belly in secrecy, bringing along even a makeup artist, hiding everything away while he himself stood bewildered. He didn’t know why the memory came now. He bowed with a somber expression. He wanted to apologize outright, but feared reopening old wounds.

“…I am sorry.”

The subdued apology hung in the air. Igyeol stood still for a long moment before answering, his words slow, deliberate.

“I… am fine. I’ll be better, little by little. So you needn’t carry so much guilt.”

Not even knowing what exactly Jaeseon was apologizing for, Igyeol met him with kindness, forgiving him. He was fine. He would be fine.

Jaeseon turned away, face heavy with mixed feelings. Outside, he shut the door firmly against the draft and stood there a long while, unable to leave. He had always known Igyeol was good, but never had it struck him so deeply. A restless bitterness gnawed at him. Why, of all people, had such things happened to Go Igyeol? He found himself, absurdly, railing against the heavens.

Rumors began to circulate through the stock market grapevine. Whispers of discord between the couple, whispers that even Go Igyeol’s childbirth was uncertain—did he miscarry, did he give birth, was the baby premature and lost? Speculation spread like wildfire, spoken as fact on people’s tongues.

Seo Dohyeon refused all interviews, shut down articles, abandoned his plan of staying at the hotel, and instead cloistered himself in their newlywed home. The fury of Seo Jeongjae pierced the skies, but even repeated demands to return to the main house went ignored. Behind the high walls of the solitary home, once bright, the air grew heavy, oppressive. Sunlight poured through the great windows of the living room, but it brought no warmth; the house was cold, bleak, and lifeless.

Once, it had been the house where he had trapped Go Igyeol. Now, with just one person gone, it seemed hollow, dark, stripped of all light. His eyes themselves must have changed—for once bright, the rooms now looked dim, like the sun itself had fled. Lifting the bottle in his hand, Dohyeon drank deeply, and though the sky outside was clear, cloudless, he told himself the day was overcast.

He could not remain sober. Though he knew Yoon Jaeseon would scold him again, he could not set the bottle down. Disheveled, he sat staring at nothing. Without drink, he heard phantom echoes of Igyeol’s voice; heard him sobbing somewhere in the house. Searching for the sound, he would always end up with the bottle in his hand. And once the intoxication set in, Igyeol’s image would materialize before him.

Today, Igyeol did not play long at hide-and-seek. He stood in the center of the living room, tears streaming down his small face, lips trembling as he pleaded—why he had to leave, why he had no choice. Dohyeon rubbed damp lips with the back of his hand, whispering hoarsely—

‘Seo Dohyeon-ssi, the baby—’

“I know. I know he’s mine.”

But if the reply reached him, Igyeol did not show it. He only wept harder, trembling. Dohyeon staggered toward him, face twisting at the sight of his fear. He wanted to soothe him, but he could not bring himself to touch. Even if he said now that he believed, Igyeol—trapped in the past—would not hear it. Tears gathered heavy in his eyes and fell.

“Igyeol-ah…”

The hand he reached out, trembling, brushed his cheek—and the vision dissolved into mist, leaving him clutching at empty air. His fingers shook.

“…Ha.”

He could not stay sane. Without drink, there were only voices; with drink, he saw him. And so he drank, obsessively, relentlessly. Following the phantom Igyeol through the house, night bled into dawn. Now he appeared again, seated silently by the window, arms wrapped around himself as though to comfort the child that had once grown inside him, eyes fixed out into the void. His lips, chapped and pale, parted on a faint sigh. Dohyeon glanced toward the garden, once verdant, now barren, and thought bleakly that it was a mercy Igyeol had known it only when it was green.

“…Fuck.”

He could not think straight. Raising the bottle again, he poured the liquor down his throat, swiping irritably at the trickle down his chin. Through blurred sight, he saw Jaeseon crossing the garden, his face clouded. The sight dragged Dohyeon into a dizzying plunge, the ground giving way beneath him. His vision darkened. By the time the door opened and Jaeseon entered, Dohyeon stood like a statue in the middle of the living room, and Jaeseon, startled, could only sigh heavily.

“Good evening, sir.”

He was a wreck. Jaeseon had never seen him like this. His hair hung limp, his shirt was half-unbuttoned, and his hand clawed at the air as though catching something unseen. Calmly, Jaeseon walked over and took the bottle from him. Dohyeon let his hand fall, brushing hair from his brow.

“Drinking the moment you wake?”

“Secretary Yoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve just come from Go Igyeol.”

Though his appearance was disordered, his tone remained as measured as ever, though laced with urgency.

“Yes. I saw him.”

“…How is he? Is he well?”

“If you mean compared to you, then yes. Very well.”

“…Good.”

Dohyeon pressed his bloodshot eyes, sighing. The stench of alcohol rolled heavily in the air. Though Jaeseon had not drunk a drop, he felt intoxicated by it.

“Why are you doing this? It’s only been days…”

“And what would you know, when you don’t even have a lover.”

“I have. I did. When I broke up with the person I loved more than myself, it felt like the world was ending. But it didn’t. I know that much.”

Dohyeon sneered, dismissing him. But Jaeseon only smiled faintly.

“…It doesn’t end? Truly?”

His voice trembled at the end. He stared at Jaeseon with hollow eyes. Jaeseon caught him as he swayed and guided him to the dining table. Pulling out a chair, he seated him, then rummaged through the cupboards—now more familiar than his own home—searching for honey.

“It doesn’t. What was worse was that the same days kept repeating. That was its own kind of hell. But time passed, and even that I grew used to.”

“……”

“You can wallow like this because you’re the Executive Director. I was just an employee. I didn’t even have the luxury of drowning in drink.”

“…So did you forget? How did you?”

Jaeseon paused, spoon stilling as he stirred honey into tepid water. He shook his head faintly.

“I didn’t. Even now, every day, I let a little more go. Only as much as I can bear.”

“…And what if I can’t let go at all? I can’t. I can’t let Go Igyeol go.”