Divorce Contract C110

Chapter 110

Seo Dohyeon, who had been listening half-heartedly to Seo Jeongjae’s harsh words, suddenly grew grave. Aside from that single time when he had misunderstood Go Igyeol, he had believed all throughout their marriage that they were living as an ideal couple. Yet realizing, over and over, that such a thought was nothing but his own illusion made something within him collapse each time.

“A man like you deserves to suffer for once. I never thought you would learn empathy in this way, but at least now you understand how precious Igyeol truly was to you. Perhaps this much punishment is fitting enough.”

Declaring there was nothing more to say, Seo Jeongjae sprang up and turned sharply on his heel. As he left, he grumbled about turning on some lights, saying it was pitch-dark and he could barely see. Yoon Jaeseon, in his wake, bowed repeatedly, promising that he would keep the house brightly lit, promising he would properly attend to the Executive Director. But at that, Jeongjae, in the midst of putting on his shoes, turned his sharp eyes on him.

“You’re not a child to be nursed! Stop clinging to him and fetching errands. Do your own work!”

“Yes, understood, Chairman.”

“You, and him both… Why wasn’t I told sooner of what happened?!”

Now the reproach turned toward Yoon Jaeseon. Seeing him as being in league with Dohyeon, Jeongjae nearly resolved to cut both grandson and aide away altogether. Reading his thoughts, Jaeseon lowered his head with a guilty expression.

“My apologies, Chairman.”

In truth, Yoon Jaeseon had only ever followed Dohyeon’s orders. He was not the one to blame. And Jeongjae knew that well enough. Still, the fact that he had kept the matter hidden filled him with bitterness, and he glared with eyes aflame.

“I am sorry.”

With his back bowing lower and his voice growing smaller, Jaeseon looked utterly diminished. Clicking his tongue, Jeongjae finally admitted to himself that the fault for the divorce lay entirely with his grandson. The problem was Dohyeon, not Jaeseon. His anger subsiding, he turned his head away.

“…Enough. It’s my frustration talking. What fault could Yoon-sshi possibly have? All of this, every bit, is that boy’s doing.”

He refrained from further reproach and turned to leave. Jaeseon, moving ahead, opened the front door for him. Waving him off, Jeongjae declined the courtesy and instead crossed the garden with his attendant, Chief Im.

When Jaeseon returned from seeing him off, Dohyeon told him to go back to the company. Then he sat for a long time alone in the living room. Ignoring Jaeseon’s firm warning not to drink, he uncapped a bottle. He could not endure otherwise. Like an endless Möbius strip, scenes of how he had tormented Go Igyeol replayed relentlessly before his eyes. Without alcohol, he felt as though he might commit some unthinkable act.

Just as he raised the bottle without even a glass, his phone vibrated. Moving slowly, he touched the screen. A report of “all is well” appeared, along with several photographs of Go Igyeol. There he was, strolling calmly down a dark country road, seemingly unafraid. Dohyeon lowered the bottle and stared fixedly at the bright silhouette in the images. Then, suddenly, he thought of how he wished to see him closer, to lift him from where he sat at the roadside gazing at the sky.

Closing his eyes tightly, then opening them, he rose without further hesitation. In the bedroom, he gathered only an outer coat, car keys, wallet, and phone, and left the house. Descending straight to the parking lot, he slid into the driver’s seat. At least he had not drunk—that was something.

Smoothly, the car pulled out of the residential area and merged onto the main road. Though it was a weekday, the timing coincided with rush hour, and traffic was snarled. Time slipped away, making him anxious. Stop-and-go, inching forward, until at last the road opened, and once on the highway, he pressed down hard on the accelerator.

The familiar route passed swiftly, and he slowed only when entering the village where Shin Eunsuk’s pension lay. Parking a good distance away, he sat, gripped by hesitation. What if he ran into them? At that very moment, a message came: they had finished dinner and gone back inside with the babysitter. Laughing hollowly, he felt only emptiness. After waiting a while longer, he turned the car around. He was disgusted with himself, unable to endure even a day before coming all this way.

Driving back slowly, impulsively, he steered instead toward the villa where Igyeol had last lived. It took him some time to enter that dark, empty house. Even at the door, he lingered, uncharacteristically hesitant. At last, placing his hand on the keypad, he entered the code and stepped inside.

The entryway light flicked on with a bright flash. Before he even removed his shoes, it clicked off again. He almost left right then—but instead, he removed his shoes. His movement triggered the sensor once more, briefly bathing the entry in light.

Slipping into the neatly lined slippers, he turned on the living room light. The house looked the same as before they had moved in—untouched, unaltered. Though he knew there had been nothing to take, the fact that everything remained so intact tugged heavily at him.

He drifted toward the bedroom Igyeol had used. Even the simple act of opening the door made his heart race. He knew no one was there—his mind understood, and he had just seen with his own eyes where Igyeol was. Yet still, some pathetic hope whispered that perhaps he might find him here.

Of course, that could not be. The thought was so pitiful it made him laugh at himself. He pressed the handle. Click—the door opened. And at once, the scent of Igyeol filled him. Familiar, beloved. Stepping quickly inside, Dohyeon shut the door tight behind him, as if to trap it.

Feeling along the wall for the switch, he turned on the light. Slowly, he examined the space. Without realizing it, he crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge, gripping the blanket Igyeol must once have pulled over himself. Pristine white, like new, untouched—as if no one had ever used it. And yet, faint traces of his scent lingered here. Dohyeon’s broad hand wandered over the pillow, searching for a sign. But Igyeol had left not even a strand of hair. As though he had known Dohyeon would come, he had left nothing behind.

“…Too cruel.”

His brows furrowed as he laughed faintly, then slumped, pressing his face into the pillow. He breathed in desperately. There was the faint shampoo scent, the whisper of his pheromones. His breath, once drowning, began to ease. Closing his eyes, for the first time in days the gnawing insomnia seemed to recede. Sleep pressed down upon him, heavy and irresistible.

Seo Dohyeon swiftly returned to routine. With the same polished exterior as always, he caught up on the backlog of schedules. He reviewed documents, held video conferences, even visited meetings in person, sitting in to listen to presentations.

Yoon Jaeseon, watching him, carried out his duties as before but studied him carefully, doubtful that he was truly well. Dohyeon’s build was so large it hid the fact that he had lost weight, but Jaeseon saw it clearly. After years at his side, he could not fail to notice how much more irritable he grew by the day.

“…Another coffee, sir?”

“Yes. I’m tired.”

“Don’t you think you’ve been drinking too much lately?”

“Isn’t that because you won’t let me drink alcohol?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh, lifting the tumbler. Already that day, Jaeseon had filled the massive container four times with coffee.

“At this rate, you won’t be able to sleep at night.”

The cautious words betrayed a quiet concern about his insomnia.

“And if I can’t sleep, will you put me to bed yourself, Jaeseon?”

The offhand jest stung. If he could, Jaeseon would have done just that—anything to let him rest. But the pallor of his skin, the shadows beneath his eyes, the bloodshot whites made his exhaustion plain.

Catching the gaze upon him, Dohyeon lowered the papers he had been reviewing and lifted his head.

“There’s too much work. I let myself fall apart for a few days, and now the pile is endless.”

“Still, you must take care of your health. You look exhausted. Would you like me to prepare some sleeping aids for you?”

“That would be good, yes.”

Jaeseon’s pity clung to him, too obvious. Dohyeon frowned at it, fixing him with a sharp stare.

“Jaeseon.”

“Yes, Executive Director.”

“If you intend to pity me, then don’t let it show. When you wear it so plainly, as if I’m some wretch worthy only of sorrow, it disgusts me.”

“…My apologies.”