Divorce Contract C119

Chapter 119 

Seo Dohyeon pulled the needle from the vein at his knee and immediately began to change his clothes. He felt contempt for himself, sitting idly, submitting to rut suppressants as though that could ever help.

When he stepped out of the bedroom, Yoon Jaeseon, working in the living room, gawked at him, eyes nearly bursting from their sockets.

“Executive Director? What… what on earth—wait, sir, you’re bleeding!”

“I need to go see Igyeol. Where’s the suppressant I just received?”

“Pardon? Wait, sir, please calm yourself. The suppressant—why are you—”

Ignoring Jaeseon’s confusion, Dohyeon rifled through a drawer, seized the medication, and swallowed a handful—far beyond the recommended dosage—in a single gulp. Passing Jaeseon again, he strode into the dressing room. Checking the hastily bandaged spot on his knee, he wiped the trickling blood with indifference.

His head throbbed heavily, his body fevered with mounting heat. Changing clothes, he glanced at the mirror. His eyes seethed with lust. Could he really face Go Igyeol like this? What if the rut, unrestrained by weak suppressants, bled out through pheromones? Yet that thought was quickly drowned by the urgency—he needed to see Igyeol. Nothing else mattered but the dread gnawing at him: the reports of Igyeol’s worsening state.

Dressed in a coat, he returned to the living room. Jaeseon followed, pale and restless, but Dohyeon bypassed the driver’s seat and sank into the back, reclining against the seat. His clenched eyelids trembled as though struggling against the waves that tore through his body. Jaeseon cast him a worried glance through the mirror before starting the car.

They left the city swiftly, merging onto the highway. As the rut clawed deeper, Dohyeon rolled down the window, letting in the frigid wind. His mind boiled—flames coursed from crown to heel, refusing to be smothered.

When Jaeseon’s eyes met his in the mirror, Dohyeon wiped the sweat from his brow and swallowed more suppressant.

“You’re… taking far too much. Are you sure—are you sure this is safe?”

“I’m not well now. But I will be. Soon.”

The rut of a dominant Alpha was notoriously vicious and enduring. Everyone knew it; Dohyeon knew it. Why now, of all times? He cursed his own biology. What use was this wretched trait, when all it did was drag him into heat he couldn’t control? He mocked it bitterly.

He thought of recessive Alphas, whose ruts came rarely, or Betas, who never suffered them at all. How enviable that must be. His eyes burned; it felt as though hot coals were lodged behind them. The suppressant worked sluggishly, if at all. Damn the medicine—why did it never act quickly? Dohyeon’s rage turned toward Dr. Kwon, the man who had prescribed it. If he arrived in this condition and faltered—if he made another mistake—he swore he would use every connection, every ounce of power, to ensure Kwon would never again practice as a physician.

“Sir, should I stop for a moment? Let you breathe the cold air properly?”

“There’s no time. If you can endure it, open the windows wider.”

A faint flush crept up his pale cheeks. Jaeseon wondered, not for the first time, whether it was right to bring him to Igyeol at all. One misstep, and there might be no turning back.

“This is… only my concern speaking, sir.”

“Say it. If it helps, I’ll listen.”

“If you make a mistake now, there may never be another chance. Ever again.”

“I won’t. I can’t. And I won’t.”

Even with such resolve, Jaeseon could not shed his anxiety. He devised a contingency—guards stationed outside the house, in case the worst occurred. Alone, he would never be able to restrain Dohyeon. With such measures, he felt at least some ease. He rolled down every window, even the sunroof.

Cold air rushed in from all sides, slicing against Dohyeon’s fevered skin. The storm inside his skull began to quiet. At last, belatedly, the suppressant was taking hold.

As soon as they arrived at the pension, Dohyeon stepped out without a word of greeting to Shin Eunsuk. He strode across the yard, mounted the low steps, and placed his hand on the door handle.

“I’ll remain outside. Of course there won’t be any trouble—but if anything urgent happens, call out.”

“Fine.”

With that, he opened the door. Eunsuk, startled by the sound of the car, rushed outside, reaching instinctively to stop him—then withdrew her hand. Watching his back with worry, she exchanged a silent glance with Jaeseon, who stood sentinel at the door.

Inside, Dohyeon paused, letting his eyes adjust to the pitch-dark interior. Slowly, he moved forward, pulling open the curtains that had blocked every scrap of light.

On the bed lay Go Igyeol, sleeping as though lifeless. Dohyeon’s gaze traveled down the pale face, the exposed throat streaked with raw marks, the carelessly wrapped bandages. He sat at the bedside, checked the blood seeping through Igyeol’s palm, and sighed.

So much for progress. Back again to the beginning. The same patterns of self-harm as in the hospital. Futility pressed down on him—an endless future, an immovable bond.

He twined Igyeol’s thin fingers in his own and raised them to his lips. The skin carried the faintest trace of pheromone. For a long while, Dohyeon pressed his mouth against the fragile wrist, fighting the impulse to bury his nose there, to taste the salt of his skin.

At last, Igyeol’s eyelids quivered, parting to reveal those faded brown eyes. He blinked slowly, as though recalling where he was, why he lay there, until his gaze settled on Dohyeon.

His brow furrowed. At the Alpha pheromones leaking through suppressants, his dulled gaze sharpened in alarm. He yanked his hand free, scrambling back beneath the blanket like a startled deer.

“Why… why are you here—how did you—”

“I came to see if you were all right. As you can see, I’m a wreck.”

“I—I’m fine. I’ve been… fine.”

“Truly fine? Is that the truth?”

His low voice reverberated, thick with something heavy. Igyeol’s eyes darted away, unable to answer. But when the sweet, treacherous scent of pheromones rolled over him, his lashes squeezed shut. So it was true—this was rut. The perfect control Dohyeon had always maintained, broken now by the Alpha’s heat.

Igyeol pulled the blanket over his face, clinging to what little clarity he could.

“There’s no better choice left to me.”

He was certain: Dohyeon had come to sate his lust. The rut of this Alpha was long, relentless. Once before he had claimed it wasn’t desire driving him, but that must have been forgotten—swallowed by this wildfire.

“I don’t want this anymore. I hate it. It hurts. It’s… unbearable. You’ll regret it too, more than now.”

“…I see what you’re thinking. But no—it isn’t rut that brought me here.”

“……”

“I needed to know if being apart was really helping you. I wanted only me to suffer. But it looks like you’re hurting as much as I am.”

He held Igyeol’s gaze without wavering. Igyeol searched for meaning in his words, but found only confusion.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

His trembling voice filled the silence. Dohyeon rose from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Igyeol’s ashen face. His roughened hand passed across his own brow.

“Tell me honestly. When I vanished from your sight—was it really better? Has living here helped you? Are you truly… at peace?”

“…Of course…!”

Of course— The words died. He could not say them.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t divorce. I’m saying… there needs to be a time of preparation. You have to learn to live well without me first.”

The quiet words carried their meaning at last. Igyeol glanced down at his bandaged palm, remembering the relief he’d felt when pain had cut through the fog. He feared it. He feared he would grow used to hurting himself.