TCBW C60

Chapter 60

“That’s not it! …It was just the first time. A place where I… could simply be myself.”

“‘Simply be yourself?’”

“Yes. ‘Simply me.’”

And he spoke each word clearly, slowly, without faltering.

He had no idea that such a simple line would drag forth one of Dowoon’s ugliest memories.

“…You’re wrong.”

Dowoon approached at an unhurried pace, and without warning, wrapped his hand around Suhoe’s slender neck — fragile enough to snap with the smallest force.

He could feel the pulse trembling beneath his fingers.

“Your reason for existing begins and ends with me. My omega. My Aegbaji(Curse bearer). …That is all you are.”

A filthy, cramped villa. Air thick with another alpha’s scent. And Suhoe, lost to heat, body burning and mind clouded.

Dowoon had let it go only because there had been no penetration — just barely.

But now those soft, permissive considerations had returned to him twisted as ‘simply me’. And suddenly, he could smell again that disgusting stench — Seojun’s scent — sharp and rotten in his memory.

Perhaps he should break his ankle and lock him away forever.

Then maybe he wouldn’t have to feel this filthy, nauseating disgust.

Or perhaps — twist this thin neck and remind him of fear…

A sharp tap.

Before that cruelty could settle fully in his mind, a tear slid down Suhoe’s cheek and fell on the back of Dowoon’s hand.

Tap. Tap.

Quiet. Sudden. Without warning.

He didn’t need to look to know — he could feel the heat of those tears pooling against his skin.

It burned. As though his flesh had been scalded. And that scorching sensation pulled a trigger deep within him.

The curse lunged, jagged and merciless, shooting up his left arm and stabbing around his heart.

Damn it.

The hand gripping Suhoe’s throat fell away, and instead, he pulled him into a loose, helpless embrace.

“…Do as you please. Go back to work or not.”

What slipped from his lips was surrender — not permission, nor mercy, but a desperate capitulation to stop his own agony.

Was it a quarrel?

Or persuasion?

It had hardly been smooth, but somehow, through that tangle of emotions, Suhoe had managed to return to the company today.

Yet even now, sitting in the car watching the scenery blur past, Dowoon’s words echoed noiselessly in his mind.

He had found comfort in the man’s arms afterward — soothed by the hand stroking him, by the quiet voice that finally allowed him to go.

‘Your name is now Suhoe.’

‘You will live as his Aegbaji spouse.’

More and more, the echoing memory overlapped with another voice — Gyegeum’s voice, cold and absolute.

A gaze that sealed fate without hesitation. A voice that reduced a life to a single sentence.

‘Your existence is enough with me alone. My omega. My Aegbaji. …That is all you are.’

In that instant, when he first heard it, Suhoe felt himself dragged back to the incense-filled shrine.

The whispering servants behind him. The rough wooden floor beneath his feet, soaked with incense. Familiar voices murmuring behind him.

‘He’s the Aegbaji.’

‘Pitiful thing.’

Strange.

The more he recalled Dowoon’s words, the clearer the shrine became again.

Strange.

His shoulders slackened; his knees weakened; his head seemed to sink, and his eyes felt hollow, like a glass doll’s.

Dowoon wasn’t wrong. Not one word.

It was all true.

Then why — why did it hurt so much?

“…Anyway.”

Standing before the cleaning department door, Suhoe whispered to himself as he reached for the handle.

But the weakened sound never passed his lips — it circled in his mouth, faint and lost.

“I have permission. I do.”

Here, at least — he wanted to believe he could simply be Suhoe. Simply himself.

But the moment he crossed the threshold, he realized—

He could not be anything, anywhere, except what he was to Dowoon.

He felt it first through his skin.

The air was different.

“Hello.”

“Ah… yeah.”

“About last time—”

“Huh? Oh sorry, I just finished something!”

“I’ll go too!”

They were coworkers who used to greet him warmly.

Yet now — they avoided him. Or forced a stiff smile before rushing away.

The floor felt cold beneath him, just like the shrine on Unbang Mountain.

Though called Master, he had never been part of them. Beneath their sympathy lay scorn; beneath their polite facade, wary dislike.

People looked at him the same way again — as someone’s secret, someone’s accessory, someone’s unlucky burden.

He felt like he had stepped back into that life he thought he had escaped.

His first day back — and everything already felt wrong.

“Oh? Suhoe! You’re back!”

“Jun-ah!”

A familiar voice — Seojun stood there, a faint bruise marring his cheek.

“Why… why do you have that?”

“This?”

He rubbed his jaw with a sheepish grin.

“It’s not because of that day, so don’t worry. Well, I did get grabbed by the collar once — but it was a misunderstanding. Honestly, who wouldn’t misunderstand in that situation? I would’ve too.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

Suhoe trembled. Apologizing felt meaningless, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“What are you sorry for?! You really don’t remember anything, huh? Well, you were basically in a frenzy, so it makes sense.”

Seojun just smiled kindly.

“Be honest. Dowoon-ssi did this, right?”

“No. I told you, don’t worry about it. Your boyfriend isn’t like that.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

Seojun grumbled about how many times he had to say it.

“…But I have something to say too. He’s not my boyfriend.”

Thinking it best to retreat, Suhoe corrected softly.

“What? Still? Didn’t you confess that day?”

“Not yet. I… don’t even know if I will.”

“Wow, progress though. You’re not denying you like him anymore.”

He teased lightly. Suhoe nodded.

“…I like him.”

“…Damn. Sometimes you give me chills. Alright, I’m going to work! You should too!”

Even as he confessed, a shadow smothered his face. Seojun didn’t see; he waved and turned away.

But after leaving the cleaning room, Seojun stood there for a long while — like someone guarding a door from curious eyes.

‘Yeah. I like him.’

…Yeah, I like him. Seriously?

What an idiot. Truly the worst.

He replayed Suhoe’s foolish confession over and over — unable to shake it off.

He lifted his head, sighed, shook it, tried everything — but the fluorescent lights only hurt his eyes, not his thoughts.

He could not forget.

He exhaled again, long and heavy.

Just then — a disgusting whisper crawled into his ear.

“Jun-ah, isn’t he basically Director Lee’s plaything?”

“‘Plaything’? Ugh, who even talks like that anymore?”

“Oh come on. Am I wrong?”

Seojun froze. Then turned slowly, expression hard, eyes sharp.

“He doesn’t understand outdated terms like that. Right, Jun-ah?”

And with a voice dripping contempt, he shot back without looking away:

“Filthy and pathetic. Act your age. Every word you say shows how low your standards are.”

They spluttered, offended, but he ignored them — listening only for the sound of cleaning equipment inside.

Meaning — Suhoe would emerge soon.

“Jun-ah, what did you just—?”

“Argh!”

Seojun did not hesitate.

“J-Jun-ah?!”

“Ow—hey! What are you doing?!”

“We’re cleaners, right? I’m taking out trash.”

He gripped both their collars and dragged them toward the emergency stairwell.