TCBW C61

Chapter 61

Having gathered the cleaning supplies, Suhoe went up to Dowoon’s office and immediately opened the windows.

He then rushed about wiping and sweeping every corner—movements frantic, as though he were trying to empty his mind through labor alone.

But just like his jumbled thoughts, the long hair he had tied back kept slipping loose, falling into his eyes.

So he would stop, tie it again, resume cleaning—only for it to fall once more, forcing him to pause, retie it, and start again.

The cycle repeated endlessly.

At some point, when he stopped yet again to fix his hair, he looked down at his hand—and only then realized he wasn’t holding a hairband at all.

It was a worn, limp strip of paper string.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed sooner. The sight made him want to tear the thing apart, but instead, his strength left his fingers, and his head bowed low.

This useless, fraying string—

It looked just like him.

Someone who did not know where he belonged, foolishly trying to do things beyond his place, beyond his worth.

Pathetic. Out of place. Ridiculous.

He sank to the floor without realizing it, shoulders slumped.

Seojun’s bruised jaw. His coworkers’ cold eyes. It was all because of him.

He had been so lost in Dowoon’s warmth these past days—held close, tended to, sheltered—that he had not once thought about what might have happened to Seojun. Or how Dowoon had found out where he worked.

Only after seeing others’ reactions did he realize how foolishly oblivious he had been.

He had wanted, just once, to be himself.

But all he had done was inconvenience others.

He felt that cold, hard temple floor beneath his feet again—

just like Unbang Mountain.

But even then, duty tugged at him. If he was going to wallow, he should at least finish cleaning first.

Slowly, he forced himself to stand.

Thud—

His heavy body swayed, and he stumbled into Dowoon’s desk.

“Aah!”

Something slid off and hit the floor.

Panicked, he bent to pick it up. It was a book—or so he thought.

But as soon as he held it, he realized it wasn’t work documents.

It was a magazine.

A luxury jewelry brand’s look-book.

Gleaming gemstones filled the pages, with detailed descriptions of each piece and their colors listed beneath them.

Without thinking, Suhoe slowly flipped through it.

Why was something like this here? Dowoon wore nothing but a watch—no jewelry at all.

His fingers froze when he reached a page marked in red pen.

A teardrop-shaped necklace beneath the title: Wedding Necklace Collection.

And the price—astronomical.

Wedding?

That single word filled his mind.

And then Haeon’s voice surfaced:

Isn’t it Madam’s birthday soon?

Maybe the Chairman already picked something? He’s meticulous.

His own uncertain answers. Haeon’s cheerful speculation.

Could it be…

Was this… for him?

But the thought barely formed before another voice rose to drown it:

Your existence begins and ends with me. My omega. My Aegbaji. …That is all you are.

So what exactly should he dare hope for?

What was he allowed to wish for?

He didn’t know.

For days now, Unhyo had been praying without pause.

After Madam Chwigyeon’s funeral, and then Gyegeum’s sudden collapse, every duty of the shrine naturally fell onto him.

And since Gyegeum’s spirit power had been immense, Unhyo could not possibly handle the shrine’s responsibilities alone.

Servants occasionally helped, but even then, the work never eased.

How did Gyegeum-nim offer so many prayers every day?

Truly…

The shrine served many gods, each worship requiring a different ritual and offering.

And tonight again, as he prepared the next rite, a harsh voice thundered from outside the shrine.

“Gyegeum! Are you alive in there?!”

Occasionally, politicians or business magnates came claiming to worry for Gyegeum, offering doctors—but none were allowed inside.

Thus, this man would be no different.

Boom, boom, boom—!

But Unhyo’s expectation shattered as the shrine doors groaned open—

without invitation.

“I am coming in.”

No outsider should be able to cross that threshold.

“What are you doing?! You cannot enter! Elder forbade it!”

“Please return!”

Servants rushed to stop him, but the old man forced his way in anyway.

“Drive him out.”

Unhyo, mid-ritual, spoke sharply. The young attendant beside him froze, but before he could move, the inner chamber door burst open.

Chairman Lee stood there, face hard as stone.

“Where is Gyegeum?”

He strode forward like he owned the place.

Normally, Gyegeum herself would go down the mountain to receive important guests, never allowing outsiders near the inner quarters.

Even the long-serving shrine attendants rarely knew whom she met or why.

But now, she lay ill and unable to rise—

and so Unhyo stood to intercept him, quietly extinguishing the ritual candle.

The faint smoke curled as the deity receded.

“Who are you?”

“…There was a man here?”

“Yes. I am alone. And standing in for Gyegeum-nim. You may speak to me.”

“You? As if you could handle this.”

Chairman Lee looked him over with thinly veiled contempt.

“Gyegeum-nim is unwell. I will represent her.”

“Ridiculous. Move.”

Without another word, the old man turned and strode deeper inside.

His feet did not falter—he walked as if he knew every step by heart.

He headed straight toward the private quarters.

How did he… know where Gyegeum’s room was?

Unhyo’s heart pounded. No one, absolutely no outsider, should know the layout here.

By the time he caught up, Chairman Lee had already opened her door.

“Please wait—!”

Unhyo reached to stop him—

But a weak voice stopped him instead.

“It’s fine. Let him in… He is expected.”

Gyegeum had forced herself upright, speaking through trembling strength.

The Chairman entered without sparing Unhyo a glance.

Unease crawled up Unhyo’s spine.

Never had Gyegeum met anyone like this—alone, inside, in her own quarters.

Who was this man?

He could not leave. Not now.

Quietly, he leaned closer to the door, listening—

Only to flinch when a hand suddenly clamped his shoulder.

He turned sharply.

A stranger.

Soft black hair. Silver-rimmed glasses. A mask concealing half his face.

He pressed Unhyo against the wall, a calm finger to his lips.

“Stay still.”

His eyes crinkled in a gentle smile—

but the cold, razor-bright gaze beneath that smile was anything but human.