TCBW C66

Chapter 66

Dowoon looked utterly dumbfounded as he watched the man wag his metaphorical tail at his spouse like an eager puppy.

Meanwhile, Suhoe made no effort to verify the truth of Unhyo’s words—only focusing on the fact that he had come all the way here at such a late hour just to see him.

Seeing the man who was like an older brother to him standing pitifully in the cold entranceway tugged at his heart. He began fidgeting anxiously, then turned his gaze toward Dowoon.

“Dowoon… This person is family to me. He raised me on Unbang Mountain… The journey couldn’t have been easy. Would it be alright if he came in to sit and rest for a moment?”

His eyes shone.

It was the most earnest, pleading expression he had worn in recent days—one that seemed moments from tears if denied.

And he knew. He knew that Dowoon was weak to that expression—that he could not refuse him when he looked like that.

Dowoon pressed his fingers to his temple. Whatever the situation, whatever the context, he seemed destined to be dragged along by that plea.

“Dowoon… please. I want this to be my gift. My birthday gift.”

“……”

“My birthday present.”

He repeated himself, afraid Dowoon might not have heard. But the truth was quite the opposite—he heard all too clearly, and now wished he hadn’t. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes.

“You got a gift yesterday.”

“Please.”

“…Ten minutes. No more.”

Then he grabbed Suhoe’s arm, pulling him away from Unhyo’s embrace—firmly, yet careful not to hurt him. Once Suhoe’s body leaned toward him, he slid an arm around his waist and drew him close.

Suhoe smiled with contentment as he fell into Dowoon’s hold. It had been so long since he’d worn such an expression—warm, radiant, his pheromones blooming gently.

Dowoon kissed the top of his head briefly, unable to stop himself.

From behind, Unhyo stared in disbelief.

That intimidating, iron-mace of a man—obediently following the young master’s wishes? They looked almost… affectionate.

…What is this? Does that man not know what awaits the child’s body?

Is Dowoon trustworthy? Does he know the Chairman’s plan?

Seeing Dowoon behave with unexpected tenderness toward Suhoe left Unhyo unsettled. If he truly did not know the truth—and truly cared for Suhoe—then perhaps he deserved to be told.

But if Suhoe ever learned… how would he endure it?

Contrary to what he had feared, Suhoe seemed capable of living without him—perhaps better than expected.

The thought left Unhyo confused.

What now?

Lost in turmoil, he sat at the dining table as Suhoe instructed, watching the young man prepare tea.

He had grown up with hands unaccustomed to labor, his greatest task having been cleaning his own room. A child raised merely as a Aegbaji, taught to pray and wait to serve his husband one day.

Yet now he was steeping tea with his own hands, intent on serving others.

Suhoe placed the brewed tea into elegant porcelain cups before Dowoon and Unhyo, then went to fetch light snacks. The smooth ceramic shimmered in the light.

“…When did you learn to do this?” Unhyo asked softly.

“Mr. Kim, who comes to help with the house sometimes, taught me how to steep tea.”

Our home…

He had spent so long on Unbang Mountain, yet it had never been his home. He left with nothing but two bags—yet now he had a place he could truly call his own.

Dowoon sat beside him silently drinking his tea, listening to their conversation.

The man did not seem intent on harming Suhoe, and if he stayed long enough, Dowoon was sure he could uncover his purpose.

“This reminds me of that expensive tea we tried once.”

“Oh—it does. From Assemblyman Jung, right?”

Unaware of Dowoon’s gaze, they reminisced freely, sharing memories only the two of them possessed.

“I didn’t brew it long, since it takes time, but… I wanted to show you what I learned here.”

Suhoe was glowing with happiness, his smile pure, floral scent drifting sweetly around Dowoon.

“So what brings you here today?” he asked with gentle curiosity.

Although Suhoe occasionally left Unbang Mountain for clinics, the servants there never left unless gravely ill, renouncing their calling, or losing their spiritual senses entirely.

Unhyo glanced at Dowoon.

Dowoon noticed the look—but had no intention of leaving. If anything, he sat more comfortably, as though refusing to move.

“It’s delicious,” he remarked.

“Shall I get you more?”

He even asked for more tea, prompting Suhoe to rise with joy and hurry to the kitchen—casting Unhyo a look that said, If you have something to say, say it now.

Unhyo stared back at Dowoon, unsure what to make of him.

“Come to think of it, young master—”

The slender shoulders by the stove froze mid-motion.

“More tea? Ah!”

“No, I’m fine. However—”

Before Unhyo could speak further, Dowoon suddenly stood and headed for the kitchen.

Startled, Unhyo fell silent and turned to watch him. He seemed almost unaware of Unhyo’s existence—eyes fixed only on his young spouse, striding quickly toward him.

He seized Suhoe’s wrist—swift, forceful.

“Ah—!”

“What are you doing?” Unhyo barked, springing to his feet as Suhoe winced, startled by the sudden grip.

He felt foolish—how could he have believed, even for a moment, that this man had changed?

If he had shown such brutality on the first day, then nothing had changed since. He chastised himself bitterly.

He rushed forward to intervene—

“Ah… it’s hot.”

“Stay still. I’ll call the doctor.”

—but froze at the sound of their voices.

Drawing closer, he saw the scene properly.

Suhoe had splashed his hand with hot water; Dowoon was holding his hand under running water, supporting him gently.

“Sorry, I got startled…”

Suhoe murmured sheepishly, not pulling his arm away.

Unhyo replayed the moment in his mind.

He had not heard Suhoe cry out at all—yet Dowoon had reacted instantly.

Suhoe had always been prone to accidents, easily startled and often hurt.

The servants had always watched him with worry, sometimes exasperation.

“Ah, he tripped again…”

“I knew he’d struggle with that…”

And Unhyo had always been the first to his side:

“Young master, are you alright?”

“Hehe, yes.”

It was instinct—habit.

Even moments ago, though his eyes were on Dowoon, his attention had been fixed on Suhoe. If Suhoe had cried out, he would have heard.

Yet he heard nothing.

If Suhoe hadn’t screamed, how had Dowoon moved so fast?

It was bizarre.