Divorce Contract C102

Chapter 102

“How much did you give him—tell me, and I’ll—”

“Go Igyeol.”

“Without even realizing it, I’ve fallen into debt to you again. Do you not know… do you really not know how that shackles me? Did you never realize how it drags me down, how it crushes me beneath its weight?”

He had thought he was long accustomed to trial and error. Yet the instant he saw the resentment brimming in Igyeol’s eyes, he knew he had made a mistake. What he had done in the name of protection was, to the one living it, nothing more than another debt to repay. That truth pressed down upon Seo Dohyeon with a familiar suffocating heaviness.

“I didn’t imagine it would feel burdensome to you, Go Igyeol-ssi.”

“……”

“But even if I had known, nothing would have changed. As I said, there was no time to search for another way, and no other method as certain. So don’t be angry. I wasn’t trying to weigh you down.”

He released his pheromones to still the trembling body, then drew Igyeol’s bloodied hand into his embrace. Whenever the itching began, Dohyeon could never simply seize him in his arms. From the hand to the wrist, the skin was raked raw and oozing—if he held him and then released him again, who knew where or how he might claw at himself next.

“If it’s only guilt that makes you anxious, you needn’t be. I won’t change my mind. The child will be raised by you, Go Igyeol-ssi.”

“……”

“The decisive reason for our divorce lies with me. Fix that firmly in your memory. No matter how much your father took from me, no matter how much he squandered in his gambling dens, not one percent of it added to the cause of our divorce. Because I gave it willingly.”

Releasing Igyeol’s now-warmed hand, Dohyeon spoke with deliberate firmness. If he had paused even slightly, hesitated even a breath, Igyeol—so prone to self-blame—would only have heaped more guilt upon himself. The sight of him trying to shoulder the sins of the father who had ruined his life stoked Dohyeon’s fury against Go Daesik all the more. How different they were: Igyeol, desperate to repay what was taken, and Daesik, threatening to harm his own child and grandchild if he was not bailed out.

He could not even exhale, swallowing hard, every nerve fixed upon Igyeol. At last, the sound of his sniffling began to ebb.

Without further word, Dohyeon drove on, pulling into the villa’s underground parking. He left the engine running as he stepped out and came around to open the passenger door. Igyeol’s face was flushed crimson as he slowly swung his legs out. Sniffling still, he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand until the fragile skin swelled.

“Go inside.”

“……”

“Eunsuk-ssi will be alarmed again. Enough tears—go in now.”

He brushed the wetness gently from Igyeol’s lashes with a weary smile, then laid a hand across his narrow back as though to escort him. Matching his steps to Igyeol’s halting pace, he guided him to the entrance. At the door, when Dohyeon reached out to the keypad, Igyeol hesitated, then caught the sleeve of his jacket.

“You have nothing to torment yourself over. So don’t think of anything. Please.”

“…Your mother—”

“She won’t interfere with us. She won’t be cast out of the family, but she’ll be too busy adjusting to her altered standing to meddle here.”

He did not explain the particulars, but remembering the words exchanged at the café, Dohyeon was certain she had been caught in a compromising act that would leave her scrambling. For an instant, he wondered whether it had been too harsh a punishment for his own mother—but he quickly banished the thought.

“Rest.”

“…Travel safely.”

The moment the door opened, the aroma of cooking enveloped them. Unlike the sterile quiet of the days when they had lived alone, the scent of a lived-in home filled him with a strange relief. And then, at once, he remembered—he was not one who could stay. With a final nod, he urged Igyeol inside. He did not hesitate, slipping through the doorway.

Eunsuk’s voice carried faintly, scolding, full of worry—asking what had happened outside. But Igyeol’s reply did not reach him. Dohyeon stood before the closed door for a long while before finally turning away.

No sooner had he returned to the company than Dohyeon set out with Yoon Jaeseon for Shin Eunsuk’s pension. Renovations were in full swing. By her request, her own quarters were left untouched, while the remaining four lodges were modernized beyond recognition.

“When will the work be finished?”

“The furniture arrives the day after tomorrow. From the following day, it will be ready for occupancy.”

“And cleaning?”

“A two-day job beginning today.”

Dohyeon inspected only the lodgings where Igyeol and the child would live and where the babysitter would be housed.

“Temperature and humidity will remain stable year-round.”

“Good. And the child’s care?”

“The babysitter will take primary responsibility at first. Go Igyeol-ssi’s role will gradually increase with time.”

Dohyeon nodded. His eyes roved keenly, searching the space for flaws. At last, he spoke.

“When Igyeol asks a question about childcare, you are not to say things like, ‘Didn’t you know? Had no one told you?’ None of that presumptuous talk. You answer what is asked, nothing more. No personal curiosity, no unsolicited comments.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yoon understood at once. He jotted a quick memo, already thinking he must amend the babysitter’s contract to reflect the instruction.

“This space—doesn’t it seem too small, Yoon?”

“Here? Ah… I thought it seemed suitable. The layout is efficient; it allows for quick response. Being a studio arrangement, it’s convenient…”

“No. I mean Igyeol’s place to rest. Isn’t it lacking?”

“…Sir?”

Yoon glanced around, puzzled. Most of the furnishings Dohyeon had personally selected were for Igyeol to sit, lean, or lie upon.

“If you could clarify what you mean by a resting place, I’ll discuss it with the contractors.”

“A space where he can rest, alone.”

“…But isn’t this entire place for rest?”

Dohyeon sighed in frustration. He meant a space where Igyeol could truly be alone, apart even from the child. But Yoon could not grasp it. To him, a separate solitude within an already private retreat seemed needless. He held his tongue, listening.

“Yoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there anywhere here where Go Igyeol-ssi could spend even an hour, free from interruption? I don’t see it.”

“…As it stands, the studio layout makes it difficult to partition further. Should I ask if there’s a way to divide the space efficiently?”

Dohyeon shook his head, scanning again. No time, no room to build inside. His eyes caught the terrace opening toward the mountains.

“Bring the supervisor.”

“Yes, sir.”

When Yoon left, Dohyeon circled the narrow room, slowly, measuring each corner with his gaze. The renovation was clean, but small. The high ceiling was some relief, but he worried it would still feel stifling. By the time his idle anxieties had piled up, Yoon had returned with the contractor in tow.

“Good day, Executive Director.”

The man tugged off his work gloves, wiping his hands on his trousers before offering one. Dohyeon glanced at the outstretched palm a beat, then gave it the briefest shake.

“Your card.”

“I—”

“Never mind. Can a glass conservatory be built on the terrace?”

The abrupt question startled him. He cast a look past Dohyeon at the view through the broad new windows—work they had clearly labored over—and pictured the terrace’s dimensions. Nodding, he stepped forward.

“If you mean to enclose the entire terrace, construction time will lengthen. That would delay occupancy beyond the promised schedule.”

“And if it were cube-style?”

“A modular unit would be quick to fabricate and simple to install.”

“Two conditions only: warm, and cozy.”

The contractor promised as much, asking if conservatories should be added elsewhere too. Dohyeon shook his head firmly.

“Understood.”

“Shoes off inside. And replace the awning with a new one.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll replace the awning and build the conservatory fit for barefoot use.”

The man offered his card at last. Dohyeon accepted it, first checking the title printed there.

“Then I’ll trust you with it, Manager.”

“Yes, Executive Director.”

“That will be all.”

“Safe return, sir. We’ll meet again Monday.”

Dohyeon inclined his head faintly and departed first. Yoon offered a brief word of courtesy before following after. Dohyeon’s stride was long, his mood grim. He slid into the car before Yoon could even open the rear door for him.

At once, Yoon sensed the dark current in his superior’s mood. His shoulders tensed. More than an hour remained of their journey together, and already the weight of it pressed down.