Divorce Contract C121

Chapter 121

Igyeol’s eyes, on the verge of tears, knit tightly together. Seo Dohyeon recalled all the times Igyeol had withheld his pheromones from him deliberately. Igyeol, too, remembered. Carrying the memory of that day in full, he had now told Dohyeon that if he wished, he would release his pheromones.

Perhaps Go Igyeol was simply someone incapable of malice. Even if he hated and resented Dohyeon, in the end he would still weaken, crumble, in front of him. The realization that if he kept circling around Igyeol, showing him this pitiful, wretched state again and again, Igyeol would never be able to turn away—Dohyeon realized it only at such a moment as this.

He gazed at Igyeol, who clutched his small hand tight, his eyes brimming with tears. Was it Go Daesik who had left him unable to cast anything aside? Or was it the parents no longer in this world?

Whenever Dohyeon faced this bafflingly kind-hearted man—so kind to the point of folly—he wondered about his parents. Which of them had he taken after, to be so incapable of guarding his own interests, to be so foolishly good? How could he say something like, If you want, I’ll give? Shouldn’t he use that as leverage, as threat? Shouldn’t he use it for gain, at least now, in this situation?

“Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“……”

“Haa… If it comes to that, it would be better to force another injection of suppressants. What is my rut, that Go Igyeol-ssi would offer me his pheromones? How could I possibly… accept a pheromone shower from you? I’d sooner choke down another suppressant than do that.”

“Then what am I supposed to do! Do you think I want this, do you think I like it? I don’t want to either…! I want to shove supplements down your throat just like you did to me, but—huu—I can’t. I can’t…!”

Tears welled and trembled in his eyes, raw with unhidden resentment toward Dohyeon. Just seeing that gaunt, roughened face made it impossible for him to be cruel. How was it that this man could be so merciless to him, when it was so hard, so unbearable for him to do the same?

“What’s that pity worth, that I… I can’t let you go because I still cling to it? You say you’ll finally let me go, you, Seo Dohyeon-ssi, say you’ll let me go—yet I… I can’t let go, not even a little.”

“…Igyeol.”

“Sometimes I wonder. If I had been properly loved, if I had even one person who would stand by me no matter what I did… would I be living like this? The only love left to me is what you gave me. And though I know it’s a rope frayed, worn, and rotting… it’s all I have to hold on to.”

Tears soaked his cheeks; Igyeol scrubbed them away with the back of his hand. And then, as if triggered by it, Dohyeon’s pheromones spilled out in a rush. Thinking that those lips, pressed so stubbornly together, would never say what he wished to hear, Igyeol chose to continue not with words but with pheromones, releasing them little by little. The unbearably sweet scent enveloped Dohyeon’s body. Igyeol closed his eyes, watching his twisted expression.

“Go Igyeol…!”

“…You’ll never know. Never know what it was like for me, begging for pheromones, clinging until I broke. You’ll never know how my heart collapsed that day when you refused without a moment’s thought.”

His low murmur twisted Dohyeon’s face. Pale hospital light glistened over the sweat beading his brow. Watching him bite down on his flushed lips, Igyeol released his pheromones fully.

“But as for me… for Seo Dohyeon-ssi, I won’t carry guilt or regret just because I withheld some paltry pheromones. The guilt, the regret—they’re all yours.”

Dohyeon’s rut ebbed at last, leaving only the lingering warmth of embers. For a dominant Alpha, it had subsided unusually quickly, yet the clearer his mind became, the more haggard he grew. Again and again he recalled Igyeol’s words, the soft tremor of them: that guilt, that regret—they would all remain his alone.

The ward had been steeped in Igyeol’s pheromones throughout, yet Dohyeon’s face remained grim and stiff. He kept comparing himself—Igyeol, generous enough to give so freely; himself, stingy and cowardly in holding back. Again and again, he wanted to disappear like dust. Just as Igyeol had said: the guilt, the regret, all of it was his.

“Haa…”

He stared at his hand, still faintly trembling, and pressed his aching eyes with his fingers, bowing his head. How long had he stayed that way? The sound of the door opening reached him. He didn’t need to look to know who had entered. Slowly he dropped the hand from his face.

There stood Go Igyeol, cheeks, nose, and ears reddened from the cold, his hair beaded with jewel-like droplets of melted snow. Meeting Dohyeon’s gaze, Igyeol lifted his unusually red-tipped fingers to smooth his disheveled hair and walked awkwardly closer. Keeping a deliberate distance, he perched on the edge of the bed beside him, unwinding his scarf and laying it across his lap.

“…Where did you go?”

“Just home, for a moment. To see Ihyeon… I wanted to go quickly while you were asleep. Did you wake because of the pheromones?”

“Ah.”

Those anxious eyes searched him, as if ready to release pheromones the instant he admitted it.

“It wasn’t that. The rut’s subsided. You don’t need to worry anymore. Not about pheromones, not about anything.”

At his calm words, Igyeol nodded. That’s a relief, he murmured softly. Dohyeon pressed down the ache swelling in his chest. The silence lingered awkwardly—until Igyeol broke it.

“Then… what you said before.”

He stopped fidgeting with his scarf and turned his head, his gaze not on Dohyeon’s eyes but somewhere lower—his lips, his chin.

“If I said yes, what would happen?”

“…It would be inconvenient, but I’d return to where we used to live. Without the baby, just you and me. We’d spend time together, and we’d go to counseling—together.”

“…You too, Seo Dohyeon-ssi?”

“…I’m just as much a wreck as you are, Go Igyeol-ssi.”

His faint smile made Igyeol’s chest jolt. Perhaps it was the hospital gown, perhaps the weariness carved into his pale face. It made Dohyeon seem pitiable. Igyeol’s eyes met his involuntarily, and he flinched, startled.

Dohyeon, catching the glimmer of pity there, quickly turned away. A few days ago, he would have welcomed it, would have pulled a more pitiful face to draw in that sympathy. But now… he didn’t feel that way anymore. He realized, belatedly, that harboring any other feeling for Igyeol had been absurd from the start. The reason he could not let go was simply that he did not know how.

“Secretary Yoon—”

Before Igyeol could finish, a brisk knocking echoed: tok-tok. They both turned. After a few seconds, the door slid open. Yoon Jaeseon entered, smiling broadly, both hands laden with shopping bags, stepping lightly inside. The timing was ill-fated. Sensing the atmosphere, his steps slowed.

“Good day.”

“Ah… hello.”

Igyeol’s face brightened at the sight, and he straightened, moving forward to meet him. He accepted several bags from Jaeseon’s full arms, asking what all this was.

“Lunch.”

“…Lunch? Like this…?”

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I prepared a variety.”

He spoke with an innocent cheer, certain that at least one thing would suit Igyeol’s taste. With such sincerity, Igyeol could not bring himself to say he had already eaten. Smiling awkwardly, he murmured instead that he could eat anything, and that Jaeseon had gone to too much trouble.

“Then I’ll be on my way.”

“…Eh? W-wait a moment.”

“Yes?”

“If you haven’t eaten yet, Sajang-nim, would you… would you join us?”

Looking anxiously toward Dohyeon, Igyeol pressed the offer. Reading that pleading look, Jaeseon’s eyes turned to his superior for permission. Dohyeon gave a nod, as if to say do as you like.

“Then, I’ll accept, thank you.”

“Let’s eat well. Secretary Yoon, you too—eat a lot, eat plenty.”

Feeling lighter, Igyeol unpacked the containers. There was everything—Korean, street food, Japanese, Chinese. As though Jaeseon had gone into every restaurant in sight, nothing was missing. Soup stews in separate tubs, stir-fried meats, even tteokbokki, soondae, and fried snacks Dohyeon would never touch. Sushi, pork cutlets, jjajangmyeon, jjamppong—the small table overflowed with dishes fit for lunch.

“The jjamppong place especially had a long line. It must be famous.”

“It was so cold today… You must have had a hard time bringing all this back.”

“Not at all. It’s nothing. The food may have cooled a little—should I go warm it?”

“No, no. It’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

Igyeol’s eyes flicked toward Dohyeon, as if awaiting his answer too. Dohyeon echoed, It’s fine. Hot or cold, it made no difference. Right now, nothing had taste anyway. Quietly, he broke apart a pair of disposable chopsticks, straightened them, and handed them to Igyeol.