Divorce Contract C136

Chapter 136

At the quiet question, Go Igyeol shook his head faintly. He was sorry—he remembered nothing.

“You said you wanted jelly, so I went out and bought some,” Seo Dohyeon said calmly. “But by the time I came back, you were asleep. I was honestly surprised there wasn’t any drunken outburst.”

“…That’s a relief then. I’ll… I’ll go make the formula.”

Overcome by embarrassment and the awkward tension hanging in the air, Igyeol wanted nothing more than to flee. He silently repeated the same resolution he’d made countless times since waking: I’ll never drink again. Not even a sip.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on anything else, when Dohyeon called out.

“Go Igyeol-ssi.”

“…Yes?”

“It won’t take long. Let me put some medicine on that hand.”

Rocking the fussy baby in his arms, Dohyeon tilted his chin toward him. Igyeol shook his head immediately. The baby first, he thought. There wasn’t even a choice to make.

“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“Your hand’s soaked.”

“It doesn’t hurt. Let’s take care of I-hyeon first, then I’ll handle it later.”

Wondering why Dohyeon made such a fuss over something so trivial, Igyeol turned and walked out of the room. As he set up the formula machine, he glanced at the clock. Soon, Kwon Seunggyu would leave for work.

Seunggyu had said he didn’t want to take two full days off yet—not until he was sure Dohyeon and Igyeol could handle the baby on their own. He’d take a single day, then observe for a while before deciding when to use his leave properly.

That was fine—honestly, a relief.

The constant awkwardness was suffocating, but knowing it was temporary made it easier to bear.

As he shook the bottle to mix the formula, Dohyeon came out of the hallway with the baby in his arms.

“He’s unusually fussy today,” Dohyeon said, bouncing the child gently. “Maybe because he didn’t see you when he woke up. He seemed uneasy.”

“Ah… I think he’s just hungry. It’s almost ready. I’ll take him.”

Igyeol sat quickly on the couch and reached out his arms. Dohyeon handed the baby over carefully, and the moment I-hyeon nestled against Igyeol’s chest, the child let out a short, high-pitched whimper.

“Hungry? Want your milk?”

Igyeol tapped the baby’s cheek lightly, and I-hyeon opened his mouth like a tiny bird, following the movement of the finger. Tears shimmered in his eyes, and the sight melted every ounce of tension from Igyeol’s body.

He pressed the bottle to the baby’s lips, and the little one latched immediately, sucking greedily. The sight was so endearing it almost hurt.

Igyeol smiled faintly, though a crease still lingered between his brows.

Dohyeon, standing nearby, couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“I’ll feed him. You should go wash up,” he offered.

“…Wait a moment.”

Dohyeon turned to the nearby cabinet and pulled out a small first-aid kit. He took out disinfectant, ointment, and fresh bandages.

As Igyeol focused on feeding the baby, Dohyeon knelt beside him and gently took his hand. Before Igyeol could protest, Dohyeon had already begun removing the wet bandage. He dabbed disinfectant onto a cotton pad and touched the wound lightly—then blew softly across it.

The ticklish sensation made Igyeol instinctively try to pull away, but Dohyeon caught his hand again.

He blew once more, drying the antiseptic, then spread a thin layer of ointment and sealed it with a new bandage. When he finished, he lifted his gaze to check Igyeol’s knee.

“We’ll do that one next,” he said quietly.

“…Can we wait a bit?”

“It’s better to do it all at once.”

“It stings. Just… a little later.”

“Alright,” Dohyeon murmured. “After I-hyeon finishes, then.”

He smoothed a thumb lightly over the bandage and stood.

I-hyeon’s round eyes followed him for a moment before wandering back to Igyeol. The baby reached out his tiny, plump hand and touched the sleeve near Igyeol’s arm, as if needing to be in contact with him somehow.

Then, with the bottle still in his mouth, he made a funny little bpuu! noise that startled a soft laugh out of Igyeol.

Dohyeon froze, staring at the scene.

That simple, tender moment—a baby’s giggle, Igyeol’s laughter, sunlight spilling over them—was something he knew he’d remember for a long, long time.

The streets outside were wrapped in Christmas lights and the buzz of year’s end. Carols echoed from shop fronts; every window gleamed like a star. While everyone else seemed caught in the warmth and anticipation of the holidays, Go Heeju and Go Minjun lingered in the cold, watching, waiting for a glimpse of Go Igyeol.

Days had passed, and they hadn’t seen him once.

They took turns keeping watch near the villa, but not even a strand of his hair appeared.

“Damn it,” Minjun muttered, kicking the ground. “What if Seo Dohyeon moved him somewhere else?”

“That’s impossible,” Heeju snapped. “We would’ve seen it.”

“Then why the hell hasn’t he come out?”

“Keep your voice down!”

Heeju glanced around, glaring sharply as she dragged her brother down beside her. His loud complaints made her stomach twist with nerves.

“If we get caught here, we’re finished. Do you get that?”

“…I know. I just—! I’m losing my mind, that’s all.”

“….”

“What if we just go in? Seo Dohyeon’s not home right now, right?”

Heeju frowned. She’d considered it. But the truth was—they still didn’t know which unit Igyeol lived in.

“We don’t even know where he is.”

“Then what if we ring every doorbell until we find him?”

“Yeah, and the security guard will definitely let us waltz right in, huh?”

Her voice rose, tinged with frustration. She ran a hand through her tangled hair and stomped the ground lightly.

“Think before you speak, for God’s sake.”

“….”

Then Minjun froze mid-retort, eyes flicking toward the road.

A car was pulling into the villa complex—the headlights sweeping across the pavement before fading as it turned inside.

“Shh.”

Heeju raised a finger to her lips, signaling him to stay quiet. Her eyes followed the taillights intently. From where they stood outside the gate, the angle was poor, but she could tell which direction it had gone.

Toward the outermost units—two of them, side by side.

“That’s Seo Dohyeon’s car, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

“It went down that lane. See there?”

“I see it.”

At least now they had a lead.

But a lead wasn’t enough.

The loan shark who’d once been content with steady interest payments had suddenly changed his mind, demanding full repayment of the principal. The three of them were running out of time.

“What do we do, Minjun? My head’s going to explode.”

Heeju sank down on the curb, clutching her hair.

Their mother was still working—nonstop, day and night—but it wasn’t enough. Not for the interest, not for the debt.

She pressed her face into her knees, trying to think. There had to be a way out.

“We have to choose,” Minjun said quietly.

“…Choose?”

“Either we wait until he comes out, or we go find him ourselves. If there are only two houses in that direction, that’s perfect—we can split up and check both. There’s two of us.”

His eyes gleamed with resolve. He stood, pulling his sister up with him, brushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m not saying we go barging in right away.”

“Then what?”

“First we confirm exactly where he lives. The guard isn’t around all the time. Once we’re inside, we can figure it out—check the mailboxes, maybe ask for a delivery in Seo Dohyeon’s name. He’ll react somehow.”

Heeju knew it was a terrible plan—but she couldn’t help being persuaded.

Still, the risk was high.

“…Minjun.”

“Yeah?”

“These days, I hate Dad. And I hate him too.”

“I know. Me too.”

Since Go Daesik had been imprisoned, none of them had visited even once.

There wasn’t time.

Between jobs, bills, and the mounting debt, they barely slept. What little time they had wasn’t worth wasting on a man who’d ruined their lives. The guilt that had haunted them at first had long since dried up, replaced by something sharper.

Resentment.

Their father had left them with a burden they couldn’t carry—and that resentment had turned, naturally, toward Go Igyeol.

“I just want this to end. Every day feels like hell.”

“It will. Once we find him, everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“But we still haven’t—”

“Just a few more days,” Minjun said firmly. “We’ve come this far. We can’t give up now. It’ll all work out. It has to. Things can’t get any worse than they already are.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the villa.

They’d come back tomorrow or the day after, confirm which house was his, and if there was truly no other way—they’d ring the bell.

Go Igyeol wasn’t the kind of man who’d turn away his own family at the door.

“We’re close,” Minjun murmured. “We just have to get through this part. We’re almost there.”

“….”

“Once it’s done, we’ll finally be able to breathe. Even if he gets hurt in the process—what choice do we have? Better that than all of us drowning.”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

It wasn’t guilt that stopped him. It was fear—fear of being overheard.

A man waiting for the bus nearby was glancing their way.

Too small, too weak to be one of Seo Dohyeon’s guards, but still—better to be cautious.

“Let’s go,” he said finally.

“…Yeah. Let’s go.”

They would leave their worries for tomorrow.

Because surely, tomorrow had to be better than today.