Divorce Contract C69

Chapter 69

The pale eyes quickly grew damp. Go Igyeol was terrified that if not Seo Dohyeon, then it would be Im Yeonhui, or if not her, then Seo Jeongjae, or worst of all, Go Daesik—shameless beyond compare—who would take the baby away. He feared what kind of threats they might wield using the child as leverage. Once he left the hospital, it felt as though no one would protect the baby. Enemies surrounded him on all sides. His thin, frail body trembled violently. As agitation heated him, Igyeol’s pheromones began to thicken.

“I won’t send him away. I won’t. Because the baby is your family, Igyeol. Neither my mother nor anyone else will take him. So please, stop crying.”

“Hhk… hh, huff…”

The pitiful sobs gradually weakened. His rigid body slowly collapsed, as though strength had left him entirely. Seo Dohyeon stripped off his own clothing to bind Igyeol’s wrist, waiting tensely for the nurse. Footsteps approached. The nurse entered, eyes darting across the blood-soaked floor and the tangled figures of the two men, before immediately rushing back out.

How he interpreted that reaction, Igyeol’s face drained of blood, turning ghostly pale. Seo Dohyeon bit down a curse. Weakly, Igyeol mumbled that if he stayed in the hospital, wouldn’t he at least get to see the baby? And if no one protected him, then who would protect the baby?

“Hh, I don’t want it. Don’t take him. Don’t take him, please… I did everything you told me to do, so why… why won’t you protect the baby? I… hh, I might deserve this, but the baby…”

“I won’t send him away. I won’t. I’ll make sure no one takes him.”

Seo Dohyeon pulled Igyeol closer, holding him tighter as the latter’s body grew heavier in his arms. His face turned not just pale but bluish. His eyelids blinked slower and slower, until suddenly, Igyeol could no longer open his eyes.

“Go Igyeol. Go Igyeol!”

The nurse returned with a doctor. They pulled Dohyeon off the limp body. The doctor checked Igyeol’s pupils with a penlight. His eyes still reacted to the light—relief. They moved him to the bed and began treatment.

The glass shard had torn his soft palm into a mess. The one pressed into his wrist had not shattered, thank heaven, but still left a wound so severe that “fortunate” felt grotesque to say aloud.

The doctor started with his palm. Sutures were unavoidable. With a nurse lighting the wound, he injected local anesthesia, carefully probing the ragged flesh for embedded shards. It hadn’t penetrated deeply, but raw tissue gaped, a sight enough to make brows furrow. Used gauze and alcohol swabs piled on the tray as he cleaned the wound. Needle and thread in hand, he stitched the torn flesh, one by one. Three centimeters on the palm, four and a half on the arm. Finally, he wrapped the bandages.

“…As you know, be careful to keep the wounds dry, and he must rest.”

“He lost a lot of blood. Is that all right?”

“Hmm. In my judgment, it doesn’t seem severe enough to require transfusion. If he feels dizzy upon waking, please inform us.”

“I understand.”

Seo Dohyeon listened intently, gaze fixed on Igyeol. Then, as though more remained to be said, he cleared his throat and looked at the doctor.

“What is it?”

“Well… earlier, because his hormone levels had stabilized somewhat, I did say discharge might be possible. But seeing how strong the pheromones are now, it seems his heat cycle is about to begin. I would recommend extending the hospitalization…”

“……”

“I’m sorry to say this, but his blood pressure is significantly below normal, so we cannot use suppressants. Considering his health and condition, sexual activity should also be avoided. All we can provide are sedatives and sleeping aids, alongside nutrient infusions. In case of emergencies, though…”

The doctor trailed off awkwardly, bowing his head as he met Dohyeon’s eyes. At the words that suppressants were impossible, Dohyeon exhaled a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead, face tightening.

Suppressants were desperately needed, and yet they couldn’t be used. Worse, he had foolishly spoken of discharge earlier. Knowing Igyeol’s fears about the baby, and still—he despised himself for it. The self-loathing weighed heavily.

“Please give him pheromone showers frequently, as much as possible. We’ll ensure sedatives, sleeping aids, and nutrients are administered steadily.”

“…Thank you.”

His voice, hollowed with despair, barely carried the gratitude. The doctor gave a nod and left quietly. Behind him, the nurse’s eyes flickered once toward Igyeol’s ashen face before slipping away as well.

While Igyeol slept, Seo Dohyeon had the room changed. Back to the VIP ward he had first been admitted to. He contacted Yoon Jaeseon, arranging for the entire VIP floor to be rented out and emptied. Guards were stationed at elevators, skybridges, and emergency exits, with entry and exclusion lists drawn up. Im Yeonhui’s name was at the very top of the “blocked” list, followed by Go Daesik. On impulse, he added Seo Jeongjae and even Seo Taehyeok, unlikely to come. Himself listed as primary guardian, Yoon Jaeseon as secondary. Only then did he feel some measure of ease.

“…And they call me shameless.”

What comfort was a handful of guards? Dohyeon pressed his dry palm against his face, holding his breath. He wished he could turn back time—to before he ever mentioned discharge. At least then, Igyeol’s body wouldn’t be collapsing into heat in this state.

“…Go Igyeol.”

On the bed, in a space larger and softer than any single room, lay Igyeol, sleeping sweetly. But his pheromones, thickening, made Dohyeon’s brow crease. If he recoiled even from a touch, how could he withstand this with his sanity intact? His temples throbbed as he pressed them, sighing.

He checked Igyeol’s rising temperature again and again, releasing his own pheromones in measured trickles. If pheromone showers alone could calm him, as the doctor advised, it would be best.

When Igyeol’s heat cycle finally began in earnest, the attending doctor came to the room—obliviously standing beside Dohyeon, voicing concern.

“Even with all the nutrients we’ve been pouring in, his stamina isn’t improving. Hm…”

“……”

“As I said, only sedatives and sleeping aids can be used. Beyond that, pheromone showers—please, only pheromone showers. During heat, omegas act on instinct and cannot think clearly. No matter how pitiable his clinging may seem, please soothe him without intercourse, until it passes.”

“I understand.”

“And regarding what your chief of staff requested—we’ve given our reply today. I regret the timing, after such an incident. Normally, hospital policy prohibits outside medical staff from conducting treatment here. But given the urgency, we’ll cooperate as much as possible.”

Urgency. The doctor’s summary of Igyeol’s state. He cast one last sympathetic look at the sleeping man, bowed lightly to Dohyeon, and left.

Once the heat subsided, Dohyeon planned to summon a psychiatrist immediately. His earlier plan of home counseling in a familiar setting was ruined, but there was no time to regret it. The hallucinations seemed only to worsen. And if, as today, Igyeol could hurt himself without resistance, then treatment must begin at once.

This was not something to postpone until after discharge. Plans failed—it was natural. He should have prepared alternatives. Yet all he did was remain pathetically stagnant, even in his own eyes.

“…It’s driving me mad.”

The lilac fragrance filling the room made his head swim. He forced himself to steady his mind, stepped out of the room, and collected rut suppressants from the desk.

He swallowed two yellow pills, steadied his breathing outside, then opened the door. The wet floral scent rushed at him. He heard the sound of sobbing. Immediately, Dohyeon opened his pheromones, muddied by the flood of omega scent, and moved toward the bed where Igyeol lay. The crying grew louder, closer.

“Go Igyeol.”

The body beneath the blanket flinched at his voice, trembling. The pheromones spilling out from beneath the covers made Dohyeon grit his teeth.

“I’m going to pull this back—don’t be startled.”

Carefully, he tugged at the blanket. Bit by bit, Igyeol’s hidden figure emerged. Sweat-damp hair plastered to his head. Clothes in disarray. Shirt gaping, pants twisted low on his thighs. Tiny palm bound in layers of bandage, smeared with milky fluid. His face twisted in grief as he sobbed.

Without realizing it, Dohyeon reached out. But Igyeol turned away, his thin back trembling pitifully.