HYDP C26

Chapter 26

He didn’t push back hard no matter how the punks acted, because of one mindset: “I’m older—let it go.” Besides, brawling with kids when older brought nothing of value.

He took bundles of fifty-thousand-won notes from the safe, placed them in a shopping bag, and added assorted snacks. Just as he was heading back toward the sofa, one punk who still hadn’t learned tripped him.

“…Ah!”

Carrying the bag, he didn’t see the foot and pitched forward. Laughter burst around him.

“Heh… Hey, Sanhong, doing physical comedy now? Thought the face was the only pretty part.”

“……”

“Are you really that dumb? How do you fall for something this common?”

Chuckling, Juyoung looked at him on the floor. It felt good to have gotten a rise out of someone who rarely showed expression. But he didn’t lift his head. Sensing something off, he stopped laughing.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“……”

With a prickle of dread, he grabbed his shoulder and forced his head up. He’d slammed his forehead and nose; tears pooled as he held his face. He hurt too much to speak.

“…Hey, you okay? Let me see.”

Seeing he was more hurt than expected, he scrambled down from the sofa. Even his slippers had come off—he must have fallen hard.

“…It hurts.”

“……”

Facing that near-teary expression, his mouth clamped shut. It felt like getting struck by something heavy.

This wasn’t the moment for such a feeling, but staring at a face on the verge of tears, something boiled up inside.

An emotion beyond words.

Then—

Clink…

“…What’s that?”

“……”

From the entrance, a dull, clear sound rang. Their eyes swung as one. There stood a man, a telephone pole of a build, with a brutal face.

“……”

In the suddenly silent room, he raised his head, swallowing tears.

Why is he here? No—why at this hour?

He could hardly believe his eyes, seeing Cheonguk at the door.

He tightened his grip on the crowbar he’d dropped and rolled his gaze low to take in the scene.

On his knees, face a mess and crying, the shopping bag spilled, bundles of fifty-thousand-won notes on the floor…

“…Fuck.”

Extortion, clearly. And in him rose not anger but the intent to kill.

It was a day too fine to hole up. He still didn’t go to work.

“Have you lost your mind?”—Baek’s message had long since been dumped into spam; he ignored the others as he parked and idled, waiting for a dessert shop to open.

What if he hates sweets. Still, hope he eats them.

His head was full of him. Imagining him happy over the desserts he brought made something inside twinge.

…Is this love.

He still couldn’t believe the change. The feelings were new and awkward, but he resolved to do his best to impress him. He even debated quitting.

If he resigned, he might live under watch forever. Even that felt okay now. Everything felt forgivable.

Staying a long time in one job wasn’t good for the soul. People should try different things and hone themselves.

…Ha. Living together is too soon, right?

So as not to scare him, that would be a later discussion. If he said no, he’d drop it.

He worried that the other hadn’t opened his heart. He needed to prove he was “normal.” The mere fact of his department made him wary; he yearned to break that unfair prejudice fast.

He told himself he was living a life he’d never known. What to do when they met, and if pushed away, what tricks to stay close…

Happy problems, all of them.

While he daydreamed, the shop opened. Climbing down from the Jinx, he imagined sharing those sweets with him, and walked in on a high.

He made the opening run.

It was famous—lines formed at the door. He was first in. Desserts he’d never have glanced at before, he piled onto a tray without checking names. He added a freshly baked chocolate horn and finally smiled in satisfaction. This looked good, that looked good—before he knew it, the tray was a mountain of pastries.

“That’ll be sixty-seven thousand won.”

Humming, he handed over his card, put it away after paying, and stepped out with both hands laden, grinning into the smell of bread.

In that fine mood, he drove to the pawnshop.

When the location had first come in, he’d been irritated—another tedious assignment.

A life of hunting people—find, kill. Too familiar, too obvious, boring even.

The signal fitfully stabilized at last—some “pawnshop” in Horangyong-dong.

He gunned it and stopped at the pawnshop. He hated the neighborhood on sight, but put up with it for him alone.

It was still early. He wanted to put sweet dessert right into that small, pretty mouth.

Indulging all sorts of fantasies, he parked the Jinx askew and went inside. It was loud.

“……”

Not his voice.

He wasn’t alone.

Who would be at a pawnshop at this hour, and why—he didn’t know, but didn’t like it.

He went back out. From the trunk he took a crowbar and gripped it tight. Whoever they were, coming to his workplace at this hour—they were likely in heat.

Otherwise, who would seek out a dominant Omega early in the morning. Of course, he was the exception.

Two steps at a time, he ran up the stairs to save fragile him. His face was already murderous.

What he walked into was the worst—jaw-dropping. He even dropped the crowbar.

“…What is this?”

Every rotten gaze turned to him. He scanned the scene and took up the crowbar again.

Those teary eyes, hands over his mouth—a clear call for help. And his cheek, swollen red from a hit.

His blood didn’t just boil—it went ice cold. If he’d known it was hell like this, he’d have skipped the bakery and come straight. Drowning in guilt, he cursed himself. Then resolved.

Kill every one of those bastards.

“You piss-ant little fuckers.”

Teeth grinding; his boots thudded, slow, closer. The air of him made them shrink and glance around.

They knew instinctively the man before them wasn’t ordinary. Even their leader, Juyoung, couldn’t open his mouth.

He, meanwhile, looked stunned to see him there at that hour.

His forehead and nose still ached, but when he saw him, the pain oddly receded. As if something stronger than pain took hold of his body.

He shoved Juyoung aside, rough. He tumbled, clutching his shoulder, stammering in pain.

He looked down at him sitting on the floor. Cupping his cheek, he lowered himself to eye level.

“……”

His wrecked state crushed his chest. He drew a deep breath—and whipped the crowbar hard.

“Aaagh!”

The nearest punk shrieked, clutching his arm. He writhed on the floor in pain he’d never known.

At once, his heavy boot smashed another’s waist. Then the crowbar crashed down on back and waist without mercy.

Thud! Crack!

As one after another dropped, the momentarily stunned leftovers threw themselves at him. To him, they were larvae.

A grab for his throat from behind—he hooked an elbow and crushed the windpipe in an instant. His crooked smile held pure mockery.