HYDP C3

Chapter 3

The older child was Yeon Cheong, and the younger was Yeon Hong. Both were at the age when they were especially adorable now, and the guilt of not being able to be by their side weighed even heavier on Sanhong’s heart.

Despite having plenty of money, the reason he insisted on running a pawnshop was simple. By temperament he had to work at something, it was a way to blow off stress, and it was also preparation to endure the approaching heat cycles.

Of course, he had once reached out to Huigang to ask for help during a heat cycle, but because Huigang writhed in extreme rejection, he ended up cleanly giving up on that.

More than anything, though it had been years since he retired, the biggest factor was still having to hide from the surveillance net of the Assassin Supervision Bureau that was trying to track him down and eliminate him. At the same time, he could gather information, so his reason for not being able to give up the pawnshop was rock solid.

Sometimes close colleagues from the past dropped by; they mostly entrusted him with money laundering and transactions outside the bounds of the law.

In any case, he had the constitution of a workaholic.

“Even so, the kids like you. If someone asked them, ‘Who plays best with you, me or him?’ they’d both run straight to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Hey. Dad’s the best, obviously.”

Chiding that he really had no clue what kids wanted, Huigang scolded him. To that, he bobbed his head unconditionally and echoed agreement with whatever Huigang said.

“Did you get through the heat cycle okay?”

“Yeah. It ended this morning. I sent the four ahead to the restaurant.”

“What a damn ordeal, manifesting this late in life.”

Concern colored Huigang’s tone. But he only smiled.

“At least a heat cycle passes in a day. Thankfully my pheromones are faint, so it draws fewer pests.”

“If your pheromones were a whole problem too, you couldn’t live in that neighborhood, you idiot. Anyway, why’s a guy with so much money dragging himself in there to suffer?”

“Still, I make sure living expenses aren’t short each month. Cut me some slack.”

“Oh, obviously. You give over ten million won—why would I complain.”

Reassuring him once more not to worry about the kids, Huigang continued.

“But kids grow fast. You know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah. I should get going now. From here on, if anything urgent comes up, call the other number. I’ll be wearing the watch.”

“Got it. Hey. Yeon Sanhong.”

“Yeah.”

Just as he was about to hang up, Huigang called softly.

“Take your meds properly. You’d manage fine on your own anyway, but try not to make mistakes. You set the emergency numbers on the watch, right?”

“Yeah. Got it. See you later.”

The moment he finished the call with Huigang, he swiftly deleted the log. Then, suddenly noticing how messy the pawnshop interior had gotten, he stopped on his way out and quietly began sweeping the floor.

After tidying the floor, he finished with a thorough mopping. Seeing fine dust on the shelves, a bit keyed up, he finally flung all the windows wide and launched into a full cleaning.

Maybe thirty minutes passed. Only then, satisfied alone, he closed the windows and got ready to go out again. Before leaving, just in case, he put an Omega-only suppressant in his mouth and chewed it. Because of his Omega physiology, which could lead to anything happening anywhere, he had no choice but to stay keyed up at all times.

He changed into a simple tracksuit and headed for Gyerang Ban-jeom. The weather was disgustingly good. Maybe because his heat cycle had just ended, his body felt oddly light.

When he pushed aside the bead curtain hanging at the entrance of the Chinese restaurant and stepped in, the four who had arrived first to wait greeted him with slightly weary faces.

“We thought you’d run off again. Why’re you so late?”

“Someone picked a fight. I killed them and came back. Did you order?”

“What?”

“Kidding.”

“Unbelievable… So, what’re we eating again?”

“Jjamppong.”

“Four large portions of gan-jjajang! And one jjamppong!”

Cracking a straight face with jokes was one of his small amusements.

At the same time, the wok clanged and rattled noisily in the kitchen. His stomach roiled at the Chinese food he hadn’t had in a while. He rinsed his mouth with water to tame the stabbing salivation, and when a prickly feeling on his skin made him lift his head, he saw every face in the place was someone he knew.

“Is this the only restaurant in this neighborhood…?”

He emptied the cup of water with a faintly barbed remark. The punks at the table next to him spoke up.

“Hyung. Is it true you pay if we help with your heat cycle?”

“Need money?”

“Uh. Obviously. So how much do you pay?”

“Who knows.”

“Hey, kids, beat it. This is grown-up business.”

“What’s he on about. Damn fossil.”

And as usual, it escalated into a shouting match.

Whether they threw punches or not was none of his concern. He only wanted to quiet his howling, feed-me-now stomach as soon as possible. The downer of the day the heat ended was being ravenously hungry. Last time, he had even blacked out several times from the hunger.

Clack—!

As the fight broke out, the owner of Gyerang Ban-jeom served the side dishes. He set down thinly sliced pickled radish, an onion cut into six pieces, and chunjang on their table.

“Look at this. What is this radish, hanji paper or something?”

“What? Shut your mouth?”

“Hey now. What kind of way is ‘shut your mouth’ to talk to a customer? Didn’t I tell you not to skimp on ingredients if you’re in the food business! Bring out proper pickled radish while I’m being nice!”

“Do you know how expensive everything is these days! If you’re gonna bitch, get out!”

Striding off somewhere, the owner soon returned and shoved a beverage from the commercial fridge in front of him.

“Why only give it to Sanhong! What, our mouths are just beaks to you?”

“Table three! If the food is up, serve it already! It’s noisy.”

Ignoring all complaints and shooting only an awkward glance at him, the owner headed back to the kitchen to plate the food. Though he had suffered permanent eye damage from him in the past, thanks to ample compensation and settlements, he held no grudge. And once a month, he regularly donated to the owner. But the only ones who knew this were him and the owner of Gyerang Ban-jeom.

At last, the ordered food arrived. The moment it hit the table, the guys ravenously mixed their gan-jjajang and shoveled it into their mouths. They were eating to live, not to savor. He, who had ordered jjamppong, bit into the squid first.

“Hyung. Sleep with me next time. I’m an Alpha, you know.”

“You punk! Let him eat, will you!”

“It’s my turn next. I’ll be waiting.”

“Who knows.”

He didn’t even want to calculate how many years younger the speaker might be; turning away from the next table, he finished off his jjamppong. Then from all around came nagging voices asking why he ate so little and telling him to eat heartily. That scrawny body was because of this, they said; eat more and put on weight, and he’d stop getting sick—booming voices filled the restaurant.

He merely ate a little slower than others; he certainly didn’t eat less. In a way, it felt unfair. The way people kept seeing him as fragile was laughable.

“I haven’t experienced Sanhong yet—how was it?”

“Hey, you don’t ask things like that! Don’t go spouting that half-wit talk anywhere!”

Maybe because Omegas were rare in the neighborhood, attention focused on him. Those stares were tiring, but he just smiled and lifted his middle finger, indifferent.

By the time he finished his food and stood up, someone at another table had already paid for his share as well. He bowed his head to the unknown benefactor and slipped out of the Chinese restaurant.

All the guys said they were going to hit the gambling den for a round and walked off in the opposite direction. Finally free of the leeches that had been stuck to him, he made quick steps toward somewhere. Before long, the sign of his destination came into view.

<Cheonbaek Bathhouse>

When he stepped inside, he saw the owner here, Kang Seon, craning his neck out from behind the counter, already welcoming him.

“You’re here!”

“Yeah. Been well?”

They looked friendlier than expected. He usually didn’t frequent bathhouses, but after his heat cycle ended, he unfailingly dropped by, and today was no exception.

“We’re right at the tail end! As soon as the customers finish drying their hair, I’ll pull the shutter down!”

“No need.”

“No, absolutely! Gotta pull it down!”

Pressing a strawberry milk into his hand and telling him to rest here, Kang Seon fussed over him. Sipping the strawberry milk through the thin straw, he looked around. The interior seemed changed—there must have been a recent remodel; a lot looked fancy.

“These days, strawberry milk sells better than banana milk, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Thought you might wonder why I gave you strawberry milk instead of banana milk.”

“It’s fine. If you’re giving it, I’ll drink anything. But did you remodel recently?”

“Ah. Yes. And this is the only bathhouse in the neighborhood, right? Business is good.”

Saying he’d made some money lately, Kang Seon pestered him to go out for barbecue together sometime. With no particular reaction, he nodded and said okay.

Footnotes:

 

1. 1. Gyerang Ban-jeom: A Korean-Chinese eatery name; “ban-jeom” denotes a Koreanized Chinese restaurant. 
   2. Gan-jjajang/jjamppong: Gan-jjajang is “dry” black-bean noodles with sauce served separately or reduced; jjamppong is spicy seafood noodle soup—classic Korean-Chinese fare.