HYDP C30

Chapter 30

He really might get disciplined by the Assassin Supervision Bureau, huh. No—what was strange was that such a worry even occurred in the first place.

Running his fingertips over Cheonguk’s ID card, Sanhong toyed with it. The sharp edges could easily slice his skin, but he didn’t care. He had, on occasion, used his own ID as a weapon.

“…Pointless how well they make things like this….”

“What is?”

Sanhong watched Cheonguk’s hand as he left his final signature. How on earth had they ended up entangled in a creditor–debtor relationship? It was all questions. And the man himself looked positively delighted.

Seeing Cheonguk’s date of birth, Sanhong once again felt the age gap between them.

Lowering his head, Sanhong signed his own name. Even in that moment, Cheonguk stared holes through him. That gaze was maddeningly oppressive.

“Fuck. Look at that handwriting. I’m losing it.”

“……”

“With that exact handwriting—here, see?—I want it tattooed right here.”

When Cheonguk thrust his forehead toward him as he said it, Sanhong clenched his teeth. With his signature finished, he alternated his gaze between the two documents listing identical personal details and amounts.

[Amount: 300,000,000 won (three hundred million won)

The debtor, Cheon Guk, agrees to transfer collateral and to receive the above amount, and agrees to pay interest monthly.]

After one more check of the final page, Sanhong lifted his head. With anti-forgery seals affixed across the page breaks, there was no taking it back now. He handed Cheonguk a copy of the same document.

“Sanhong. With just this single sheet of paper, you and I are now connected?”

“……”

“With this one sheet, we’ve become so tight.”

“……”

“No—that was already the case.”

Picking up his pen, Cheonguk added a little doodle next to his name: a tiny smiling face.

“Sanhong. You’re my future.”

“……”

“I’ll do my best.”

With that, he gingerly pinched only the edge of the paper between thumb and forefinger, careful not to crease it.

Meanwhile, opening the safe, Sanhong shoved the newly minted debtor file into the folder and slammed the door shut with his foot.

Thus, Cheonguk moved into the roster of Sanhong’s debtors—voluntarily, at that. It sat wrong with him, but it was already too late to undo.

Normally, he would have handed over thick bundles of cash directly or tucked them into whatever bag the person brought, but the amount was large this time. From the storage room, he pulled out two hard-case rolling suitcases for transport and methodically packed them with the requested sum.

Propped in a corner, stuffing the cash into the cases, Sanhong was watched with a doting gaze by Cheonguk, who rested his chin on his hand. Seeing his toes in slippers, Cheonguk even let out a faint snort of laughter.

“Here. Three hundred million. The anti-theft locks are set, and it’s all clean money, so use it without worry.”

When he pushed the cases over, Cheonguk grasped both handles and lifted them lightly.

“Sanhong, I’m your debtor now, right? Is there anything you want from me?”

Though merely a debtor, he acted as if he were a lover. Still, if he didn’t say something, the man felt liable to stick around like a bound spirit, so working hard to think, Sanhong barely managed an answer.

“From now on, don’t come here without my permission.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

He’d tried to be firm—and unexpectedly, Cheonguk nodded right away. The way he understood at once was even stranger. Then he insisted that next time he would bring tastier desserts.

“If they’re bad, you die.”

“Okay.”

Already exhausted, Sanhong waved a hand vaguely. Please, just go already….

“Oh, right. Sanhong.”

“What now.”

Just as he was stepping toward the exit, something seemed to occur to Cheonguk, and he turned back.

“If I get permission before coming, I can come anytime, right?”

“……”

He had no idea why those words sounded so ominous. In the end, as if under a spell, Sanhong nodded. He regretted it instantly, but Cheonguk was already beaming, waving as he turned away.

As he rolled the hard cases down the second-floor stairs, the wheels clacked—click, click, thunk!—raucously.

“You cute thing. What do you think I’ll do, that you just up and lend me money.”

Out on the street, he looked up at the second floor with an expression of sheer wickedness. Then he loaded the bag of loan money—three hundred million won—into the back seat of the car.

Oddly, a sense of solidity filled him, and a bright mood rose for no clear reason. The weight of the cases gave him the illusion that bonding with Sanhong would be easy.

“This isn’t debt—it’s affection.”

Moreover, he never realized this was an emotional bond, a kind of “affection note,” and thus nearly impossible to collect.¹

Grinning to himself, Cheonguk hopped into the Jinx and started the engine. With a low growl from the exhaust, he stamped the accelerator, and the Jinx leapt forward. He smiled like a man who owned the world.

Today, he had acquired a debt of three hundred million won.

Today, Cheonguk didn’t run any red lights.

He didn’t speed, either, but drove like everyone else, normally.

With the windows thrown wide open, he basked in the insanely beautiful weather, even humming a tune. He gripped the wheel tightly, hoping this feeling would last.

Even so, his eyes kept wandering to the contract lying on the passenger seat. That scrap of paper from his deal with Sanhong was, to him now, as sacred as a talisman. In the end, he picked it up and set it right above the steering wheel, squarely in his line of sight.

It was no more than an ordinary sheet of paper, yet to him it was life itself.

He quietly reached down and touched the slight bulge at his center. Instantly, he began to recall the fairness of Sanhong’s face just now.

If even a Beta could get hard, how crazy would the Alpha bastards go? The jealousy was enough to drive him mad. Like a kid begging to buy what he wanted, he had half a mind to drive straight to a specialist clinic and throw a fit.

He even thought that being an Omega would be fine—if only it let him feel a sense of sameness with Sanhong.

Ah, just the thought made his legs tremble with pleasure. Normally, he’d have already shoved in headlong without a second thought. But rather than being sucked by Sanhong, he wanted to toy with those fair cheeks and take that soft, as-yet-unseen cock into his mouth, suckling it day and night.

For Sanhong, he could gladly become a whore of his own accord. He could spread the pale thighs and thrust in, jerking himself off by shaking his fully swollen cock inside.

But it was only fantasy—because, strangely, he couldn’t do that to Sanhong. Though he fell in love quickly, Sanhong was different.

Pettily, he thumped the steering wheel with his fist.

Having even received an allowance from the one he fancied, and no longer thinking their relationship ordinary, he couldn’t stop grinning.

Still snickering, he gunned it when the light turned green. But arriving at the Assassin Supervision Bureau building and gliding toward his usual spot, his mood crashed in an instant.

“…Which motherfucker….”

Someone had stolen his reserved parking space.

Of course, officially there were no “reserved” spots—equality for all. But rules didn’t matter to him. No matter the grumbling in the office, he had stubbornly defended his place. And now, thanks to that shitty car, his mood was wrecked.

Parking crookedly, he got out and opened the trunk. What he took out was a spanner.

Clutching the tool in a firm grip, he strode toward the car that had taken his spot. At the same time, someone in the distance sprinted over, shouting.

“Boss! Stop! Stooop—!”

It was Suho.

His carefully styled hair flew to pieces in the wind, but he didn’t care, running full tilt toward Cheonguk. Yet even at Suho’s desperate cry, the spanner in Cheonguk’s hand came down mercilessly on the black sedan.

Thud—!

First, the passenger-side mirror shattered. The second blow dented the hood.

Crack—! Wham—!

A flurry of strikes sent a great fissure rippling across the windshield.

“Argh! Boss! Do you even know whose car this is?!”

With his hands in his hair, Suho pointed frantically at the passenger window.

“Ethics Inspection Division, Ha Jinuk.”

The moment he registered the name, Cheonguk felt a thrill. As if something irreversible had happened, Suho seized him by the lapels and shook him violently.

“What are you going to do about this! Huh?! Looks like he only just bought it!”

“None of my business.”

“What did you say?”

With a fishy grin, he delivered the final blow. The spanner lodged straight into the windshield and stuck there, jutting up like a flag.

“Ah. That’s a load off.”

At last, his face brightened. The suppression team, who’d arrived late, stopped dead at the wrecked ruin of a car.

Brushing past their shoulders, he walked by the crookedly parked Jinx and headed into the smoking booth.

Beside the Bureau building, half-shielded by dark glass, it was his little paradise. Cupping the wind with an idle hand, he lit a cigarette. On the first deep drag, thin smoke trailed slowly along his lips as it drifted out.

Through the acrid haze, his eyelids half-lowered. Then, with pointless little chuckles, his shoulders bounced.

There was no anger left in the laughter. He had only smashed something that displeased him.