NLFSD Chapter 121

Chapter 121 – Call My Name IF Extra 5

Feeling the distance in Seo Taecheon’s tone, Jiwoon noticed he was saying “you and I” instead of the habitual “we.” That made him all the more determined to persuade him quickly and bring back the man he knew.

“…That was… a few months after we registered the marriage… we started dating.”

What he said was true. Due to a clerical error, their marriage registration had come first, and only afterward did they acknowledge their feelings and begin dating. But how was he supposed to make Taecheon grasp the complicated reflection system behind it? The thought made him hesitate.

We accidentally registered, agreed to divorce, lived a contrived newlywed life and—somehow—fell in love. Put like that, it sounded utterly ridiculous.

Worse, stating everything exactly as it happened could invite the wrong suspicion about their love. Claiming they’d agreed to divorce and then fallen for each other would sound unreliable on its face.

So Jiwoon decided to omit the messy details for now.

“…It’s too complicated to explain right this second. The bottom line is, we loved each other, and we really did marry. We… loved each other.”

He put deliberate weight on “we,” hoping Taecheon would hear what was embedded in that word.

“The secretary already showed me the wedding photos,” Taecheon said.

“…You saw them.”

“Yes. He said he took them himself, there in person.”

At that, a glimmer of hope entered Jiwoon’s eyes. If he’d seen the wedding photos, perhaps he’d believe what Jiwoon said.

“Photos… There’s no more definitive proof than that, is there?” he asked, encouraged.

“Hm… that’s true,” Taecheon admitted.

By now he had to concede that the Omega before him was indeed his spouse. Unless everyone around him was playing a pointless, orchestrated prank, the simplest hypothesis was most likely correct. The concept philosophy calls Occam’s razor was the tool he reached for whenever things grew convoluted.

But that was logic accepted by the head; accepting it in the heart was another matter. Love, affection, pregnancy—those things still felt foreign.

“I acknowledge it. You and I are indeed married.”

Jiwoon’s face brightened—

“But separately from that, I still don’t know who you are. On that premise, judging only by objective circumstances, your claim is sound.”

Jiwoon could no longer swallow his feelings. To be jerked around like this—humiliating.

“Fine. Enough.”

He sprang up from the sofa. Enduring this suffocating situation any longer wouldn’t produce answers. He had spent the whole day wrestling alone with turmoil. He had cried hard. He had come here to assert himself, and still, again, Taecheon “didn’t believe.” Anger began to rise. He couldn’t forgive this denial. How could you forget me, no matter what—only that thought remained.

“Seo Taecheon. You.”

When Jiwoon shot to his feet and looked him square in the eyes, Taecheon was taken aback. He couldn’t predict what would come from this stranger’s mouth. Gentle face, ferocious drive—he’d sensed it earlier.

“Yes.”

“I’ll nurse you.”

“What are you saying?”

Arms folded, Jiwoon declared, proud and loud, “I’m your spouse, and I’m the one who will take care of you.”

“I don’t need any particular attendant care.”

“My husband’s in the hospital, and I should just leave him?”

Taecheon frowned. Husband. Spouse. The words grated.

He had always lived observing the proper distance from others.

His parents had parted when he was young, each going their own way. His mother even left the country; he grew up without much of a mother’s warmth. Of course, professional help handled daily needs. But each time he was ill and hospitalized, he realized just how lonely his state was.

Busy expanding his business, his father would assign a professional caregiver, but not come himself to sit at the bedside. So the notion that family—or a spouse—would care for him was something he had never understood.

Regardless of whether Taecheon drifted in his own reflections, Jiwoon moved on his own.

“Then I’ll sleep on the attendant bed.”

He hopped onto the guardian’s cot.

“You’re going to sleep there?”

“Yes. Where else—on the floor?”

“I’m fine alone. Please go home.”

With Jiwoon planted on the attendant bed, Taecheon wouldn’t rest easy himself.

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Go.”

He made the refusal plain. But Jiwoon was not one to retreat easily.

“You want me to go back home in the middle of the night? Leave my sick husband alone?”

“Sorry, but I prefer to be alone.”

At that, Jiwoon sighed long and pressed his temple—plainly tamping down anger.

A thought occurred to Taecheon. If I throw him out… where does he go? He’d told him to go home, but where did this man live?

“By the way—where are you staying?”

“…What?”

“Your home. Where is it?”

To Taecheon, it was a question reached by logical steps; to Jiwoon, it was ludicrous.

“Where else—Banpo‑dong.”

“The villa on the hill in Banpo‑dong?”

“Yes. Of course. That’s our newlywed home.”

Taecheon caught his dry lip between his teeth.

“That’s the newlywed home… I see. You call my house that.”

His tone said he could not accept it. To him, letting someone into his home was unimaginable. Upon becoming an adult and living independently, the first thing he did was get a home of his own—interior to his taste, time spent alone, strictly. It was like an isolated castle—sky‑high, dazzling, and unapproachable. That was why it was comfortable.

He did not see Omegas on the side. Once, under his father’s pressure, he met an Omega from another prominent family—what society calls an arranged meeting. He never felt interest in anyone. For form’s sake, he’d share a meal or tea once or twice, but any request to be invited to his home he refused to the last. He had even shut people out so bluntly they were mortified.

He was an Alpha everyone coveted, the standout among chaebol third‑gens his age; all and sundry wanted him as their Alpha. He knew it—yet he never wanted the attention. He never wanted to let anyone into his heart or his house. So had he lived for thirty years.

A space solely for himself. To let a stranger into that perfect space—to think that Omega lived in his house… the more he thought it, the more absurd. What on earth had happened to him?

While he sorted himself, the chastened Jiwoon lost the earlier fire. He rose from the creaking guardian’s bed and rolled up the blanket.

“…If I stay, we’ll both be uncomfortable. I’ll go.”

With a desolate look, he got up, slowly put on his clothes, and walked to the door. Taecheon did not bother to stop him.

Hand on the knob, Jiwoon turned back and murmured, “I’m leaving now, but the place you belong—where you’ll return—is our home.”

The door opened and closed. Taecheon was alone again.

A tepid, sticky feeling. He didn’t know how to dispel it. He couldn’t sleep that night. Until dawn, the pale face floated before him; he rubbed at his gritty lids.

Two days later, he was cleared for discharge.

Because Driver Kim had been in the front seat, his injuries were worse than Taecheon’s. Not enough to hinder daily life, thankfully, but he was urged to take sick leave. So Secretary Park drove Taecheon home.

Not knowing what to say about this series of events, Park avoided the subject of Jiwoon. Watching the rearview, he drove in silence.

Legs crossed, Taecheon stared out the window, thinking. Then he shifted his gaze to the mirror.

“Secretary Park, I have a question.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This Omega—Lee Jiwoon.”

“Yes.”

“When did he and I begin dating?”

Park was at a loss. The Director was extremely private; a question like that was outside what a secretary could know. Still, within what he did know, there was one thing he could answer.

“I understand you were in a secret relationship.”

“A secret relationship?”

“Yes. You met quietly within the company, then suddenly made the relationship public.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You personally announced it. In front of the entire staff.”

While Taecheon’s mouth hung open, Park added,

“And before the wedding, I’m told you two were already living together.”

“Before marriage?”

To his worldview and common sense, it was difficult to accept. A man who couldn’t tolerate letting others into his home—cohabiting before marriage with Jiwoon?

“Yes. You didn’t share the details, but now and then you’d tell an anecdote—how it was tough to commute together without being noticed, how taking a half‑day on the same day nearly gave you away—those sorts of things.”

Taecheon sank back again, mind turning. From the back seat, he asked,

“How did I… look then?”

Park answered evenly, “You looked happy.”

By then the car had reached his home.

“Please go in. I’ll take my leave.” Park bowed from the waist.

“Off you go. I’ll return to regular work tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”