TCBW C34

Chapter 34

The place they finally arrived was, as expected, on an entirely different level from the floors they had passed earlier.

A massive space that occupied the entire floor was so wide and quiet that one felt compelled to walk carefully to avoid letting even their footsteps echo.

As Suhoe moved through this towering corporate building, he found himself wondering about the person in charge here. Remembering that his husband, Dowoon, was also a man of high position, he idly speculated whether that person might exude a similar presence.

It was while he was caught up in such thoughts, glancing around him, that Seo‑jun gave a polite knock before opening the door to the president’s office.

The sound made Suhoe tense and swallow without thinking. Seo‑jun caught the reaction and chuckled softly.

“Relax. The president’s not here. ‘Our time to clean’ is all that means.”

He handed Suhoe a cleaning tool.

“Here, let’s start by dusting.”

Only then did Suhoe relax, taking the duster Seo‑jun offered.

“From over here to there, just go straight through.”

“Alright.”

“When you finish that, use this…”

…

Some time later, Seo‑jun straightened up after finishing his section and glanced over at Suhoe.

That slender body was moving briskly, without pause.

It was a far cry from the “fragile kid” Gyubeom had described. For someone said to have been too sick to attend school, he showed no signs of slowing or needing special attention. His hands moved quickly.

Watching this, Seo‑jun smiled to himself in pleasant surprise.

“Pretty good. After this, we’ll head down.”

Suhoe turned his head from his work to answer.

“Alright.”

Once he was sure the other could handle his share with ease, Seo‑jun finally focused on his own tasks.

With their rhythm syncing, the pace of work sped up sharply — from the president’s office, to conference rooms, to handling supplies in the restrooms.

They had hardly a moment to rest, but the ease between them kept fatigue away.

They went on to clean meeting rooms in various departments, restock restrooms — filling the day with steady activity.

Now and then, Manager Gyubeom would come by, wearing a worried look; each time, seeing Suhoe quietly absorbed in his duties, he left again wearing a bemused expression.

Before they knew it, evening had come.

On a quiet path leading down to the basement with the day’s garbage in tow, Seo‑jun spoke in a satisfied voice:

“Working as a pair, we finished way faster. Alone, I’d have gone past nine o’clock.”

“…You really do like this job, don’t you?”

The return was an unexpectedly plain sentiment:

“Out of nowhere? Well, yeah. I’ve got pride in it. Physical work suits me.”

“Same here. I feel like I only have value when I’m moving.”

Suhoe’s quietly added words made Seo‑jun stop walking and look down at him with genuine curiosity.

“Really? Not many people are like that… Maybe we’re actually a perfect match.”

No sooner had Suhoe gone home than Gyubeom called Seo‑jun over, as if waiting for him. Glancing around, he lowered his voice.

“So? Nothing unusual?”

“Honestly, he’s got more skills than I expected.”

“I’m not talking about the work! The person! Did you notice anything suspicious?”

The push made Seo‑jun’s expression tighten for an instant. Images flashed of the vivid red marks he’d seen earlier on the slender wrists and along the nape of the other’s neck.

That brief change didn’t escape Gyubeom, who pressed in:

“You saw something, didn’t you?”

“…”

“Right? Huh?”

But Seo‑jun soon smoothed his expression back to normal, raising a shoulder with practiced ease.

“Nope. Didn’t see a thing. He just worked.”

He’d decided not to tell Gyubeom what he’d noticed — for now.

Whether for anyone’s sake in particular, he couldn’t yet say. But he had already chosen to ignore those marks once, and he wasn’t going back on that choice.

Even after bringing Suhoe into the Balhwa‑dong residence, Dowoon hadn’t reduced his workload.

He was the sort of man who found peace only by working during the hours others slept, cutting away every source of worry before there was time to dwell on it.

And so he remained buried in work, more often sleeping away from home than returning to where Suhoe was.

The villa near the company headquarters was, for that reason, a place he could not easily give up.

The night before, work had run late again, and he’d slept there.

And at precisely 4 a.m., a visitor arrived.

Even after Hae-eon had told him “you don’t have to come,” Professor Shim came anyway.

“Forgive me for coming so early in the morning.”

Despite Dowoon’s refusal — insisting there was no separate time for a consultation — the man had insisted on coming himself.

Too weary to argue him down, Dowoon had chosen his own convenience: the night before, through Hae-eon, he had said to tell Shim to come at dawn to the villa. And so he had.

Immaculately dressed, Professor Shim entered and at once began to examine Dowoon’s hands closely.

“This…”

Looking up slowly at the younger man on the sofa, he seemed ready to say something difficult.

“The color has changed at the fingertips, and the dullness and aching pain starting there must be worsening by the day. Am I right?”

Already having confirmed with Chairman Lee the nature of the pain creeping up his arm, Dowoon kept his face indifferent, as if discussing a routine matter.

“I heard my grandfather’s hands were like this.”

“Yes. But he developed symptoms a little later in life than you have. The course and location differ as well.”

“…You know it well. Any other differences? Perhaps anything he said about the cause?”

Shim hesitated, then shook his head.

“…On that point, I know nothing. I only know — from having served your family for so long — that your illness lies beyond the reach of human medicine.”

Gathering his things, he rose.

“…I’ll send pain medication that works well, through my staff today.”

Dowoon’s gaze had already shifted back to the papers in front of him.

“If you develop further symptoms… I hope you’ll contact me.”

Bending in a deep bow as if used to such dismissals, Professor Shim left the villa.

Outside, dry snowflakes blew through the air.

Standing in the empty street, Shim drew out his phone without hesitation, dialing.

Ring… click.

Before even two rings had passed, the call connected.

―“You’re working early for me.”

The voice on the other end was like scraped metal. Even at this hour, Chairman Lee — Dowoon’s father — was quick to take a call about news of his son’s curse.

“As I reported earlier, I examined the young master today. My diagnosis is that it’s the same illness as the previous generation.”

The wind bit bitterly through his coat, but Shim stood in the open street, making sure no one could hear.

“I’ll report again when further symptoms appear.”

―“Alright. And no need to mention we spoke privately.”

“Understood.”

The call ended without further formality.

Even after Shim’s departure, Dowoon’s work continued in the car as he transferred to the office.

Beside him, Hae-eon — who had been at his boss’s side through months without a single day’s rest — reported the day’s schedule.

“Executive meeting in the morning, external dinner meeting at night.”

Then, cautiously:

“I heard Professor Shim was here at dawn. Why does he go so far?”

Dowoon didn’t look up from the documents.

“He’s one of Chairman Lee’s people. He has to show that much diligence.”

“Wait — you’re saying he was sent by the chairman? Then why, knowing that, would you let him in?”

His voice tinged with the weariness of endless maneuvering, Dowoon replied:

“Even if not now, he’d have kept coming back. And this time, we were the ones who called him. Made for a useful opportunity.”

Hae-eon fell silent, recalling that it had been he himself who’d first contacted Shim that time.

“…I’ve nothing to say.”

“We couldn’t have kept it secret forever. And since we’ve shown our hand, they’ll feel pressed to show a reaction. It’s not all loss.”

“What kind of reaction?”

“We’ll see soon enough.”

It was an unhurried answer — perhaps too unhurried for Hae-eon, who could not share his calm.

He feared that his own mistake might become the very thing that would tighten around Dowoon’s neck, and so he pressed again, unable to stay composed.