TCBW C38

Chapter 38

He already knew the situation.

That the projector had recently been broken by an outside visitor mishandling it, that this had forced the meeting to be held downstairs among the general staff — none of it posed a real problem for Dowoon.

When he rose from his desk, Hae‑eon gathered his things and followed.

Checking the time, he noted that this was clearly when Suhoe should be at work — but he wasn’t terribly concerned. Even when they’d had to come down for meetings before, in such a vast building he’d never once run into the janitorial staff, and besides, he was sure there was no way Suhoe, running a fever, had come in today.

Naturally, he concluded, the young man would be resting at home. With that entirely reasonable assumption, he trailed his boss without the slightest suspicion.

As Dowoon left his office, all the executives were waiting outside. He and Hae‑eon boarded the elevator with them, descending to the lower meeting room.

But as they walked a corridor lined with various departments, Dowoon, walking at the head of the group, suddenly slowed.

There it was — that faint scent of grass he had noticed in his office the day before.

Most of the executives present were alphas, yet none reacted. But his extreme‑dominant¹ alpha senses caught the trace of pheromone drifting in the air clearly.

“…Which department is this?”

The abrupt question dropped a stone in Hae‑eon’s stomach. He flicked his device open quickly and reported.

“This is the Card Planning Department, sir. Entirely beta staff on this floor.”

He made a point of stressing there were no omegas here.

Yongseong Finance employed all secondary gender types, but this particular floor — heavily trafficked by outside visitors — had been assigned mostly to beta departments to minimize risk. While there had initially been other types here, it was now staffed entirely by beta employees.

And yet, despite knowing that, Hae‑eon felt a jolt.

Because this was the exact place where, the day before, Suhoe had released his pheromones, wandered in a daze, and been hauled out by Seo‑jun.

He hadn’t heard every detail, but the report from Gyubeom had told him enough, and now he recognized the spot.

Here.

Even knowing the situation himself, he couldn’t smell a thing — but this man… this man who didn’t even know Suhoe worked at the company had found the trace purely on scent.

Still uncanny.

Dowoon lingered a moment, scanning the area, before walking on to the meeting room.

Inside, the modestly sized room was already full, waiting for him. When the president entered, everyone stood to greet him.

“Well, let’s conclude here.”

Over an hour later, the meeting wrapped up. As Dowoon rose, the executives sent him off with due ceremony.

First out the door, he stopped short again in the corridor.

This time it hit with far greater force — the rich, vivid grass scent swamped every sense. Whoever it belonged to had been here moments ago.

Could there really be another omega in this company with exactly the same scent as Suhoe?

Another omega?

His rational mind shoved possibilities at him: it could be someone else; scents could be similar.

But his instincts already had the answer.

No… this is…

Almost without realizing, he homed in on the one possibility he had been studiously ignoring, and began following the trail.

“Those two, right? The janitor couple everyone’s been talking about.”

As he strode down the hall, muttered gossip from young staffers in nearby departments reached his ears — but he paid no attention, only tracking the scent like it was something he could see.

Hae‑eon, face bleaching, hurried after him, hoping against all odds he was wrong.

At last, Dowoon opened the door to the emergency stairwell and followed the scent downward in long strides.

The deeper he went, the stronger it grew, until a familiar back came into view.

He closed the distance swiftly and caught the owner of the scent by the arm.

Suhoe, descending the stairs, turned back in wide‑eyed shock.

“Ah?!”

Beside him, Seo‑jun reacted instantly, reaching toward Dowoon as if to block him.

In the dim stairwell, the tableau of Dowoon, Suhoe, and Seo‑jun was complete.

Following close behind, Hae‑eon felt dizzy from the absurdity.

What was he supposed to do with this? An extreme‑dominant alpha tracking down a trace no one else could smell, a startled Suhoe caught in his grip, and Seo‑jun standing like a protective boyfriend between them.

It was the worst possible combination.

“…President Lee Dowoon?”

It was Seo‑jun who recognized him first, his expression baffled by the situation — and laced with open hostility.

Dowoon, too, regarded him in heavy silence, fully aware of his presence.

As their eyes met in the air, the grip on Suhoe’s arm tightened.

“Ow—”

The sound made both alphas react at once: Dowoon eased his grip, and Seo‑jun moved in, drawing Suhoe protectively toward him.

Again their gazes clashed, neither willing to be the one to break away.

Before the metaphorical shrimp could be crushed between the whales, Hae‑eon stepped in, taking Suhoe by the shoulder and guiding him away. The younger man went quietly into his hold.

He sent Suhoe down the stairs, then stationed himself between the two alphas.

“Sir, you should head back upstairs now.”

“…”

“And you, Seo‑jun, should stand down. We’ll be taking Mr.—I mean, Suhoe—with us for a while. As you can see, my president has something to discuss with him.”

But Seo‑jun refused to move.

“…And what exactly could a conglomerate president have to discuss with a janitor who’s only been here a few days?”

Seeing the younger man speak to Dowoon like that, Hae‑eon wore a strained expression.

Then Suhoe tugged on Seo‑jun’s sleeve.

“I’m fine. I’ll be back. Just head to the breakroom, Jun‑ah.”

Jun‑ah?

At the intimate address, the mask on Dowoon’s face cracked. What — after only a few days working, he was already on first‑name terms with a man his own age, telling him to wait?

He looked at them both, incredulous.

“…Yeah.”

Even more absurd was how Seo‑jun, at those words, answered like a docile dog to its master.

Beside him, Hae‑eon could feel his boss’s temper burning hotter, and wondered desperately how to contain the situation — and, more self‑preservingly, what he himself would do stuck in the middle.

Then—

“A mere janitor, huh.”

Dowoon repeated the words, his face back to its usual mask.

Now that he’d confirmed with his own eyes that the scent in his company belonged to Suhoe, working it out from here was just a matter of asking Hae‑eon.

“That’s right. Which means there’s no need for you to accompany us to the office.”

His voice was colder than the stairwell’s air.

Feeling that dull tingle in his fingertips, he checked the watch on his wrist, and without another word, turned on his heel.

Hae‑eon bowed briefly to the others before hurrying after him.

Suhoe didn’t follow. More than anything, he was concerned about how shaken Seo‑jun must be.

“Jun‑ah.”

Only when they had fully disappeared from sight did he meet Seo‑jun’s eyes.

“That was President Lee Dowoon,” he said. “The president of the company.”

President… of this company?

Seo‑jun finally voiced something he’d been holding back.

Only then did Suhoe realize that the master of this massive skyscraper where he had found work was, in fact, his own husband.

He had always wondered who it might be — but he had never wanted to find out like this.