TCBW C41

Chapter 41

Meanwhile, Sara — calling out to Dowoon as she entered — tilted her head when her eyes landed on the empty guest sofa, then spotted Hae‑eon and snapped.

“A guest? There’s no one here!”

Although Suhoe was standing some distance away beside the sofa, to her he was clearly just a janitor, not anyone she would think of as a “guest.”

Because of that, she threw a little fit at Hae‑eon, insisting there was no one there.

Hae‑eon discreetly wiped the sweat from his temples in relief. He had been desperately blocking her entry while imagining his boss and his wife entangled on that sofa, but fortunately it seemed Dowoon and his spouse had been doing nothing at all.

That was certainly for the best — but the fact that Sara and Suhoe were crossing paths at all was something he had never planned for, and he was uneasy. Still, regaining a calm and practiced expression, he asked her smoothly:

“I must’ve been mistaken. Well then, what brings you here today, Director Han? And how did you hear the president was back in Korea?”

“I have my ways.”

She shrugged as she answered, clearly not having come by any official channel. The brazen manner drew a momentary flash of distaste to Hae‑eon’s face before he smoothed it away.

While the two of them parried each other, Suhoe, hearing the title “Director” addressed to her, assumed she must be an important guest. Wanting to give up his place, he began gathering up his cleaning tools to leave.

Then Sara stepped close to Dowoon, sitting down so near their bodies touched — and without meaning to, Suhoe jerked in surprise.

Uh…?

In that moment, his hands went slack, and the tools he was holding clattered loudly to the floor.

“M‑Madam.”

Startled, Hae‑eon rushed over, crouching to help scoop up the scattered things. It only took a moment, but the real trouble came next.

As Suhoe straightened quickly, head lowered, to slip away, a wave of dizziness tilted him precariously. Luckily, Hae‑eon caught him before he could fall.

“Are you alright?”

“Y‑yes. Th‑thank you.”

Supported by him, Suhoe made for the door — increasingly unwilling to remain in this room. The longer he stayed, the more stifled he felt.

But from behind came the sharp click of high heels on the floor.

“Wait a moment.”

The cold voice froze him mid‑step. Sara had called him back.

Facing her, Hae‑eon’s expression soured. She was never a welcome presence — high‑handed, as if there were none more exalted than herself under heaven.

Since becoming entangled with Dowoon, she had never given Hae‑eon a moment’s peace.

And now, this overbearing woman was stopping someone who, by all appearances, was just a cleaning staff member — and doing so with that sharp, taunting tone.

Hae‑eon immediately understood her aim: just as she had done with other women linked to Dowoon in the past, she meant to toy with this nervous figure like a cat with a mouse.

“This is just one of our janitorial staff. I don’t know why you’re asking, but he’s busy — so if you’ll excuse us.”

Quickly, he slipped an arm around Suhoe’s shoulders and turned him away. He was sure that if she got a word in, someone as tender‑hearted as Suhoe would be left feeling gutted.

But the move only inflamed Sara.

“Wait! Who says I’m going to eat him? I’m just curious. What was a janitor doing in here? Usually, Dowoon doesn’t have the office cleaned when he’s not here.”

A chill shivered up Hae‑eon’s spine. How did she even know that? The shrillness in her voice brought his steps to a halt.

Suhoe froze too — her bearing and words made it clear she was one who came on strong, and strong types always got to him.

So when she suddenly caught his shoulder and swung him around, he could only tremble, unable to resist.

“Hmph…”

Sara’s eyes roamed slowly over him from head to toe, and her lips jutted in clear displeasure.

Dressed shabbily as a worn‑down farmhorse, yet with features striking enough to catch the eye. Maybe that was it. The long hair tied low, the pale skin that looked untouched by sunlight — it all rubbed her the wrong way.

When she’d heard a janitor was in here, this wasn’t what she’d pictured. And with a face like this, how could she not be suspicious?

Justifying herself in her own mind, she scrutinized him — like a wife sizing up the mistress she suspected of an affair.

All the while, Dowoon had watched in silence, a faint scowl pinching his brow.

The low murmur that finally escaped him was casual in tone, but the clear warning underlying it left no room for more of Sara’s antics.

“That’s enough.”

And with that soft command, her brazenness hit its first snag.

“…What?”

But almost immediately, she took on a sharp tone, as if angry at this unexpected intervention.

“What’s this? Since when do you take someone else’s side, Dowoon? What, is this woman actually someone?”

She turned and looked down at Suhoe with contempt in her eyes.

He flinched under the sting of that gaze — and then, at hearing himself called a “woman,” forced out a trembling correction.

“I‑I’m… not a woman.”

Sara’s eyes narrowed.

“A man? An omega?”

Suhoe nodded.

Only then did her suspicion ease, a mocking smile playing at her lips.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so from the start?”

And with that, as if the whole episode had been beneath her dignity, she turned her focus back to Dowoon.

In the momentary gap, Hae‑eon steered Suhoe toward the door.

“Let’s go, Madam.”

But just before the door closed, Sara’s voice shot through from behind, meant to be heard:

“Anyway, good thing you’re not into men, Dowoon. Not that something that plain would be your type, whatever the gender.”

The words were poison‑tipped.

Hae‑eon hurried the door shut, but Suhoe could still feel the venom sinking in.

His eyes darkened as his thoughts turned bleak again.

Head bowed, he stood frozen.

“Madam, are you alright?” Hae‑eon asked carefully.

“Wh‑who… is she?”

He didn’t answer the question, and instead Suhoe repeated it, voice tight.

“Ah — Director Han of Saeman Trading.”

He echoed the title under his breath:

“…Director.”

It was as heavy as a stone in his chest. Titles, forms of address, names — they meant more than people realized.

It made him think: maybe he really did need to step back here.

She couldn’t be more than thirty, yet she held a director’s rank — which meant she, unlike him, had grown up in a good family and lived alongside Dowoon as an equal.

Realizing that, his voice shrank without him meaning to.

“…I see.”

And yet, even with the door closed behind him, he couldn’t step away.

“Is something wrong? Did you leave something?”

Misreading his silence, Hae‑eon moved toward the door.

When his hand reached for the knob, Suhoe grabbed his arm in alarm.

“Ah! No!”

Hae‑eon drew back his hand and stared in confusion.

“Madam…?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll just head down.”

Shouldering his tools, Suhoe almost fled to the elevator.

Leaving Hae‑eon’s voice behind, he hit the close button — and when the doors sealed and he was alone, the metal caddy slid from his hands with a crash.

But he heard nothing. His head was full only of Sara’s smile beside Dowoon… and of those words brimming with contempt.

Meanwhile, left alone in the office with him, Sara studied Dowoon, feeling certain his subdued mood was because of her.

“…Are you angry? Because of what I said to that janitor?”

He didn’t answer, but she took the silence as a kind of yes.

“Dowoon, whatever your feelings, it’s better not to leave any possible seed behind.”

At that, for the first time, he reacted — eyes still on his papers, but with a lazy question: