TCBW C62

Chapter 62

Not only that, but despite his delicate appearance, the force with which the stranger restrained Unhyo was overwhelming.

The confusion inside Unhyo grew. He could not fathom the man’s intention—why he too wished to eavesdrop on Gyegeum and the old chairman. Yet strangely, the instinct that had always alerted him to danger remained silent.

No—if anything, it felt as though he were spellbound.

As he wrestled with the question of whether to trust his instincts or retreat, the old man’s voice suddenly rose from inside the room—sharp, desperate.

“What are you planning to do about this?!”

Abandoning contemplation, Unhyo fixed his attention on the muffled exchange beyond the door. The old man’s voice was loud enough to hear clearly.

“That child may not live long enough to be born.”

“…That child… will be able to live again… fully… That child must… no matter what…”

Gyegeum’s voice was faint—weak enough to dissolve into the air.

“…As soon as the child is born, immediately… take the heart…”

Her final words came out as little more than a breath.

“…The child may be the only solution…”

“But that’s not the problem! That omega! Why hasn’t that omega conceived yet?! Tell me! That foolish omega—Suhoe or whatever—make him conceive! One way or another!”

The old man’s vile shout erupted, and Unhyo felt his heart seize.

The horrifying tale he’d been overhearing—words he had assumed belonged to someone else—came crashing down upon him with brutal clarity.

For a moment, he forgot the stranger beside him entirely.

There was only one thought in his mind—

He had to get to Suhoe. Immediately.

It had been six days since they last saw each other—the day Suhoe pleaded to return to work.

Dowoon, too busy to visit the Fire Blossom residence, attempted to see him at the company during the day, but Suhoe was nowhere to be found.

Tonight, duty—and the contract—demanded he seek him out. Just as he resolved to do so, his phone rang.

Professor Eun.

—It is not looking favorable, Director. I requested references from the society, but unfortunately there are no recorded cases of an omega’s pheromone profile changing this way. There’s no medical precedent.

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

—For now, diligent observation. Frequent examinations. Ensure the scent doesn’t shift again.

Even the foremost specialists in chromatic traitology knew nothing—Dowoon’s brow tightened.

—Also… the Madame’s reaction to suppressants is severe. Continued use is not viable. Ideally, he must acclimate to pheromones and stop involuntary release. Training is standard in such cases.

Every word grated against Dowoon’s nerves.

—There is… another option, though extremely uncommon. Bond-marking. If the two of you—

Bonding. As if he would surrender to such primal instinct.

He held his tongue. Professor Eun sensed his displeasure and offered an alternative:

—If imprinting is not an option, the partner may administer controlled micro-doses of pheromones continuously until the body adapts. Two weeks is typically sufficient. It’s… tedious. Most couples choose imprinting instead.

Tedious. But controllable.

“I prefer the latter.”

—Very well. One more thing. The Madame’s uterus has weakened. Pregnancy is not impossible, but it would place strain on the body. In such cases, alphas typically avoid knotting and use contraception.

Contraception.

A bitter laugh nearly escaped him.

To be told not to impregnate an omega chosen for that very purpose.

He had believed by now the matter would have resolved itself—yet everything was becoming increasingly complicated.

Suppressing his irritation, he entered his office.

The faint floral scent clung to the air.

Suhoe.

He was quietly cleaning the desk.

At the sound of footsteps, he startled, quickly gathered the supplies, and moved to leave.

Dowoon seized his wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing.”

“F-finished cleaning.”

Dowoon scoffed.

Without answering, he walked to the office refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of water—and poured it across the newly polished floor. Every drop.

Water spread in rippling waves across the tiles.

“Doesn’t look finished to me.”

—Director?

Even with Eun still on the line, he stared straight at Suhoe and spoke calmly.

“Yes. Let’s proceed as planned. And send requirements to Choi.”

—Already sent this morning.

“…Sent?”

Dowoon slowly turned toward Haeon, still waiting by the door.

“Yes, sir. They arrived at the house earlier.”

He said nothing and hung up.

Silence filled the room.

Suhoe stared at the soaked floor. His voice trembled.

“…Why did you do that?”

Dowoon sat at his desk, tone flat.

“You like working.”

Then flicked a glance toward Haeon—dismissal.

She left silently, closing the door behind her.

For a moment, Suhoe remained frozen. Then he lowered himself to his knees and began wiping the floor without a word.

Dowoon’s scent lingered faintly—a quiet pressure in the air.

When he finished, he gathered the supplies and slipped out without looking back.

Haeon had seen the pheromone veil clinging lightly to him—and from his expression, understood more than she wished to. She said nothing.

Suhoe pressed into the elevator. Head bowed.

The doors nearly closed before a large hand forced them open and stepped inside.

Dowoon.

“What are you doing? You said you wanted to work. I permitted it.”

“…I only did my job.”

“Mm. Did you.”

He held a shopping bag—one Haeon had earlier.

“So you don’t need this, then.”

He dropped it. And crushed it beneath his heel.

Plastic crumpled; something burst.

Suhoe knelt instinctively, hands trembling as he gathered the ruined bag.

Through the torn plastic, something peeked—he froze.

Condoms.

“You know what those are.”

“O-of course. But… why?”

“Eun told me to use contraception.”

He clicked his tongue.

“If it came to that, I’d rather not do it at all.”

Suhoe said nothing, only tried to collect the torn pieces.

Dowoon watched him silently—then suddenly seized his shoulder.

With one swift pull, he dragged him upright and slammed him against the elevator wall.