TCBW C67

Chapter 67

Could this, too, be because of the vengeful spirits bound to that man?

When strange events occur and a suspicious figure stands nearby, people instinctively cast blame on him.

Unhyo, too, could not help wondering if all of this was somehow caused by Dowoon, cloaked as he was in restless souls.

What if those spirits had prevented him from hearing Suhoe’s cry?

It sounded absurd—even superstitious—but the possibility flickered through his mind.

Yet that was far too paranoid an interpretation. And even if such a thing were true, why would those spirits go so far?

Unable to force the thought into certainty, Unhyo shook his head several times, steadying himself. Then he turned to Dowoon, curious—how had the man reacted the instant Suhoe was hurt, when he himself had heard nothing at all?

“It was small. He cried out too softly, so you wouldn’t have heard.”

Dowoon answered without lifting his gaze from his spouse’s arm, as if stating the obvious.

If it truly had been that quiet, how had Dowoon heard? Unhyo found it strange.

In truth, just after Unhyo spoke to him, and just after Suhoe replied while pouring the tea, a very faint gasp did sound. But it had been so soft that it didn’t carry to the dining table. And because Suhoe’s back was to them, his brief pause and expression were hidden.

Naturally, Unhyo neither heard nor saw a thing.

Had no one noticed, Suhoe would likely have hidden his discomfort and continued serving tea.

But Dowoon was different. As though directly attuned to Suhoe, he heard that tiny sound despite the distance—and moved at once.

He lifted his phone, ready to call the Yongseong Hospital doctor, and Suhoe nearly panicked in protest. So instead, Dowoon retrieved the first-aid kit and carefully treated the burn.

The entire time, Unhyo watched him intensely. The man’s touch was gentle, his every word and action without fault.

Then as soon as the care was done, Dowoon rose to his feet.

“Your ten minutes are long past. It’s late—I’ll be going.”

“It’s such a shame…”

Suhoe truly mourned his departure, eyes misting over.

Once he left, who knew when they would meet again?

Perhaps someday, if Suhoe became free and Unhyo gained approval from Gye-geum, they might have time together—or even go out somewhere, if fortune favored them.

But the odds were slim. And knowing this, Suhoe could not promise a next time. He voiced the question he had held back all evening.

“But… why did you come all the way here? I never asked what was most important.”

“Ah… about that. I wished to speak alone with you.”

He turned toward Dowoon, silently asking permission.

Dowoon’s face twisted openly with distaste. He did not trust the situation at all. Yet when he looked down, there was Suhoe, earnest and pleading for a moment alone.

Dowoon tapped briefly on his phone, then relented. He reclined on the sofa where he could clearly see them, watching both their expressions closely.

Suhoe felt everything—his emotions, his pheromones—acutely on his face. If anything alarming were said, Dowoon would know immediately.

“Yes?”

He focused intently—yet instead of concern or shock, he heard a strangely flustered, excited voice.

And then Suhoe looked toward him—cheeks flushed, eyes wide—before turning away in embarrassment.

Dowoon stared, hoping to read something from that expression, but Suhoe whipped his head aside as soon as their eyes met.

His anxiety only deepened.

Whatever he had feared, this reaction was completely different—and somehow more troubling.

Soon the two moved apart, and Unhyo left the house carrying a generous portion of tea leaves. At the elevator, he turned, as though about to offer his final farewell.

Suhoe, who had come to see him off, had red-rimmed eyes and a flushed face. Dowoon’s expression remained heavy with suspicion.

“Before I go—may I ask the young master’s husband one thing?”

“M-me? You mean Dowoon?”

“Yes.”

“…Speak.”

Dowoon braced himself.

“…Unhyo-niiim…”

Suhoe shook his head, mortified, as if knowing what was coming.

Dowoon waited, a tight unease lodged in his chest. Surely now, he would hear the real reason this man had come.

“…The child.”

“The child?”

At once, Dowoon sharpened, every nerve alert.

That unspoken subject, buried between them despite countless nights together—he dreaded it resurfacing here. Was this, after all, the purpose of the visit?

He glanced at Suhoe. The boy seemed oblivious, only flushed and shy, unaware of the bomb hovering over him.

Dowoon’s jaw tensed; his gaze snapped back to Unhyo.

“Yes. The child.”

“Hold on. Go inside.”

“Huh?”

Before Unhyo could continue, Dowoon placed a firm arm around Suhoe’s back, steering him toward the door. His voice was low, taut.

Suhoe blinked, puzzled by the unusual tension in his demeanor.

“No. The young master must hear this too.”

Still, Dowoon tried to usher him away. But Unhyo only smiled.

“Young master, you must eat well now. You’ll be carrying a child, after all.”

Dowoon’s expression hardened further. He fixed his gaze on Unhyo—but the man continued, cheerfully oblivious.

“Which would you prefer, sir? A daughter or a son?”

Dowoon froze mid-motion.

That was not at all what he expected to hear.

He stared at Unhyo, whose smile looked guileless—almost foolishly pure.

Beside him, Suhoe shrank shyly, fingertips brushing his lips, his pheromones flushing with embarrassment.

What in the world…?

Dowoon frowned. After all that trouble, was this the grand revelation? If he had come merely to see Suhoe, then…

Throughout their conversation, Dowoon had watched them carefully, catching fragments. Nothing suspicious.

No dark hint, no ominous request.

Just a man who seemed genuinely fond of Suhoe.

“So? You must answer. Which do you prefer?”

Even though it wasn’t a child he himself longed for, Suhoe peeked toward Dowoon expectantly, as if eager for an answer.

Ding—

Just then, the elevator arrived.

Before Dowoon could respond, Unhyo slipped inside. As the doors slid shut, he called out warmly:

“Eat plenty. Take good care of yourself. Don’t fall ill. If I have a chance, I’ll visit again.”

“Yes! You must take care too. Please send my regards to Gyegeum and the others…”

The doors closed.

Suhoe lingered, unable to move, clinging to the fading presence of family he did not know when he might see again. His eyes glimmered with tears, yet he stood still in silence.

Any other time, Dowoon might have pulled him into his arms.

Instead, he regarded him with a cool expression.

“What did you two talk about?”

He still didn’t know why Unhyo had come—so he decided to ask directly.

Yet at that single question, Suhoe took a half-step back, as though recoiling.