DHG Ch 23

“I work in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen? This kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“…Oh, I see.”

What an unfriendly kid, the companion thought. He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t seem to know how to make small talk. The companion gave Heewoo, sitting stiffly like a still life, a dubious once-over before turning his attention away. He turned his back to Heewoo completely and continued his unfinished conversation with Yoonguk.

“I was against the Soul Partners deal from the beginning. Did you hear about the movie they invested heavily in this time? Even the production company pulled out.”

The two continued their private conversation for several minutes. Heewoo sat at the edge of the long sofa, patiently biding his time. Just five more minutes and I can leave. That was his plan.

“I told you we needed to be careful. I’ll be right back, I need the restroom.”

After the waiter brought the snacks, Yoonguk’s companion got up. As the door closed, Yoonguk beckoned Heewoo over as if he’d been waiting. Heewoo reluctantly went over and sat next to him.

“I didn’t expect you to come so quickly.”

Yoonguk said.

“Were you, by any chance, waiting for my call?”

“No.”

Heewoo answered, trying not to sound too curt. Yoonguk asked with a smile.

“Then why did you come so fast?”

That was when it happened. The friendly expression on Yoonguk’s face froze.

Yoonguk’s eyes, now devoid of warmth, slowly scanned Kwon Heewoo from head to toe. More precisely, they lingered on the alpha pheromones clinging to every inch of Kwon Heewoo.

“It seems someone else has been taking advantage of you, Heewoo, judging you solely on your appearance.”

Only a string melody, seemingly emanating from an unseen source, filled the luxuriously appointed room.

Heewoo, lifting his gaze at the sudden shift in atmosphere, realized from Yoonguk’s pointed look that he was referring to Jang Seungyung’s pheromones.

“I should get back to work. If you have nothing else to say, I’ll leave.”

Heewoo said. But Yoonguk wasn’t listening anymore. The smile that had been playing on his lips vanished completely. A suddenly husky voice escaped him.

“You’re a beta, Heewoo, so you wouldn’t know.”

“…….”

“You wouldn’t know if just anyone were to cover you in their pheromones.”

His voice was rough around the edges. Reproaches laden with an incomprehensible intensity poured out towards Heewoo.

“Are you going to continue living like this?”

Heewoo, who had been responding with indifference, almost reacted emotionally to that question. Living like this? If I didn’t live like this…

…Should I go with you then?

Heewoo swallowed a bitter laugh. Then, instead of “just anyone,” Yoonguk would be the one showering him with pheromones.

It was happening already. In the music-filled room, alpha pheromones, influenced by Yoonguk’s emotions, were becoming increasingly potent, mingling heavily with the air.

“Is this why you rejected my offer?”

“No.”

Heewoo said.

It wasn’t. In fact, if he’d received the offer back in August, before he’d escaped Kim Jinhwan’s torment, he might have been tempted. Back then, he had been desperate enough to make the irrational decision to run away—again.

But now, his creditor wasn’t Kim Jinhwan. He no longer had to endure unwanted sex. Of course, this fragile peace could shatter at any moment. But would the path Yoonguk offered really be any safer?

200 million won. A sum that would soon require another digit.

Heewoo didn’t feel suffocated by that number like he used to. Now, separated from Kim Jinhwan, it felt like an achievable goal. Maybe not as quickly as those who had recently paid off their debts and left Benny, but with diligent work, he could certainly repay it all before he turned thirty.

When his grandmother was sick, he desperately needed the money, so it was unavoidable. But he didn’t want to sell himself anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’d prefer it if you didn’t seek me out anymore.”

He didn’t feel sorry at all, but Heewoo said the words and stood up. His wrist was instantly grabbed.

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that to me?”

Yoonguk asked, his grip tightening. Heewoo, of course, didn’t keep count. Yoonguk muttered to himself, “The abuser never remembers.” Then he said,

“It’s the third time.”

Yoonguk was frustrated.

He was the only lifeline that could save Heewoo from this pit, and yet, he couldn’t understand why Heewoo was so stubbornly refusing his help, clinging to this difficult life.

But no matter how hard Yoonguk tried, Heewoo remained impassive.

Inwardly, however, Heewoo was feeling a surge of relief. He thought about Jang Seungyung, who had left the kitchen only ten minutes earlier. He was lucky. If Yoonguk hadn’t sent the waiter, if he’d waited by the kitchen like he usually did, the owner would have witnessed this compromising situation.

It’s a good thing.Jang Seungyung didn’t see me like this.

Basking in this brief sense of relief, Heewoo suddenly became aware of his own thought and flinched.

Why?

Why is that a good thing?

Heewoo examined his inner thoughts once again. He hadn’t wanted Jang Seungyung and Yoonguk to cross paths. More specifically, he hadn’t wanted Jang Seungyung to find out about him and Yoonguk. Why?

‘Is it okay for you, but not for me?’

Idaol’s words echoed in his ears. They resonated more deeply than Yoonguk’s attempts at persuasion right in front of him. As a realization dawned on him, Heewoo’s shoulders slumped.

He had been so careful.

Just moments ago, he had resolved not to be swayed by Jang Seungyung’s interest, fleeting as a summer shower, as ephemeral as a late frost. Yet, without realizing it, he had become acutely aware of him. Shamefully so.

Even now, look.

He had always treated Yoonguk with detached indifference. He had learned from Kim Jinhwan that careless provocation was worse than being ignored. No matter what Yoonguk said, he should have remained impassive, responding only with silence…

Yet today, he’d felt a distinct aversion to Yoonguk. He still wanted to lash out. I told you not to come here. Leave me alone.

And that wasn’t the only anomaly.

‘Are you one of those types? The type who puts things off and settles for possibilities?’

When Jang Seungyung had assessed him so dismissively in the storage room earlier…

He had wanted to retort. He’d wanted to lay bare the sordid details of his life and tell him, You don’t know anything about me. Don’t judge me.

But Heewoo couldn’t speak freely to either Jang Seungyung or Yoonguk.

“Let go of me.”

“Wait. I’m… sorry.”

Since Yoonguk continued to grip his wrist tightly, Heewoo wrenched his arm free. His wrist throbbed. He eyed the ice bucket, calculating the distance, considering it as a potential weapon.

“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

Yoonguk apologized again.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.”

Thankfully, Yoonguk didn’t try to restrain him further. Heewoo quickly left the table. Yoonguk’s urgent voice followed him as he headed for the door.

“This song, I acquired the rights to it! This time…”

At those words, Heewoo registered the soft music he hadn’t been paying much attention to. It was a string arrangement of classic pop songs, what some might call “golden oldies.” The same melody had been repeating from the small Bluetooth speaker on the couch.

“There’s something else I desperately want to acquire, but the other party is refusing to negotiate…I think that’s why I was so on edge. Please understand.”

Just then, Yoonguk’s companion returned from the restroom. He looked at the two men in apparent confrontation with a puzzled expression.

“Have a good time.”

Heewoo offered a polite farewell and left the room. As he closed the door, the companion’s chuckle drifted out. “Hah, he totally played you, didn’t he? That’s what those types do…”

But the voices of Yoonguk and his companion faded from Heewoo’s mind as he walked down the hall. Even the throbbing in his wrist subsided. The memory of the encounter in the room quickly dissipated, leaving no impression. Instead, something else filled the void.

The silent, piercing gaze of the owner in the storage room.

And the burgeoning feelings within him.

Heewoo thought of the soft winter clothes, still in their packaging, tucked away in his room. The gifts from the new owner. A wry smile touched his lips. A heavy sense of foreboding, thick as a curtain, descended upon him.

Nestled at the foot of a tranquil mountain range on the outskirts of Seoul was a private forest of a thousand trees. Small arborvitae mingled with towering Korean red pines and majestic cedars, surrounding a mansion built in the style of a traditional Korean house. This was the residence of Chairman Jung Chunbae of Kumsan Group.

Stepping out of the car, Jang Seungyung frowned at the bite of the cold air and passed through the three-gated entrance that led to the guest house. The threshold, said to symbolize the boundary between the living world and the afterlife, was unnecessarily high.

The old man himself only uses the back entrance. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about his knees. He mused as he stepped onto the wooden porch.

“Well, well, Director Jang! Long time no see?”

As he entered, a man with salt-and-pepper hair greeted him. It was Jang Chunwoong, the chairman’s younger brother and the one responsible for managing Kumsan’s casinos and entertainment businesses.

Jang Seungyung handed his gloves and coat to a servant, suppressing a smirk. Director Jang. That was a title he’d only been called before he joined Kumsan, when he was operating independently. Jang Chunwoong had a habit of addressing him by a title he had long since shed.