WGD Ch 19

Unable to process the scene before him all at once, Siheon blinked rapidly. Once, twice. His long eyelashes, which added a gentle depth to his refined features, fluttered quickly.

Cha Wonwoo was sprawled face-down on the bed, his nose buried in the bedding, inhaling deeply. His face was pressed so tightly against it that Siheon wondered if he could even breathe or if he might suffocate. It seemed like he’d stay like that forever if left alone, so Siheon dragged his heavy feet over and placed a hand on Cha Wonwoo’s back.

“Stop it. You look like a total pervert right now.”

Tilting his head slightly, Cha Wonwoo glanced up with just his eyes and made a request.

“Hyung, can you release some pheromones?”

“Now? In this situation?”

“Just a little.”

He looked ready to stay put if Siheon didn’t comply. Having gone through a rut together with his imprinted mate and staying close since, controlling his pheromone gland wasn’t difficult anymore. As requested, Siheon let out a small amount of pheromones.

“Haa…”

Cha Wonwoo took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he inhaled the pheromones spreading through the air, then buried his nose back in the bedding.

“It’s definitely different.”

Though his words were muffled, the short sentence was clear enough for Siheon to understand and ask.

“What’s different?”

“Your pheromones. The ones here are different from now. The bed has your old scent.”

Since their imprinting had only recently started fully altering their pheromones, it made sense.

Cha Wonwoo alternated between sniffing the bedding and the air, then suddenly sat up. Startled, Siheon stepped back, but Cha Wonwoo grabbed his wrist and pulled.

“—!”

Losing his balance, Siheon fell forward, and Cha Wonwoo caught him in his arms, toppling backward onto the bed. Now lying on top of Cha Wonwoo, Siheon was bewildered by the situation. It was absurd enough that he’d ended up pinning Cha Wonwoo in the blink of an eye, but more than that…

“Seriously, what did you do to get hard?”

The unmistakable firmness forming beneath Cha Wonwoo was even more baffling.

“It’s exciting to be in a space where you were hiding away, the old pheromone scent of yours here is great, and the mix with my pheromones now is thrilling too.”

“Still.”

“And you know,”

Cha Wonwoo, who had been lying still, suddenly grabbed Siheon’s waist and flipped their positions. Now Siheon was the one on the bed, with Cha Wonwoo looming over him. The taut shirt and the tie dangling down tickled Siheon’s chest. Cha Wonwoo tilted his chin up.

“In extreme tension, you can get an erection.”

“Isn’t it the opposite?”

Doesn’t stress lower sexual function? Like causing erectile dysfunction?

Cha Wonwoo’s shameless declaration threw him off. Siheon tried to recall long-forgotten sex education knowledge but paused. Cha Wonwoo’s face, now inches away, carried an expression that brooked no argument.

And the “extreme tension” he mentioned stemmed from someone breaking into this house—fear that his Omega might be in danger. That made Siheon feel a pang of sympathy.

If Siheon perceived a “1” as a “1” or maybe a “0.9,” Cha Wonwoo felt a “1” as a “5” or even a “10.” Sometimes it seemed like emotional excess, but in the end, Siheon had fallen in love, swept away by the tidal wave of Cha Wonwoo’s emotions. This side of him was endlessly charming and deeply endearing.

“Alright, I get why you’re hard. But can you move? Huh? There are people outside.”

Having rushed over from work, Siheon didn’t touch Cha Wonwoo’s neatly styled hair but brushed around it and tried to sit up. Or rather, he attempted to, but failed. Cha Wonwoo, immovable as a mountain, didn’t budge.

Siheon fell back, his hair splaying across the bed. For a moment, Cha Wonwoo’s focus blurred, like a tightly wound screw coming loose.

“Hyung…”

His voice sounded dazed. Is this what mutual imprinting is? Getting aroused at random moments?

Sighing in resignation, Siheon ran through calculations. Would a handjob settle him quickly? Taking him to the bathroom would make cleanup easier. While Cha Wonwoo peppered his face with kisses, Siheon’s thoughtful gaze drifted to the ceiling, then he suddenly froze.

“Hyung?”

Cha Wonwoo, always sensitive to Siheon’s reactions, quickly refocused. Sensing his actions might have caused discomfort, he pulled back slightly. Using the space, Siheon sat up at the edge of the bed.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?”

Cha Wonwoo slid down between Siheon’s legs, kneeling on the floor and looking up at him.

“Seeing that made me think of something.”

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes followed Siheon’s gaze to the fire detector on the ceiling.

“What if the person who came here wasn’t just looking for something? What if they installed something?”

The wariness honed from years of living exposed to the public flared up. Cha Wonwoo’s gaze snapped back to Siheon, his dark eyes signaling agreement with the thought.

Stepping into the living room, Cha Wonwoo immediately called for the team that checks his office to thoroughly inspect the apartment as well. It was surprising enough that he’d had his office swept for bugs, but Secretary Yang’s response—that he’d already called them—was even more so.

“Investigations aren’t just done by people. Don’t worry about this place, and once you’ve packed, go home and rest. You must be shaken.”

Speaking reassuringly, Secretary Yang glanced at his boss, Cha Wonwoo.

“For reference, the president hasn’t eaten yet.”

Reporting a superior’s schedule or condition to others would typically be a failure as a secretary, but since it was Siheon, Secretary Yang didn’t hold back. The fact that Cha Wonwoo had been skipping lunches lately was a big reason too.

His words reminded Siheon that it was lunchtime and they’d planned to video call while eating. As a celebrity with irregular meal times, hunger came and went unpredictably.

“Secretary Yang’s making a fuss over nothing. Hyung, go home and rest.”

Siheon glanced at Cha Wonwoo’s brow, which showed considerable restraint. It seemed he was annoyed that Secretary Yang had caused unnecessary worry, but in Siheon’s presence, he couldn’t fully frown, leaving his expression ambiguous.

“The meeting scheduled later has been reassigned to Team Leader Jeong.”

He’d even arranged a backup and adjusted the schedule. Secretary Yang’s determination to ensure Cha Wonwoo ate, even if it meant getting an earful later, was evident.

“The reservation at the Korean restaurant has been extended, so if you go now, the timing should be perfect. Everyone else should come too.”

“If the timing’s good, eat before heading back. Don’t starve for no reason.”

Only after Siheon expressed his intent to eat together did Cha Wonwoo nod.

Secretary Yang stayed behind to look for any hidden cameras and handle other tasks.

“You need to eat too, Secretary Yang.”

At Siheon’s concern, he said he’d switch with someone later and politely urged them to go. Representative Heo also stayed, citing past incidents of sasaengs breaking into his agency’s idol dorms, which had been quietly handled by police. He wanted to observe the methods of the team Secretary Yang called, possibly to contract them for dorm inspections. The others left to give them space.

They took two cars: one driven by Driver Kim and the other by Kangsan.

Siheon was about to climb into Kangsan’s familiar car when he saw Cha Wonwoo holding the door open, waiting, and had no choice but to change course.

“Follow closely.”

“Yes, sir.”

Patting the shoulder of Kangsan, who’d be driving alone, Siheon got into the open car. Perhaps due to the recent accident, it was a different model from the usual one.

On the way to the Korean restaurant Secretary Yang had reserved, Siheon closely observed Cha Wonwoo in the seat beside him. Some people develop a fear of cars or flinch at braking after an accident. Cha Wonwoo hadn’t seemed to fear cars upon discharge, but just in case, Siheon watched him carefully.

“What, feeling reluctant?”

Caught staring openly, Cha Wonwoo turned and asked abruptly.

“About what?”

“You look disappointed we didn’t finish what we started earlier.”

Glancing at Driver Kim in the front, Siheon gripped and released Cha Wonwoo’s thigh, signaling him to hush. He didn’t say aloud if Cha Wonwoo really wanted to do that now. He’d vaguely realized why Cha Wonwoo was acting like an aroused puppy. It was partly to distract Siheon from being scared or down about the break-in. Of course, the pheromones probably had him genuinely worked up too.

Neither liked listening to anything during transit, so the car was quiet. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

Then, both Siheon’s and Cha Wonwoo’s phones rang simultaneously.

Exchanging glances, the two checked their respective notifications.

The caller on Siheon’s phone was Jinseok. It was a reply to the morning message, asking if he could meet today or tomorrow if Siheon had time. Why does a senior want to see me? Maybe it’s related to the counseling he mentioned at the dinner. Siheon held off on replying and looked over. Cha Wonwoo was checking a text too.

Without being asked, he held out his phone so Siheon could see. The name “Catherine” caught his eye first—Cha Wonwoo’s mother.

“Oh… Now that I think about it, it’s almost your father’s memorial day.”

They rarely interacted, so her reaching out was likely about President Cha Geumho’s memorial.

The Cha family wasn’t particularly religious. Business relied on connections, so Chairman Cha Hyuncheol and others occasionally visited temples or churches voluntarily, but no religion was enforced.

However, President Cha Geumho’s memorial tablet was kept at a temple. On the anniversary, the family, except Chairman Cha Hyuncheol, gathered to pay respects. It was always awkward seeing each other, but they managed to get through without causing a scene in front of the deceased.

“Will your mom skip the meal again this time?”

After the memorial, at Madam Song Wonju’s direction, the family ate together at the temple. But his mother-in-law never joined. She sat endlessly at the incense-burning site, her face so pale it seemed she might collapse, making it impossible not to worry.

“Leave her be. That’s what she wants.”

“Still, how can she do that? She’s my mother-in-law. I barely see her once a year, and really, I should be the one treating her to a meal. Since that’s not realistic, I at least want to look after her when we do meet.”

“If you talk to her, it’ll stress her out. Just let her be. That’s how she breathes easier.”

Not wanting to continue the topic, Cha Wonwoo sent a short “Understood” reply and pocketed his phone.

But in this situation, should I go too? Siheon was unsure if he should attend the memorial. Going felt odd after publicly declaring divorce, but not going seemed wrong since he was living with Cha Wonwoo, even temporarily, and it would be proper to at least offer incense to his father-in-law.

“Jinseok?”

“Huh?”

“Why’s this guy so eager to meet?”

Lost in thought, Siheon only belatedly noticed Cha Wonwoo staring at the screen. Leaning in, their shoulders touching, Cha Wonwoo glared at the display before shooting Siheon a side-eye.

“You’re not meeting him, right?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what? I’ll reply for you and say you’re not meeting.”

Whether intentional, Cha Wonwoo’s hand brushed Siheon’s fingers teasingly as he reached for the phone. Siheon snatched it back quickly. No matter how much he disliked it, Cha Wonwoo wouldn’t do anything to truly ruin his reputation.

“Give it back. I have something to discuss.”

Before the phone was fully taken, Siheon reclaimed it, his fingers hovering over the screen. What should he reply?

Now Cha Wonwoo leaned in so heavily it felt like he’d crush him. When Siheon straightened to resist, Cha Wonwoo switched tactics, lightly rubbing his cheek against Siheon’s shoulder.

“Hyung, don’t meet that guy.”

Siheon glanced at the front seat, embarrassed in front of Driver Kim.

“What’s there to discuss? I’ll help you.”

“It’s about acting. I went to get that book for the same reason. Plus, he said he has something to talk about too.”

“Give and take, huh. It’s fine since it’s a calculated meeting where you don’t lose out, but I still don’t like you meeting him alone.”

“What, should I bring Byun Haewon? Or Seo Minjae?”

“…They’re all Alphas.”

It sounded like a curse slipped out, but Siheon pretended not to hear.

“Right, why do you keep calling Seo Minjae an Alpha? He’s a Beta.”

Cha Wonwoo pulled back, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his face vigorously, letting out several deep sighs.

“Haa… I know and respect that you lived as an Omega without realizing it for so long. But this trait thing loves screwing people over more than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“It can’t stand humans living rationally and by their own will.”

Thinking about heat cycles and ruts, he had a point. It was almost animalistic. The ability to smell or feel pheromones, which Betas could never experience, was part of it.

“So, anyone drawn to you—whether it’s human kindness, fandom, or something sexual—should be suspected of being an Alpha.”

Most of Siheon’s fans were Betas, followed by Omegas. Suggesting he suspect anyone drawn to him as an Alpha was a stretch.

Cha Wonwoo wasn’t the type to act on mere suspicion. Trusting him, Siheon considered the reverse: maybe Seo Minjae was hiding his trait, like Siheon once did. That would explain Cha Wonwoo’s reaction. Even if Seo Minjae’s feelings seemed like pure fandom, if he was an Alpha, it’d be concerning.

Reaching this conclusion, Siheon placed a gentle hand on Cha Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“That’s kind of admirable.”

Surprised by the sudden praise, Cha Wonwoo’s eyes widened.

If Seo Minjae was indeed pretending to be a Beta, Cha Wonwoo was protecting his hidden trait, even from Siheon, despite disliking him. It was basic courtesy and a line to uphold, but in this industry, people often carelessly revealed others’ traits. Especially off-camera, in private settings, speculating or spreading known facts about traits was all too common. Even celebrities plagued by gossip often spoke freely about colleagues’ secrets.

Yet Cha Wonwoo, who didn’t even like Seo Minjae and had the wealth to exploit or silence such secrets, kept his trait hidden even while fuming. That was pretty admirable. And cute.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Cha Wonwoo reached out and poked Siheon’s upturned lips.

“What, does it look bad?”

“It looks too good, that’s why I’m asking.”

Blocking another poke, Siheon lowered the arm he’d rested on Cha Wonwoo’s shoulder and typed a reply to Jinseok.

“Here, is this okay?”

He showed it to Cha Wonwoo before sending. Cha Wonwoo read the message aloud.

“Today won’t work, but tomorrow’s fine. How about lunch together? At my place. My place… our house?”

“Yeah, meeting at home instead of going out should put you at ease.”

The marital home had tight security. And since it was Cha Wonwoo’s territory, saturated with his pheromones, it’d feel safer than elsewhere. If needed, he could barge in anytime, and if he was still anxious, Siheon could even turn on a home camera.

Thankfully, Cha Wonwoo didn’t demand such measures, suppressing his complaints and nodding.

“Alright. If it’s at home… But hyung, tomorrow’s your counseling day, right?”

“I’ll go in the morning, so the timing should work out. I’m not cooking anyway.”

Having found a compromise that satisfied both, Siheon was ready to hit send.

Jinseok’s reply came as they arrived at the Korean restaurant. He said the time and place were fine. After sending the address, they followed a staff member inside.

The large space was divided into two rooms by sliding doors. Driver Kim and Kangsan ate in the adjacent room, while Siheon and Cha Wonwoo sat alone together to dine.

The refined meal left him pleasantly full. Wondering if he’d overeaten, a staff member clearing the table asked whether they’d prefer sujonggwa or sikhye for a dessert drink. Hesitating over something too sweet after a meal, the staff added that it was made with natural sweeteners instead of sugar.

“Then I’ll have sikhye. You?”

“I’ll have the same as hyung.”

“Please prepare sikhye.”

After the table was cleared and the staff left, murmurs of conversation drifted from the next room. With their frequent proximity, Kangsan seemed to have grown quite close to Driver Kim. The content wasn’t audible, but the low hum was pleasant, and Siheon listened until Cha Wonwoo tapped the table—knock, knock—to get his attention.

“You can’t give others any openings, hyung.”

“Being curious about people is part of being an actor.”

“You should consider the perspective of someone who has to share that curiosity.”

Siheon wasn’t indifferent, even if he seemed aloof. In fact, Jinseok had once remarked, “You’re not uninterested in others; you’re just mostly interested in Cha Wonwoo, aren’t you?” That’s how much attention he gave him.

“I gave you the most. That’s why we got married.”

Cha Wonwoo’s lips twitched, clearly thrilled at having monopolized Siheon’s attention. Worried he might dwell on their divorce, Siheon changed the subject.

“Anyway, make sure to eat properly, but if you feel unwell, go to the hospital immediately. Accident aftereffects might not show up right away, so you never know. Got it?”

He’d said it several times, but he reiterated. Cha Wonwoo nodded without seeming tired of it.

Soon, the sikhye arrived. Unlike those made with sugar or malt, it wasn’t sticky aftertaste-wise. It differed from the sikhye he remembered, but it wasn’t bad for health-conscious taste.

Only a final sip remained. It was time to return to their respective workplaces. Reluctant, Cha Wonwoo’s hand slowed as he emptied his glass of sikhye. As if someone was watching and urging him, his phone rang.

“Secretary Yang’s got a sixth sense.”

It seemed he was calling to say it was time to head back. Cha Wonwoo answered immediately. Siheon expected the usual “I’ll be right there,” but whatever Secretary Yang said made Cha Wonwoo’s expression harden instantly.

“Understood. Send the photo now, and I’ll check it immediately.”

Right after hanging up, a text notification sounded. Sensing something serious, Siheon set down his glass. Cha Wonwoo, eyes fixed on the phone, checked the message and explained.

“There was a key found in the perpetrator’s vehicle from the accident. I told Secretary Yang to look into what it is.”

“When was that?”

“This morning.”

Secretary Yang, unable to see the evidence directly, had someone send a photo of the key and contacted Cha Wonwoo as soon as he saw it. They’d only just finished lunch, so it hadn’t been long. Plus, he wasn’t solely focused on this, as he was also overseeing the search for other traces at Siheon’s apartment, so he must’ve been swamped. Even with others helping, to have identified the key already? Noticing Siheon’s puzzled look, Cha Wonwoo added.

“He didn’t find it. There was no need to.”

Like in the car, he showed the phone screen without hesitation. As expected, it was a photo of the key.

“Why no need?”

Cha Wonwoo stared at the photo before answering.

“Because I know what this key is.”

You know what the key is?

Siheon lowered his gaze again and carefully examined the phone screen. Nowadays, most people use fingerprint or digital keypads for door locks, but this was a common key still used in places with traditional locks.

“It looks ordinary…”

“It does. But hyung, look at the handle part here. It’s shaped like the letter ‘D,’ right? And if you look at the grooves on the shaft like this.”

Cha Wonwoo rotated the photo.

Typically, a key has one smooth side on the shaft and the other side notched with grooves, like a mouse had nibbled at it.

But this key had both sides of the shaft smoothly extended. Instead, a long groove ran straight down the center, with a protruding part that would catch when inserted.

Siheon muttered without realizing.

“It looks like an ‘H.’”

“DH. Does that ring any bells?”

DH, DH… Siheon recalled Seo Minjae explaining baseball, mentioning terms like ‘LF (left fielder)’ and ‘3B (third baseman),’ and saying ‘DH’ stood for designated hitter. But for Koreans, hearing ‘DH’ would inevitably bring something else to mind first.

“Daehan?”

Raising the end of his tone as if asking, Siheon saw Cha Wonwoo nod as if confirming the correct answer.

“That’s right, Daehan. This is a key for a Daehan Bank safe deposit box.”

Commercial banks offer safe deposit boxes for customers. Conditions, eligibility, and deposits vary by branch, but it’s a secure service for storing valuables. The chances of a safe deposit box being stolen are nearly zero, and they’re protected against fire and flooding, making them popular. However, even if you meet the bank’s criteria, branch-specific conditions and limited availability make it hard for regular customers to secure one.

Siheon had once looked into using a safe deposit box. The bank staff had explained that with limited slots, priority went to VIPs, and the quickest way to get one was a “high deposit,” though this varied by bank.

“But how do you know about a Daehan safe deposit box key?”

Cha Wonwoo would use CH Bank, not Daehan. Asked out of pure curiosity, Siheon noticed a slight quiver in Cha Wonwoo’s pupils.

“Just… you wouldn’t believe me if I said it’s because it’s a competitor, right?”

“I’d believe you if you said it.”

Siheon replied sincerely, sliding the phone back toward Cha Wonwoo. A brief silence settled in. From the next room, the sound of people getting up to leave could be heard.

“I’ve been given one of these safe deposit box keys before.”

After some hesitation, Cha Wonwoo gave an honest answer.

“It originally belonged to someone else, and they gave it to me. Back then, CH Bank didn’t exist yet… Even if it had, the key’s owner would never have stored it with CH Bank.”

Siheon gazed at him quietly, giving him space to continue.

“I used to take the key out sometimes to look at it or hold it. I did that a lot in front of Secretary Yang, so he probably recognized it immediately when he saw the photo. That it’s a Daehan Bank safe deposit box key.”

Home safes are often used for physical items like cash or gold bars, while bank safe deposit boxes typically hold important documents or securities.

So what was in the safe deposit box Cha Wonwoo had been given? In the past, Siheon would have asked. But now? Did he have the right to ask? Not wanting his thoughts to be read, Siheon averted his gaze.

“Hyung.”

But they were close, and Cha Wonwoo wasn’t clueless.

“The reason I can’t tell you about this safe deposit box or who owned it isn’t because I don’t trust you. I’m just… afraid you’ll see me differently, think I’m dirty or hate me…”

Spilling out a jumble of excuses, Cha Wonwoo lowered his head deeply. Dressed impeccably without a hint of disarray, he bowed his head like a boy awaiting scolding. Siheon watched him for a while before letting out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Hyung?”

“Everyone has secrets they don’t want to share. I do too.”

“But I don’t want secrets between us.”

“I know. But if you couldn’t say it, then yeah, there must be a good reason. I’m not mad about that. It’s not my place to be.”

Siheon pulled Cha Wonwoo’s trembling arm closer, gently patting the back of his hand to calm him.

“When we’re both ready, we can tell each other then.”

Cha Wonwoo glanced at the hand holding his and asked in a low voice.

“No matter how much I resolve to, what if I get scared every time the moment comes to speak?”

Siheon paused briefly, catching his breath. Being in a similar position, he understood better than anyone. The fear that grips you, sealing your lips at the moment you need to speak. The broken parts of yourself you don’t want the other person to see, even if the whole world knows.

I’m a coward myself, so what can I say to him? About to let go of Cha Wonwoo’s hand, Siheon suddenly recalled a line. A piece of dialogue from the Counterfeit script.

Courage is the privilege of cowards.

While some say love, dreams, or success are the privileges of the brave, Counterfeit offered a different perspective.

Siheon had thought it was a typically ambiguous, pretentious line from Director Pyo Wookjoon. He’d only worried about how to deliver such a potentially cheesy line. But now, he felt he finally understood it completely.

Those without fear don’t need courage. They just do it. But…

Siheon’s grip tightened. His voice flowed calmly.

“Wonwoo, they say courage is the privilege of cowards. Only those who are scared can summon courage.”

The greater the fear, the greater the courage required. That meant they were people capable of summoning even more courage.

“Courage is something only the scared can summon…”

Struggling to find words, Cha Wonwoo nodded after a long pause.

“…That makes sense.”

Siheon met Cha Wonwoo’s gaze steadily, thinking to himself. If I’m scared, I just need to remember I’m capable of summoning that much courage. It might take time to act on it.

＊＊＊＊＊

Having regained his composure, Cha Wonwoo returned to the company with renewed vigor, promising to share any additional information about the perpetrator.

Siheon’s expression wasn’t great when he got home. Though he’d reassured Cha Wonwoo maturely, it felt like deception. Telling the other to summon courage while rationalizing his own inability to do so with excuses was just… No, stop thinking about it.

Suppressing the lingering emotions, Siheon decided to focus on the positive: today’s events had helped him understand Seonwook from Counterfeit a bit better.

“Hyungnim, are you sure you don’t need help organizing?”

Kangsan, who’d carried the large duffel bag, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and asked. Snapping out of his daze, Siheon quickly grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and offered it.

“Drink. Just leave the stuff. I’ll only pull out what I need anyway.”

“Okay. Oh, Representative Heo called, and thankfully, no cameras were installed. It seems they were just looking for something, but do you have any guesses?”

“Well…”

There was something nagging at him, but nothing certain.

While Kangsan went to put the empty glass back in the kitchen, Siheon caught him striking a pose as if to take a photo.

“What are you doing?”

“Reporting that we arrived safely. If you’re okay with it, I’ll snap a quick shot of you as is.”

He was like a delivery driver confirming safe arrival.

“Representative Heo? Cha Wonwoo? Who’re you sending it to?”

“Both?”

Kangsan grinned. Siheon crossed his arms and nodded. His likeness had long been public property for those two. After the photo was taken, the swoosh of messages being sent sounded cheerful.

“Oh, and Representative Heo asked if we should install our own cameras in the house?”

“Cameras?”

“Yeah, just in case someone breaks in again before the place is sold. Secretary Yang said he’d handle the CCTV installation and have reliable people manage it.”

“That’d be great.”

Tap tap. Kangsan’s fingers flew over his phone, which looked comically small in his hands. Finishing up the exchange, he looked up.

“So, hyungnim, what’re you doing next?”

Why’s he suddenly curious about something he never cared about? Suspicious, Siheon narrowed his eyes, but Kangsan smiled so brightly his eyes curved into crescents, like he believed no one could spit at a smiling face. It was a pure smile, but today it felt sly.

“Can I stay a bit longer? Until, like, three o’clock?”

This was getting weirder. When Siheon stood silently, Kangsan continued haltingly.

“Because… uh… after what happened today, it feels weird leaving you alone.”

“It doesn’t feel that weird.”

“No, it feels weird to me.”

“So it’s fine after three?”

“Yup!”

Unable to come up with a convincing excuse, he was now just being stubborn. Fine, do what you want. He’s not going to hurt me, and I’ll probably find out by three anyway. Siheon shrugged and gestured to the living room.

“Sit. I’ll get you coffee. But after I make it, I’m going to the study.”

“Of course! You’ve got work to do! Just pretend Kangsan’s not here.”

His presence was far too big to ignore, but Siheon nodded reluctantly. After making the coffee and retreating to the study to focus on character analysis, he actually forgot Kangsan was there.

Three o’clock in the afternoon.

The reason Kangsan had set a time limit for staying became clear. It was because of the guy who confidently strode through the front door.

Startled by the sudden noise while in the study, Siheon jumped up and was shocked to see who entered. It was none other than Cha Wonwoo, accompanied by Senior Secretary Nam Ilho, returning home early.

“Hyung, I just couldn’t…”

Couldn’t what? More than that, Siheon stood frozen at the unbelievable time of his return. Cha Wonwoo approached with wide strides.

“I took a half-day off.”

A half-day? Can a president even take a half-day? I guess so? They’re technically employees too, right?

Cutting through Siheon’s slow string of questions was Kangsan’s booming farewell.

“Hyungnim, I’ll head out then! I’ll pick you up for the hospital tomorrow morning. Rest well!”

Bang! He was gone like the wind before Siheon could respond. So fast that Kangsan’s figure had vanished, but the beep of the door lock closing only sounded now.

“…”

Stunned, Siheon turned and met Senior Secretary Nam Ilho’s eyes. A wry smile crossed his face.

“The president did take a half-day, but it’s more of a formality. With so much work, he’s decided to work from home.”

Normally, Cha Wonwoo would’ve just worked remotely without fuss, but with many eyes on him lately, he’d gone through proper channels. Siheon stepped aside, still weighed down by Cha Wonwoo clinging to him.

“Come in.”

“Yes, I’ll intrude then.”

“Are you working in the study? I’ll bring coffee.”

“Why are you making it?”

Cha Wonwoo, standing like a statue beside him, pouted with dissatisfaction. Should I tell the guest to make their own? Siheon shot him a look to just go to the study. But Cha Wonwoo headed to the kitchen instead.

“I said take Secretary Nam to the study.”

Siheon quickly followed and grabbed his elbow, but it was no use. Cha Wonwoo took Siheon’s hand, kneaded it gently a few times, and carefully let go. He hung his jacket on a chair back and turned, his sturdy waistline outlined by the dress shirt.

“Hyung, I’ll make the coffee.”

“…Huh?”

“What’re you spacing out for? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

Siheon hurriedly averted his eyes from where they’d lingered on Cha Wonwoo’s waist and turned around. Senior Secretary Nam Ilho stood awkwardly, holding his briefcase. With his boss insisting on making coffee, he couldn’t go to the study and was left waiting uncomfortably.

“Secretary Nam, come this way.”

“But…”

“When else will you drink coffee made by the CH Group president? Think of it as an opportunity and come. Wonwoo’s coffee is pretty good.”

Due to his upbringing, Cha Wonwoo was far removed from household chores. But he made iced Americanos exceptionally well. Maybe because he’d learned to make them to let Siheon rest, tailored perfectly to his taste.

The study, designed with one person’s input, had desks facing each other so they could see each other’s faces just by looking up. In the center were a couch and leather sofa for reading breaks, and on one side was a large rectangular table for meetings with secretaries or managers.

“First time here, Secretary Nam? You can work here. Secretary Yang uses this spot too.”

Senior Secretary Nam Ilho set his briefcase on the indicated table. Siheon went to his desk, tidying the scattered papers with an embarrassed smile.

“I’ll be quiet anyway… If it bothers you, just let me know.”

Nam Ilho waved it off.

“As long as the president’s okay with it, I’m fine.”

Soon, Cha Wonwoo entered with a tray. Nam Ilho flinched repeatedly, uneasy as Cha Wonwoo handed him an iced coffee. Cha Wonwoo, acting like he’d just made an extra, passed him and approached Siheon’s desk.

“Hyung, here.”

“Thanks, I’ll enjoy it.”

Instead of returning to his seat, Cha Wonwoo watched Siheon take a sip, his eyes gleaming with anticipation for praise. Siheon glanced at Nam Ilho, who was focused on his documents, pretending not to hear. Cha Wonwoo finally extracted enough variations of “It’s good” with metaphors and rephrased sentences before going to his desk to start work.

The sound of flipping papers, the scratch of writing, and the clink of ice in coffee cups continued late into the evening.

Cha Wonwoo occasionally spoke with Secretary Yang about the key. A few times, he sent intense gazes Siheon’s way. Feeling the heated stare and looking up, Siheon inevitably met those dark eyes. Instead of working after a reasonable glance, Cha Wonwoo propped his chin, unmoving.

Each time, Siheon, losing the staring contest, eventually stopped looking up altogether. Getting distracted and both failing to work would be problematic.

“Haa…”

Cha Wonwoo let out a deep sigh. The reaction came not from Siheon but from Nam Ilho.

“Is something wrong? Did I make a mistake…?”

Tensing and standing to ask, Nam Ilho received a relatively kind response from Cha Wonwoo.

“No, it’s fine. Keep working. You don’t need to react to every little thing.”

Trying to catch Siheon’s eye with subtle attention, then cutting off Nam Ilho’s concern lest it draw focus. Noticing a faint smile on his own lips, Siheon saw Cha Wonwoo’s eyebrow twitch. Clearing his throat—ahem—Siheon returned to the script. A soft, deflated chuckle came from across the room.

Siheon gripped his pen tightly. Patience. Just endure today. Cha Wonwoo’s remote work was only for today. Half a day. Learning someone broke into his Omega’s former home was reason enough for this half-day of cute obsession.

But the next morning, Kangsan, who was supposed to drive him to his hospital counseling, didn’t show. Instead, Cha Wonwoo offered to take him.

“You’re going to work late today? What, a morning half-day this time?”

It was a teasing remark at the time. But after the counseling, Kangsan’s car was still nowhere to be seen. Spotting Cha Wonwoo waiting with the back door wide open, a creeping sense of foreboding began.

When Siheon got out of the car, Cha Wonwoo did too. When Siheon entered the house, Cha Wonwoo followed.

Is this really a morning half-day? Suspicious, Siheon went to the bathroom, showered, and came out to find Cha Wonwoo still there, confirming his fears.

“Just to be sure, I’m asking.”

“…”

“Yesterday was a half-day. Today’s a full day off?”

Cha Wonwoo nodded. Ugh, my head. Siheon rubbed his throbbing temples.

“Fine, let’s say it’s a day off. But why are you dressed like that?”

Even if it’s a day off, given yesterday, he’d work from home. Fine. But why was a guy working from home wearing a three-piece suit?

“Hyung, you have an appointment today. Here.”

“Right, I’m meeting Senior Jinseok. Me. My guest.”

Siheon emphasized “me.” He was dressed casually as the one with the appointment, so why was Cha Wonwoo, who had nothing to do with it, so dressed up? But Cha Wonwoo was shamelessly confident.

“Hyung, this is our house. Our guest.”

What kind of nonsense is this? It was so absurd Siheon let out a hollow laugh. No wonder he’d agreed so easily.

Sometimes, Cha Wonwoo acted younger than his age, like a child indulging in whims he couldn’t as a kid, and today seemed to be one of those days. His twenty-eight-year-old self was acting like an eighteen-year-old with this childishness. Siheon shook his head. It wasn’t harming him, and if Cha Wonwoo wanted to change his workplace, there was nothing to say.

Finally, Siheon surrendered.

“Fine, but don’t interrupt my conversation with him. Got it?”

“Okay.”

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes softened with a short reply. The melting look felt uneasy, but what more could happen?

Checking the time, Siheon went to the kitchen to prepare a simple brunch. Still awkward with cooking, he made open-faced sandwiches with sliced cheese on the side. Worried it might not be enough, he scooped out avocado and topped it with salmon ceviche Madam Song had made. Should he have sparkling wine for his senior, even if he wasn’t drinking? But alcohol was unfamiliar territory.

“Wonwoo! Help me pick a wine—”

Turning to ask the guy at home for help, Siheon collided with something large and solid, losing his balance. As he stumbled backward, a familiar hand wrapped around his waist, half-pulling him up.

“Hyung, be careful.”

“When did you get here?”

The large, solid thing was Cha Wonwoo. Siheon shouldn’t have been knocked back so easily, but turning abruptly without expecting him caused the stumble.

“Get here? I’ve been here the whole time. You were working hard on the food, hyung.”

Cha Wonwoo leaned forward slightly and whispered in his ear.

“It’s making me jealous.”

His lips brushed Siheon’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Siheon pushed the deliberately acting Cha Wonwoo away and turned toward the wine cellar. But Cha Wonwoo didn’t let go easily.

“Hyung, you said you needed wine. I already picked one. It’s light, perfect for brunch.”

Hugging Siheon’s waist tightly, Cha Wonwoo casually held up a small bottle of sparkling wine with his free hand.

“Put it here?”

Despite the spacious kitchen, Cha Wonwoo placed the bottle not beside Siheon but in the empty space behind him, hugging him even closer in the process.

“You…”

At that moment, pheromones flooded out. Siheon’s legs weakened, and Cha Wonwoo pulled him into his arms as if to lean on him. Siheon couldn’t resist the pheromones of his imprinted mate. From head to toe, his entire body was drenched in Cha Wonwoo’s scent.

How much time passed? Soaked, or rather, pickled in pheromones, the doorbell rang.

As if nothing had happened, Cha Wonwoo shut off his pheromone gland and stepped back, adopting a polished, gentlemanly demeanor.

“Hyung, looks like our guest has arrived. You should go check.”

Open the door in this state?

If the guest was a traited individual, they’d surely notice the sticky pheromones the moment they stepped inside. The thought alone made Siheon’s face burn, but Cha Wonwoo, far from being embarrassed, played it off as if nothing had happened.

“The guest is waiting. Aren’t you going to open the door? If you don’t, I will.”

“You’re really… I told you Jinseok sunbae has no ulterior motives toward me. Did you have to douse the place in pheromones like this?”

“What do you take me for? You think I spread them just because of that shady guy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Without answering directly, Cha Wonwoo shrugged and stepped forward. As he passed by, pheromones wafted from him. Even with his gland closed, the sheer volume he’d released lingered, and Siheon, inhaling the scent, followed him to the entrance.

The guest should’ve waited a bit, but the doorbell kept ringing incessantly as they approached. It wasn’t like Jinseok sunbae to act this way. Even someone from the company wouldn’t press so persistently. Wondering who else could be coming, Siheon asked.

“Who’s supposed to show up?”

“You’re meeting someone at home, so I called someone here too.”

Before Siheon could ask who, Cha Wonwoo flung the door open.

A tall man stood in the open doorway. The man who’d been ringing the bell turned his head. Upon seeing his sharp, deep-set eyes without double eyelids, Siheon reflexively bowed in greeting. It was a familiar face.

“Hello.”

Recognizing Siheon, the man nodded lightly.

“It’s been a while, Actor Kang Siheon.”

His pleasant, low voice tickled Siheon’s eardrums. Why is this guy here?

The unexpected visitor was none other than Go Yusin, the CEO of Hansan (HS) Media. Leading the golden age of entertainment with businesses like TBN, broadcasting, film, and music, he was someone Siheon knew.

Officially, they’d met at the acting awards ceremony the year Siheon starred in a TBN drama, with Go Yusin as the presenter and Siheon as the recipient. Privately, as the youngest grandson of the Hansan Group, Siheon had crossed paths with him a few times at high-society gatherings for conglomerates.

Siheon knew Go Yusin was acquainted with Cha Wonwoo, but not close enough to visit their home. Reading the bewilderment and surprise on Siheon’s face, Go Yusin gestured toward Cha Wonwoo with his eyes.

“I was invited by this busy man to discuss business in a private setting.”

He seemed to have been dragged here reluctantly. When his sculpted face frowned, even that looked like a deliberate artistic performance. In his life, Siheon could count on one hand the people he genuinely thought were handsome, and Go Yusin was one of them.

“Let’s skip the handshake. Your housemate looks like he’d nag about it. I’ll come in then.”

While Siheon stood frozen in surprise, Go Yusin stepped inside without hesitation, slipped off his shoes, and changed into indoor slippers.

The man, with bold yet sharp features, exuded an innate sense of ease. An unmistakable Alpha by trait. Now Siheon understood why Cha Wonwoo had flooded the place with pheromones. Even after imprinting, his Alpha-detection radar never rested. It might even be a habit by now.

After ushering the man into the study, Cha Wonwoo closed the door and made a request to Siheon.

“Don’t bring him water, coffee, tea—nothing.”

“How can you treat a guest like that? And you should’ve told me you had someone coming for work. I only prepared food for Jinseok sunbae.”

“Exactly. That’s already enough to twist my stomach, so there’s no need to do it for that rascal too.”

“Didn’t you change the meeting location to here? Calling someone a rascal after they came all this way.”

In the industry, Go Yusin was called a lunatic, but Siheon held his tongue. When Siheon defended Go Yusin, Cha Wonwoo’s eyebrows shot up in displeasure.

“Fine, I’ll amend it to ‘jerk.’”

“Why are the words getting harsher?”

“A guy who suddenly married a Beta when told to have an arranged marriage—isn’t that a jerk?”

Wasn’t their own marriage, pushed through while Chairman Cha Hyuncheol was on his deathbed, just as reckless? Siheon thought so but didn’t point it out. Instead, he recalled the trolley for the home bar and the whiskey decanter in the study corner.

“Still, offer him a drink at least. He’s older than you, so show some manners.”

“You think I’d really not give him a single glass of water? Hyung… Fine, I’ll handle it.”

Siheon wanted to add another scolding for reliability’s sake, but the doorbell rang again. This time, it seemed to be the expected guest. Siheon gestured toward the closed study door.

“Go back in. I’ll be in the dining room with sunbae, so talk comfortably.”

As he turned without hesitation, Siheon heard a grumble from behind about how he could possibly be comfortable separated from his hyung. Worried Cha Wonwoo might follow, Siheon was relieved to hear the study door open and close.

Siheon hurried to the entrance to greet Jinseok.

“Sunbae-nim, you’re here?”

Startled by the pheromone-filled house, Jinseok quickly composed his expression, likely thinking it natural for a couple’s private space.

“Yeah. Oh, I brought this since coming empty-handed felt awkward.”

Siheon accepted the gift with an embarrassed smile and led him to the dining room.

＊＊＊＊＊

Click. Cha Wonwoo closed the study door with a hint of irritation and stepped inside. Feeling parched, he approached the trolley, poured water into a glass, and gulped it down. Go Yusin, lounging on the central sofa like he owned the place, sneered.

“This house’s hospitality is pretty pathetic.”

“Ha…”

Sighing toward the wall, Cha Wonwoo poured water into another glass and placed it on the table.

“Drink.”

“Saving the good stuff for something else?”

“It’s work hours.”

Dismissing him curtly, Cha Wonwoo walked to his desk instead of sitting across from Go Yusin. It was a subtle standoff, neither Alpha willing to yield the dominant seat. Fortunately, the distance was far enough to talk face-to-face without issue.

Go Yusin spoke first.

“So, what’s the price for dragging a busy man here?”

“I asked for your understanding.”

“You handled the appointment formally through your secretary, but when you changed the location, you called personally, appealing to our acquaintance.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

The pheromones naturally emanating from both Alphas filled the study with taut tension.

Go Yusin drained his water in one go. His wedding ring on the fourth finger glinted under the light.

Cha Wonwoo deliberately turned a photo frame on his desk outward. It was a wedding photo capturing a happy moment with his spouse.

“Childish.”

Go Yusin let out a hollow laugh, and Cha Wonwoo retorted brusquely.

“What.”

His twitching eyebrows betrayed his discomfort. Yet his gaze instinctively darted to the door. He was more preoccupied with Siheon and Jinseok beyond it than with Go Yusin in front of him.

“The one who needs something isn’t me, but President Cha Wonwoo, right?”

It was a cue to get to the point. There were no warm pleasantries about the recent accident or his recovery.

Business only, briefly.

Facing a man who adhered to professional basics, Cha Wonwoo pulled back his sidelong glance, straightened his posture, and got serious.

“They say Cha Eunsik and Cha Iryeong are lobbying the press.”

“They were desperate to buy expensive dinners.”

“For Cha Iryeong’s divorce lawsuit to be hushed up?”

“Maybe.”

At the vague reply, Cha Wonwoo fell silent, his gaze scanning Go Yusin to gauge his intentions.

“Your eyes are too intense, President Cha Wonwoo. I’m a married man.”

“Who isn’t?”

Cha Wonwoo’s icy tone shot back with clear disdain.

“Speak clearly. Cha Eunsik and Cha Iryeong didn’t just wine and dine and wipe their mouths clean.”

Pressed again, the bored expression on Go Yusin’s face vanished.

“I’m not interested in joining your group’s succession battle. But for maintaining a good relationship with the next CH Group chairman, one piece of advice: whatever you’re planning, strike first.”

His prominent Adam’s apple moved up and down with each word, asserting its presence. The warning in his voice was as sharp and cold as his demeanor.

“Something big is about to break soon.”

His face showed no intention of elaborating.

If Go Yusin didn’t want personal involvement, making it official business would suffice. A price for information. Tapping the desk while calculating, Cha Wonwoo threw out a clipped word.

“Investment.”

Catching Go Yusin’s intrigued look, he elaborated.

“You’re struggling with funding for your domestic integrated OTT service’s original content, right?”

Go Yusin, with his keen eye for promising projects, had driven Hansan Media’s golden era. One achievement was the recent launch of an integrated OTT service for terrestrial and cable channels.

However, while global OTTs announced over 3 trillion won in domestic investments, Hansan Media’s OTT, where they held the largest stake, was struggling due to limited funds.

Hansan Media’s roots lay with the Hansan Group, Korea’s so-called royal family. Investment from them could help, but Go Yusin had his own complications.

Knowing this, Cha Wonwoo, despite needing the information, confidently played his card.

“Content investment costs. That seems like a fair pretext.”

CH Group had established a venture capital arm with financial capital. Though its share was small, they’d steadily invested in films and dramas, so it wouldn’t raise external suspicions.

Go Yusin, as if expecting such an offer, nodded lightly and countered.

“The amount? We should align on a rough figure before a formal agreement.”

Cha Wonwoo closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. His dark eyes, now revealed, were armed with calculated coldness, appearing even more ruthless than the so-called rascal Go Yusin.

Tap, tap. His fingers, drumming the desk in precise rhythm, stopped. Pulling a sheet of paper from the drawer, he walked to Go Yusin’s side and placed it down.

“How’s this? A blank check I’ve already signed.”

His low but clear voice cut through the study’s heavy air. Sitting on the leather sofa used for meetings, Cha Wonwoo crossed his legs, tilted his chin slightly, and stared across.

“Write whatever amount you want. I’ll match it.”

It was a bold statement—name any price, and he’d cover it. Beneath it lay his immense wealth and trust that Go Yusin wouldn’t demand an absurd figure. It was a rational assumption possible only among the rare peers in their circle of arrogant conglomerate heirs.

As expected, Go Yusin nodded calmly, pulling the blank paper toward himself to signify acceptance of the deal.

“Alright, I’ll calculate the needed amount and send it within a week.”

But at that moment, a large hand with prominent veins slammed down on the paper. Leaning forward menacingly to prevent Go Yusin from taking it, Cha Wonwoo spoke.

“There’s one condition.”

Go Yusin chuckled.

“I knew it. But isn’t the information I’ll provide enough for the investment?”

“No, that calculation leaves me at a loss.”

Cha Wonwoo’s point was valid. Nodding briefly in agreement, Go Yusin released the paper and leaned back.

“Let’s hear it. What’s this condition President Cha Wonwoo wants to impose?”

“It’s nothing big. I want to include a confidentiality agreement.”

“The details?”

“For the OTT’s original productions, guarantee Actor Kang Siheon’s right to participate.”

“Interesting. Usually, in this atmosphere, people push for casting favors—like demanding a lead role. But just guaranteeing participation? That’s novel.”

Cha Wonwoo smiled, as if Go Yusin’s concern was excessive.

“What kind of person is my husband? Looks, acting, experience—he lacks nothing. He’s more than capable of landing roles on his own. So I don’t need to step in. Casting favors? That’s practically sponsorship, which isn’t for his benefit but an insult.”

His tone brimmed with unwavering confidence that Kang Siheon was the best in the world. Go Yusin was speechless for a few seconds before speaking again.

“…Then why guarantee participation?”

“Because that’s what I can do.”

Cha Wonwoo’s expression was calm and serious as he continued.

“Guaranteeing participation is for contingencies like scandals or external pressure. Unless he chooses to quit, I want his participation ensured so the production can’t drop him first.”

“In short, a no-termination clause?”

Cha Wonwoo nodded. He understood business logic well, but recalling how brands like Lumière had replaced Siheon as a model after the divorce announcement made his stomach churn.

Ads were unavoidable, but he wanted to protect Siheon’s passion for acting, ensuring he could continue no matter the circumstances. Of course, he’d also swiftly issue corrections and verify facts to counter any controversies.

A bitter smile lingered on Cha Wonwoo’s lips.

“Looking back, I kept saying I’d protect him, but I never really did it properly.”

“You don’t need to express love with trillion-won figures.”

Go Yusin shook his head at the grand scale of affection, and Cha Wonwoo, with a small laugh, slid the paper back toward him. He omitted saying that Kang Siheon was his everything, so no amount was too much.

Catching the context, Go Yusin muttered with a wry smile.

“You know something to propose this condition.”

Though verbal, the deal was sealed. Folding the paper and tucking it into his jacket’s inner pocket, Go Yusin looked up at Cha Wonwoo.

“Now, for a successful deal, let’s get back to the main point.”

It was a signal he was ready to talk. Cha Wonwoo, his face devoid of humor, responded.

“The information better be worth the investment I’m providing.”

＊＊＊＊＊

“So when I came to, I was on a fishing boat.”

“Just you and Director Pyo?”

“No, thankfully the captain was there. Otherwise, I would’ve cried like a baby from fear.”

In the dining room, Jinseok was in the middle of recounting a fishing trip with Director Pyo on a small boat. He shuddered so vividly it felt like the raw testimony of a hostage barely escaping a fishing fanatic.

“Come on, it can’t be that scary.”

Siheon laughed lightly, but Jinseok widened his eyes as if Siheon didn’t get it.

“You don’t know how terrifying the night sea is. You should try it sometime. No amount of talk compares to experiencing it. Director Pyo is more relentless fishing than on set.”

“Sounds like exaggeration…”

“It’s true. By the way, thanks to it, I ate some amazing food.”

The plates on the dining room table were completely cleared. Sandwiches, avocado with salmon ceviche, and light sparkling wine—brunch-appropriate food that filled both stomach and mood. Jinseok smiled with satisfaction.

“I barely did anything. Most of it was Madam Song’s work. And you brought gifts too, sunbae.”

Jinseok had given two gifts: a limited-edition luxury brand plate set and a quirky, cute bath bomb.

“It felt weird coming empty-handed. Think of it as a belated housewarming gift. I heard bath bombs are good for couples, but… is it too much?”

“No, it’s…”

Siheon rolled his eyes, feeling awkward. During their newlywed days, they’d received many bath bombs from those around them and fans. The emotions from back then resurfaced, making the moment bittersweet.

“Anyway, both you and Cha Wonwoo are okay, right? I was shocked seeing the news.”

Thanks to Jinseok deftly changing the topic, Siheon snapped out of his nostalgia and nodded quickly.

“Yeah, Wonwoo said it wasn’t a serious injury. Thanks to that, my shock settled fast too.”

“That’s a relief.”

Perhaps considerate of Siheon’s exhaustion from public scrutiny, Jinseok didn’t press further about the accident.

Truthfully, Siheon didn’t have much to say even if asked. The perpetrator was still in a coma, unable to give a statement, and while they’d identified the key found in the car, it wasn’t like they could go open it themselves. Secretary Yang might be working on other methods, though.

“Thanks for sharing so much today. About Director Pyo’s directing style and all. I’ll rely on you a lot on set too, sunbae.”

Filling Jinseok’s empty glass, Siheon teased him subtly to probe.

“But I’m the only one getting good advice. Don’t you have anything tough going on, sunbae?”

Jinseok gave a weary smile. At the dinner, the dim mood and alcohol made it easier, but sober, he seemed hesitant to open up.

As the silence stretched, a noise came from the study’s direction.

“Sunbae, one sec.”

Seizing the chance to give Jinseok time to think alone, Siheon stood.

Walking down the hallway, Siheon closely observed Cha Wonwoo, who was seeing a guest off at the entrance. His expression wasn’t overt, but it had a peculiar coldness. Did the meeting not go well? His steps quickened with concern.

“Hyung.”

Spotting Siheon, Cha Wonwoo’s face softened.

His thick brows and sharp eyes relaxed downward, his tightly pressed lips curved into a gentle arc, and his tense body loosened, fingers twitching instinctively.

About to step toward Siheon, Cha Wonwoo suddenly turned back to Go Yusin, urging him to leave quickly. “I got it,” came the man’s irritated reply, followed by a thud as the door closed.

By the time Siheon reached the entrance, Go Yusin was already gone. In that brief moment, Cha Wonwoo had practically chased him out and now pulled Siheon into a tight embrace.

“Hyung.”

“What happened? Why’d you send him off like that? I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“He’s the type to leave on his own. But that Jinseok guy hasn’t left yet, huh? His shoes are still here.”

Siheon lightly tapped Cha Wonwoo’s arm, just enough not to hurt.

“What if he hears?”

“Why hasn’t he left? Do you have that much to talk about?”

Siheon couldn’t bring himself to say he hadn’t even heard Jinseok’s troubles yet. Reading his discomfort, Cha Wonwoo pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

“Do I have to keep waiting?”

“Waiting for what? We didn’t plan anything together today. And you said you’re working from home. Then you should work until quitting time.”

“The thing I want to do with you is work.”

Work? What work? Siheon’s head tilted, puzzled. Instead of explaining, Cha Wonwoo checked his watch.

“I heard something. Finish your talk with Jinseok first. I’ll handle some other work in the meantime.”

The soft, melted Cha Wonwoo was gone, replaced by a stern-faced one who nodded toward the dining room.

“Like you said, until quitting time. I can’t wait any longer than that.”