UR Chapter 41

Chapter 41

I-bom stared blankly at the bouquet, glancing at it before speaking.

“I turned them down before, but if they’re asking me to reconsider, they must really like you… no, they’re probably a beastman, right?”

“Ha… I-bom.”

Soo-hyun gripped the peach iced tea glass tightly. The condensation-covered glass showed pale fingerprints where his hand pressed against it.

“I’m still in my twenties. This is the age when I want to do so many things, and I haven’t even had time to enjoy life properly. Why would I want to get married? Do you know how old-fashioned pureblood beastmen are?”

“Isn’t that the kind of thing that only happens in dramas?”

Stories about the conservative, almost Joseon Dynasty-like households of pureblood beastmen, their conglomerate families, oppressive in-law lives, and mother-in-law conflicts were staple tropes in TV dramas. The fact that pureblood beastman families were rare and shrouded in mystique only reinforced people’s prejudices.

“……”

“They say it’s worse than dramas. How conservative do you have to be for a conglomerate family founded by pureblood beastmen to never reveal anyone but the family head? I know a guy who interviewed a beastman family for a drama he was writing, and he was floored. Said they were the biggest old fogeys in Korea. And you wouldn’t believe how obsessed they are with bloodlines. Honestly, half-bloods like us probably don’t even exist to them.”

“But you still said you’d meet them.”

“Well, yeah.”

Soo-hyun let out a long sigh.

“Hey, and I told you, right? How they never reveal the full details of their family. That’s really f***ing suspicious.”

Clink.

Soo-hyun slammed the peach iced tea down on the table irritably. Water splashed out over the glass.

“All they said was that they’re from a feline predator lineage. But the timing—like I just said—is creepy as hell. Why propose marriage right after that incident with the cheetah beastman? And why hide the family background? Which means—”

Soo-hyun narrowed his eyes and stared off into the distance.

Whether it was true or not, not even the bouquet of roses meant to impress him seemed enough to move his heart.

“…It’s very likely they’re the cheetah beastman who caused the accident.”

“Hyung, do you have any other hints about the person?”

I-bom asked cautiously as he drained the rest of his peach iced tea. The straw made a slurping sound as air slipped through.

“Well…”

Soo-hyun folded his arms and murmured leisurely.

“I never got exact information from their family, but I did pry a bit from the delivery guy when I got the flowers.”

“What did you hear?”

“They said the person runs a security? Protection? Something like that… company.”

“…Security?”

“Yeah, but who knows if it’s really a security company. For all we know, it’s just a front for gangsters trying to clean their records. I didn’t bring up gangs for nothing, you know.”

Slowly, an image began to form in I-bom’s mind based on Soo-hyun’s words.

A pureblood feline beastman—massive in height and build, ferocious, uncontrollable… a gang boss.

And a ridiculously old-fashioned family, the epitome of strict Confucian values and oppressive in-law life.

I-bom asked seriously.

“Why would a gangster-like feline beastman family… want to arrange a meeting with you?”

Normally, felines only married among themselves. Cats and dogs, like oil and water, had too many differences to make good spouses. So why go out of their way?

“Probably because they’re desperate. Maybe they want to clean up their image.”

“Clean up their image?”

Soo-hyun’s guess felt like a mix of wild imagination and sharp realism. I-bom found it convincing enough to listen carefully.

“Yeah. That cheetah beastman who attacked someone at the spring—that was a pureblood. Most pureblood beastmen come from good families, so even if they’re dangerous, no one dares to say ‘kick them out.’ The news barely covered it for a few days before the articles vanished. But when people started protesting, demanding they be expelled, now they’re trying to do image control. Like, ‘See? We marry and get along with socially marginalized groups.’ That kind of thing.”

I-bom’s face grew serious as he listened to Soo-hyun’s breathless conspiracy theory. The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

“I-bom, I’m really scared…”

Soo-hyun gave a bitter smile, then gripped I-bom’s sleeve and pretended to tear up.

“You’ll go to the meeting instead of me, right?”

The answer was already set in stone.

I-jun, who had irresponsibly racked up debt and run away. Soo-hyun, looking at him pitifully and faking tears.

I-bom never even had the chance to refuse or change his mind. His life had never been his own first priority.

Seeing I-bom’s stiff expression, Soo-hyun seemed to think he might refuse and showed a hint of nervousness.

“You’ll go, right? Yeah?”

I-bom hesitated for a moment before slowly opening his mouth.

“…Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Ah! I knew it. I knew you’d agree!”

Soo-hyun said brightly, as if he’d expected it all along, and pulled I-bom into a tight hug. Feeling Soo-hyun’s fingers press into his back, I-bom gave a faint, bitter smile.

In a voice low enough that only I-bom could hear, Soo-hyun whispered.

“Make sure to completely ruin that meeting. I’ve got a great idea.”

* * *

“Are you sure about this, kid?”

The hairdresser looked at Soo-hyun and I-bom with a bewildered expression.

Through the mirror, the hairdresser’s face was twisted in the kind of displeasure you’d have after biting into something bad.

And no wonder—because the photo Soo-hyun brought to the salon showed a hairstyle so ridiculously outdated and strange it was almost offensive.

“I mean, I’ll do it because it’s my job, but you look pretty young… How old are you? Have you taken your college entrance exams yet?”

The hairdresser gestured at I-bom with a comb. Sitting under the draped gown, I-bom blinked and shook his head.

“Oh, no? So you’re not in high school… a college student then. Anyway, no one does this kind of style anymore.”

The hairdresser tapped the photo Soo-hyun had handed over.

“You’ve got a face that could model for a hairstyle campaign, and yet you’re asking for something this awful—that’s why I’m saying this.”

“There’s a reason for it.”

Soo-hyun pushed the photo forward again, speaking seriously. The hairdresser let out a thoughtful hum, crossing one leg over the other and glancing between I-bom, Soo-hyun, and the photo.

“…What, are you shooting a drama or something? I can’t imagine why anyone would want this haircut otherwise…”

“Something like that.”

“Really? Alright then, I’ll try my best. But next time you come in, let me use you as a hair model, okay? Ruining such a pretty face like this is really painful for me.”

With a shrug, the hairdresser picked up a pair of metal scissors.

“Oof.”

The hairdresser groaned after finishing the cut.

“……”

“Your skills are amazing.”

Soo-hyun beamed, giving a thumbs up.

In the mirror, I-bom now looked like someone who had been dragged straight out of the past century—hopelessly old-fashioned.

Gone was the neat, straight, short hair he usually had. Instead, it was parted two-to-eight, slicked with gel, but not combed neatly back—instead cut awkwardly at a bob length, giving off an unflattering, clunky look.

The hairdresser, still looking displeased, removed the gown. I-bom shuffled out of the salon chair.

“Looks perfect.”

Soo-hyun said with satisfaction, twisting open a purple tube in his hand. Looking at I-bom’s antiquated hairstyle—like something out of a faded old photo—he dabbed the purple lotion onto I-bom’s cheeks.

It was a whitening lotion, a product that had once been popular among teenagers who wanted to make their faces look paler and prettier.

It might have worked for those with darker skin, but for someone like I-bom, whose skin was already pale, it made him even whiter in a way that clashed horribly—an ultimate “tone-death” product.

As expected, the moment the purple lotion went on, I-bom’s white face turned ghostly and dull, like someone who had been sick for days.

On top of that, Soo-hyun buttoned a wrinkled wool check shirt—all rainbow colors mixed together—stolen from his uncle’s closet, all the way to the collar. He paired it with cargo pants sporting six pockets, cinched with a large studded belt.

The look was completed with a 19th-century-intellectual-style haircut, liver-failure-colored lotion, a millennium-retro checkered shirt, ragged cargo pants, and finally, a dull gray duffle coat that looked like a high school uniform jacket.

“Wow, that’s hideous.”

The hairdresser, watching this chaotic blend of fashion spanning a hundred years, struggled to keep a straight face. But Soo-hyun clapped his hands in delight.

“Alright. If we dawdle for about an hour before leaving, that should be perfect, right? I heard cats have a bit of OCD and hate having their schedules thrown off.”

In front of I-bom, who was smiling awkwardly, Soo-hyun gave him a bright, cheerful pat on the shoulder.