WGD Ch 20

Returning to his seat, Siheon found Jinseok sipping the last of his wine. The faint smile on his face was so poignant that, if seen on a screen, it would have tugged at the audience’s heartstrings.

“More?”

“No, it’s fine. It doesn’t get me drunk anyway.”

Siheon had once envied dominant Alphas for their superior alcohol metabolism, but seeing Jinseok unable to get drunk even when he wanted to revealed its own kind of struggle.

Sitting down, Siheon waited quietly without adding more words. Though he didn’t know the reason, he understood Jinseok’s hesitation to open up.

Some words grow heavier the moment they’re spoken.

Having emptied his glass, Jinseok let go of even the faint smile he’d been wearing. A deep shadow fell over his gentle, unblemished face.

“Siheon.”

“Yes.”

“It’s nothing else, but I might end up in a lawsuit.”

“A lawsuit?”

“Yeah. Since we’re working on a project together, I thought I should tell you first. It could get messy in many ways. The fishing trip with Director Pyo was actually to discuss this issue.”

“Oh, so that’s why…”

It was rare for a colleague to give advance notice of a lawsuit. Usually, even among close acquaintances, the industry’s unspoken rule was to avoid such topics on set unless unavoidable. Pretending it didn’t happen or wasn’t a big deal and focusing on finishing the project quickly was the collective goal.

“More than anything, I was worried because this is your comeback project.”

Despite his own concerns, Jinseok seemed anxious about causing trouble for Siheon or stirring unnecessary rumors.

“No, it’s fine. I’m the one who’s been in the headlines constantly. Unless you’ve done something illegal or ethically reprehensible, it doesn’t matter to me.”

It was a kind yet firm response, implying that if Jinseok had committed illegal or unethical acts, it would matter.

“It’s not like that. The time I suddenly stopped activities and went off the grid—it’s related to that…”

Jinseok hesitated briefly. He needed to bring up a story from the past. Finally resolving himself, he began.

“It was because I had a child.”

The secret of the most beautiful Alpha, the insanely kind man, the nation’s first love—who had vanished abruptly, sparking all sorts of speculation—was this.

Years ago, at a charity gala for underprivileged minor traited individuals, Jinseok met someone. The person was a male heir from a conglomerate family, a dominant Omega by trait.

After several meetings as a sponsor, they began dating formally. During their relationship, the Omega unexpectedly went into heat. In the face of a dominant Omega’s heat cycle pheromones, a dominant Alpha was powerless.

A single mistake.

But after that mistake, the Omega suddenly broke things off. Contact ceased. The trouble began when the Omega collapsed and was rushed to the hospital.

“Turns out he was pregnant. He needed my pheromones as the father, but without them, he fainted. Whether to keep the child was his body, his right as an Omega, so I had no complaints with his decision. But he hadn’t told his family. He said they’d obviously demand he terminate it.”

The Omega left for study abroad as an excuse. While searching for solutions away from his family, he collapsed from pheromones before his pregnancy even showed.

Learning this, Jinseok tried to stay by the Omega and their unborn child. When it could no longer be hidden, he informed the Omega’s family about the pregnancy.

As expected, chaos ensued, and they scrambled to keep it secret. They also disapproved of Jinseok’s activities, anticipating the news would leak. Ultimately, he was forced to halt his career.

“They told me to stop working first, then acted like I was using the child to extort money.”

Having faced similar treatment, Siheon could imagine how Jinseok felt.

“That must’ve been tough.”

Though Jinseok must have felt many emotions, he gave a wry smile at Siheon’s succinct empathy and nodded.

“They told me to sign papers relinquishing all rights to the child.”

This time, Siheon let out a hollow laugh. The story was strikingly similar to his own.

“Did you?”

“No. I held out.”

But the Omega’s family had no intention of compromising. They saw Jinseok’s role as merely a pheromone provider for the Omega and child’s stability.

“I kept holding out. At least I could see him and the child.”

But as time passed after the child’s birth, even his former lover changed his stance.

A breakup for a fresh start.

Though it hurt, Jinseok let him go if that was what he truly wanted. He only asked to keep seeing the child.

Listening silently, Siheon recalled the day he’d run into Jinseok.

The day of the meeting with Director Pyo Wookjoon, when Jinseok unexpectedly showed up at the sushi restaurant. The cute, patterned handkerchief he’d offered to help Siheon clean wine-soaked clothes—a design that didn’t suit Jinseok. And the faint ring mark on his hand.

“After meeting someone through an arranged match, he changed his tune again. The last time we met, he said it’d be best if it was our final meeting, for the child’s future. That I shouldn’t exist in their life. If I insisted on revealing myself, I should wait until the child was an adult.”

Like most parents, especially dominant Alphas, Jinseok had a strong attachment to lineage and reproduction. Feeling powerless against the unilateral decision, he couldn’t give up like this.

“He plans to take the child overseas. How can he decide everything alone… Am I just narrow-minded, or is it that I can’t forgive him for not saying a word to me from start to finish?”

Even though Jinseok was just sharing his story, meeting his gaze felt difficult. Siheon nodded reflexively.

“I… see.”

He understood why Jinseok wanted to talk to him. He must’ve thought they were in similar situations. There were differences, but Siheon didn’t voice them. Instead of focusing on emotions, he spoke about what Jinseok could do now.

“If their family has that much influence, there’s only one option for you, sunbae. Make it loud with a lawsuit.”

For an actor outmatched in wealth and power, the only advantage was public opinion through exposure. Even if articles were biased, there were ways to sway the public—SNS, official interviews, and more.

“That’s true, but I feel bad that my issue might burden Director Pyo and the staff. It could affect the set’s atmosphere or morale.”

No actor likes external noise around a project. But discouraging Jinseok or forcing him to drop out wasn’t an option.

“It’ll be fine. Director Pyo knows that, so he didn’t say much, right?”

“That old man Pyo laughed, saying it’s free noise marketing without spending a dime.”

Recalling Director Pyo Wookjoon’s absurd reaction, Jinseok gave a hollow laugh. He looked relieved, his expression brighter after talking.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know anytime.”

Suppressing the whirlwind of thoughts inside, Siheon smiled.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Hyung.”

After seeing Jinseok off, Siheon was sitting blankly on the sofa when Cha Wonwoo, emerging from the study, waved a hand in front of his face to get a reaction. Suggesting they talk over drinks, Cha Wonwoo had just brought coffee and set it on the living room table.

‘I can’t forgive him for not saying a word to me from start to finish.’

Jinseok’s voice echoed in Siheon’s ears. It wasn’t directed at him, but the phrase “can’t forgive” struck deep for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

“Hyung.”

Like a robot programmed with tasks, Siheon instinctively picked up the cup.

“—!”

The coffee was so scalding it snapped him out of his daze, burning his mouth. Unable to spit or swallow, he froze with his mouth open, at a loss. A cup was thrust toward him.

“Spit.”

I’m not a child. Belatedly regaining his senses, Siheon rushed to the sink and spat out the coffee.

Cha Wonwoo approached, leaning down and grabbing Siheon’s cheeks.

“Let me see. Is your mouth okay?”

“It’s fine, let go.”

“Let go of what? I need to check.”

His cheeks were squeezed, forcing his lips to pout. Knowing that arguing would make him look like a fish flapping its lips, Siheon gave up and opened his mouth obediently.

But can you tell by looking?

Holding that innocent question, he stayed still. Suddenly, Cha Wonwoo leaned in, locking eyes. His gaze, mischievous like a predator plotting something sinister, closed in as if cornering prey. Then, something plunged into Siheon’s mouth.

“Mmph.”

Without warning, a tongue invaded, swiftly probing every corner. It wasn’t sensual enough to call a kiss.

Neither closed their eyes, their gazes fully exposed. Cha Wonwoo, sending a fierce look, withdrew as leisurely as a beast finishing its hunt.

Siheon didn’t push him away first because Cha Wonwoo’s eyelashes were trembling faintly.

Still, the absurdity overwhelmed him, and Siheon blurted out his thoughts without softening them.

“Cutting off coffee to do something so filthy—what the hell?”

Cha Wonwoo’s brow furrowed.

“I’m filthy?”

Realizing his mistake, Siheon softened his tone to soothe him.

“No one said you’re filthy. Your actions were. Why’d you stick your tongue in like that?”

“I couldn’t tell if you were burned just by looking, so I checked. It was hot.”

Of course it was—it was hot coffee. Siheon didn’t bother responding to the obvious logic. He fetched the coffee from the living room, poured it into a larger cup, added ice, and asked.

“I usually drink it iced. Why’d you give me hot coffee?”

Leaning against the home bar, watching, Cha Wonwoo raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I was going to make it like usual, but you asked for hot.”

Guess I was really out of it. Clicking his tongue at himself, Siheon sipped the cooled coffee. It was slightly bland but not bad.

“What’s the talk you wanted to have?”

Sitting Cha Wonwoo, who’d trailed him to the living room sofa, beside him, Siheon asked.

“First, you tell me. What did you talk about with Jinseok?”

Perhaps annoyed that Siheon had been “taken” for so long by his standards, Cha Wonwoo’s attitude suggested he wanted to hear how great the conversation was.

“Why would I tell you about sunbae’s private life?”

“You’re going to be that cold? What secrets are there between spouses?”

“There are when it’s someone else’s private life.”

Expecting him to be upset by the blunt refusal, Siheon was surprised when Cha Wonwoo chuckled instead. When Siheon looked at him oddly, Cha Wonwoo explained.

“You didn’t deny we’re spouses.”

He was clearly thrilled. Siheon had focused on “secrets,” but Cha Wonwoo, fixated on “spouses,” couldn’t hide his joy. He was so easy to make happy. Siheon didn’t know what he was doing to such a guy. The coffee, bland moments ago, now tasted bitter.

Perhaps in a good mood, Cha Wonwoo didn’t press further about Jinseok’s private life. He seemed to already know through other channels. That made Siheon want to ask.

‘I can’t forgive him for not saying a word to me from start to finish.’

What would you think? If someone hid something you had a right to know, would you say you couldn’t forgive them too? The question rose to his throat, less a question and more a confirmation.

Cha Wonwoo was right. There should be no secrets between spouses. Especially not about things that concern each other. They’re only poison to a relationship.

But Siheon had hidden things. Having made that choice, there was no turning back. And to beg forgiveness under the guise of love? He reminded himself how despicable that was. Then, grind, he clenched his teeth. He’d only just realized he’d been hoping for forgiveness.

“Anyway, hyung, I’m going to ask you something now, and answer honestly.”

Siheon’s gaze, complex as he faced Cha Wonwoo’s intent to probe the truth, was hard to read. To avoid showing his expression, he lifted the large cup to hide half his face under the pretense of drinking coffee.

“Have you ever done drugs?”

Siheon spat out the coffee. The question was so absurd and outrageous it banished all his stray thoughts at once.

“W-what did you say?”

“Have you ever used drugs?”

They say you don’t get angry at utterly ridiculous claims, and this was exactly that. Even Cha Wonwoo’s eyes shone with trust, certain Siheon would never.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

Not hiding his disgust, Siheon replied, and Cha Wonwoo continued.

“You know Cha Ijun does drugs, right?”

“Of course.”

When they met in New York, Cha Ijun’s addiction was so obvious it showed outwardly.

“They say to suppress Cha Iryeong’s divorce lawsuit coverage, they’re slipping something to the press. The source is the support team.”

The CH Construction support team assisted the presidential family in various ways. Cha Wonwoo, who’d heard from Secretary Yang that they’d been collecting celebrity scandals and juicy info, shared the details.

“A drug scandal that’s been quietly investigated is about to blow up. Yeo Jeonghyeon’s already been named a suspect and is under investigation.”

Yeo Jeonghyeon—sponsorships, power abuse, and now drugs. He’d really done it all. But what did that have to do with Siheon? Listening quietly, puzzled, Siheon sensed the tense atmosphere. No way…

“Is there a rumor I did drugs?”

Cha Wonwoo nodded. Rumors, by nature, spread without clear origins. But this time was different.

“Specifically, Yeo Jeonghyeon named you.”

“That crazy bastard’s lost it.”

Siheon, who rarely used coarse language, let harsh words slip out.

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes, startled and wide, darkened with a lustful glint.

Normally, Siheon would’ve caught it and teased him for enjoying being cursed at, calling his tastes perverse. But he was too stunned by Yeo Jeonghyeon’s insane actions to notice.

“A jerk? Doesn’t false testimony lead to harsher punishment? What’s his grudge? It’s obvious a test would clear me, so why lie like that?”

It was utterly incomprehensible by common sense. That’s probably why Yeo Jeonghyeon did it, though.

His thought process was beyond calculable reasoning, making it impossible to guess or predict. Why drag Siheon into something with such an obvious outcome?

“Hyung, think carefully. You think Yeo Jeonghyeon did this alone?”

Calming the agitated Siheon, Cha Wonwoo took his hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What did I say? Cha Eunsik and Cha Iryeong are meeting press to keep the divorce lawsuit quiet. The drugs likely involve Cha Ijun, and what’s more reliable than a list from his mouth? Yeo Jeonghyeon was one of them.”

“Then he should die with Cha Ijun. Why drag me into it?”

“It’s Cha Iryeong’s scheme. Not wanting dirt on herself, she’s using others as shields. Would a sister let her brother, who’s in and out of prosecution or police, just sit there? Knowing Cha Ijun won’t even be named and will walk free, Yeo Jeonghyeon turned elsewhere.”

“The more I hear, the less it makes sense.”

Sweeping his hair back with the hand not held by Cha Wonwoo, Siheon glared. He couldn’t understand why an innocent person like him was being targeted.

He knew Yeo Jeonghyeon harbored a strange inferiority complex toward him. Sometimes, people hate someone to death for trivial reasons. Even so, testifying to a crime he didn’t commit was another matter.

Then.

“It’s because of me.”

Cha Wonwoo turned the blame on himself.

What now… Swallowing a sigh, Siheon patiently soothed him.

“Why is this your fault? It’s not. Stop that.”

But Cha Wonwoo was resolute.

“Forget the parts that don’t make sense and think about this. If you’re called in for questioning, and the press leaks it like they’ve been waiting, what do you think I’d do?”

On the surface, Siheon would consult lawyers from Sori Entertainment and look for a personal law firm, but ultimately, he’d rely on CH Group’s legal team.

Cha Eunsik, colluding with prosecutors. Cha Iryeong, aligned with the press. Knowing this, Cha Wonwoo would willingly jump into the fray for Siheon.

“Even without you, a test would prove I’m clean.”

Siheon, innocent, could stand tall.

“That’s exactly it.”

But Cha Wonwoo pointed out that was the problem.

“You’re clean, so you’d be cleared. But what about the public?”

His voice, piercing the core of the scheme, was sharp.

“Even if you’re innocent, some people won’t want to believe it. They’ll think I bailed you out. That you got off because of CH Group and Cha Wonwoo’s backing. And it’ll follow you like a label for life. Fans who believe in you will exist, but others will mock and criticize in articles and video comments. Every time it fades, they’ll dredge it up and tear you apart.”

For a celebrity reliant on image, it was a fatal stigma.

“So you’re saying… they bribed Yeo Jeonghyeon to name me?”

“Exactly. Yeo Jeonghyeon got what he wanted in return—money, a reduced sentence, or something else. The key is that Cha Eunsik and Cha Iryeong’s target isn’t you, but me.”

Whether Cha Wonwoo acts or not, it’s a lose-lose for him. To them, Siheon was insignificant—just the perfect weapon to threaten Cha Wonwoo.

“You got dragged into this because of me. I’ve been ruining you.”

Sensing something, Siheon grabbed Cha Wonwoo’s hand to cover his mouth, but Cha Wonwoo was faster.

“I shouldn’t have coveted you from the start.”

Sweeping his face with the hand that missed, Siheon firmly rejected the notion.

“Don’t say ridiculous things.”

He wanted to march to Cha Iryeong and throw a punch. But what’s done couldn’t be undone, no matter the method. Instead, it was better to focus on what could be done. Like comforting Cha Wonwoo, who seemed strong but was soft and fragile inside.

“How is falling in love with each other your greed?”

Locking eyes with Cha Wonwoo’s darkened gaze, Siheon spoke resolutely.

“I’m not better than you, and you’re not better than me. Neither of us is too good for the other or greedy. So stop saying that.”

Caught off guard by Siheon’s unexpectedly firm stance, Cha Wonwoo could only blink silently, unable to respond.

“At that moment, we truly loved each other. No matter who you are, you don’t have the right to call our marriage one-sided greed or anything like that.”

The desire for Cha Wonwoo to be the last face he saw before sleep and the first upon waking. The hope that those days would accumulate into every day, and every day into a lifetime. It was a decision made because he loved Cha Wonwoo so much that nothing else mattered.

It wasn’t that Siheon, foolishly swept up in sweet happiness, ignored the collateral issues of marrying the CH Group heir. He had resolved to endure whatever consequences came with that choice.

The problem was that his capacity to bear the pain was smaller than he’d thought. So, if they had to pinpoint who was greedy, wouldn’t it be him?

But at his age, he knew that speaking such thoughts hurt the listener more than the speaker.

“For now, let’s just focus on what to do next.”

With a determined voice, Siheon gently grasped and released Cha Wonwoo’s cheek. Despite working from home and fixing his hair meticulously, making him look slightly older than his peers, the cheek under Siheon’s palm was as smooth and soft as a baby’s.

“Anyway, enough with the unnecessary self-reflection.”

As Siheon withdrew his hand, Cha Wonwoo’s lips parted as if reluctant to let go. Siheon also wanted to keep touching that soft cheek, but now wasn’t the time.

“You said you had work to do with me. Explain it now. What’s the plan?”

As expected, Cha Wonwoo switched gears quickly. Sitting up straight, he declared.

“Blackmail.”

Siheon’s eyes twitched with subtle shock at the word from someone who’d lived relatively upright.

Watching a refined person stray wasn’t pleasant. Though Siheon wondered if such an unethical method was necessary, he recalled that their opponents had no intention of fighting fair. Since they broke the rules and acted cowardly first, this was self-defense.

“But blackmail with what? It’s natural for the press to publish celebrity scandals or air them. You can’t tell them not to.”

“Hyung, you don’t herd sheep into a pen by carrying each one. A single sheepdog can manage hundreds of sheep, so why do that?”

The metaphor was vague, only deepening Siheon’s curiosity.

“So you’re saying you’ll blackmail Cha Eunsik or Cha Iryeong, not the press heads?”

“Hm… no.”

Cha Wonwoo extended a finger and pointed into the air.

“Higher than that.”

Siheon chose his words carefully.

“Higher than Cha Eunsik… Chairman Cha Hyuncheol?”

In family terms, Cha Iryeong’s father was Cha Eunsik, and Cha Eunsik’s father was Cha Hyuncheol.

The corporate hierarchy was the same.

Above CH Construction Vice President Cha Iryeong was President Cha Eunsik, and above Cha Eunsik was the group’s head, Cha Hyuncheol.

But Cha Wonwoo shook his head. A deep question formed in Siheon’s eyes.

“Then who are you talking about?”

“There’s one more person above Cha Eunsik.”

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes sparkled with expectation and trust that Siheon would guess correctly. Thankfully, the hint made the answer easy to deduce.

Confirming Siheon had the right person, Cha Wonwoo said as if verifying the answer.

“CH Foundation Chairwoman, Madam Song Wonju.”

Cha Eunsik’s mother.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Today, we’ll conduct three tests: TBPE, four types of narcotics, and trait-specific medication abuse. You haven’t been consistently taking diet pills or anything, right?”

“No.”

Siheon nodded.

Last night, Cha Wonwoo had urged Siheon to go to the hospital for drug tests as soon as morning came.

‘This is a threat to the ones watching us. A message that we know what they’re up to.’

‘What will you say to blackmail the chairwoman?’

‘Honestly, I don’t want you to know those details…’

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes held contempt as he spoke. His goal was to stop Cha Eunsik before it reached a police investigation. The one who could rein in Cha Eunsik was Madam Song Wonju.

‘If they’re prepared for the worst, they might even tamper with test results. I don’t think our country’s institutions are that corrupt, but we can’t just wait. Let’s get tested on our side first. The foundation’s hospital is unreliable in this situation, so we’ll go to Director Yoo Yeono. I’ve already told him.’

Despite the sudden request, Director Yoo Yeono had responded that he was happy to help.

“Typically, drugs are metabolized and expelled from the body within about two weeks. So, a urine test now would detect any drugs Kang Siheon took within the last two weeks, right?”

“Two weeks, four weeks—it doesn’t matter. I haven’t done drugs. You can even take my hair.”

Lifting the front of his cap slightly, Siheon met Director Yoo Yeono’s gaze confidently. The lawyer beside him cautioned.

“Don’t suggest a hair test first. If there’s an issue, the National Forensic Service will handle it. Until then, stay silent.”

This was Heo Kyungmin, Cha Wonwoo’s legal representative. He’d visited Siheon’s home before regarding a statement and was now staying by his side until the drug test results came out.

All test procedures would be conducted with the lawyer present.

That was Cha Wonwoo’s instruction.

Accepting the inconvenient presence, Director Yoo Yeono smiled reassuringly at Siheon and explained.

“TBPE, four types of narcotics, and trait-specific medication abuse tests will all be done via urine. Results for all three can be confirmed today.”

“Are drug tests like this usually done at hospitals like this?”

“I don’t know what kind of hospital you mean by ‘like this,’ but… yes, of course. Drug screening is standard for employment health checks, so it’s not difficult to do one more. Plus, Cha Wonwoo made a special request.”

Siheon had long felt that Cha Wonwoo and Yoo Yeono’s connection wasn’t just through him. It seemed like they’d known each other for a while…

Stopping his thoughts there, Siheon left the consultation room after being told not to worry too much.

Accompanied by the lawyer, he headed to the testing area, where a nurse handed him a urine container with instructions.

“You need at least this much volume. For accuracy, discard the first stream and collect the midstream.”

Though it was part of the test, Siheon felt a bit embarrassed and replied softly, “Okay.” Fortunately, acting was his profession. Pulling his cap low, he feigned nonchalance and headed to the restroom.

Despite some delay due to unavoidable tension, the container was safely handed to the nurse.

Shortly after, Siheon returned to the car first, followed by Heo Kyungmin, who sat beside him and said.

“The TBPE results should be out within an hour.”

Kangsan was in the driver’s seat. Having learned yesterday what was happening to the actor he was responsible for, his expression wasn’t great either.

“They’ll contact us separately with the results, so we can move now.”

Heo Kyungmin gave Kangsan a look to start driving.

“Hyungnim, should we head out now?”

Unfazed by Heo’s words, Kangsan only started the engine after Siheon nodded through the rearview mirror.

“Let’s go.”

In the quiet car, the engine hum mixed with the groan of Heo Kyungmin pushing up his glasses.

＊＊＊＊＊

At that moment.

Before visiting Chairwoman Song Wonju, Cha Wonwoo, who’d gone to the company first, was meeting an unexpected visitor in his office early that morning.

The atmosphere between the two men was quite sharp.

Creak. Leaning back against the leather sofa meant for meetings, Cha Wonwoo glared at his counterpart with murderous intensity.

“What kind of face do you have to show up here?”

The Alpha’s aura surged fiercely. It felt as if the skin over his pheromone glands was boiling. His fingertips, gripping the sofa’s wooden armrests tightly, were white from the pressure.

“I came with gratitude.”

Testing the limits of patience, the man before him was Chairman Cha Hyuncheol’s hound.

“With the great gift of a promotion, I thought I should repay you.”

Park Jio, the lawyer.

If Chairman Cha Hyuncheol was a viper, this man, his lackey, had the qualities of a sly snake. Above all, his shameless smile and slimy demeanor were revolting.

The reason he’d rushed here claiming repayment was easy to guess. When his entire faction was cut down, he alone survived, sparking Chairman Cha Hyuncheol’s suspicion.

Unable to abandon his long-serving master abruptly, he’d come to hedge his bets. By keeping ties with both sides, he could cling to one if discarded by the other.

A guilty man typically needs to align with new power to secure his future.

“Honestly, it was unexpected. I didn’t think Actor Kang Siheon would run straight to you to talk.”

Despite Cha Wonwoo’s expression slowly hardening, Park Jio didn’t sense the impending danger.

“Should I call it bold or loose-lipped? Actor Kang is quite a fascinating person in many ways—”

“One.”

“What?”

Cutting him off, Cha Wonwoo spat out the word with a menacing warning.

“Say my hyung’s name with that filthy mouth one more time.”

The moment this bastard uttered Siheon’s name, a near-murderous impulse surged. To suppress the overwhelming emotions, Cha Wonwoo gripped the armrests even harder.

Crack.

The sound slicing through the tense air was unmistakably that of breaking bone.

Park Jio’s startled eyes darted to Cha Wonwoo’s hand.

His right ring finger, gripping the armrest, was bent at an unnatural angle. Whether dislocated or worse, the damaged area was swelling rapidly.

A fracture, or at the very least, a dislocation.

“President, you need treatment…”

“Don’t waste my time and finish what you were saying.”

Cha Wonwoo urged him on with an impassive gaze, as if immune to pain. With an exaggerated sigh, Park Jio reluctantly explained his visit’s purpose.

“The key from the perpetrator’s car. You must’ve figured out by now it’s for a Daehan Bank safe deposit box. But did you know? While President Cha Eunsik orchestrated the accident, it was Chairman Cha who ordered the key destroyed along with the car.”

In short, Cha Eunsik caused the accident to dramatically reveal the safe’s contents, while Cha Hyuncheol tried to prevent it.

Why? What was in the safe?

“Curious, aren’t you? Why everyone’s scrambling to get their hands on it.”

Park Jio lifted a black envelope to eye level.

“The reason’s in here. Of course, the police opened it legally with a search warrant. Even the chairman can’t access another bank’s safe deposit box arbitrarily. Though he did ask the police commissioner directly to bury these documents.”

“Was it always like this? Destroying evidence, paying to silence people.”

Unconcealed contempt rose in Cha Wonwoo’s eyes. His already sharp gaze grew fiercer.

“Now’s not the time for you to point out the chairman’s illegal acts. That’s exactly what Cha Eunsik is banking on. With formal succession out of reach, he seems intent on forcing the chairman out. That’s why this was necessary.”

Park Jio waved the envelope lightly to draw attention before placing it on the table.

“The chairman instructed me to ensure it doesn’t leak externally. That includes you, of course.”

“Yet you brought it to me.”

“I had to show this much sincerity for you to trust my intentions.”

A hollow laugh escaped at his feather-light sincerity.

“As a lawyer, may I offer one piece of advice?”

“No, don’t.”

Rejected flatly, Park Jio sighed as if it were a pity.

“What a shame… I wanted to advise that some truths are better left buried. The moment you see this, you’ll inevitably dig into related materials. You’ll wonder what’s going on and why this threatens the chairman’s position.”

Despite his intentions, Park Jio’s expression was surprisingly serious as he spoke. Cha Wonwoo’s face hardened as he tried to discern the motive behind these words.

“And you’ll find out. When this started, and who it affected. So my first advice as your ally is this: don’t open it if you can avoid it.”

Ha, what’s this now?

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes twisted fiercely with a scoff. He was exercising maximum patience, but it was reaching its limit.

“Playing word games? If you didn’t want me to see it, you shouldn’t have brought it.”

“As I said, this is my sincerity, my truth, my repayment. I had no choice but to deliver it, but I’m advising you not to open it.”

“Is there a need to waste time with pointless arguments? If you’re done, leave it and get out.”

Resigned to the dismissal, Park Jio stood, adjusted his appearance, said, “I’ll take my leave,” and exited the office. His overly polished demeanor felt infuriatingly smug.

“…”

The envelope left behind sat quietly on the table, as if taunting him.

There was no choice.

After staring for a while, Cha Wonwoo straightened his chest and picked it up.

Untying the string, a few white sheets with the faint CH Foundation logo emerged from the black envelope.

His gaze naturally went to the top.

Informed Consent and Study Participant Information.

＊＊＊＊＊

Leaving the president’s office, Park Jio got into his car parked in the lot.

Normally, he used a car provided by Chairman Cha Hyuncheol, but today he drove himself. It would’ve been odd to use the chairman’s car, which could be tracked, to meet Cha Wonwoo.

Thud. The driver’s door closed with a heavy sound, and Park Jio pulled out his phone.

Ring.

After a few rings in the peculiar silence, the call connected.

“Yes, Chairman. This is Park Jio. I’ve handled it as instructed.”

A flat acknowledgment of his efforts came from the other side. The voice, as always, felt like it was tightening his throat. Even without the man present, Park Jio slightly bowed and voiced his concern.

“But are you sure about this? If he learns Actor Kang is involved…”

Cough. After a bout of phlegmy coughing, the man dismissed Park Jio’s worry.

—It’s about time Wonwoo stopped being stubborn.

Whatever Cha Wonwoo discovered, it was inconsequential. It was the reaction of someone who saw this as merely tempering their weak-blooded kin.

“…Understood.”

Soon after, a screeching screech echoed through the lot as a car sped out. The taillights flashed red, like a warning, as it rounded the corner.

A burning smell lingered briefly in the quiet lot before fading.

＊＊＊＊＊

Cha Wonwoo read the documents calmly.

The first page covered the clinical study’s title, background, purpose, and methods.

The second outlined anticipated benefits, withdrawal procedures, and compensation for damages.

The last addressed confidentiality and confirmed the participant’s voluntary consent.

A separate sheet was a copy of the consent form, listing the participant’s personal information, responsible parties’ names, signatures, and dates.

His eyes naturally went to the participant’s details.

Not the accident perpetrator’s name, but an unfamiliar one. Recessive Alpha trait.

Likely the perpetrator’s hidden lover, he guessed. If it were a formal relationship like a friend or partner, it would’ve surfaced during the investigation.

The most plausible theory was that a recessive Alpha participated in the trial, something went wrong, and the resentful perpetrator caused the accident under Cha Eunsik’s orders. More investigation was needed to confirm.

Suddenly, he recalled Catherine’s hysterics after Cha Geumho’s death.

‘Wonwoo, you… you’re not my son.’

‘How could you do this? How did Geumho die? Why did he die!’

This was it.

Crunch. The paper crumpled under his grip.

Setting the documents down roughly, Cha Wonwoo walked to his desk and pressed the intercom button. Calling the dedicated desk outside his office, Senior Secretary Nam Ilho responded promptly.

—Yes, President.

“Tell Secretary Yang to come in.”

—He’s briefly at the security office, but I’ll summon him immediately. Any other instructions?

Cha Wonwoo glanced at his other hand, not holding the receiver.

The grotesquely bent finger, swollen and deformed, wasn’t too painful. It could be treated at the company’s on-site medical center without issue.

“I’m heading to the medical center.”

—Are you injured?

“Suspected finger fracture, so don’t make a fuss. Just have them prepare for treatment. I’ll leave in exactly five minutes.”

—Understood.

The other side sounded flustered or surprised, bustling with activity.

Ignoring it, Cha Wonwoo quickly ended the call. Sitting on the desk’s edge, he stared blankly at Siheon’s photo on the wall.

He’d seen him this morning, yet he already missed him. Staring silently, his tangled thoughts paused. Time slipped by.

Five minutes later.

Pushing off the desk, he strode out, flinging open the office door.

As Cha Wonwoo stepped out and headed toward Senior Secretary Nam Ilho’s desk, he paused. Secretary Yang, who had just arrived, was approaching. Having heard about the injury, his face was pale as he hurried over.

“President! Your hand…”

Clearly flustered, he skipped formalities and immediately tried to check the injury. Cha Wonwoo gestured toward the office with his chin, addressing the visibly rattled secretary.

“There’s a document in there you haven’t seen before. Grab it and wait with Driver Kim. I’ll go to the medical center with Nam.”

Barely glancing at Yang’s response, Cha Wonwoo moved on, with Nam Ilho quickly following behind.

The diagnosis revealed no need for surgery—just *reduction and a finger splint for now, with observation to follow. Ignoring the doctor’s praise for the beastly recovery of a dominant Alpha, Cha Wonwoo silently headed to the parking lot.

As instructed, everything was prepared. He boarded the backseat of the waiting car, and the door closed promptly. Secretary Yang took the front passenger seat, while other secretaries and bodyguards split into separate vehicles. The car glided out of the lot. Since the accident, the tightened security detail surrounded Cha Wonwoo’s car—front, back, left, and right—as they sped down the road.

The original destination was where Chairwoman Song Wonju, who managed CH Group’s social welfare foundation, resided. But after Park Jio’s visit, the plan abruptly changed to home. Something needed checking in the study.

“Did you look?”

Cha Wonwoo, who had kept his eyes closed since getting in, asked. An immediate reply came from the front seat.

“You mean the document? I was in a rush and didn’t check the contents, just grabbed it.”

“Why not? I left it for you to see. It’s short, so check it now.”

For a few minutes, the sound of rustling paper filled the car. Cha Wonwoo slowly opened his eyes. Without looking, he could sense Secretary Yang’s bewilderment in the front seat.

“This… Park Jio brought this?”

Cha Wonwoo nodded.

“They say a dog takes after its master. He’s been under Chairman Cha for decades. With something of this scale, there’s got to be an ulterior motive.”

The documents could be trusted, but Park Jio couldn’t. He was likely hedging bets with both sides. That meant the possibility of acting on Chairman Cha’s orders couldn’t be ruled out.

“Chairman Cha and Park Jio think I only know about my biological mother and still believe President Cha Geumho is my father. Naturally, they’d assume I don’t know about such an experiment.”

That’s why Park Jio’s plea not to open the envelope seemed genuine.

He must have worried that digging into the experiment’s records would reveal Cha Geumho’s involvement, that unlike his public claim of being a ‘dominant Alpha,’ he was a ‘recessive Alpha,’ and thus couldn’t have fathered a ‘dominant Alpha’ like Cha Wonwoo.

In other words, Cha Geumho wasn’t his real father. Park Jio was concerned about the shock of that realization. There couldn’t be another reason.

“Why this document, of all things?”

“I don’t know. The real question is why this experiment has started again. If you’ve got the situation figured out, connect me to Director Yoo Yeono.”

In the uneasy silence, the ringing from the front seat echoed through the car. The call connected quickly.

—Yes, Secretary Yang. This is Yoo Yeono. Calling about Kang Siheon’s drug test results?

“No, the president wants to speak. I’ll hand it over.”

The serious atmosphere quieted the other side. Secretary Yang turned, offering the phone. Instead of taking it, Cha Wonwoo nodded, and Yang switched to speaker mode. Cha Wonwoo continued the call as is.

“When I brought you from the U.S., you said it clearly. The illegal research, the evidence—all destroyed. When the clinic staff were completely replaced, when I helped you acquire the hospital, what did you say?”

—What’s this about suddenly? The research was halted after patient Cha Geumho’s death. The side effects were too severe, and with it being illegal, we rushed to destroy everything to avoid media scrutiny.

Back then, Yoo Yeono had joined the illegal research team unknowingly.

Recommended and urged by seniors, he was told it was a confidential project but received no detailed explanation. Even after joining, he remained an outsider for a while. Knowing only the project’s purpose, not the specifics, he followed orders.

By the time he learned the truth, it was too late—he was already too involved. Even knowing it was wrong, he feared fighting a conglomerate without backing. So, he stayed, doing menial tasks, minimizing his presence. Sometimes, others forgot he was even on the team.

The tide turned after Cha Geumho’s death.

The lab shut down. The illegal research, centered at the U.S. clinic, was terminated, and all materials were incinerated. With Chairman Cha’s people overseeing, Yoo Yeono only managed to smuggle out a copy of the responsible parties’ list.

Medical staff, bound by confidentiality agreements, were transferred to other hospitals or retired, enabled by massive compensation. The clinic was quickly restaffed with new faces.

Ignorant outsiders speculated it was a conglomerate chairman’s retaliation against doctors who failed to save his cherished son. No one found it odd, too busy worrying about CH Group’s funding cuts.

Amid the chaos, Yoo Yeono survived with his faint presence. After the storm passed and the waves calmed, he stayed quietly at the clinic, hiding the list deep in a basement safe. Guilt lingered, but he lacked the courage to expose the truth.

Then, one day.

Someone secretly contacted him, wanting to meet. It was CH Group’s heir, the son of the late President Cha Geumho—Cha Wonwoo.

“You said the only first-phase subject was Cha Geumho. That the project was essentially for him, with him as the sole victim. So why is that research still ongoing, and with someone else as the subject?”

—Is there some misunderstanding…

“Misunderstanding?”

Secretary Yang winced at the lowered voice. The presumed restarted illegal research, now in a legal guise, likely sat on Cha Wonwoo’s lap. He opened his eyes, glancing at his boss’s expression.

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes and twitching cheeks betrayed suppressed anger. He had no desire to continue talking to someone prattling about ‘misunderstandings’ without grasping the situation.

Secretary Yang, taking over, said a few quiet words and quickly ended the call. A sharp voice followed.

“Send someone soon to re-collect all testimonies from back then.”

“I’ll go myself.”

With Secretary Yang’s lowered response, a tense silence filled the car.

Cha Wonwoo steadied his breath amid the onslaught of patience-testing events. An inexplicable unease crept up, tightening around him.

He cast his gaze out the window, but it was futile.

Unable to bear it, he pulled out his personal phone. Opening the gallery, he scrolled through Siheon’s photos one by one.

It was always effective. As if recognizing his Omega, his pheromones reacted instantly. With the pulsing gland, calm gradually returned.

As his mind settled, he found room to think. He remembered there was more to hear from Secretary Yang.

“What about the CCTV?”

Despite the abrupt question, Secretary Yang delivered a prepared answer.

“Among the backed-up dates, we confirmed one external intrusion. Coincidentally, it was during a day Kang Siheon was in New York. Three people entered. They were empty-handed both entering and leaving. Seems they didn’t find what they wanted.”

“Identities?”

“Not yet identified. But checking the security logs, the movements of Cha Iryeong’s dedicated security team that day were odd.”

CH Group’s owner family had dedicated security personnel, typically divided into teams assigned to specific family members. This was more convenient for tracking clients’ every move and addressing their needs. Also, given the Cha family’s strained relationships, they were reluctant to share security staff who knew their private lives with other family members.

Though teams were separate, they still reported to headquarters.

In principle, security logs shouldn’t be accessed freely, but Secretary Yang had checked them using his authority.

“On the day someone broke into the actor’s home, Cha Iryeong’s security team submitted a routine report. The issue is that Cha Iryeong was at a members-only club all day and never left.”

Members-only clubs with playrooms were tightly controlled. Since most patrons valued anonymity, even accompanying security was barred from parking lots.

Thus, if Cha Iryeong was there all day, close security duties weren’t performed. Yet, the log didn’t note an absence but recorded standard security activities.

“Of course, Cha Iryeong’s team often submits false logs when visiting such clubs, but it’s unclear if this was the same or a deliberate move for dual purposes.”

Whether the priority was partying at the club or searching Siheon’s home, the intruders were likely from Cha Iryeong’s security team.

At this point, it was less about who sent them and more about what they were looking for.

What was it? What were they after in hyung’s house?

What is hyung hiding?

When Siheon, declaring divorce, looked for a new place, Cha Wonwoo had instructed, with a heavy heart, to find a new home.

Too close, and Siheon might feel uncomfortable; too far, and Cha Wonwoo couldn’t bear it. A safe, quiet place at a reasonable distance. He’d considered the neighbors and landlord, narrowing down a few good options.

The list was passed to Siheon through Representative Heo and Kangsan.

He shouldn’t have.

Fearing Siheon would tire of him or that their remaining affection would vanish, he’d let him go, planning to try again later. That past choice now filled him with regret. No matter what, he wouldn’t let it happen again. Even if he had to play pitiful, he’d hold onto Siheon. A little pain or a broken bone didn’t scare him.

Staring at his splinted finger, Cha Wonwoo said.

“Once the checks on that house are done, sell it quickly.”

“Yes, I’ll handle it as fast as possible.”

Soon after, Secretary Yang announced their arrival, and the car stopped in front of the house.

From the convoy of black cars, bodyguards spilled out. While they secured the path, Cha Wonwoo rubbed his face with his uninjured hand. He deliberately pressed his eyebrows and lips downward.

The short distance to the house was quickly cleared. A bodyguard stood by the door, casting a shadow. Glancing at it, Cha Wonwoo tapped the window to signal his exit.

Knock, knock.

At the signal, the bodyguard opened the door.

His long legs gave him a wide stride, but his steps were always quick regardless.

As he hurried to the entrance, Secretary Yang, half a step behind, said.

“Actor Kang will be shocked seeing your injured hand.”

His tone was more personal than professional. Cha Wonwoo, his voice softer than before, replied.

“Hyung’s tough, so he doesn’t show it in front of me, but with all these issues, he must be a mess inside. Rather than him stewing over external problems, it might be better to distract him with this. Though I hope he’s not too shocked.”

So, once the study work was done, he planned to act spoiled with Siheon. To let Siheon focus on his injury, forget the troublesome issues, and sleep soundly.

Pausing at the entrance, the bodyguards encircling him stopped in unison. Cha Wonwoo turned to Secretary Yang, half a step behind.

“Investigate the relationship between the document’s owner and the perpetrator. When hyung’s drug test results come in, forward them. After the report, go home early and rest. It’ll get busy again tomorrow.”

The mention of getting busy starting tomorrow was less a hunch and more a forewarning. Secretary Yang, well-versed in his boss’s needs, responded reassuringly.

“I’m fully prepared.”

Before his final bow, he pulled a pill bottle from his coat. It was painkillers another secretary had picked up from the company pharmacy during Cha Wonwoo’s splinting, per the prescription.

“Painkillers. I know you endure pain well, but please don’t this time. Take them, if only for Actor Kang’s sake.”

Having endured excessive pheromone gland stimulants since childhood, the man handled pain too well, which was a problem. Now was a time for condition management. But Yang knew mentioning Siheon was more effective than pointing that out.

As expected, Cha Wonwoo accepted the anti-inflammatory painkillers without protest.

The private parking lot had an entry notification system, but since the homeowners didn’t own personal cars, it was rarely used. Cars driven by drivers or managers typically parked out front for convenience.

Thus, the sound of someone at the entrance was the usual sign of a return. It was the same when Cha Wonwoo opened the door.

Only after the electronic chime of the door opening and closing sounded did Siheon appear, walking down the hallway. Fresh from the drug test, he wore casual outing clothes. Spotting Cha Wonwoo, his expression was a mix of delight and surprise.

“You said you were stopping by the company before meeting the chairwoman. Forget something?”

“Mm, no. Unavoidable circumstances came up.”

Evading the question vaguely, Cha Wonwoo hid his right hand behind his back. Siheon didn’t miss the awkward posture as he slipped off his shoes and put on indoor slippers.

“What’s that?”

“It’s nothing.”

“When you say it’s nothing, it’s usually something.”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Siheon closed the distance. Cha Wonwoo relished having his hyung’s full attention. But he didn’t want to create a serious situation. Everything in moderation—just enough not to overwhelm Siheon.

“It just happened.”

Exaggerating a sulky tone, Cha Wonwoo revealed his hidden hand.

Siheon’s eyes slowly blinked at the splinted finger.

What was this? What happened? How did it get to this point? In seconds, his mind raced through dozens of scenarios.

His expression settled on deep concern, fundamental curiosity, and a touch of anger.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? What did the doctor say? How’d you get hurt? Did the chairwoman cause this? Did you come back early because of it?”

Cha Wonwoo intended to answer every question thoroughly. But with each response, he’d wrap his uninjured arm around Siheon’s waist and take a step forward.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt now. The doctor said it usually takes three weeks, but since I’m a dominant Alpha, maybe two. If it’s quick, it could be fine in a week.”

“That’s a relief, but…”

One step.

Another step.

Each time, Siheon stepped back the same distance.

“I didn’t meet the chairwoman today. It’s unrelated to the injury. I was working, gripped something hard, and put too much force into it. It just snapped.”

“What do you grip so hard that your finger breaks?”

“Armrests are surprisingly dangerous. Anyway, I didn’t come back because of the injury. I needed to check something in the study, so I came early.”

Thud.

Siheon’s back hit the wall, pushed to the limit.

“Ugh, hold on.”

As the recoil threatened to bang his head against the hard surface, Cha Wonwoo’s hand, previously at Siheon’s back, swiftly moved to cradle his head, absorbing the impact. Blocking the hallway like a shadow, he stood before Siheon, raising his injured finger.

“Actually, it’s not okay. It kinda hurts…”

“…Hurts a lot?”

“Yeah. Hyung, it hurts a lot.”

“Medicine?”

“I have some, but there’s a much more effective method.”

Siheon’s skeptical gaze scanned the splinted finger. His look suggested no method outside modern science could help a finger that swollen.

But unwilling to argue with someone in pain, his grudging voice asked.

“What’s this effective method?”

“Blow on it.”

“…”

Meeting Siheon’s skeptical, brain-injury-suspecting stare, Cha Wonwoo remained unfazed. Looking at the speechless Siheon, he said earnestly.

“Blow on it.”

This time, it wasn’t just “blow” but “blowww—” with an elongated syllable. Cha Wonwoo’s lips puckered as if ready to kiss.

Hah, this guy.

Siheon let out a hollow laugh.

“You’re not in pain.”

“No, I am. Really. I just thought if you blew on it, it’d feel better.”

The heart-wrenching shock from seeing the splinted finger ebbed like a receding tide. The intense surprise and anger toward whoever might’ve caused it faded, leaving only concern in Siheon’s chest.

He knew Cha Wonwoo well. He was deliberately acting cute, using formal speech to help Siheon shake off the shock of the injury quickly.

Indeed, seeing the finger, his pounding heart had slowed back to normal. There was no reason not to play along with Cha Wonwoo’s deft effort to ease his worry.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Carefully holding the finger close to his face, Siheon pulled it nearer. Cha Wonwoo, caught off guard by the reaction, was the one flustered.

“For real?”

“There’s no real or fake in blowing on it.”

Grumbling, Siheon pursed his lips and began blowing. His expression was too calm for such an embarrassing act.

Still, watching up close, Cha Wonwoo’s heart raced for both of them. He lowered his gaze, admiring Siheon’s pursed lips. A ticklish breeze slipped through the rounded shape.

Siheon blew long and short, as he pleased. In moments, that gentle breeze mingled with a warmer breath.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“…Why’re you hard?”

Cha Wonwoo’s trousers were slightly bulging. At the question, his aroused member grew more defined, rising further. The black suit pants tightened, revealing a heavy outline.

Exhaling a hot sigh, Cha Wonwoo stepped closer to Siheon. Their lower bodies were so close that a wrong move could cause their crotches to touch.

Tilting his head further, Cha Wonwoo whispered secretly into Siheon’s ear.

“Hyung, I’m hurting right now, aren’t I? My finger’s injured too.”

Siheon’s eyes flicked upward, questioning what he was getting at.

“You were doing fine—why this now? I blew on it.”

“That’s the thing. I didn’t expect you to actually do it. I’m so flustered and turned on right now.”

“Wanna get scolded? Watch your language.”

“…Okay, I’ll say aroused. But since my right hand’s injured, it’s gonna be tough to do it alone.”

To avoid being swept up in the sudden heat, Siheon interpreted it as broadly as possible. An injured hand could make many things difficult—taking off that stiff suit, eating, cleaning, and so on.

“Speak clearly. And it’d be better if you stepped back a bit.”

At the stern correction, Cha Wonwoo moved his lips. His heated breath and voice, brushing Siheon’s ear, were sultry.

“In this situation, what could I struggle to do alone with my hand?”

At least he wasn’t releasing pheromones, which was a relief.

Pheromones are the greatest weakness for traited individuals. Alpha or Omega, they could easily overpower each other with pheromones. Especially since they were mutually imprinted, they could arouse each other far more quickly and easily than in typical relationships. They were practically one pheromone.

Yet Cha Wonwoo held back his pheromones.

His restraint—not forcing, not acting recklessly—earned some leniency. So Siheon issued a warning first.

“Wonwoo, it really pains me when you’re hurt. You shouldn’t get hurt more, right?”

A serious warning that he might make it hurt more if pushed. Of course, he had no intention of acting on it, not even a pinky’s worth. He didn’t want to hurt him. And the pain in his heart was genuine.

Staring at Siheon, Cha Wonwoo quickly softened his expression and made an excuse.

“I meant washing.”

He waved his injured hand in front of Siheon’s face.

“How can I wash alone like this? You’ve gotta help me.”

To create distance, Siheon pressed Cha Wonwoo’s chest and pushed lightly. Exhaling a quiet sigh in his ear, Cha Wonwoo followed the nudge obediently. The body casting a shadow stepped back, opening the space.

“You can’t get water on your hand.”

“Should be fine. It’s not an open wound.”

Adjusting his disheveled appearance, Siheon added after a thought.

“I’ll wash your hair.”

Running a mental simulation, he figured washing his face and brushing his teeth were manageable alone. The half-joking act to ease Siheon’s tension and worry had unexpectedly paid off. Thrilled as if receiving a sudden gift, Cha Wonwoo chuckled.

“Nice. You’ll dry it too, right?”

“Yeah.”

Just as the dramatic negotiation at the entrance was wrapping up.

Ahem.

A throat-clearing cough came from somewhere.

Reflexively, both reached to shield the other behind them. Moving simultaneously, Cha Wonwoo’s superior strength in dangerous situations won out. He tucked Siheon behind him and whipped his head toward the sound.

“Good afternoon, President.”

Standing awkwardly near the dining room was Heo Kyungmin, the lawyer who’d accompanied Siheon for the drug test.

“I haven’t left for the day yet… By the way, you two seem to have reached a smooth agreement without a lawyer.”

Only then did Siheon recall Heo’s presence, swallowing dryly in embarrassment and explaining quickly.

“Oh, he’s helping prepare for a possible witness interview, just in case. You asked for it, so we were working on that.”

Glancing at Siheon behind him, Cha Wonwoo corrected.

“Not asked—ordered.”

Ensuring the hierarchy was clear in Siheon’s presence, Cha Wonwoo turned to Heo and asked.

“How much did you hear?”

“‘Blow on it’…?”

“No omissions or additions. What, swearing in as a witness?”

Poor Heo Kyungmin, now a witness to his boss acting cute with his husband, was being coerced into perjury. But he was a seasoned lawyer and a salaried worker living off Cha Wonwoo’s hefty paycheck.

Not a courtroom. No oath to face perjury penalties. No judge.

Quickly deciding, Heo pushed up his slipping glasses and retracted his statement.

“I heard nothing.”

Cha Wonwoo nodded, satisfied.

“Finish what you were doing and go home early to rest, Heo.”

Issuing clear instructions, he headed to the study.

Noticing his walk seemed unhindered, suggesting his arousal had subsided, Siheon turned, awkwardly smiling as his eyes met Heo’s.