WGD Ch 29

Cha Wonwoo continued with his prepared remarks, unconcerned with the bewildered gazes directed at him.

“First, I will convert all of former Chairman Cha Hyunchul’s illegally amassed slush funds and stocks held under borrowed names into his real name and return them in full to society.”

Compared to other chaebol families who, after special investigations, returned only a portion of their discovered slush funds under various pretexts, this was a radical move.

It wasn’t because he was exceedingly kind or particularly ethical.

Having been born into a chaebol family, the wealth he had accumulated since childhood couldn’t be described as entirely transparent. However, he couldn’t just throw everything away as his heart desired. Even if he donated all his assets and became penniless, his Hyung would treat him the same.

On the other hand, he himself would lose all means to protect his Hyung. Therefore, this wasn’t an act of kindness but a calculated choice. A choice to discard only the undeniably dirty money obtained illegally and cultivate a positive image for himself and the CH Group.

The recipients of the donations, including welfare organizations for all ages, pheromone problem treatment centers, and trait research funds, would be selected from organizations unrelated to the group or its foundation, and the details would be made publicly accessible, leaving no room for even the slightest bit of suspicion.

“Furthermore, I will investigate the borrowed-name assets of the former director Song Wonjoo and submit all evidence of tax evasion that occurred during the transfer of these assets to former CEO Cha Eunsik. By transparently disclosing all issues, we will fulfill our social responsibility for the illegal activities involving the ‘CH Group owner family.’”

People were awed by the cold voice resonating through the microphone. He seemed unfazed by the remarks addressing the wrongdoings of his mother and Hyung, as if it had been discussed beforehand with Cha Donghyun. The audience clicked their tongues inwardly, thinking how ruthless the blood ties of chaebol families could be.

“Second, I will disclose and rectify the internal regulations that have never been revealed externally under the pretext of security.”

The spotlight consistently illuminated the frigid Cha Wonwoo. In the tense atmosphere, people gradually began to shift, whispering to those beside them. “Internal regulations? What internal regulations? Do you know anything?” This was the general reaction.

While company regulations, downloadable from the company website for any employee, varied from company to company, there were often instances where sensitive information was substituted with so-called “internal regulations.”

“The internal regulations in question are as follows.”

As Cha Wonwoo spoke, amidst the slightly distracted attention, everyone’s focus immediately snapped back to him.

Everyone’s eyes widened at the words that followed.

“By the authority of the founder, ‘The highest executive of CH Group is designated as a dominant alpha. Unless there are special circumstances, the minimum requirement for affiliate executives is limited to alpha traits, excluding recessive. It is clearly stated that this clause cannot be altered by anyone other than the founder.’”

Shock rippled through the silence.

Traits should not influence employment or promotion. This was a clear violation of the law. Come to think of it, every CEO appointed by Cha Hyunchul was an alpha, without exception.

There was no time to compose themselves after the successive revelations. People, struck by a previously unnoticed sense of unease, stiffly looked around. The majority of those present were alphas. Limiting it to CEOs, only one, the representative of Korea Hotel, was an omega.

Cha Wonwoo, who had been looking at the camera, shifted his gaze to Cha Donghyun.

“Traits are merely components of a person, not criteria for judgment. It is an individual’s effort and competence, not pheromones, that prove their ability.”

Cha Donghyun, who had closed his eyes momentarily and opened them again, subtly nodded in agreement. If specific qualifications were necessary for executives, those qualifications should be based on ability, not traits.

“We do not need outdated thinking and discriminatory practices. To enable CH Group to soar higher and lead the future, we need diverse and excellent individuals. The founder, former Chairman Cha Hyunchul, also belatedly realized this and deeply regretted his mistake. Therefore, according to the clause stating ‘cannot be altered by anyone other than the founder,’”

Slowly turning his head, Cha Wonwoo looked directly into the camera lens and spoke.

“Former Chairman Cha Hyunchul personally drafted new internal regulations before his collapse.”

Cha Wonwoo, who had been speaking without referring to a script until then, deliberately lowered his head, as if he needed to look at something written by someone else. He clearly read the blank paper bearing Cha Hyunchul’s seal.

“‘The trait requirements for the highest executive of CH Group and affiliate executives are hereby abolished. This clause has been amended by the founder, Cha Hyunchul, and from the time of the announcement of this amendment, evaluations will be based solely on ability, regardless of beta, omega, alpha, dominant, or recessive status. Furthermore, all employees, including executives, have the right to be respected for their physical uniqueness, and all discrimination based on traits is prohibited.’”

Having finished speaking, Cha Wonwoo slowly raised his head. As prearranged, the executive assistants waiting outside systematically distributed copies of the new internal regulations to the tables.

The complex emotions of those who received the papers were clearly visible on their faces. Whether they admitted it or not, the fact that they had benefited from trait discrimination on their way to their current positions remained unchanged.

At that moment.

A beast-like roar erupted from the hospital room where Cha Hyunchul was confined.

“No! This can’t be happening! This can’t…”

The elderly man, showing clear signs of illness, had been lying as if dead but suddenly sat up and struggled. The saliva dripping from the wounds around his mouth, inflicted by Catherine, seemed insignificant.

A fiery light flickered in his vacant eyes for the first time in a while. It was rage. The flames of fury rising in his chest caused the metal bed to clang with each of his struggles.

“This isn’t right! Cha Wonwoo, bring that Cha Wonwoo here right now!”

The security team and medical staff lined up on both sides stood motionless, like mannequins in a closed shop. No one heeded his commands.

“Ugh…”

A groan, inhuman in its sound, escaped his throat.

Despite his circumstances, Cha Hyunchul held the belief that the kingdom he had built would remain unshakeable. But now he had to witness the scene of his legacy being thoroughly trampled upon.

“This isn’t right…”

Something was wrong. When? Where did it all begin? That’s right, that Cha Wonwoo. From the moment he gave that defective product a chance instead of killing him. It definitely started then.

「The recent controversy fundamentally highlights the drawbacks of family management. It stems from the process of passing down companies, like family heirlooms, without proper vetting, disregarding the employees and shareholders.」

Consumed by a burning rage that evaporated his reason, Cha Hyunchul glared ahead with murderous intent.

「Through this incident, I have realized that inheriting management rights based on blood ties hinders fair competition and impedes the company’s growth.」

No way.

The murmuring from the speakers grew louder. The atmosphere of confusion among the crowd was conveyed even through the screen.

Then, a low voice cut through the commotion.

「I will not leave CH Group.」

Those words swept through the banquet hall. The unsettling atmosphere quickly subsided and regained stability.

Cha Wonwoo paused until silence returned, then parted his lips.

「As one of the members who brought crisis to the company, I promise to take full responsibility until the end.」

Dark eyes calmly gazed into the camera from beyond the large screen.

「However.」

As if anticipating something, Cha Hyunchul’s wrinkled Adam’s apple bobbed significantly.

「I have no intention of passing down management rights to my family after me.」

A buzzing, like a swarm of insects, tore at Cha Hyunchul’s eardrums. Beeeep— He heard nothing but a noise that threatened to sever his nerves.

This is the third story I wanted to share.

Cha Wonwoo’s words were only visible as the movement of his lips, like a slow-motion scene, instead of audible sound.

“Gasp…”

Cha Hyunchul, paling as if someone were strangling him, finally collapsed backward with a choked sound. His arm was twisted at an odd angle, as if he had tried to clutch his heart, and foam rose around his mouth from difficulty breathing.

Finally, a small commotion erupted in the hospital room. The medical staff rushed to Cha Hyunchul to try and keep him alive. Someone from the security team sent a text message to Secretary Yang reporting the situation.

Meanwhile, not even the sound of breathing could be heard in the banquet hall. Everyone, their bodies stiff, fixated on the podium.

“I…”

It was a decision made with the future in mind. It was for his Hyung, and for himself as well.

Whether it was remarriage or reconciliation, to be with his Hyung for life, he needed to settle the succession issue himself. Otherwise, people would gossip about the successor and subtly pressure his Hyung. He didn’t care if they did it to him.

But he wanted to eliminate anyone who would utter nonsense to his Hyung or try to hurt him using the succession as an excuse. This time, he would ensure it.

To do that, he had to make his Hyung completely unrelated to the CH Group succession. He wanted to ensure his Hyung wouldn’t feel any burden, guilt, or sense of obligation. And so that people wouldn’t need to look to his Hyung as a successor.

“I will dedicate myself to making CH Group the world’s leading company, with a sense of mission as its CEO. However, even if I have a child…”

He paused to catch his breath. Just like during rehearsals, he inevitably stumbled at this part.

His Hyung had only told the world about the inheritance, not about his infertility. So even though it was a natural assumption, voicing it in front of everyone was incredibly painful. His Hyung’s face kept appearing before his eyes.

Cha Wonwoo, who had been composed throughout, lowered his head for the first time, unintentionally, due to sheer pain. He couldn’t control his expression. He tightened his grip on his hand, hidden behind the podium. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath. He barely managed to compose himself and lift his face.

“Even if I have a child, I will not pass down the management rights of CH Group.”

Clench. He must have unconsciously bitten the inside of his cheek because he tasted blood in his mouth.

He added that he would subsequently provide detailed written explanations regarding how CH Group would be managed after his death or when he was older and needed a successor, and what preparations he would undertake from now on.

These were the three announcements discussed with the board of directors and Secretary Yang.

Secretary Yang took out his cell phone and checked it. The time, and the message from the security guard in charge of Cha Hyunchul’s room, were all within his predictions.

One thing that was unexpected was the surge of people flooding the live broadcast channels as the news of Cha Wonwoo’s decision not to pass down management rights to his child spread.

He hadn’t expected so many people to watch the live broadcast of someone else’s company’s founding anniversary, which would usually only be summarized in the news.

A certain number of people were watching to admire Chairman Cha Wonwoo’s face, but the numbers were currently increasing. Retail investors who had invested in CH Group, and people who clicked on the link posted on online forums, were all tuning in. The number of concurrent viewers was increasing by tens of thousands with every blink of an eye.

10,000, 30,000, 50,000, 70,000….

Considering it was peak working hours, the numbers were staggering. Conversely, it could be argued that because it was working hours, people were seeking stimulation.

Unaware of this, Cha Wonwoo maintained a calm expression.

Secretary Yang was anxious. He couldn’t fathom what other bombshell his boss, who appeared icy and firm on the outside but was endlessly passionate and soft inside, would drop next. He held out both hands, signaling Cha Wonwoo to be careful, as the number of viewers was high. Once something was posted online, it tended to spread endlessly, even if deleted. So, please, let the next words be something manageable.

Cha Wonwoo, standing on the podium, frowned as he watched Secretary Yang waving both hands with an expression devoid of sadness.

“…….”

As he stood there silently, the banquet hall became restless, then gradually quieted down again. They seemed to anticipate another important announcement, as impactful as the previous ones. And that presumption was somewhat accurate.

“The last thing I want to say…”

In the suffocating silence, Cha Wonwoo pulled the microphone closer. He spoke, facing the camera, perhaps addressing someone beyond it.

“I am bonded.”

＊＊＊＊＊

“Chairman! Please give us a statement! Who are you bonded to?”

“Is it, as expected, actor Kang Siheon?”

“Then, are you remarrying, or rather, reconciling?”

“Whoa, careful, you’ll fall!”

Immediately after the founding anniversary event ended, a media frenzy erupted at the entrance of the chaotic banquet hall. Cha Wonwoo, at the center of it all, was struggling to take each step as he was surrounded by reporters. Numerous microphones were thrust between the security guards who formed a scrum to protect him.

“Is it a one-sided bond? Or a mutual bond?”

“Don’t push!”

The man, with his chin held high and chest puffed out, remained unshaken like a massive rock despite being jostled from all sides. He moved forward, unyielding and aloof. The executive assistants, their minds racing, followed closely behind Cha Wonwoo, maintaining their composure.

“Chairman!”

Finally, after much effort, they managed to exit the building. If they walked just a few more steps along the prearranged route, they could board the waiting car. However, seeing the black sedan, the reporters, anticipating Cha Wonwoo’s silent departure, grew even more agitated.

That’s when it happened.

“What was the reason for confessing to a mental illness?!”

Someone’s booming shout cut through the swarm of reporters rushing towards him.

“…….”

Cha Wonwoo stopped walking and looked towards the source of the sound. Immediately, dozens of cameras swiveled like gleaming eyes to follow his gaze. The man stood motionless even in this urgent situation.

Mental illness.

He pondered the words.

“Chairman…”

The head of security, who had also stopped, urged him on with a pleading look. Having been partially briefed on the announcement beforehand, he seemed flustered by the unexpected fervor of the media.

The reporters, seeing that Cha Wonwoo wasn’t about to leave immediately, eased their relentless pushing. The man looked around at the quieted surroundings and spoke.

“For me, bonding is simply a reason, a proof.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The reporter who posed the question flinched as Cha Wonwoo calmly glanced at him, then instinctively pushed the microphone forward.

“When someone says, ‘I’ll love you forever,’ it’s sincere, but it’s a feeling and a confession of that moment, with no guarantee of whether it can be kept. But I’m different.”

Slightly tilting his head to the side, Cha Wonwoo spoke calmly.

“Bonding lasts until death. That’s why it gives me the reason to confidently tell him, ‘I will love only you forever.’ At the same time, it’s proof of my promise to him that he won’t have to worry or feel insecure, wondering ‘Will his love fade?’ for the rest of his life.”

The man’s low voice resonated clearly, even though the microphone wasn’t connected to a speaker like it was indoors.

“Did you say mental illness? At least for me, bonding isn’t a mental illness. It’s a privilege and a blessing that allows me to love only one person I want to love for the rest of my life.”

He stared at the reporter without blinking. Although he spoke calmly, an overwhelming pressure emanated from him, stronger than ever before. The reporter, gulping, forced his constricting throat open to ask what everyone was wondering.

“For a CEO who has to lead a major corporation like CH, a history of mental illness would be a considerable burden. Is there a reason why you, Chairman, known for your perfection, chose to confess your bonding?”

“Because I don’t want to hide it.”

The answer was short and simple. The reporters, speechless at the simple truth, exchanged glances. Then, a rare smile spread across Cha Wonwoo’s face like a thin wash of paint.

“You can criticize me for being irrational, controlled by the pheromones of my bonded partner. You can call me bonded, imperfect because I have a mental illness. It doesn’t matter.”

“…….”

“I may not be perfect, but I am complete.”

Humans are imperfect. The union of two such humans is likewise imperfect.

But someone can fill the inherent voids, the worn corners of one’s heart, the forgotten and lost pieces of life, the shadowed sides of a trampled soul. Some people may be complete on their own, but two imperfect humans can also complete each other by being together. Just like how Kang Siheon was for Cha Wonwoo.

It was amusing to see the reporters’ faces contort in various ways. Expressions of ‘What did I just hear?’ or ‘Is he smiling? Is he possessed?’ were prevalent. Finally, they turned to looks of shock, ‘Cha Wonwoo? That Cha Wonwoo? Said something like that?’ The dumbfounded reporters, pushed by the security guards, receded like seaweed swept away by the tide. They stood dazed, only regaining their senses when Cha Wonwoo was just about to slide his long legs into the vehicle.

“Ah…! Chairman, wait a moment!”

“You kept saying ‘Hyung’!”

“Chairman, is the ‘Hyung’ you mentioned referring to actor Kang Siheon?”

“Are you reconciling?”

“We ask again! Is it a one-sided bond? Or a mutual bond?”

They hurriedly pushed their microphones through the safe line created by the security team, but they were too late.

Click.

Amidst the chaos, the car door closed. The black sedan carrying the man vanished into the city in an instant.

The car accelerated. The image of the bewildered reporters left behind in the rearview mirror gradually shrunk. Cha Wonwoo, seated in the back, crossed his legs with an elegant demeanor, unlike someone who had just dropped a bombshell.

“What’s the situation?”

“We are still gathering public opinion, but the overall sentiment is favorable regarding the return of assets, the prohibition of trait discrimination, and the succession issue.”

Secretary Yang, in the passenger seat, responded as usual, without a hint of haste or panic. He added,

“The response to the bonding news is also mostly positive so far.”

“That’s to be expected. Thanks to media content, ‘bonding’ sounds quite romantic to the public. What about Cha Hyunchul? I doubt he’s doing well.”

“He had a heart attack and CPR barely brought him back. He’s on life support, unable to breathe on his own without a ventilator. The hospital says the chances of recovery are slim, so they suggested a DNR and discontinuation of life-sustaining treatment if you wish…”

“I have no intention of signing it.”

Cha Wonwoo cut him off sharply. He held no lingering attachment, familial affection, or anything but resentment for that old man. The reason he wanted to keep him alive was because he didn’t want to let him go peacefully.

A dignified death?

Even if he had the right to it, Cha Hyunchul shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy it.

“Do you remember what I said I would take from Cha Hyunchul?”

“Yes, you said you would take three things that meant everything to him.”

Cha Wonwoo turned his head and looked out the window. The fleeting images of the city were reflected in his dark eyes. After observing the scenery for a moment, he spoke.

“His trait, his company, his life. Those were the three things.”

“You’ve taken his trait and his company as you intended, and his life… Are you planning to substitute it with donating his body to a research institution?”

He had told Cha Hyunchul about it before.

‘When you die, I’m thinking of extracting your entire pheromone gland and submitting it to a research institution. You spent your life making other people dedicate themselves to research, so you should too. It’s a shame it has to be after your death. But who would object if you personally sign your consent to donate your pheromone gland?’

‘…Cough!’

‘Cha Hyunchul, you won’t even be buried properly. I plan to donate your body anonymously. Cha family graveyard? Cremation? Don’t even dream of it.’

How humiliating it must be for him to know that his death was in Cha Wonwoo’s hands. How agonizing and resentful it must be to know that he wouldn’t be allowed to rest even in death, and would suffer unwanted humiliation. But Cha Wonwoo knew Cha Hyunchul well. For that old man, the pain of living was far greater than dying like this.

Deprived of his freedom, trapped like an animal in a cage, merely eating, sleeping, and defecating, living and dying as a defective product, not a dominant alpha, having even his painstakingly built company taken away… Cha Wonwoo would keep him in this reality for as long as he could.

The car stopped at a red light. He rolled down the window slightly, and a gust of sandy wind blew in. An unknown melody drifted from a speaker on the street. A child, holding tight to his parent’s hand, stamped his feet like yellow musical notes, throwing a tantrum. Observing the peaceful scene, Cha Wonwoo murmured,

“I hope Cha Hyunchul stays trapped in this playground for a very long time.”

Because every moment of this would be Cha Hyunchul’s nightmare.

And unlike himself, there was no one in the world who would wake him up.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Hyung, it’s stir-fried pork today.”

Kangsan sat down opposite him with a disappointed expression. Compared to stylist Soobin’s plate piled high with meat, Kangsan’s was meager.

The [Forgery] team, filming on location, was having their meals at a restaurant that served as both a buffet for lunch and a pub for dinner. Due to the restaurant’s circumstances, unlike other unpredictable locations, meal times were relatively well-maintained, which was a major advantage.

“Enjoy your meal, Siheon—.”

“You too, Hyejin.”

Siheon, exchanging friendly greetings with the staff, who had become closer since they first met, placed some meat on a cabbage leaf. Even without rice or ssamjang, the vegetables were so fresh and sweet that they were delicious on their own.

“You eat too, Kangsan.”

“Yes, sir.”

After briefly eyeing the sweet and salty seasoned meat with disapproval, Kangsan took a large bite of the ssam, then grinned and gave a thumbs-up. His cheeks, also notably muscular, puffed up.

“Wow— Hyung, this cabbage is alive.”

“The owner’s daughter runs a greenhouse, and it’s from there.”

Soobin, sitting next to him, said as she layered lettuce and perilla leaves. Siheon tilted his head.

“How do you know that, Soobin?”

“I asked earlier because the cabbage seemed extraordinary. I was thinking of asking the owner if they sold it anywhere besides supplying the restaurant, like on a produce website, so I could buy a few heads. Apparently, the owner’s daughter is a farming genius. Even with the same land and fertilizer, if she touches it, the quality is just…”

Kangsan showed interest as Soobin added to her explanation while diligently piling meat, ssamjang, peppers, and green onion salad onto her wrap. The two quickly engaged in a lively conversation about food.

Smiling at their cute debate, which brought a smile to his face, Siheon bit into a cabbage leaf. A sweet taste followed the crisp texture. While he simply listened to their conversation instead of joining in to conserve his energy, Kangsan’s phone suddenly rang.

“Mr. Huh?”

Kangsan checked the caller ID, tilted his head, and answered the call.

“Yes, Mr. Huh. Yes, lunch. That? I saw it briefly while we were on the move earlier. But the Wi-Fi and data connection here aren’t great. I don’t think it’s the restaurant’s problem… The news?”

Kangsan looked around and then at the television hanging high on the wall, almost reaching the ceiling. Everyone was busy eating, and no one was paying attention to the rerun of a drama playing on the screen.

“Hold on a second.”

Kangsan suddenly stood up, walked to the kitchen, and after getting permission from the owner, changed the channel with the sticky remote control.

The news?

Siheon watched him with a puzzled expression, wondering what he was doing, interrupting his call. Perhaps because of Kangsan’s large frame moving around, the staff naturally turned their attention towards the television as well.

The news, as usual during major corporate events, was summarizing the CH founding anniversary. The screen showed Cha Wonwoo at the podium, delivering his commemorative speech.

Kangsan turned up the volume.

The staff gradually started to pay attention to the intriguing story, beginning with an apology, followed by the full return of slush funds, the disclosure of secret internal regulations, and the prohibition of trait discrimination. It was perfect fodder for gossip.

Having diligently watched the live broadcast while on the move earlier, Siheon already knew the story. Of course, since he arrived midway, he hadn’t seen it to the end. He ate moderately while listening to the rest of the speech.

「I have no intention of passing down management rights to my family after me.」

At this point, everyone in the restaurant, not just Siheon, stopped eating and focused on the screen.

「However, even if I have a child….」

Cha Wonwoo quickly lowered his head. He was in pain. Siheon, knowing the pain those words inflicted, clenched his knees. It was too difficult to watch with a clear mind. He thought it would be better to get some fresh air.

Abruptly, he stood up from his seat. Just as he was about to head outside, Cha Wonwoo’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

「I am bonded.」

He slowly turned around as if someone had forcibly twisted him. His pupils dilated, his eyes fixed on Cha Wonwoo in shock.

The broadcast, having shown only the important parts of the speech, transitioned to the scene of Cha Wonwoo exiting the banquet hall entrance.

「For me, bonding is simply a basis for persuasion.」

The broadcasting station, keenly sensing a rise in viewership, aired Cha Wonwoo’s words to the reporters almost verbatim, unlike during the speech.

「Bonding lasts until death. That’s why it gives me the reason to confidently tell him, ‘I will love only you forever.’」

Not ‘the other party,’ ‘that person,’ or ‘him,’ but ‘Hyung’?

It was a title that inevitably made people think of Siheon. Judging by his expression, it didn’t seem intentional. It seemed like he had made such a slip-up because he was speaking his mind, letting his true feelings flow.

「It’s proof of my promise to him that he won’t have to worry or feel insecure, wondering ‘Will his love fade?’ for the rest of his life.」

Siheon, who had been standing frozen, startled when an unknown reporter shouted ‘mental illness.’

That’s right, I was worried about those words and gazes directed at him….

But Cha Wonwoo was unfazed. His attitude suggested he had nothing to hide.

「At least for me, bonding isn’t a mental illness. It’s a privilege and a blessing that allows me to love only one person I want to love for the rest of my life.」

What is that idiot saying?

Siheon ran a hand over his face, letting out a weary chuckle.

「Because I don’t want to hide it.」

He looked back at the screen at the unhesitant reply.

「You can criticize me for being irrational, controlled by the pheromones of my bonded partner.」

His heavy gaze seemed to pierce through the camera lens.

「You can call me bonded, imperfect because I have a mental illness. It doesn’t matter.」

Despite the physical distance, at that moment, Siheon felt like he was face-to-face with Cha Wonwoo.

「I may not be perfect, but I am complete.」

• Do Not Resuscitate: Indicates refusal of life-sustaining treatment, including CPR.

It was so embarrassing he could die.

The entire afternoon was chaotic. The staff, after finishing their meal and returning to the filming location, tried to pretend they hadn’t seen anything, but the strange signs were evident everywhere.

When their eyes met his, they would smile brightly, as if their own dry lips were about to crack and bleed, or they would avoid gathering in groups of three or more to whisper, so as not to make him uncomfortable, or they would completely avert their gaze, as if they had a neck brace, making it obvious they were thinking ‘I am not looking at actor Kang Siheon who has just received a public confession from Cha Wonwoo.’

He wanted to contact Cha Wonwoo immediately. But if he was seen holding his phone in this atmosphere…

Within a second, he would be met with gazes that screamed, ‘Is that actor Kang Siheon contacting Cha Wonwoo, who confessed to being bonded to him? I’m dying of curiosity, but I’ll pretend I didn’t see. However, you must tell us all about your bonding story on a talk show someday.’

Fortunately, Director Pyo Wookjoon didn’t tease Siheon or ask uncomfortable questions, even jokingly. His only interest outside of his film was the fishing spot he’d heard about near the sea.

Thanks to the director, who unintentionally set the right tone for the team, they were able to finish filming with focus. Although thoughts of Cha Wonwoo intruded during breaks, it was a relief that there weren’t many scenes left to shoot.

“Then, have a good rest, Hyung!”

Early evening. Kangsan wished Siheon a good night’s sleep instead of mentioning the nationwide public confession incident. Returning to his accommodation after the resounding goodnight, Siheon immediately tried to video call Cha Wonwoo, but the call wouldn’t connect.

Right, he must be busy dealing with the aftermath.

He didn’t have the heart to check the internet, so he grabbed a towel and headed straight to the bathroom.

The accommodation provided for the filming team was a motel in the city, a whole building rented out for their use. The motel, lacking even an elevator, had outdated facilities that matched its shabby exterior.

On the first day, short screams erupted from several rooms due to the shower’s erratic shifts between hot and cold water. Now, everyone seemed to have adapted, and only the gurgling sound of water through the pipes echoed.

Today, as usual, the water alternated between scalding and freezing. Still, he felt refreshed and his fatigue seemed to dissipate after a good wash. Siheon, having dried his hair thoroughly, put on his personal bathrobe and plopped down on the bed.

The walls were sticky whenever he turned on the light, perhaps due to something spilled on them, and the tacky wallpaper was torn in places, suggesting the room wasn’t particularly well-maintained. Yet, the mattress was remarkably springy, comparable to any luxury bed. It firmly supported his weight whenever he sat or lay down.

Is the motel owner the type to invest heavily in beds?

He plugged his phone into the charger while pondering such trivial thoughts, then checked it.

“Still no contact.”

He had hoped for a missed call while he was showering, but the phone remained silent.

Thud.

Siheon, having plugged his phone back in, lay down on the bed. His freshly washed, soft hair spread across the floral pillowcase. He stared blankly at the discolored ceiling.

He wasn’t sure if Cha Wonwoo was genuinely busy or avoiding him out of embarrassment. If he were here, Siheon could make him talk, but being apart was frustrating. He missed him too.

Should I go out for a walk? I don’t think I can concentrate on the script.

He was swinging his foot, one knee bent and legs crossed, when his phone on the nightstand vibrated. The familiar name appeared on the screen.

[Cha Wonwoo]

Next to the profile picture was the indication of a video call. His own face was also prominently displayed. Siheon answered the call without hesitation.

“Hello.”

—Hyung.

“…Where are you?”

He had originally intended to ask why Cha Wonwoo hadn’t contacted him first, and then why he confessed about the bonding.

He had planned to, but the scenery behind Cha Wonwoo made him ask a different question. The one who usually called from his car during his commute or from inside his home after arriving was outside in the dark.

—I’m outside.

“I can see that. Are you not done with work yet? Where are you outside?”

—Just, you know… Taking a walk.

He’s hiding something. He usually mixed formal and informal speech, but he was especially obvious when he was being evasive.

Hmm. Siheon hummed lowly, observing the screen. Cha Wonwoo’s face was half-hidden in the orange glow of a streetlight. He thought most streetlights had been replaced with white LEDs, but perhaps not?

They weren’t awkward even in silence. However, seeing Siheon’s silent gaze, perhaps feeling awkward, Cha Wonwoo started chattering.

—Oh, Cha Hyunchul collapsed from a heart attack. He’s got a long life, I guess. He’s apparently past the critical stage. He can’t breathe without a ventilator, though… Anyway, if he doesn’t wake up, his organs will slowly fail, and it’ll be incredibly painful.

“It’s no wonder he had a heart attack. I almost did too.”

—Hyung… Why would you say something so scary?

“You’re not asking because you don’t know why, are you, Wonwoo?”

When Siheon asked back with a forced smile, Cha Wonwoo’s pupils wavered. His own heart was healthy, and he didn’t want to joke about their health, but today felt like an exception.

—…I’m sorry for saying that without consulting you. When I asked about the statement before, you said it would be better not to mention it because you were worried about me….

Cha Wonwoo blinked as he offered a sincere apology. Damn those good looks. It’s only natural for a handsome man to love another handsome man. Siheon let out a resigned sigh.

“Well, you didn’t say it was a mutual bond. Technically, you were just talking about your own situation, so you don’t have to apologize to me. Still, specifically mentioning ‘Hyung’… Oh, is there a chance it could be another Hyung, not me?”

Cha Wonwoo bounced back like a resilient ball at his playful tone.

—Hyung!

He was surprisingly easy to tease. Siheon listened to his indignant reaction for a moment, then smoothly shifted the topic.

“Anyway, why did you say that? It’ll be difficult for people at the company if they know you’re bonded. In many ways.”

He could use the romantic image of bonding to his advantage in his profession, but Cha Wonwoo couldn’t.

Whether he made a mistake or his performance wasn’t good, the comment “It’s because he’s bonded” would surely follow. Things that were overlooked when people were unaware of his bonding would be scrutinized. It was a sensitive issue, considering his position, directing and being responsible for businesses dealing with billions and trillions of won.

—It’s okay. I’m crazy about your pheromones, not about approval documents, so I won’t lose my mind over them. I don’t run the business with my heart or pheromones. My business sense is intact, so they’ll see for themselves eventually. And the situation is different now.

“There’s no alternative but you.”

Starting with Cha Hyunchul, everyone had left the company, so the only person who could lead and manage CH Group was Cha Wonwoo.

By the way, where is he going?

He always reported everything, whether it was what he ate or where he went, but now that he had been evasive once, he would probably avoid answering again if asked. So, throughout the conversation, Siheon maintained a gentle smile while keenly observing the glimpses of the surroundings he could see.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of light jogging could be heard, and the screen shook slightly. The lighting grew dimmer. At first, he thought Cha Wonwoo had gone to a completely unlit path,

“Me? You’re taking me? Where?”

“Before that.”

Suddenly, Cha Wonwoo abruptly sat up. With two tall men standing, the room felt much smaller than its actual size.

“Before what? Why did you stop talking mid-sentence? You’re making me curious.”

Siheon looked at him quizzically.

Instead of answering, Cha Wonwoo moved himself. He looked around, found his bag, rummaged through it, and with unusually flushed cheeks, held out what he’d retrieved. His shiny black eyes quickly scanned Siheon’s body.

“Let’s change your clothes first and then talk.”

Only then did Siheon look down at his own attire. Having just finished showering, he was still wearing his shower robe. Tied at the waist, the relatively loose upper body exposed his chest. The robe, open on both sides, seemed to welcome Wonwoo’s persistent gaze with open arms.

“Okay, let’s change clothes and talk.”

Being a man himself, he knew how dangerous this situation could be. Siheon quickly accepted the clothes. As he untied his robe, Cha Wonwoo hurriedly turned around and started to fidget like a robot vacuum with a malfunctioning directional sensor.

“The, the bathroom… Ah, I’m not trying to do anything weird. I was thinking of going in for a moment. No, no. Going in is weirder.”

After rambling, Cha Wonwoo found something and walked towards it with a creaky, un-oiled movement. He grabbed a towel and a chair and marched towards the front door.

What is he doing?

As Siheon changed, he saw Cha Wonwoo inserting the towel into the door’s locking mechanism and tying it this way and that.

“Even though the hotels we frequent have tight security, this isn’t one of them. You should be especially careful when you’re alone, hyung. Should I show you how to tie it?”

Untying the towel as if to prolong the task, Wonwoo moved with slow gestures.

“If you do it like this, they say it can’t be forced open with any ordinary amount of strength.”

After tying the towel, he placed the chair in a strange position where the door opened. He added that if it was placed close, it would make a noise when someone touched the door, alerting him immediately.

“And since this wasn’t something you moved and opened, if the door opens, it’ll fall right over, right? That would block the intruder’s path, so they’d trip. Then you can escape through the window, or if it’s really difficult, you can just step on their back and run out into the hallway.”

Siheon, fully dressed, ruffled his messy hair with his hand.

“Only our filming crew uses this place.”

Glancing at his bare feet, Cha Wonwoo replied,

“Put on socks. And I’m not part of your staff, hyung. They let me in without any ID check, so how do we know who or what might show up?”

“That’s true, but…”

There wasn’t anything to refute.

While Siheon sat on the bed and put on his socks, Cha Wonwoo bustled around like a bird gathering twigs to build its nest. Finally, he pulled out his business card from his jacket’s inner pocket and tucked it into the door crack.

That’s not something just anyone can get… Is it okay to use it like that?

Siheon absently blurted out while watching the diligently moving Wonwoo.

“What if there’s a fire?”

“Huh?”

“Well, whether it’s new or old, it’s still vulnerable to fire. Imagine I’m asleep and a fire suddenly breaks out. A firefighter hyung comes to rescue me and tries to open the door, but it won’t open because of this. Then I’ll be trapped, won’t I?”

“Ah…”

Cha Wonwoo’s lips parted defenselessly. With his vivid imagination, the fire scenario was probably playing out vividly in his head.

Actually, a door like this could be opened with a fire axe. The bigger problem was the chair blocking the way, which could cause a firefighter to trip.

“The soundproofing here isn’t great, so you can just yell. Kangsan is next door. Or there’s this.”

Siheon made a fist and knocked twice on the wall by the bed.

Knock, knock.

After knocking with a pause, he heard two knocks in the same rhythm from the next room a few seconds later.

“This is just to check in. If I knock three times or more, Kangsan will break down the door and come in.”

It was a sign they had established before marriage, to prepare for any contingencies while Siheon was hiding his secondary gender.

“Safety training over now?”

Siheon stood up. Now that he was dressed, it was time to get to the point about where they were going. But as he approached, Cha Wonwoo suddenly said something unexpected.

“Why ‘firefighter hyung’? You could just say firefighter. Do you like older people? Is that why? But you’ve never said anything like that before. I mean, you haven’t.”

“Just because you’re twisting my words doesn’t make you older than me.”

“Don’t change the subject. Which appeals to you more, hyung, ‘hyungnim’ or ‘firefighter’? Should I buy a firefighter uniform?”

Siheon refrained from telling him it was rude to imagine such things. He remembered that firefighters were considered a symbol of sexiness overseas. Since Wonwoo grew up in America, he probably thought similarly.

So Siheon just chuckled and provoked him with his age.

“At this rate, our Wonwoo will be getting a new ID card.”

And the moment he turned around to grab his hat.

Just like that time, Cha Wonwoo grabbed his sleeve, moved his lower body, and trapped Siheon between the wall and himself.

“Actually, I’m older than you, Siheon.”

It was unfair how he gazed at him with those black eyes and called his name in a low, husky voice, a form of address Siheon had never heard from him before. For a fleeting moment, he felt a glimpse of a new preference.

His heart, which felt like it was about to burst through his chest, only calmed down when he confirmed that Cha Wonwoo was only holding the edge of his sleeve.

“…You’re kidding.”

Siheon lightly hit Wonwoo’s broad chest with the back of his hand and slipped out from between the wall and his firm body, putting on his favorite black ball cap.

“So where are we going?”

He asked as he headed for the front door. While putting on his shoes, Cha Wonwoo, whose gaze was fixed on the cap, said,

“You’ll see when we get there.”

＊＊＊＊＊

The destination wasn’t far. Thanks to this, there was no need to travel by car, and it was easy to hold hands since the surroundings were dark.

They walked for about 15 minutes.

At the end of the tree-lined path, a small building came into view. A familiar sedan was parked in front of it, and Driver Kim and Secretary Yang were conversing. Their demeanor, as they greeted Cha Wonwoo and Siheon, was much more respectful than usual.

“You’ve arrived.”

Cha Wonwoo nodded and passed them by. Siheon, holding his hand, examined the building, puzzled.

It resembled a small church or cathedral in the countryside. He’d never been to either, so he couldn’t distinguish between them. He just assumed it was one or the other since there was a cross.

Arriving at the entrance, Cha Wonwoo pushed the door open without hesitation.

Creak.

The sound, imbued with the passage of time, filled the vast, dark night.

The interior was similar to the chapels often seen in movies. Thinking of it as a church or cathedral, he felt the sacredness unique to religious buildings and a certain inexplicable queasiness.

A high ceiling that could only be seen by tilting his head back, pews on both sides, a large cross, and the altar-like area below it where candles were lit. Dozens of candles were placed in various shapes, but only three were lit.

As the entrance closed, the chapel became even darker and more beautiful.

“One was lit by the priest, and I guess Secretary Yang and Driver Kim lit the other two.”

A low voice came from beside him. Turning his head, Siheon met Cha Wonwoo’s steady gaze.

Is he going to propose?

That was his first thought. But three candles for a proposal seemed odd. If Wonwoo was going to mobilize people, he’d do it on a larger scale, not just this. The location was strange too. Neither of them was religious, so there was no reason for him to ask a priest to light candles.

Cha Wonwoo gently tugged on his hand and walked forward. Only when they reached the altar, where the three candles were lit, did he release his tightly held hand.

It doesn’t seem like a proposal.

But then Wonwoo pulled something out of his jacket, making Siheon suspicious again.

The object Cha Wonwoo took out was a luxurious paper bag. It didn’t seem to contain a ring. But it was still too early to be relieved. This was the guy who had already made a public confession to the entire nation.

Siheon kept his guard up and observed his actions. Cha Wonwoo handed him the paper he took out of the bag with a serious face. Judging from the lack of recitation, it wasn’t a letter.

Because of the candles, shadows fell across Cha Wonwoo’s face. Siheon’s gaze, sliding down Wonwoo’s long eyelashes and straight nose, landed on the paper.

“…What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Hadn’t he said something similar earlier? Since Wonwoo was being unusually cryptic today, Siheon had no choice but to check it himself.

He unfolded the paper he’d been given.

Seo-a, Yunseul, Yerin, Haeun….

Seojun, Doyoon, Hamin, Hyunho….

They were children’s names.

Below were gender-neutral names that were impossible to distinguish by letters alone, like Jian, Yeonwoo, Hajin, and Jiho.

Further down were names that could be used in both Korean and English. For instance, Ian, Haena, Sion, Noah, and the like. The last line contained entirely foreign names.

After reading through the words that seemed like a code, Siheon raised his head. He couldn’t react to the unexpected situation.

Perhaps….

Were his own eyes trembling like those of the man looking back at him? Or was it the flickering of the fragile candlelight?

They stared at each other in silence for a long time.

“Our baby,”

Cha Wonwoo finally spoke.

“I thought we shouldn’t just send them off without a name.”

A sharp pain shot through Siheon’s chest, as if someone was squeezing his heart. He quickly turned his head away. His hands, flailing about, pulled his hat down low, creating a rustling sound from the paper he’d been clutching. He blinked rapidly, his eyes fixed on the floor. He held his breath, preventing any sound from escaping through his tightly closed lips.

“Hyung.”

He had to answer…. He clenched and unclenched his hands before finally making a fist.

“Don’t tremble.”

Cha Wonwoo took hold of his hand. He gently caressed Siheon’s clenched hand, coaxing it open, and then interlocked their fingers, leaving no space between them. As if trying to convey his higher-than-average body temperature, Wonwoo tenderly stroked the back of Siheon’s hand with his thumb. Siheon’s Adam’s apple bobbed silently.

“You’re not okay, hyung, and neither am I. If we bury this like this, it’ll always be the same.”

“A name….”

Siheon cleared his throat and forced out the words, his gaze still downwards.

“Giving a name… means taking responsibility.”

Naming. The act of giving a name to a person, object, or event. To a pet, to a new discovery or invention, to an object… Whether living or not, the first thing humans do is give a name.

Siheon had avoided this instinctual act because he felt that by giving a name, he would be giving the child all the remaining sadness and longing of his life.

“It must have hurt, so you wanted to forget. I know you didn’t want to recall any related memories. You had to do that to endure it sober. Back then, you were alone, hyung. But now you’re not, so even if it’s hard and painful, let’s… let’s send them off together.”

But Cha Wonwoo was suggesting they do just that. Let’s take responsibility together. Let’s not forget together, even if we can’t ever completely shake it off. Let’s grieve together, let’s hurt together.

“Hyung, let’s not pretend it never happened. That there was a baby. Even though they came and went so briefly…. It would have been really nice if they had stayed longer, shown us their face, let us hear their voice…. Even if that couldn’t happen, they were still a precious child.”

The throbbing pain that started in his heart had long since spread throughout his body. Someone must have spilled water. Otherwise, his vision wouldn’t be blurry, like puddles had formed. His eyes felt heavy. Siheon strained to keep from blinking.

Cha Wonwoo quietly observed him before releasing his hand. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Siheon’s shoulders and waist, pulling him close to his chest.

Thud.

Siheon’s hat fell, and soon after, the area around Cha Wonwoo’s neck became damp. Tilting his head, Wonwoo held Siheon tightly and pressed his lips to his ear.

“You know, hyung, I saw this somewhere, maybe a foreign drama I happened to watch during a business trip to New York. It was about a couple who lost their child. I couldn’t imagine something like this happening to me back then, but I don’t know why I was so engrossed in it. Anyway, that’s not the important part.”

A gasp escaped from somewhere. The sound of trying to suppress a sob was the same as the one he had heard at the back of the funeral home. He supported Siheon’s head and buried him deeper into his embrace, hiding him so no one could see. So that neither the cross looking down at them, nor the candles illuminating the chapel, could see Siheon, giving him space to cry freely.

“The man in the drama had lost two children. One at around 10 weeks, the other around 20, I think.”

He didn’t remember the details. He hadn’t known how big or developed a fetus would be at those gestational ages. He’d considered children irrelevant to his life.

“People told him to forget, to leave the sadness behind and move on. But the man couldn’t do that.”

Forgetting. Leaving the sadness behind and moving forward.

Back then, Cha Wonwoo thought it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. But he was wrong. Experiencing it firsthand, he learned that forgetting completely wasn’t difficult; it was simply impossible.

He trailed his lips from Siheon’s ear to his temple and kissed his hair.

“So, the man and his wife would always light candles on their lost children’s birthdays. Saying that those children took a piece of their hearts… and that piece could never be replaced, nor would it ever return.”

“…….”

“So let’s light candles every year, too.”

It doesn’t have to be in a church or cathedral. In the living room overlooking the yard, in the room where the sound of rain can be heard, in a tacky motel room we’re staying in for work. Wherever it may be, let’s light candles every year. For the baby. For the piece of our hearts that you and I, that we, both lost.

“…Okay….”

Siheon swallowed the sob that welled up. His throat was raw and hot, as if he had swallowed a fireball. He gritted his teeth and managed to utter the remaining words.

“Okay…. Let’s do that. Let’s light candles every year.”

Let us remember the baby.

Cha Wonwoo nodded at the low whisper. He wanted to keep holding Siheon, but it wasn’t the time. Siheon pulled away and turned to the side. While Cha Wonwoo bent down to pick up his hat, Siheon pulled his shirt up to wipe his eyes.

“Here you go.”

Glancing at the red area around his eyes, Cha Wonwoo placed the black ball cap back on his head. The hat brought a sense of stability.

They sat hand in hand on the front pew, leaning their heads against each other. Cha Wonwoo, gazing at the faint light, said,

“What name should we give them?”

Siheon unfolded the paper he’d been clutching in his other hand.

“I don’t know. What would be good?”

“They’re all good names, so choose one you like, hyung.”

He hadn’t noticed before because he was distraught, but upon closer inspection, it was a familiar handwriting.

“Did you write this yourself?”

“Yes, I got the names, but the handwriting is by Teacher Gageumgyeong. She’s the most famous calligrapher in our country. At first, she wrote them with a brush…. But I thought our baby wouldn’t know the smell of ink. So I wrote it again.”

“Was there a name that stuck with you while you were writing them?”

The paper lay between them, occupying half of each of their thighs. Cha Wonwoo pointed to a name with his index finger. It was a gender-neutral name.

“It’s not that it stuck with me, but there was a name that kept catching my eye.”

Yeonwoo.

At that moment, surprisingly, the vague presence of the baby felt clearer. A sense of weight and warmth emanated from the child whose temperature and touch he’d never known, having never held them. It felt as though he had actually held them.

Giving a name had that power. Cha Wonwoo must have felt similarly, as he tightened his grip on Siheon’s hand. He said in a slightly trembling voice,

“This one. Yeonwoo is pretty even written only in Hangeul, and it has many good meanings in Hanja, too. But the person who gave me the names insisted on using this specific Hanja.”

“Yeonwoo (蓮藕)…. You’re right. The meaning, lotus root, isn’t particularly beautiful. It’s just yeongeun.”

“So I was going to subtly change the Hanja if we used this name. But I think she noticed. She stopped me as I was leaving and looked at me very seriously, saying I had to use this Hanja. She said there must be someone related to the lotus flower in my family, and that way, they wouldn’t be lost and would be looked after.”

“Ah…”

Upon hearing the explanation, Siheon remembered that Cha Wonwoo’s mother’s name was Kwon Suyeon. Using the character for lotus, 연 (蓮). He’d also said that the urn containing his mother’s remains had a lotus flower painted on it.

Wouldn’t be lost and would be looked after….

It might just be an empty comfort for the living. Nevertheless, hearing that his mother would be looking after the baby was reassuring. Even though he didn’t usually believe in such things, it brought him comfort. Looking to the side, Wonwoo seemed to feel the same.

“I just thought she was famous among chaebols and politicians for giving good names, but I guess not. No wonder. I had to climb a mountain to meet her.”

“Maybe she knew you would choose this name? That’s why she specifically explained this one.”

Maybe. Listening to his quiet reply, Siheon looked at the name again. The unfamiliar two syllables now felt intimately close, as if he’d been calling them for a long time.

Cha Wonwoo suddenly leaned in and whispered affectionately,

“Shall we light the candles now?”

“Yes.”

Siheon stood up and approached the altar-like area first. He gazed at the three lights already lit by the priest, Secretary Yang, and Driver Kim. Along with gratitude, he felt his heart, which had lost a fragment, warm up.

So this is why he wanted to light candles.

He felt like he might tear up again. Biting his lip, Siheon lit a candle. The quietly burning lights now numbered four. Cha Wonwoo approached and added another.

As if they had promised, they held hands and quietly watched the candles before closing their eyes.

Yeonwoo.

The two men’s prayer for their child continued for a long time.

A very long time.

When the two men, their eyes swollen from crying, left the chapel, the sky had grown even darker. Perhaps because they were outside the city, the Milky Way flowed across the night sky.

“Oh, hyung.”

Siheon, who had been tilting his head back to look at the stars, turned to the side at the sudden sound.

“Why?”

“Yeonwoo’s last name is Kang.”

Siheon blinked at the issue he hadn’t really considered. Cha Wonwoo, however, seemed to have thought deeply about it, speaking quite resolutely.

“I don’t like the Cha surname. My mom, who’s with Yeonwoo, would hate it if they were both Chas.”

“I wasn’t planning on giving them your last name either. I haven’t considered Kang either.”

Unless it was a conservative chaebol family, or a family with a generations-long history in politics, law, or something where the family’s image or power mattered. Who cared about last names these days?

“…But Cha does sound nice. Cha Yeonwoo.”

“I said I don’t like Cha. And Kang Yeonwoo is prettier. Anyone who hears it will know they’re yours, hyung.”

Leaving Wonwoo, who spoke as if whining, behind, Siheon started walking. Cha Wonwoo quickly closed the distance and wrapped his arms around Siheon’s waist, snuggling close.

“I’m not done talking.”

He glanced at Secretary Yang and Driver Kim waiting and led Siheon to the back of the chapel. As they walked around the building, they found a spacious yard with several sculptures, lights in front of them, and a bench.

Not wanting to sit, Siheon walked, keeping Cha Wonwoo by his side. Wonwoo, thinking it wasn’t noticeable, sniffed once, his nose still red from crying earlier.

“What do you think happiness is, hyung?”

“Me? Well, I don’t live my life defining happiness, so I don’t really know. What about you?”

“You call me. ‘What time is it, why aren’t you home yet?’ You get mad like that. Then I ask, ‘Work ran longer than I thought. I’m sorry. Did you miss me a lot?’ Then another day, I call you, hyung. ‘Hyung, are you done filming now? Why haven’t you contacted me all day? Didn’t you want to hear my voice?’ And then you get all worked up and curse out the director for finishing late or the fellow actor for messing up their lines.”

Does he generally like it when I’m angry? Siheon expressed his doubts. His eyes asked what any of this had to do with happiness. Cha Wonwoo focused on continuing his explanation.

“If you ever have a company dinner and get drunk, people call me as if it’s natural.”

He was about to say that Siheon didn’t drink that much with others, but he closed his mouth, remembering the incident with Seo Minjae.

“And another day, I come home drunk.”

“You’re a dominant alpha, you don’t get drunk.”

“Ha….” Cha Wonwoo rolled his eyes and changed his example.

“Then one day, we both oversleep.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Then as soon as you realize we’re late, you’ll nag at me, right? Saying, ‘You said just once last night, why five times,’ mph.”

“Why are you changing the subject from happiness? And stop exaggerating. It was just an elbow bump. I didn’t even use any force. Huh?”

Cha Wonwoo straightened up and laughed foolishly. Even though his eyes were puffy from crying, even dominant alphas couldn’t avoid tears…. Seeing that, Siheon also chuckled. Wonwoo laughed even brighter than before.

“Anyway. Hearing your voice, whether it’s the sound of you making coffee… or reading a script… hearing the sounds that constantly remind me that I’m with you, hyung, I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror.”

“…….”

“Then I’ll be smiling.”

Cha Wonwoo stretched his long legs and swiftly moved in front of Siheon, spinning around. Facing Siheon, he walked backward, matching his pace.

“On days when you’re not around, I’ll smile looking at your clothes in the dressing room, your shoes in the shoe rack, your dedicated mug in the kitchen, the pillow you sleep on, the pen you use to underline your scripts in the study.”

Siheon slowed his pace, watching behind Cha Wonwoo so he wouldn’t trip. It was his job to worry about him falling.

Cha Wonwoo showed no signs of unease. He trusted and had the confident look of someone who knew that Siheon would never let him fall.

“That’s happiness to me.”

“Smiling to yourself while looking at my things?”

“No. Finding traces of you in everything around me. That’s my happiness.”

Siheon stopped walking. Cha Wonwoo stopped too.

“I want to keep finding traces of you around me.”

His affectionate voice brought a wave of emotion.

“I’m not asking for an answer right now. I’m not saying let’s get back together right away either. We need time to recover. And during this time, we absolutely, definitely won’t keep secrets.”

“Even the smallest things?”

“Yes, even the smallest things.”

The wind rustled through their hair. Their gazes, exchanged in that moment, caressed each other.

For a fleeting moment,

Cha Wonwoo hesitated nervously but mustered his courage.

“So let’s do it again.”

“Do what?”

“Dating. From dating to marriage.”

“…….”

“We’re already divorced. I know how much that hurts. So this time, let’s just do it until marriage. No matter how much I think about it, from dating to marriage,”

“…….”

“I only want to do that with you, hyung.”

Siheon was speechless. So instead of answering verbally, he acted. He strode forward, grabbed Wonwoo’s collar, tilted his head, and pressed his lips against his.

Towards Cha Wonwoo, so damn endearing it brought tears to his eyes.