Chapter 75

Shrugging indifferently, Yeon-oh slid the bowl of radish soup—garnished with freshly chopped green onions he had apparently prepped earlier—closer to Gi-hyeon. His head throbbing, Gi-hyeon decided inhaling the food was the quickest way to end the hostage negotiation.

The two men ate in heavy silence for several minutes. Even amidst the chaos, Gi-hyeon was genuinely amazed that he was able to swallow the food. It wasn’t just edible; it was unbelievably delicious. He wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t eaten a home-cooked meal in weeks or because his palate had been permanently calibrated to Yeon-oh’s cooking over the years, but regardless of how hard he tried, he could never replicate these exact flavors. He practically inhaled the meal.

He had initially planned to eat quickly just to get it over with, but perhaps due to his expanding pregnancy appetite, he soon found himself entirely hyper-focused on the food. He didn’t even notice Yeon-oh staring at him in utter disbelief until he was halfway done.

“…Are you starving down here? Does that bastard work you to the bone and not even feed you?” Yeon-oh asked incredulously.

“What are you talking about? …My appetite has just gotten bigger, that’s all.”

At that explanation, Yeon-oh’s gaze flicked explicitly toward Gi-hyeon’s lower abdomen. Catching the look, Gi-hyeon instinctively covered his stomach with his hand. The instant he did, Yeon-oh’s expression turned glacial, his eyes darkening with that same ominous, volatile energy. The sheer absurdity of the reaction annoyed Gi-hyeon.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Just keep eating.”

Seeing that Yeon-oh was clearly furious again, Gi-hyeon ignored him and resumed his meal. The tamagoyaki was incredibly soft and perfectly seasoned; upon closer inspection, he realized it was stuffed with pollack roe. He had no idea where Yeon-oh had procured it—he must have hit the local market first thing in the morning. While he was mildly curious, it wasn’t worth opening a dialogue over, so Gi-hyeon followed instructions and focused entirely on clearing his plate.

By the time he finished, he realized it was time to leave for work. As Gi-hyeon moved to clear the table, Yeon-oh waved him off like a pesky fly, hoisted the entire table himself, and deposited it next to the sink to handle the cleanup alone. Watching him immediately dive into doing the dishes, Gi-hyeon felt a bizarre sense of dissonance; absolutely nothing had changed from their routine back in Seoul.

The sight of the apron tied over his bare, muscular back wasn’t even funny anymore. Like a man whose capacity for humor had been surgically removed, Gi-hyeon’s face went entirely blank as he swallowed a heavy sigh. He desperately wanted to avoid flooding the fetus with negative stress, but he had no choice. He had to maintain an absolute poker face to prevent the hyper-perceptive Yeon-oh from reading his internal turmoil.

The sound of rushing water filled the small apartment. Gi-hyeon stared blankly at the rhythmic flexing of Yeon-oh’s highly defined back muscles as he aggressively scrubbed the plates.

Suddenly, a profound wave of futility crashed over him. He hadn’t executed some brilliant, cinematic escape, but arriving here had finally taught him what true peace of mind felt like. It was a tranquility he had never experienced in the military, post-discharge, or during the entire time he had stood by Yeon-oh’s side.

Loving Jo Yeon-oh was the equivalent of housing a permanent typhoon inside his chest; the intensity of the storm might fluctuate, sometimes raging violently and sometimes reducing to a dull roar, but Gi-hyeon knew the storm itself would never, ever dissipate.

But down here, there wasn’t even a trace of that wind. Not even the faintest, gentlest breeze disturbed his peace. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Gi-hyeon had been genuinely at peace. Yet, the moment he laid eyes on Yeon-oh again, the suffocating discomfort returned instantly. It was just an overwhelmingly heavy, crushing weight.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Gi-hyeon retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. When he emerged, the dishes were done, and Yeon-oh was meticulously wiping down every single water droplet in the sink with a dry dish towel. Glancing at him briefly, Gi-hyeon grabbed his clothes and ducked back into the bathroom to change. The apartment was simply too small to afford any privacy otherwise.

Fully dressed, Gi-hyeon grabbed the scooter keys and headed for the door without a single word.

“Wait.”

Ignoring Yeon-oh—who was in the process of untying the apron—Gi-hyeon stepped outside. The instant the heavy door clicked shut behind him, the electronic lock chimed cheerfully as it engaged. Without looking back, Gi-hyeon started walking.

He fully expected Yeon-oh to immediately chase after him, but surprisingly, the man didn’t pursue. Releasing a low sigh, Gi-hyeon fired up the scooter and sped off.

With the monsoon season officially over, the suffocating summer heatwave had arrived, the asphalt practically radiating heat. Even moving on the scooter offered no relief, just a blast of tepid, humid wind. Still, it was infinitely better than the oppressive, smoggy heat of Seoul. The brief stretches of shade provided by the nutmeg yew trees lining the two-lane road offered fleeting moments of coolness before the blistering sun took over again.

When he finally arrived at the greenhouse, the pristine, untouched interior made the chaotic violence of the previous night feel like a hallucination.

Feeling guilty for failing to contact Jisu, Gi-hyeon finally checked his phone. Predictably, there was a message waiting. It was brief and unspectacular, simply instructing him to take the day off.

When Gi-hyeon had first fled here, he had offered only the barest facts: he had transformed into an Omega and was pregnant. Jisu hadn’t demanded a single follow-up detail. He was inherently devoid of prejudice, likely stemming from his profound lack of interest in the personal lives of others.

To Gi-hyeon, that apathy was an absolute godsend. He vastly preferred the silence, but he knew that if Jisu ever actually asked for an explanation, out of sheer gratitude for the sanctuary provided, Gi-hyeon would have confessed the entire miserable saga.

But Jisu never asked, sparing Gi-hyeon the agonizing, exhausting misery of having to dissect his massive trauma just to explain his current, pathetic circumstances.

Even now, the message simply offered him a day off without demanding an explanation for the chaos. Gi-hyeon viewed it as a profound act of consideration and felt deeply grateful. Managing his first genuine, albeit faint, smile since last night, Gi-hyeon stepped into the greenhouse. The bank teller was sitting at the counter, staring blankly into space.

“You’re here? Did the Captain ask you to cover?” Gi-hyeon asked in surprise.

The teller offered a subtle nod, his demeanor completely lacking the slight sociability he had displayed while drinking the night before. However, his total lack of curiosity regarding the previous night’s bloodbath was incredibly comforting. Feeling entirely at ease, Gi-hyeon casually asked if he had eaten breakfast. Despite Gi-hyeon’s own introverted nature, the teller’s consistently muted reactions surprisingly encouraged Gi-hyeon to keep initiating conversation.

The teller offered a noncommittal response, and the two men sat side-by-side at the counter. Strangely, not a single customer walked through the door. Just as Gi-hyeon was starting to think the entire afternoon shift was going to be a bust, the door flew open.

“Let’s eat some burgers! I had a feeling you’d be here too, so I bought a ton,” Jisu announced, kicking the greenhouse door open.

Gi-hyeon shot up from his chair, rushing over to help Jisu, who was heavily laden with greasy paper bags.

“Captain, I am truly, deeply sorry about what happened yesterday. Please, let me take those,” Gi-hyeon pleaded, his speech unusually rapid and panicked.

Jisu let out a booming laugh. “Soso. A sob story like yours doesn’t even register as gossip in this line of work. Stop being so tense and just relax. Hyung is going to set the table.”

It was a direct order to drop the guilt. Gi-hyeon felt the tension instantly drain from his shoulders.

Bowing his head in profound gratitude, Gi-hyeon watched as Jisu waved off the apology. Without demanding a single detail about the incident, Jisu suddenly clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

“Man, was that guy yesterday one of the bastards who messed you up back then? Because watching him get his shit wrecked was incredibly satisfying.”

Midway through unwrapping the burgers, Jisu snagged a stray fry off the table and popped it into his mouth. Gi-hyeon didn’t agree. Watching the brutal violence hadn’t offered him any catharsis whatsoever.

Fundamentally, Gi-hyeon didn’t harbor a burning resentment toward his attackers. The reason he suffered from panic attacks and trembling whenever the trauma resurfaced wasn’t because he feared the men who had assaulted him; it was because he was absolutely terrified that a similar situation might happen to Jo Yeon-oh.

Even if Yeon-oh had initially accepted his confession purely out of shock and a twisted sense of obligation, they were dating because Gi-hyeon’s feelings had anchored them together. He was the one who had selfishly confessed his love to a man who violently abhorred Betas, and Gi-hyeon lived in perpetual, paralyzing fear that his selfish choice would expose Yeon-oh to the same kind of targeted, homophobic violence he had endured.

That fear remained as potent today as it had been back then. Ironically, Yeon-oh had seemed entirely unbothered by the risk. He had even been the one to suggest they keep their relationship a secret from the hospital staff, prioritizing Gi-hyeon’s professional safety over his own reputation.

Gi-hyeon suddenly wondered if Yeon-oh’s visceral disgust regarding Alpha-Beta relationships had somehow infected him. They had spent so much time pressed together, sharing the exact same air for so many years, that it was terrifyingly possible they had subconsciously absorbed each other’s prejudices.

“Squeeze the ketchup carefully so it doesn’t spill everywhere. Ah, never mind. Give it here. I’ll do it.”

While Gi-hyeon was lost in thought, Jisu snatched the ketchup packets from the teller’s hands and aggressively squeezed the contents directly into the empty fry bag.

Gi-hyeon pitched in to help set up. The intoxicating, salty aroma of the fries wafting from the bag instantly triggered his appetite. Staring at the shrimp burger logo on the wrapper, Gi-hyeon commented dryly.

“I was actually craving a Bacon Tomato Deluxe, sir, but obviously they don’t have that in town.”

“Soso, are you fucking kidding me? You should be getting down on your knees and thanking God there’s even a Lotteria in this shithole. Until last year, if we wanted a burger, we had to drive all the way to the county office. The day this Lotteria opened, this guy and I literally sprinted down there to buy Teriyaki burgers.”

Using a french fry as a pointer, Jisu gestured toward the teller, who was standing blankly nearby. …That guy actually sprinted? Gi-hyeon marveled internally, though he successfully suppressed the rude urge to voice his disbelief.

The feast was arranged quickly. Anticipating the appetites of three grown men, Jisu had purchased an absurd number of burgers, allocating two or three per person. Fairly distributing the bounty, Jisu placed a shrimp burger, a Teriyaki burger, and a cheeseburger in front of each of them. Without a word of complaint, Gi-hyeon immediately started eating. He had undeniably eaten a massive breakfast, yet the food continued to vanish into his stomach at an alarming rate.

Too lazy to grab a straw, he simply tore the plastic lid off his soda and chugged the drink directly from the cup. Beside him, Jisu nagged the teller, ordering him to stop filling up on soda and actually eat the burgers first. As they finished their meals and began clearing the trash, Jisu casually dropped a massive complication into Gi-hyeon’s lap.

“Your friend asked me to rent out the room right next to yours.”

Having entirely failed to anticipate that maneuver, Gi-hyeon’s face must have contorted into a deeply concerning expression, because Jisu quickly shook his head.

“I mean, the room is empty. And he clearly did his homework and knew it was vacant before he asked. I can just tell him to fuck off, it’s not a big deal. What do you want me to do?”

“…”

Gi-hyeon clamped his mouth shut. His primary motivation for fleeing was crystal clear: he absolutely refused to let Jo Gyu-deok discover the existence of the child. However, that didn’t mean his desperate desire to escape Jo Yeon-oh wasn’t a massive contributing factor. By exiling himself to this quiet, isolated town, he had genuinely hoped to sever the emotional tether completely.

He had calculated that by the time the child was old enough to be independent, his romantic feelings for Yeon-oh would finally be dead and buried. Only then, he reasoned, might they actually find a way to revert to the platonic friendship Yeon-oh had always so desperately demanded.

But seeing the bastard standing right in front of him felt disastrous. Yeon-oh was the one who had proposed they date, and Yeon-oh was the one who had demanded they break up. Gi-hyeon had simply complied with every single one of his demands, yet now he was being hunted down as if he had committed high treason. The sheer absurdity of it made Gi-hyeon feel profoundly exhausted and disgusted.

“Honestly… I don’t know,” Gi-hyeon admitted, the truth heavy on his tongue.

Judging by Yeon-oh’s psychotic behavior, he would likely hunt Gi-hyeon to the ends of the earth no matter where he ran. And every time Gi-hyeon demanded an explanation, Yeon-oh would just keep parroting that deranged bullshit about ‘taking responsibility.’ When Gi-hyeon finally offered his hesitant answer, Jisu studied him intently before letting out a low hum.

“I honestly thought you two had worked things out, considering you’re completely drenched in his pheromones. Guess not?”

“…I’m drenched in what?” Gi-hyeon asked, his brow furrowing in deep confusion.

Jisu instantly realized he had miscalculated. He looked like he severely regretted opening his mouth. Gi-hyeon quickly lifted the collar of his shirt and sniffed, but he only detected the cheap laundry detergent he had been using; he couldn’t smell anything else. Jisu shook his head dismissively.

“Pheromones don’t stick to clothes, you idiot.”

Snatching the garbage bag from Gi-hyeon’s hands, Jisu added a final directive.

“I told him he could move in if he got your permission. He’s waiting outside right now. Go deal with it.”