Chapter 44

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“Fortunately, there was nothing between us…”

When Jaeha had uttered those words, it felt as though his breath had stopped altogether. Yet the world did not end. Jang Taegeon continued breathing, the clock’s second hand marched dutifully onward, and the earth kept turning. The apocalypse remained a distant prospect.

In other words, this was a personal tragedy that belonged to Jaeha alone. Jang Taegeon could never be allowed to discover the depth of Lee Jaeha’s misery.

Taegeon spoke with a ferocity Jaeha had never witnessed before. The flame that normally burned within him with calm, unwavering intensity had erupted into a wildfire, spreading beyond restraint. His words came through gritted teeth, his voice descending into the low, dangerous growl of a cornered beast.

“Then what the fuck was all that?”

“…I would suggest that you refrain from cursing.”

Jaeha could only stare at him, stunned. He had no idea what else to say.

A shrill ringing seemed to vibrate through the air itself. The ground beneath his feet felt as though it were rising and falling, while unseen earthquakes opened everywhere around him, threatening to drag him into the deepest layers of the earth.

That was how difficult it had been for Lee Jaeha to force those words from his mouth. He had told Jang Taegeon that they should return to living as strangers. Yet once a word had been loosed like an arrow, there was no calling it back.

He did not regret saying it. Still, he could not help wondering why this moment had to come now, even though he had always known that it would arrive eventually.

Jaeha hardened his expression until his face became as stiff and unreadable as plaster. He acted as though there truly had been nothing between them.

“Don’t change the subject. I’m pretty fucking pissed off right now.”

“……”

“I’m asking you. What the hell was everything you showed me, Lee Jaeha?”

Jang Taegeon’s face had twisted with a rage Jaeha had never seen before. Something dense and unfathomable seemed to writhe behind his piercing, blue-tinged gaze, and Jaeha found himself unable to look away.

“I suppose you thought you could look down on a piece of trash like me.”

“……”

“Do you have any idea what I’m capable of? I have no intention of playing the gentleman in front of you, Lee Jaeha. Especially not in a situation like this.”

The scent of beach roses disappeared, overwhelmed by the violent smell of waves crashing against stone.

The bloodlust in the air was so tangible that Jaeha instinctively wondered whether Jang Taegeon might break one of his limbs and lock him away in a room.

But that was impossible, was it not?

Taegeon had no reason to subject himself to such tedious trouble.

Lee Jaeha was the only one who had carried feelings between them. Jang

Taegeon had merely shown him a measure of kindness in the only way he knew how.

Yet if this fury came from nothing more than wounded pride after having that kindness rejected, then it was far too violent. The dominant Alpha’s pheromones wrapped around Jaeha like iron chains, pinning him in place.

As Lee Jaeha forced his expression into stillness, he felt as though he stood on the edge of a coastal cliff while a storm raged around him. He had to say what needed to be said. To accomplish what he had resolved to do, Lee Jaeha was prepared to surrender everything. Had he remained ignorant of the truth, perhaps he would never have said any of this.

But Lee Jaeha had never lived by pretending not to know what he already understood. He refused to begin now, especially where Jang Taegeon was concerned.

“…I cannot give you an answer.”

It was the truth.

There were very few words Lee Jaeha was permitted to say. Countless others clawed at his throat, begging to be screamed aloud, but when the words he could speak were so painfully few, silence seemed preferable.

“Then what was Jang Taegeon to you?”

Jaeha remembered asking the man several times to call him by his name. At the time, overwhelmed by embarrassment, he had continued clinging to Taegeon’s formal title instead. He had never once called him “Taegeon.” Hearing himself use the man’s name in this situation made his heart ache as though it were slowly dissolving inside his chest.

“One thing I do know… is that there was nothing special between us.”

What expression had the man worn when he said that?

That day remained exceptionally vivid in his memory. Lee Jaeha had searched Jang Taegeon’s face with desperate attention, tracing every feature with his eyes as though it were the final time he would ever be allowed to see him.

It had been the frantic hunger of a man dying of thirst, opening his mouth beneath the rain while knowing that once the storm passed, he would never taste another drop.

Just a little longer. Only a little more.

He had wanted to keep looking at him. He had wanted to memorize every syllable that left Taegeon’s lips, to carve each one into his soul and carry them with him for the rest of his life.

Yet the one thing Lee Jaeha could no longer remember was the expression on the man’s face when those words had been spoken.

.

.

.

“I suppose they only stock American wines here.”

The Alpha’s voice pulled Jaeha from his reverie.

The man approached and set a wineglass on the long marble-topped table beside him. His hearing, which had dulled while he wandered through the depths of memory, returned all at once. The surrounding clamor crashed back over him like a tidal wave.

Jaeha briefly closed his eyes, then opened them again as the sensation passed. This had been happening often lately. Even when he stood perfectly still, his mind would drift elsewhere, wandering through places only he could see before reluctantly returning him to the present. Slowly reclaiming his grasp on reality, Jaeha answered at a measured pace, careful not to let the other man notice the delay.

“…I heard it was the highest-rated wine in last year’s blind tasting in France. Perhaps the soil of the American continent is particularly well suited to growing grapes.”

He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise slightly. His eyes did not smile, but at a gathering like this, the gesture was sufficient. The other man appeared not to notice and considered something briefly before speaking again.

“Didn’t you say you were newly married, Executive Director Lee? I’m surprised you would bother attending an event like this.”

“I have… work to do.”

Jaeha answered simply, as though brushing aside a teasing remark, though bitterness coated his tongue. In truth, he should have been immersed in the sweetness of a honeymoon.

That dream, however, had become something entirely unrelated to him.

Judging by the faint sneer beneath the man’s words, he intended to mock Jaeha’s marriage to Jang Taegeon. The Alpha standing before him was an older alumnus from his university and a member of the National Assembly who had barely secured his first term in the previous year’s general election by the narrowest of margins.

The man was not an especially valuable connection, but today’s event had been organized by one of Jaeha’s grandfather’s protégés. Jaeha could not simply decline the invitation. He had already accomplished what he came to do during the luncheon, yet the man had continued dragging him around for the rest of the day.

It was not difficult, merely irritating.

The assemblyman seemed determined to parade their friendship before everyone present and strengthen the impression that Yooshin, one of the country’s largest conglomerates, stood behind him. Because his relationship with Jaeha’s father, Lee Ik-hyeong, was poor, the assemblyman had turned instead to Jaeha, who was still regarded as a promising leader of the next generation. Even after stepping down from his directorial post, Lee Jaeha continued to be addressed as “Director” during public engagements.

In the past, he might have gone out of his way to avoid such situations.

But not anymore.

Lee Jaeha still had things he needed to accomplish.

“Does Executive Director Lee think he’s the only man in South Korea with work to do? I was merely curious. I wondered why you would come somewhere your former fiancé was also attending.”

The man, who had the audacity to call himself Jaeha’s senior, smirked openly.

Jaeha stared at him without expression before briefly glancing toward the slender Omega leaning against the bar behind them.

It had been a long time since he had seen Kim Sumin.

“Are you finding it difficult to start a conversation with him on your own? It would be no different even if I weren’t standing here.”

Jaeha’s tone carried a trace of indifference. He understood now that the man had been needling him because of his history of pursuing Kim Sumin.

The gathering had been hosted by his grandfather’s protégé, and Yooshin had covered every expense. There was no possibility that Kim Sumin had arrived unaware of whose event it was.

The Alpha in front of Jaeha was therefore growing anxious. He was probably afraid that some lingering spark remained between Kim Sumin and Lee Jaeha. Some time had passed since the wedding, but a considerable stretch had also passed since Jaeha’s separation from Jang Taegeon. Their first wedding anniversary was nearly upon them, and yet this man continued harassing him because he still lacked the courage to say a single honest word to Kim Sumin.

Jaeha felt a brief, unwanted sense of kinship with the lovesick fool.

At the same time, the sight of him made Jaeha nauseous.

The boredom that had pursued him relentlessly of late curled around his shoes once more, then crawled slowly up his spine. Inevitably, his thoughts began circling the same memory again, chewing it over like an animal returning to the same mouthful of cud.

“Between us… there was nothing… special?”

That questioning voice echoed through his mind once more. He couldn’t remember Taegeon’s face, but the voice remained painfully vivid—low and sunken, filled with what had unmistakably sounded like anger. However, perhaps that had only been Jaeha’s delusion. Maybe Taegeon hadn’t been angry at all. Perhaps the man had simply found the situation absurd. He might have felt enraged by the sheer audacity of Jaeha demanding a divorce after he had rushed to save Jaeha’s life out of nothing more than duty. Whatever Taegeon had felt, it could not possibly have resembled Lee Jaeha’s emotions.

Regardless, it was over.

There was no point trying to remember more.

“What? That isn’t what I meant…”

“Let’s talk.”

The Alpha had barely begun to protest, his face flushing all the way to his neck, when Kim Sumin abruptly stepped between them and seized Jaeha by the wrist.

Jaeha lived in a state of constant vigilance. His body nearly reacted before his mind did, ready to wrench the wrist upward and break the hold, but he caught himself in time. His brow tightened instead.

“Kim Sumin, what are you doing?”

“Ha. Even now, right to the very end… I have something to tell you about Jang Taegeon. No, about Director Jang of Janghan.”

The Alpha beside them adjusted his tie while looking toward Sumin, but his expression collapsed the moment he realized that Sumin wanted to speak only with Lee Jaeha. Someone like Kim Sumin would have been more than suitable for a first-term assemblyman. The man was likely far beneath him and had no right even to dream of such a match, yet hope had still brightened his face.

That hope curdled into insult the instant Sumin addressed Jaeha.

Why you? Why is it always you?

That was the emotion Lee Jaeha sensed from both men.

Still, they stood in the middle of a crowded event, and he could not afford to create a scene with Kim Sumin. The suffocating heaviness from earlier had yet to leave him, but Jaeha gave a restrained nod.

“Senior, I’m stepping away for a moment. If the assemblyman arrives, tell him I went outside for a smoke.”

“What? Am I your messenger now? Why the hell would I…”

Jaeha turned his back before the man could finish, too exhausted to endure another second of his rambling.

Kim Sumin, for all his faults, was not entirely devoid of manners. He walked ahead while maintaining a careful distance between them.

That was prudent.

If rumors spread that an Omega had disappeared from the event alongside a married Alpha, the Omega would bear the harsher consequences.

Acknowledging the wisdom of that distance, Jaeha followed at an unhurried pace.

Kim Sumin stopped a short while later. Several small private lounges lined the corridor beside the hotel’s grand ballroom. Jaeha watched him enter one of them, then reluctantly followed. When he opened the door, Sumin stood beneath lights considerably brighter than those in the ballroom.

“……”

His face was ravaged.

It was not simple exhaustion, fatigue, or physical strain.

“Don’t worry. I’m in rehab.”

At Sumin’s words, Jaeha nodded slightly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to the door, signaling that he was ready to leave at any moment and had no interest in a long or personal conversation. Sumin frowned, his thin face trembling slightly, as if Jaeha’s posture alone had hurt his pride.

“This is unbelievable. I’m trying to help you, Jaeha.”

Jaeha remained silent.

“Do you know why my face looks like this? It’s because of the drugs from Jang Taegeon’s place.”

The revelation was not unexpected. Sumin had struggled with drug use even during their engagement. Jaeha had never thought it was important, as long as Kim Ranhee didn’t find out. Sumin had also seemed committed to quitting completely after their planned marriage, which Jaeha had believed would be enough. It wasn’t an unforgivable flaw, as long as Lee Ik-hyeong and his wife remained unaware. At the time, the dosage wasn’t particularly high, and the use wasn’t frequent enough to be considered a severe addiction. The substance seemed little stronger than a sedative, similar to marijuana.

However, his current condition was entirely different. Anyone looking at him now would see him as a hopeless addict. His eyes were hollow, and his cheeks were sunken. A family like Kim Sumin’s would never have allowed him to deteriorate to this extent unless the situation was much worse than it seemed.

Sumin rolled up his sleeve, revealing injection marks scattered along his veins. Jaeha suspected his thighs had the same scars. He instinctively frowned. The fact that the drugs had come from Janghan unsettled him.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“Do you even know what I had to agree to before they gave me those drugs?” Kim Sumin lowered his sleeve and smirked. A thin glimmer of superiority entered his eyes.

Jaeha said nothing.

“I received them on the condition that I let Director Jang meet you once.”

“……”

“I didn’t want to take anything that strong either. But some bastard I met at a gathering forced it on me. Fuck, I didn’t want any of this.”

Lately, Jaeha seemed to encounter far too many people who insisted they had acted against their will because they had been given no choice. As one of those people himself, Lee Jaeha found the explanation entirely unmoving. Before parting his carefully shaped lips, he glanced discreetly at his watch.

Sumin noticed.

The drugs had sharpened his senses, making him unusually alert to the smallest movement. It was something that had happened often during their engagement. He stared at Jaeha with eyes that were wounded and furious in equal measure.

Jaeha spoke without emotion, “And?”

“And? Is that all you have to say? That son of a bitch, Jang Taegeon, approached you deliberately!”

Jaeha already knew.

The words stirred nothing inside him.

He released a brief sigh. “Sumin-ah.”

“……”

At the sound of his name, Kim Sumin’s shoulders trembled. His gaze clouded for an instant, as though he had been pulled into a memory, then filled with moisture.

Jaeha gave him no time to linger there.

“You should have told me then.”

The words felt as though they were directed at himself as much as Sumin. Words left unspoken until it was too late were worse than words never spoken at all. Perhaps he and Kim Sumin resembled one another in that way.

Sumin’s expression crumpled. He looked as though he wanted to deny what he had just heard.

“Jaeha, even now… how can you still do this to me?”

Seeing that Sumin wanted someone to blame, Jaeha decided to ease his mind. His voice, however, was glacial. “Or perhaps you should not have sold me for a handful of pills. You acted as my pimp, and now you have the nerve to present yourself as the victim, Sumin.”

“What? What the hell are you saying…?” Sumin shook with rage.

Or perhaps it was grief.

To Kim Sumin, it seemed there was no one in the world capable of understanding him.

But Lee Jaeha understood him perfectly.

There were things that had to happen, things that had to be done, and desires powerful enough to drive a person headlong into the flames even while knowing that every part of them would burn. There was no meaningful difference between a drug-addled Kim Sumin and a Lee Jaeha who had surrendered himself to a certain person.

Perhaps they had ended their engagement because they were simply too alike.

With that thought, Jaeha left Sumin standing alone in the lounge and walked out. He had taken only a few steps across the reddish-brown carpet when he sensed someone watching him from the far end of the corridor.

His entire body went rigid.

Since his abduction, even the faint sensation of another person’s gaze could freeze him in place.

The tension traveled down his spine before Lee Jaeha deliberately released it.

It was one of Taegeon’s subordinates.

Jaeha distinctly remembered greeting the man before leaving the house that morning. If he was monitoring Jaeha here, then he was likely gathering something to include in the afternoon report.

Jaeha offered the man the slightest nod, then resumed walking toward the grand ballroom at a casual pace.

His work was not finished.

That was why he had come, and so he had to remain flawless.

Without hesitation, Jaeha opened the ballroom doors. His grandfather’s protégé stood on the other side with his arms spread wide and a bright expression, welcoming him as though he were his own son.

“Executive Director Lee! Where have you been?”

“Please excuse my absence. What were you discussing?”

Jaeha wore a perfect smile.

This was a world built on masks, and he was merely doing what he did best.

He had left that man’s side precisely because he was so capable of surviving here.

Had he not?

Therefore, he—

“Jaeha, even now… how can you still do this to me?”

—could not become like Kim Sumin, resenting another person with every part of his being.

Everyone had a place to which they belonged.

And Lee Jaeha’s grave was here.

***