Chapter 96

“It doesn’t feel real, though.”

Geum Seoul spoke softly with a faint rustle, turning over toward Gye Do-hyeop and resting a hand on his own stomach.

“It hasn’t really sunk in yet.”

Tap.

Gye Do-hyeop leaned down, gently uncurling the arm of the boy who knew only how to bundle himself tight, and drew him straight into his chest. Geum Seoul’s forehead bumped softly against the man’s chest.

“I know you hate family and blood ties, Deputy Director. But…”

His voice muffled halfway against Gye Do-hyeop’s shirt. Letting the boy speak, Gye Do-hyeop buried his face in the soft hair. The scent of a deep forest drifted between them.

“I never imagined this happening either, but…”

The reason he kept tacking ‘but’ onto the end was obvious enough without asking. Gye Do-hyeop dipped his head lower, brushing the tip of his nose along the nape of Geum Seoul’s neck and down to his shoulder. The faint pheromone thickened, just a fraction.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Gye Do-hyeop wanted to breathe this scent until his dying day. It couldn’t simply be reduced to an omega’s pheromone. It was something that existed only when Geum Seoul’s body heat and skin intertwined.

“Whether you have the kid or don’t.”

The reason Geum Seoul had hidden his pregnancy for days was that he loved him. Because Gye Do-hyeop had once told him it was a relief his body couldn’t conceive.

“There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go.”

“……”

Catching sight of some tiny black circle on a monitor changed nothing. The kid still failed to stir a sliver of emotion in him. It was a pity the thing would inherit that motherfucking bastard Gye Gyeong-mu’s blood, but that was the kid’s tough luck.

“Then… can I have the baby?”

“Do whatever the fuck,” cutting himself off, Gye Do-hyeop paused before answering at a slightly slower pace. “Do what you want. Don’t ask for my permission.”

Geum Seoul’s small face nodded against his chest. He had already found Geum Seoul. He had Geum Seoul to dilute that vile, sickening, cursed blood and haul him out of the dirt. A boy who was warm and soft, who smelled sweet when held and wrapped his arms back around him. With just this, life was worth living.

“…What I said.”

“Yes?”

Gye Do-hyeop never dwelled on the past. He had never failed enough to turn failure into a lesson, nor had he ever needed to second-guess his actions.

But now he knew that some things seared themselves into memory unbidden. Like Geum Seoul’s small figure that day, pressed against the wall between the deputy director’s office and the squad room, holding his breath and swallowing down dry heaves.

“…When I said it was a relief your body couldn’t get pregnant.”

Geum Seoul froze, then tilted his head back. Gye Do-hyeop’s dark eyes searched every inch of the pale face before cupping his cheek. Having never looked back, he had lived without a shred of remorse. But now.

“I know.”

While the man was still struggling to shape unaccustomed words on his tongue, Geum Seoul cut in first.

“I know why you said that, Deputy Director.”

“……”

“It stung a little, sure, but if I hadn’t been pregnant, it’s something I would’ve been relieved to hear too.”

Gye Do-hyeop stared at his long eyelashes. The boy’s mercy, robbing him of even the chance to apologize, struck him dumb once again. So he spoke of something else instead.

“I’ve lived like a piece of shit my entire life. Even if I try to change, half the time it won’t take.”

“Yes.”

Seoul blinked twice. His nod brought a soft rustle from the sheets.

“The blood in my veins is garbage to begin with. No matter how much I filter it, I’m still going to hurt you sometimes.”

“……”

Another soft rustle rose as his hair and ear brushed against the duvet.

“Even so.”

“……”

“Keep on liking me.”

“…Okay.”

It was no casual wish. Gye Do-hyeop would have gotten down on his knees and begged if he had to. The hunger for everything about Geum Seoul—his warm embrace, his small gestures, his movements, his voice—to stay pointed toward him could hardly be called a mere desire. It was supplication, an impassioned plea, a desperate craving.

“And right beside you, I’ll spend my whole life doing what I’m good at.”

The man had never once broken a word he gave. What he spoke now was nothing short of a declaration. Geum Seoul knew this was his confession.

“I told you I’d make your life brilliant.”

“……”

“Without a scratch. Treasured as fuck.”

Geum Seoul’s brown eyes welled with moisture. Though no conventional words were spoken, he understood the sheer weight of sincerity behind the confession.

Treasured. It was a word that had never belonged in the life he led. The man knew that even better than he did. Their very first meeting had taken place when he was caked in dust, barely scraping by under the eaves.

‘I’ll show you how, so live it. That brilliant life.’

“So keep on liking me.”

The man’s low voice resonated so deeply that Seoul couldn’t force an answer out. Instead, he nodded fervently, pressing his teeth into his lower lip. As if smoothing out the blanched skin, Gye Do-hyeop pressed his thumb against the boy’s mouth. Clasping the hand so much larger than his own, Seoul dropped his head. A tear carved a path from cheek to chin, dripping in tiny droplets onto the man’s palm.

“…Deputy Director.”

Squeezing his eyes shut to blink away the tears, Seoul turned Gye Do-hyeop’s palm over.

“What is this? When did you hurt yourself?”

With his face still stained with unshed tears, he inspected Gye Do-hyeop’s thumb from every angle. Seeing the blackened scab at the fingertip where ink and dried blood had tangled, the boy furrowed his brow.

“Dropped a pen.”

It was a half-assed excuse. But to Geum Seoul, whether it was true or not mattered little.

Even after spilling so many tears, the wet rims of his eyes remained flushed.

“Please don’t get hurt.”

“…Seriously. You’re fucking ridiculous.”

He cursed under his breath even after mocking himself for pouring out soft words through the night, but it was an exclamation as involuntary as a cough—aimed at his own heart, which surged wildly at Geum Seoul’s concern.

He wanted to ask if the boy didn’t feel more sorry for his own body, already bearing a child, than for a petty scab on a fingertip. He wanted to ask if his own frame, curled in distress over harsh words, wasn’t far more heartbreaking than a minor cut that would sprout fresh skin and disappear in days.

“You always say stuff like that when you’re happy, Deputy Director.”

Delivering his verdict like an expert, Geum Seoul burrowed a little closer with a sniffle, prompting Gye Do-hyeop to give his nose a gentle pinch.

“Quit crying. What, trying to become a billionaire?”

“It’s not like I’m crying because I want to.”

He followed it with a threat: five hundred milliliters of water forced down his throat for every tear. When Seoul swallowed a hitching sob, Gye Do-hyeop laughed and muttered, “Look at this little shit—” before catching his chin and pressing their mouths together. Just as Seoul had guessed, the curse was nothing but affection dressed in profanity. Holding him close, Do-hyeop slowly took in the countless firsts washing through him. Geum Seoul was warm, alive, endlessly capable of surprising even a man who thought the world had long ago run out of surprises.

By the time the blue hue of dawn shifted into pale morning light, Geum Seoul confessed in a tiny whisper that he did want to have the baby after all. Gye Do-hyeop nodded without the slightest hesitation. Whatever lifelong convictions the man had harbored didn’t stand a chance for even a second before twenty-year-old Geum Seoul.

***

—”Yesterday evening, an armed terrorist attack involving explosives and firearms took place near an abandoned factory in Chanpyeong-dong, Seoul. The incident is presumed to have been premeditated by the anti-government faction known as ‘Node.’ The target was on-site at the time but suffered no direct casualties, and the confirmed fatalities consist of the ringleaders who spearheaded the assault—”

“What the fuck are they doing? If you draw a blade, at least cut down a radish, or don’t even bother starting.”

His hair a tangled mess and his beard unkempt compared to his usual groomed self, Gwak Chun-young muttered under his breath as he sprawled sideways across the sofa. One arm was locked in a cast, and a large ice pack was propped against his swollen cheek. Blacking out the instant Gye Do-hyeop landed a blow on him during his prior arrest still felt violently humiliating.

By the time he came to, his entire face had been beaten to a bloody pulp, with two broken fingers and four shattered teeth to boot. He had wanted to sue the bastard, but of all things, there was no evidence on the body cams. With his lawyer advising that letting it slide would help slash his prison sentence, he hadn’t even been able to press the issue.

“Fuck, I can’t even go see a dentist properly.”

Ever since he was granted bail, Gwak Chun-young had not stepped a single foot out of the safehouse. He could technically receive treatment if granted an outing permit, but no matter how hard he pushed claiming an emergency, approval was never granted. Left with only bare-minimum first aid, he had to groan in agony every night just to fall asleep.

Other than that, most things remained intact. Running the company meant little more than signing whatever documents were brought to the house, and because Gwak spent so much of his time roaming outside anyway, he had rarely bothered with daily internal affairs. His eyes were fixed on power, not management.

“What good is feeding them guns if they can’t even put a bullet in his fucking head?”

Gwak Chun-young had started bankrolling Node since the previous year. He had begun funneling cash to them at the same time he started stuffing bribes down Noh Pil-gyu’s throat. It was identical to termites nibbling away at pillars until a massive tree finally toppled. Gnaw away quietly from both sides, and the ceiling would cave in eventually.

Letting out an irritated sigh, he picked up the remote and changed the channel. A comedy about teenagers having a lovers’ quarrel was playing. The boisterous racket echoed across the spacious room. He cranked the volume higher.

“What about Noh Pil-gyu?”

“He’s not answering.”

“Hah, that fucking old geezer. He’s scared shitless.”

Not a single fucking thing was going smoothly.

“Did you set aside something fit for our thank-you rounds?”

“Yes, sir. It’s all prepared.”

Just because his mansion had exploded and his jewelry chest had gone up in smoke didn’t mean his entire fortune was blown to pieces. The company was still humming along, and the laundered assets parked in offshore accounts were growing steadily.

What mattered wasn’t the cash, but the value. The gemstones and luxury goods he had amassed over decades—above all, the Grade-A jewel at the heart of the collection was an heirloom from his father. Even though he had personally murdered the man, it was still an heirloom.

“Did you find where that fucking mole is holed up?”

The explosion had to have been set by someone inside. The compound was effectively impenetrable from the exterior. Its emergency system dropped fire shutters in stages to isolate each zone, which meant the sequence could only have been triggered by a blast deep within the mansion—close enough to breach the vault entrance itself.