Chapter 20

“Hey. Get up.”

Why the hell is this bastard so violently dissatisfied about this morning?

The hand aggressively shaking him awake was incredibly rough.

Whatever kind of marathon shower Jo Yeon-oh had taken in the dead of night, the man who finally returned to the bed radiated an absolute, freezing chill. Because the Alpha was notoriously obsessed with sleeping while entirely wrapped around him, Gi-hyeon had been terrified that the second the man crawled back under the covers, his feigned sleep would be instantly exposed. Miraculously, for whatever inexplicable reason, Yeon-oh had aggressively kept his distance, sticking to the absolute far edge of the mattress.

It was the sole saving grace of the night.

The catastrophic problem, however, was that the normally dead-to-the-world Alpha had spent the entire remaining night violently tossing and turning.

Already hyper-fixated and deeply disturbed by the cryptic words the bastard had muttered before leaving the room, Gi-hyeon found it physically impossible to sleep. With the Alpha constantly shifting and rustling the sheets, every single one of Gi-hyeon’s senses was agonizingly heightened, violently banishing any hope of unconsciousness.

Even though Gi-hyeon was fully aware Jo Yeon-oh suffered from mild insomnia, he had always found the diagnosis incredibly hard to believe, purely because the Alpha always fell into a deep, uninterrupted coma the exact second he lay down next to Gi-hyeon. The fact that the man was currently incapable of achieving deep sleep and was restlessly thrashing around was highly abnormal.

Because of the relentless disruption, Gi-hyeon had only managed to finally slip into a fitful, exhausted slumber right before the break of dawn. Consequently, the rough, aggressive hands violently shaking him awake this morning triggered an explosive surge of pure irritation. What the hell did I even do to deserve being tortured like this when I’m just trying to sleep? He couldn’t fathom the bastard’s psychotic reasoning.

“…Hey, if you’re awake, just leave. Why are you so fucking obsessed with torturing me?”

“I specifically told you to use pretty words. You aren’t the only one with a fucking temper here. Get up, I finished cooking breakfast.”

Why the hell is a literal chaebol heir cooking more meals than my rice cooker?

Just as Gi-hyeon opened his mouth to hurl a venomous retort, the Alpha abruptly spun around and marched straight out of the bedroom, entirely robbing Gi-hyeon of his opportunity to explode. Left with a deep, furious trench carved between his brows, Gi-hyeon was forced to drag himself out of bed. He desperately wanted to squeeze in a morning workout, but since he was being relentlessly robbed of sleep every single night, he was forced to spend every available morning minute desperately trying to claw back his sleep deficit.

Dragging his heavy, battered body into the kitchen, he found Jo Yeon-oh had already meticulously arranged two sets of silverware on the dining table. As Gi-hyeon sluggishly shuffled his feet across the floor, the Alpha’s gaze immediately locked onto his ankle.

Sensing the suffocating weight of Jo Yeon-oh’s scrutiny, Gi-hyeon instantly corrected his posture, forcing himself to walk with terrifyingly precise, measured steps to hide the drag. He knew exactly what was coming. The Alpha would inevitably launch into a relentless, exhausting interrogation: Does it hurt? Are you even doing your rehab exercises? Why the hell did I build an entire hospital for Lee Beom-hee if she can’t even fix a single fucking ankle? I’m going to withdraw my investments.

The barrage of nagging was an absolute certainty. And the grand finale was always the exact same, predictable command:

“Stop hanging out with Lee Beom-hee.”

The Alpha would always violently hurl that wildly disconnected conclusion at him. Sitting down at the table with his hair still looking like a literal bird’s nest, Gi-hyeon closed his eyes the second the Hospital Director’s name was invoked, perfectly fabricating the expression of a man who had suddenly gone completely deaf.

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. If I tell you not to hang out with her, don’t hang out with her. That bastard manipulated you into starting a hospital tennis club, and now she’s dragging you around doing rock climbing or whatever the fuck. All of that puts unnecessary stress on your ankle.”

“Director Lee Beom-hee is a board-certified specialist in Rehabilitation Medicine, and I am a licensed physical therapist officially certified by the Minister of Health and Welfare. Tell me, who possesses a more accurate medical understanding of my ankle’s condition: you, a man who graduated with a degree in Business Administration, or Director Lee and myself?”

“I really fucking hate how your sentences suddenly get incredibly long every single time I tell you to stop hanging out with that bastard. You normally give the shortest, most half-assed responses to everything else.”

The Alpha relentlessly micromanaged Gi-hyeon’s entire social circle, violently severing his few remaining friendships with a barrage of psychotic excuses: That guy is infected with ‘entrepreneur disease,’ that kid is absolute human garbage, that guy is just way too fucking ugly, isn’t she a married woman? No matter how you look at it, her husband is definitely going to feel threatened by your face, are you seriously trying to cause domestic discord and ruin your friend’s happiness?

Having already successfully isolated Gi-hyeon from the vast majority of his social circle, the fact that the bastard was now actively trying to excommunicate Beom-hee was utterly absurd.

“Just eat your food, Director Jo.”

Delivering the deadpan dismissal, Gi-hyeon began shoving spoonfuls of rice into his dry mouth. Initially, the Alpha had only been capable of producing either soupy porridge or wildly undercooked, flying rice grains, but at some point, he had miraculously mastered the art of cooking perfectly sticky, glutinous rice that chewed beautifully.

Do all Alphas naturally dominate domestic chores like this?

Because his lifelong childhood friend was a Machiavellian sociopath who actively sabotaged any interaction Gi-hyeon had with other Alphas from a very young age, Gi-hyeon possessed absolutely zero frame of reference for how normal Alphas actually functioned in society.

He did, however, fully acknowledge that their physical stamina was operating on entirely different planes of existence. Despite constantly pulling all-nighters, working relentless overtime, and jet-setting on exhausting business trips, Jo Yeon-oh still flawlessly managed to commute back to Gi-hyeon’s apartment every single night. He cooked dinner, meticulously cared for Gi-hyeon, fed the goldfish, and occasionally even chauffeured Gi-hyeon directly to the hospital doors.

The only saving grace was that the Alpha had finally conceded that hiring professionals for deep cleaning was more efficient, regularly contracting a cleaning service. While Gi-hyeon vehemently despised the idea of strangers entering his sanctuary, the very real fear that Jo Yeon-oh might literally work himself to death from exhaustion forced him to permit the hired housekeepers.

Despite possessing a Business Administration degree, Jo Yeon-oh was officially in charge of the Naban Gallery. Using “studying art” as a pathetic excuse, the Alpha had a fine arts professor personally summoned to his corporate office for private tutoring sessions every two weeks. Watching Jo Yeon-oh navigate that apocalyptic schedule, Gi-hyeon was genuinely astounded that the man possessed the sheer, monstrous stamina required to sustain it all.

Even while maintaining that grueling, hyper-active lifestyle, the Alpha somehow managed to retain a vastly superior skeletal muscle mass than Gi-hyeon with just a few evening workout sessions. It forced Gi-hyeon to cynically conclude that some people were simply genetically superior from birth.

To guarantee his admission into the Military Academy, Gi-hyeon had rigorously managed his physical fitness since childhood. Even after transitioning into a physical therapist, he constantly studied and exercised daily to ensure he could perfectly demonstrate proper form to his athletes. Compared to that relentless, grueling effort, Jo Yeon-oh effortlessly maintained a physique forged like a literal god of war with a fraction of the commitment.

Furthermore, the sheer volume of food they consumed was entirely disparate. Terrified that gaining excess weight would place agonizing stress on his shattered ankle, Gi-hyeon consciously and strictly regulated his portions. Jo Yeon-oh, conversely, ate an absolutely terrifying amount of food. Despite possessing the flawless, refined aesthetics of a highly bred aristocrat, the sheer, mountain-like volume of rice piled into the Alpha’s bowl—resembling the monstrous portions fed to starving farmhands—was a hilarious contradiction.

Since the Alpha had always piled his cafeteria trays into precarious towers even back in school, Gi-hyeon should have been used to it by now, but witnessing a man with such breathtakingly delicate, pretty features consume that much food remained endlessly fascinating. The fact that a man well into his thirties—an age where most men inevitably developed a gut—maintained a lower abdomen so aggressively flat it was practically rock-hard was genuinely awe-inspiring.

Desperately attempting to use these useless, trivial observations to forcefully shove the horrifying memories of last night out of his brain, Gi-hyeon caught a fleeting glimpse of Yeon-oh’s phone lighting up on the table. Assuming it was a simple alarm, Yeon-oh casually reached out and swiped the screen to dismiss it.

“What alarm was that?”

Since it was a bizarrely specific time for an alarm to trigger, Gi-hyeon asked. Aggressively piling a massive serving of fresh spring cabbage kimchi onto Gi-hyeon’s plate, the bastard answered.

“The alarm to remind me to make you take your vitamins.”

“…Seriously, enough is enough. I’m not an eighty-year-old geriatric patient. You act like you’re performing some grand act of filial piety by constantly monitoring my meals and force-feeding me supplements…”

The sheer, suffocating micromanagement was so absurdly excessive that Gi-hyeon could only let out a hollow, exasperated scoff. Wearing an expression of absolute, terrifying indifference, Jo Yeon-oh stared intently at the corners of Gi-hyeon’s mouth. He was explicitly checking to see if Gi-hyeon’s mocking scoff would miraculously mutate into a genuine smile.

Being subjected to such intense, obsessive scrutiny practically guaranteed Gi-hyeon’s lips would pull into a deep scowl instead.

Realizing his mission to extract a smile had failed yet again, Jo Yeon-oh offered a casual shrug.

“If you’d just obediently take them the first time I told you, I wouldn’t have to do this. But since you stubbornly refuse to fucking listen, I can only assume our little Gi-hyeon is just desperately craving his hyung’s attention.”

You’re absolutely delusional.

Gi-hyeon merely mocked the Alpha internally as he finished his meal.

Feigning deafness, Gi-hyeon let Yeon-oh’s nagging about failing to finish the food he was given wash entirely over him. However, the Alpha relentlessly pinched and pulled on his ear, demanding he stop acting ridiculous, violently forcing Gi-hyeon to open his eyes again.

The sharp sting of his abused ear snapped Gi-hyeon’s patience, prompting him to ruthlessly kick Jo Yeon-oh squarely in the shin. He was treated to the highly satisfying visual of the third-generation chaebol hopping around the kitchen on one foot, clutching his shin in agony bright and early in the morning.

***