Chapter 11

Nevertheless, gifted and brilliant as Lee Jaeha was in the boardroom, he remained fundamentally human, burdened with fatal blind spots of his own.

The gaps in his reasoning widened exponentially whenever he attempted to regulate volatile emotions with the cold precision of clinical logic. Even his approach to love was unmistakably Alpha-like. Raised within the protective cocoon of limitless generational wealth, he had naively convinced himself that stripping away his executive status was merely the equivalent of offering the “naked body” Taegeon had demanded.

He regarded the surrender of his titles as a modest sacrifice.

Having only recently awakened to the intoxicating concept of love, Jaeha felt desperate to perform whatever miracle Taegeon might require of him. Whether the other man actually wanted such sacrifices was not a variable he had even considered. More accurately, Jaeha lacked the emotional literacy to recognize that it should matter.

“Well, I know Executive Director Lee’s impeccable character better than most, and I think very highly of him. Still, I doubt the Yooshin elite will extend the same courtesy to our Director Jang.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Jaeha conceded quietly.

As the popular neighborhood legend went, Chairman Jang Changsik had dragged Janghan Construction out of the dirt and built an empire with nothing but a single fifty-jeon coin and a pair of brass balls. He had been a terrifyingly vibrant creature, fiercely vigorous even in the twilight of his life. There was a singular, dangerous aura possessed only by a man who had transformed himself from a back-alley thug into the founder of a multimillion-dollar construction conglomerate, personally carving his way through countless bloody hardships to reach the summit.

Yet Jaeha did not find that particular breed of patriarch especially difficult to navigate. Men like Jang Changsik might appear violent on the surface, but beneath the bluster, their intentions were perfectly clear and ruthlessly transactional.

The wedding was roughly a month away, and preparations were proceeding with mechanical efficiency. Neither Taegeon nor Jaeha wasted a drop of energy on planning the ceremony. Such trivial matters were systematically handled by the executive secretaries of their respective companies, and neither Alpha possessed a single romantic notion about the event.

Jang Taegeon, in particular, was utterly indifferent.

He had no interest in the traditional symbolism of the floral arrangements decorating the grand hall, nor did he care about the precise shade of his boutonniere. Even practical questions, such as which of them would wear white, failed to hold his attention.

In a conventional Alpha-Omega wedding, the Omega traditionally wore white as a symbol of submission, regardless of gender. In this volatile union between two dominant Alphas, however, the sartorial convention had become a dangerous gray area. It was the sort of uncertainty that could easily spiral into a vicious war of pride between the two men and, by extension, between their corporate families.

Jaeha had quietly assumed that if Taegeon’s pride refused to bend, he would simply be the one to wear white. It seemed like the most logical concession. After all, Jaeha had been the one to make the desperate proposal, while Taegeon had merely accepted its terms.

Yet when the luxury wedding planner finally confronted them with the question, Taegeon remained completely detached.

“Who’s standing on the left side of the altar? I’ll do it.” Taegeon’s expression did not shift in the slightest. “I’ll carry the bouquet and wear the lace veil, too, if that’ll satisfy your board of directors.”

He delivered the words without so much as a flicker of emotion, leaving Jaeha utterly adrift. He could not tell whether Taegeon had made a macabre joke or issued a genuine threat.

Though Jaeha was deeply infatuated with him, he possessed almost no reliable information about the inner workings of his fiancé’s mind. He knew Taegeon had a foul mouth, although the raw profanity had noticeably diminished since they formalized their marriage agreement.

Despite that volatile edge, Taegeon never directed any genuine hostility toward him. His vocabulary remained sharp, but the subtle way he adjusted his dialect to accommodate Jaeha’s fastidious sensibilities left the Yooshin heir with a complicated, indescribable warmth swelling inside his chest.

Their schedules prevented them from meeting every day, but they shared a quiet dinner roughly three times a week. Taegeon was the furthest thing from a picky eater. He possessed a robust appetite, accompanied by unexpectedly flawless table manners.

For Lee Jaeha, who historically lost his appetite whenever the sweltering summer heat arrived or personal stress disrupted his corporate routine, watching Taegeon methodically consume such an astonishing quantity of food was strangely fascinating. Yet the man never ate in a gluttonous or unsightly manner.

During those regular dinners, they occasionally exchanged brief reports on their respective operations. Most of the time, Jaeha carried the conversation while Taegeon listened in heavy, attentive silence.

“Ah… this must be unbearably tedious for you.” Jaeha caught himself in the middle of his explanation, embarrassment tightening his voice. “It’s nothing but corporate metrics and work talk anyway…”

“You stopped at the most interesting variable. Keep going.”

Taegeon’s voice remained flat, but the command beneath it was unmistakable.

Jaeha had been quietly terrified that he was babbling like an infatuated child. Taegeon’s effortless response immediately steadied him, allowing his racing heart to settle enough for him to continue with several more paragraphs’ worth of corporate strategy.

Jang Taegeon could not exactly be described as affectionate, but neither was he cold. The man Jaeha encountered over those quiet dinners bore little resemblance to the terrifying figure who had formed his first impression.

Just as Jaeha found himself growing fascinated by this newly revealed territory within the Alpha, he received a direct summons from Taegeon’s grandfather. The elderly chairman was dining at an ultra-exclusive traditional Korean restaurant near the corporate district and had requested that Jaeha clear his schedule immediately.

Jaeha promptly instructed Manager Lim to postpone his next two executive briefings and an international conference call. Then he rose from his desk and made his way toward Nonhyeon-dong.

The traditional estate in Nonhyeon was a venue Lee Jaeha had visited several times throughout his career, usually reserving its secluded private rooms to appease older, deeply conservative business associates. Even so, Jang Changsik was the most demanding patriarch Jaeha had ever been forced to accommodate, and undeniably the most unsettling, because the man was Taegeon’s own flesh and blood.

The old chairman possessed none of the fragility or creeping anxiety that typically plagued billionaires approaching the ends of their lives. Instead, he retained a boisterous, almost violent temperament and had a habit of cutting straight to the bone with surgical precision.

“It seems your side of the family isn’t particularly pleased with our Director Jang.”

The sharp clink of porcelain punctuated the old man’s booming statement as he lowered his teacup onto the table.

“I have no excuse, sir.” Jaeha bowed his head in respectful submission.

It was far too late to offer a polite denial. Rumors had already saturated every elite circle in the capital, whispering that Lee Jaeha had completely abandoned his succession rights within Yooshin Group for the sake of the marriage.

Those whispers could hardly be dismissed as rumors. Every detail was the concrete, unvarnished truth.

Since formally notifying his family of his intention to marry Taegeon, Jaeha had spent his days meticulously organizing his affairs. He was systematically preparing to transfer his registered director positions at Yooshin Group’s most profitable subsidiaries to his half brother, Jaeho.

He intended to enter the marriage with only his private liquid assets, his real estate holdings, and the core shares his maternal grandfather, Lee Wonwoong, had personally deeded to him. The controlling directorships at the subsidiaries, however, would legally pass into Jaeho’s hands by the end of the month.

Jaeha felt no lingering attachment to those thrones.

Born at the absolute pinnacle of the social hierarchy, he had always performed his executive duties as though they were an endless mountain of tedious homework. He took no pleasure in handing his mother’s legacy over to his stepmother’s faction, but he simply lacked the petty greed required to fight tooth and nail for corporate seats.

If surrendering them was the tangible price of possessing the one thing he had ever truly desired in his sterile existence, then the cost seemed remarkably cheap.

Jang Changsik, however, viewed the situation through an entirely different lens.

“Taegeon’s father passed away the year before last.”

The chairman’s voice sank into a heavy, ominous rumble.

“Leaving this world before his own father was an act of supreme unfilial piety. But the fact that our Director Jang is suffocating beneath a mountain of debt because his father squandered several construction lines before he died… that is the one thing keeping this old man awake at night.”

The precise phrasing told Lee Jaeha exactly why Jang Changsik had summoned his grandson’s future spouse so abruptly. People who knew exactly what they wanted from a transaction were exceptionally easy to manage.

Jaeha silently conceded that his earlier theory, the assumption that Taegeon was merely a reflection of his grandfather, had been a failure of analysis. Taegeon’s customary indifference returned to his mind, along with the impenetrable, emotionless mask that made him impossible to read.

“I imagine this has caused you considerable distress, Chairman.”

Jaeha’s voice softened into a smooth instrument of diplomacy. He inclined his head with flawless filial deference, then lifted his gaze to meet Jang Changsik’s directly.

“In truth, I was already finalizing the capital allocation for a substantial wedding gift. It will take the form of a direct investment vehicle designed specifically to reinforce Director Jang’s construction business. I intended it as an operational surprise, which is why my office kept the documentation confidential. Still, I realize now that I should have eased your concerns sooner.”

Jang Changsik’s weathered features brightened at once. He lifted his teacup to conceal the satisfied, avaricious curve of his lips.

“Aren’t I your grandfather now? Using such stiff corporate titles between us only creates unnecessary distance.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Jaeha replied automatically.

That immediate submission proved to be the precise key the old man required. Jang Changsik erupted into a hearty, boisterous laugh that reverberated through the private room.

Jaeha judged the luncheon a reasonable success. He had sacrificed relatively little liquid capital and secured the unconditional blessing of the Jang bloodline in return. Since he was forcing through a marriage that his own father violently opposed, he needed to ensure Taegeon’s family would never turn around and blame their own household for the conflict.

Yet after committing such a substantial portion of his personal assets to fund the arrangement, Jaeha’s private holdings had been reduced to his remaining Yooshin shares and several commercial buildings in Nonhyeon.

To an ordinary citizen with nothing, it was an immense fortune.

To a man raised at the very pinnacle of the chaebol elite, however, the sudden reduction left him with the peculiar, unsettling sensation that he had become middle-class overnight.

Still, it was fine.

The loss did not weigh on his heart. That much was entirely true.

His critical mistake had been assuming that Jang Taegeon would be as easily satisfied as Jang Changsik. Jaeha should have understood better than anyone that the family’s grubby ambitions and Taegeon’s savage pride were entirely different matters.

Just as Jaeha prepared to log out of his terminal for the evening, the heavy doors of his office swung open. Manager Lim stepped inside, confusion tightening her expression.

“Who did you say was here?” Jaeha paused with one hand still resting near the keyboard.

“Director Jang of Janghan Construction is waiting outside, sir.”

“You should also tell him he’s speaking to his prospective spouse.”

A deep voice rolled in from the corridor behind her.

Jaeha’s breath caught. He froze in his chair, using every fragment of self-control he possessed to stop himself from shooting to his feet.

Taegeon stood directly behind Manager Lim. He was so massive that his silhouette swallowed her narrow frame in shadow, emphasizing the stark biological difference between an apex Alpha and a Beta woman.

Yujin had merely entered to announce the visitor. She instinctively tilted her head back to follow the looming shadow, only to find herself staring directly into Taegeon’s dark, predatory eyes. Under the crushing force of his presence, her breath lodged in her throat.

Noticing the staff member’s panic, Jaeha released a short, controlled exhale.

“Manager Lim, you may leave for the evening. As for the tea service…”

“If you’re thirsty, Executive Director, you can always drink something else.”

Taegeon interrupted with effortless smoothness, his tongue sliding slowly across his soft lower lip.

Profound confusion flashed across Yujin’s face as the vulgar implication registered. At the same instant, scalding color flooded Jaeha’s cheeks. He frantically waved her out of the room before the situation could deteriorate any further.

“Please go home immediately. Thank you for your hard work today, Manager Lim.”

“Ah… yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow, Executive Director.”

She bowed in a panic, fled the office, and pulled the heavy mahogany door shut behind her.

Left alone in the silent suite, Jaeha studied the giant before him for a long moment, his lips parting as he prepared to offer him a seat at the conference table. Taegeon seized control before he could speak. After conducting a slow, clinical survey of the executive office, the Alpha finally moved, striding forward until he loomed over Jaeha’s desk.

“Your ears are remarkably clean. Pretty, too,” Taegeon murmured, his voice sinking into a dark, velvety purr.

Jaeha blinked.

The bizarre observation short-circuited his corporate intellect so completely that several stunned seconds passed before his mind managed to process it.

“…Excuse me?”

Taegeon leaned down until his face hovered only inches from Jaeha’s mask, his eyes locking directly onto Jaeha’s pupils.

“Then why the hell are you having so much trouble understanding simple words? Are your channels blocked, or did some other bastard already fuck those pretty ear canals of yours?” His gaze hardened. “I told you explicitly to show up at my house naked.”

The pressure inside the executive office intensified until the air itself seemed crushing. Lee Jaeha swallowed the desperate, ragged groan threatening to claw its way out of his throat. Taegeon’s dark stare was an absolute and terrifying void.

Only then did Jaeha’s corporate intellect catch up with the reality of the ambush. At last, he understood exactly why the Alpha had forced his way into Yooshin headquarters without an appointment.

Taegeon had come to dig up the covert financial arrangement Jaeha had made with Chairman Jang Changsik.

Jaeha bit hard into his lower lip, his hesitation rapidly collapsing beneath the weight of the man’s dominance.

“I merely assumed… I thought I should at least secure a proper dowry for our merger.”

“I explicitly ordered you not to drag so much as a single fucking spoon from Yooshin into my house.” Taegeon bent closer, his shadow swallowing Jaeha whole. “Do you honestly think a pretty face is enough to make me tolerate this degree of pure, unadulterated stupidity?”

“Director Jang.”

Jaeha cracked the corporate title like a whip, an instinctive attempt to silence him.

The real operational flaw was that Jaeha did not feel even the faintest trace of offense at the degrading insults. He had spent his entire life operating within the rigid hierarchy of a chaebol family, where personal feelings were treated as irrelevant liabilities. He had been conditioned to retaliate against disrespect for one reason alone: to protect the authority of the conglomerate.

That reflex, carved deep into him over decades, was the only reason he had issued the warning.

In truth, no anger moved through his blood. His entire sensory and cognitive system remained hopelessly captivated by the magnificent apex predator looming over him.

As though perfectly attuned to Jaeha’s helpless fascination, Taegeon closed the remaining distance and stopped only inches away.

The two Alphas differed in height by exactly ten centimeters. Jaeha was exceptionally tall and almost never encountered anyone who forced him to tilt his head back. Yet now his gaze rose involuntarily, tracing the rugged and violent line of Jang Taegeon’s jaw with a vacant, almost reverent awe.

Taegeon narrowed his dark eyes as he studied the paralyzed man before him.

“You’re pulling a remarkably cute and pathetic little stunt behind my back.”

“…”

“I need you to clarify your exact objective.” Taegeon’s voice dropped into a lethal, silken register. “Are you actually marrying me, or are you buying your way in so you can become that senile old bastard’s concubine?” His expression twisted with disgust. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like the latter.”

“That was never my intention,” Jaeha rasped, his voice unsteady.

Taegeon had cursed.

Since the terms of their marriage had been finalized, he had not breached protocol even once. At the same time, a bleak and suffocating tide of Alpha pheromones crashed down over Jaeha’s shoulders.

The suppression was brutally physical, a crushing biological force unlike anything the Yooshin heir had endured in all thirty years of his life. A raw groan finally tore free from his throat as his breathing faltered, turning shallow and frantic.

Taegeon watched his immediate physiological collapse, clicked his tongue in cold dismissal, and took a deliberate half step back. The heavy scent of crushed sea salt and wild roses still rolled from his skin in oppressive waves, but he appeared to rein in the most violent edge of his fury.

“Don’t do anything else so utterly useless.”

With that command, Taegeon turned his back on the trembling executive.

From that devastating afternoon onward, Jang Taegeon cut off all direct contact. He disappeared into complete silence and remained unreachable until the day of their wedding.

Within that freezing absence, Jaeha was finally forced to confront the catastrophic scale of his mistake. Every fragile thread of intimacy that had once existed between them had been severed.

All logistical communication was rerouted through sterile corporate channels and passed blindly between their respective executive secretaries. The absolute coldness of their arrangement persisted even through the mechanical proceedings of the wedding ceremony.

When they stood before the altar to exchange their legally binding vows, Taegeon refused to meet Jaeha’s eyes. Even while they slid the heavy platinum bands onto each other’s fingers and sealed their corporate fate, the groom kept his gaze lowered.

Taegeon stared without expression at the metal circling Jaeha’s finger.

A profound, icy terror closed around Jaeha’s heart.

The realization that he had personally crushed a fragile and precious seed of connection before it had been given the chance to take root left him paralyzed by regret.

In the grand analytical ledger of existence, Lee Jaeha was a certified and absolute idiot when it came to love. He had engineered an impeccable trajectory through the corporate world, yet his personal history remained a barren wasteland.

He had lived without a single relationship capable of teaching him the true shape of affection. Beneath a chronic and lifelong lethargy he rarely acknowledged, he possessed a deeply buried capacity for devotion, but his psychological architecture had always remained stable.

He had never experienced the agonizing sting of rejection from someone to whom he had willingly surrendered his heart.

Now, for the first time, he was entirely adrift.

Had this fracture been an ordinary operational crisis, a logistical obstacle involving market shares, contractual leverage, or economic control, Lee Jaeha would have calculated the solution with ruthless efficiency and eliminated the problem within hours.

This, however, was a catastrophic failure of human connection.

It belonged to an intimate and unfamiliar world in which he had blindly offered his heart for the first time. Faced with something no financial model could quantify and no corporate strategy could repair, the Director of Yooshin could do nothing but falter.

Built upon absolute misunderstanding and transactional silence, Lee Jaeha’s married life began trembling from the moment it came into existence.

In essence, his marriage was a fragile and beautiful castle built entirely upon shifting sand.

***