IWM Ch 5

The shadow of leaves, illuminated by the streetlight, fell across the man’s face. Even though Chiyoon was being held, he was only slightly higher than Jihwon. Everything was going against his wishes, and his youthful face was brimming with sulky irritation.

“I told you I hate repeating myself.”

“Did you now?”

A low murmur accompanied the cold sensation that touched his back. It was the wall of the officetel.

No wonder they kept moving farther from the building’s entrance. Jihwon had waded through the grassy edge of the walking path, cornering Chiyoon right up against the wall. He was unmistakably trapped between Jihwon and the barrier.

Just as Chiyoon opened his mouth to speak, Jihwon cut him off.

“Baby, haven’t you ever thought I’ve been going easy on you?”

“…Going easy?”

Chiyoon replied immediately, his expression bewildered, as if pronouncing a word he’d never heard before.

It’s said there are two ways to piss off a Korean, but really, there’s only one: cutting off mid-sentence.

Cha Jihwon had never properly answered any question. Not about the contract marriage proposal, not about why he kissed him. Yet Chiyoon kept coming back, stubbornly trying to persuade and cling to him. If anything, he was the one going easy.

Saying he didn’t want to sleep with an omega, yet forcing a kiss. Refusing to listen to a word Chiyoon said, slipping away like an eel every time. And then—

“What do you mean you’re going easy?”

“I’m not trying to fight. I’m saying let’s have a conversation.”

“The one who wants a conversation is me, not you. I’ve been asking you all along. You’re the one not answering.”

A faint trace of discomfort flickered across Jihwon’s face. The arms supporting Chiyoon’s thighs shifted slightly.

Come to think of it, this was actually fortunate. Holding him like this meant Jihwon had no way to silence him, didn’t it? Chiyoon loaded his tongue like a gun and fired.

“I can do anything you’re talking about. Big deal. What’s there to be scared of? But just because I’m an omega, you say you can’t do anything with me? That makes sense to you? You kissed me, so what can’t you do? It’s just a one-year contract marriage, just se—”

Smack. Their lips brushed lightly and parted.

His mouth, which had been moving nonstop like in a diss battle, snapped shut. “Just like last time…” Jihwon chuckled, peeling away the clinging flesh.

“How about we keep it quiet for a bit?”

His low voice whispered near Chiyoon’s lips.

“What if the neighbors misunderstand, thinking some creep’s doing weird stuff with a kid? Our position’s a bit… compromising.”

What the… Chiyoon’s mind filled with question marks.

It wasn’t something his brain had control over. Despite his resolve, his face flushed instantly. He’d been so sure he could handle it. That he could do it casually. But a single childish peck—

Their gazes met faintly, intertwining.

“So yeah, I’m going easy on you.”

There was a self-deprecating glint in his eyes. Even the loose smile on his lips.

“I said I didn’t want anything to do with an omega, so why do you keep popping up?”

“…”

“You’re threatening to sleep with me—what if I actually took you up on it? What if you ended up pregnant or something? Your mom would cry, wouldn’t she?”

The kiss earlier, being trapped in his arms—it felt meaningless now. They were close, but Jihwon was keeping a deliberate distance from Chiyoon.

Chiyoon couldn’t figure out what this guy wanted. A walking contradiction, strange from head to toe. In just a few days, that’s how Chiyoon defined Cha Jihwon.

But one thing was clear instinctively: the kiss was a warning. A signal to stop clinging to him. A warning from a man who mixed what he wanted and didn’t want into a chaotic jumble of words.

Looking down silently, Chiyoon spoke without heat.

“This is another warning, isn’t it?”

The beauty mark by his mouth twitched. A sneer.

“…You came knowing it was a warning, huh.”

“Why should I be scared of that? It’s just a one-year contract marriage.”

“This one didn’t work either?”

“You think it would? You’re the one who needs to pick a lane. Sleeping with you is a separate issue—I don’t have any interest in that either. I’m only answering because you’re pissing me off with your scare tactics.”

Jihwon took the torrent of words head-on. Listening as if granting a favor, his attitude almost patronizing. Chiyoon huffed, his chest heaving.

“You don’t want to sleep with me. I don’t want to sleep with you. We both need to get married. So what’s the problem?”

“Then why do you need to get married? With a guy like me, of all people.”

“I told you. Good face, good status. You’re the only one around me like that.”

“Kid. That’s not what I’m asking.”

Jihwon’s question landed heavily.

He’d deflected earlier for the same reason as always: Cha Jihwon had never given him a straight answer. Even learning that Jihwon needed a marriage came from eavesdropping on his talk with Taesoo.

He’d meant to keep it to himself—dirty and petty as it was. But if Jihwon wanted an honest conversation, Chiyoon wasn’t above playing along.

“Because you fit the conditions.”

“…Conditions?”

“To get out of my family’s house, I need a guy like you. Someone I can marry who’ll let me live well without taking over the bossam place.”

Deep into the night, silence lingered on the empty walking path. Perhaps due to global warming, summer seemed to be creeping in early, as crickets chirped softly.

The quiet was broken by a laugh mixed with a sigh. Jihwon looked Chiyoon up and down, incredulous.

“Can I laugh?”

“When have you ever asked permission to laugh? Why do you keep asking? Got a knack for making people laugh too?”

“What’s with the face thing?”

“That’s just my personal taste.”

“Ha, this is wild…”

Jihwon ducked his head, chuckling softly. His thick black hair swayed near Chiyoon’s shoulder. Despite being slicked with wax, it only smelled of shampoo.

Having mostly collected himself, he suddenly met Chiyoon’s eyes.

“When your parents want to pass down the bossam place, you say, ‘Thank you,’ and take it. Why waste time chasing some trash like me… You’re way too bold for your own good.”

Chiyoon glared, visibly displeased.

“Bold, huh? Who’s the one who just… pecked me?”

“This old man’s always been bold, so it’s fine.”

“What kind of logic is that? And why do you sound like my mom? ‘Take over the bossam place,’ my ass. Did you two sneak off to a café or something while I wasn’t looking? Suspicious.”

“Go ask your mom, then. Tell her who I am too.”

Since last time, Jihwon kept pointing him toward his mother like a kindergarten teacher checking a notice. It almost made Chiyoon wonder if they’d actually talked when Jihwon visited the shop.

The now-cold, low voice called out to him.

“Kid.”

“What.”

“I’m not marrying you.”

Chiyoon bit his lips for a moment.

It was the first complete sentence he’d heard from Cha Jihwon. No hidden meaning, no sarcasm. Just, “I’m not marrying Maeng Chiyoon.”

It was only their third meeting. Chiyoon decided to be understanding. Of course, getting turned away at the door was a separate matter. His mind was already racing with plans to counter this. As expected, lying down on Daeho Construction’s lobby floor was the only way…

Thud. Jihwon bumped his head against Chiyoon’s smooth forehead, where three worms could’ve crawled. His dark eyes, both heavy and soft, narrowed sharply.

“But you’re not gonna listen to me, are you?”

“…Stating the obvious.”

“You’re probably already thinking about lying on the company floor.”

“…I’m not?”

“You know you’re not great at lying, right?”

Of course. Chiyoon had never had a reason to lie in his life. Not to his grandparents, his parents, his teachers, or the kids he went to school with—none of the people he’d ever met.

Yeah, it was only their third meeting, but it felt like he’d given Jihwon a lot of firsts. The uncertainty of the future, the inability to see even an inch ahead—it might all stem from him.

“If I catch you lying on the company floor even once…”

Jihwon suddenly rubbed his nose against Chiyoon’s small one, like soothing a baby.

“This old man’s gonna be pissed as hell.”

Despite the gentle action, the chilly warning sent a shiver down Chiyoon’s spine, making his hairs stand on end. But he didn’t back down, raising the corners of his eyes defiantly.

“…What’re you gonna do if you get mad? I’m not scared at all.”

“I told you, I’m going easy on you. Think it over with that smart little head of yours, okay?”

Jihwon emphasized each word, like a teacher explaining again to a student who didn’t get the theory. Then he pulled his face away, smirking faintly.

“If you want to get married, you should listen to the person you want to marry. Right?”

🥂

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

The clock’s hour hand pointed to nine with a chime.

A slender figure sitting behind the counter shot up. Like a herbivore on guard, Chiyoon stood with hands on hips, scanning the surroundings.

The bossam restaurant was quiet. The soft chatter of family came from the kitchen. The clinking of dishes being washed. The hum of the fridge and boiler. That was all.

The second floor was already dark. Chiyoon crossed the dining hall corridor on the first floor. From the low tables visible right at the entrance to the upright ones deeper inside the rooms, the place was empty, customers having ebbed away like a tide.

“Maeng’s Jinmi Bossam” was open from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. After the last order, the next hour was for closing up.

His unobstructed steps reached the kitchen’s threshold. His grandma would’ve scolded him for it, but he didn’t care. Chiyoon announced into the kitchen air:

“Mom, all the customers are gone. I cleaned all the tables, restocked the drinks and liquor in the fridge. We need to order more beer and cider from the wholesaler. Oh, and I sorted the hall’s trash into the pay-as-you-go bags.”

The stream of reports went on for a while before wrapping up. Chiyoon concluded with one final line, his eyes blazing fiercely.

“Dining hall’s closed.”

The gazes of the family members, each in pink rubber aprons and tending to their tasks, converged on him.

Chiyoon’s mother, Jang Misin, was crouched in a corner of the kitchen, scrubbing the floor with a sponge.

“Oh, good job, son. Well done.”

She answered, looking puzzled.

Misin’s son was always a diligent young man. A bit lacking in social skills, fiery-tempered, and clueless about anything outside restaurant work—but that was it.

But to tackle household chores this aggressively? Misin blinked eyes that mirrored her son’s. The rest of the family was the same.

“So I’m gonna step out for a bit.”

Chiyoon huffed, tossing out his request. Then he zipped out of the kitchen entrance.

Only the sound of water flowing from a bright red hose filled the space.

His grandparents and parents all looked at each other. No one spoke, but the same question was vivid on all four faces.

Chiyoon’s been acting strange lately.

Misin, hiking up her apron, shot up and leaned out, gripping the wall.

“Hey! Maeng Chiyoon! Where’re you going!”

Her booming voice echoed through the empty restaurant. Startled, Chiyoon turned around.

“Why do you keep wandering off in the middle of the night these days!”

At his mom’s valid question, Chiyoon clamped his lips shut. His naturally pretty eyebrows, untrimmed, tilted toward 10:10. A mumbling sound swirled in his mouth.

“…To meet someone.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m going to meet a friend!”

Their shouts clashed across the corridor, echoing like calls from one mountain to another.

Misin tilted her head with a similar expression to Chiyoon’s. There was something she couldn’t wrap her head around.

“A friend?”

“…”

“No, you said that last time too. Are you really meeting a friend? Since when do you have friends?”

Caught already? It was true he didn’t have friends, so he let it slide, but was it worth asking with that much shock?

When he didn’t answer, Misin shouted again.

“That Heebom or whatever lives in Donghae, doesn’t she!”

In the end, even his only friend Heebom’s name came up.

Chiyoon scratched the back of his head, annoyed. He considered spilling the truth right then. A whispering voice lingered in his ear.

[Go ask your mom, then. Tell her who I am too.]

A contrarian streak stirred. Plus, his mom’s attitude last time he faced Cha Jihwon nagged at him. He had a bad feeling that saying something now would be like fanning a house on fire.

Chiyoon tapped his phone and strode toward his mom. The contact list he pulled up was pitifully short. Seven numbers saved. Five of them were family, including the restaurant’s direct line.

One of the remaining two. Chiyoon tapped it precisely. A name and number appeared on the white screen.

<Soeul University Soeuller Gam Doyeon>

Chiyoon shoved the phone screen in Misin’s face.

“A friend, right?”

Misin frowned, slowly pulling her head back. Only when there was enough distance did she read the text haltingly.

“So…eul… University… Soeul University?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know someone from Soeul University?”

“What…? Soeul University? You said Soeul University, Misin-ssi?”

Chiyoon’s dad, Maeng Mokju, popped up behind Misin, eyes wide and intense. Why were they making such a fuss? Chiyoon shrugged.

“Don’t you remember? You and Mom dropped me off there last time.”

“Well… yeah, that’s true, but…”

“I got close to a student ambassador there. Still don’t believe me? You think I’m off doing something shady? A twenty-one-year-old can hang out with friends!”

“Y-yeah, right. Uh, right…? A twenty-one-year-old… can hang out with friends…?”

Mokju matched Chiyoon’s rhythm like an audience member on a variety show. But he couldn’t hide his bewilderment. Fair enough—he’d never seen his son meet a “friend” before.

The real issue wasn’t his dad. Chiyoon stretched his arm, waving the phone in front of his mom’s face.

“Mom. I’m going to meet this person, got it?”

“…Really?”

Misin still looked skeptical, her face scrunched. She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

Chiyoon locked the phone screen. Crossing his arms, he asked boldly on purpose.

“Want me to get their SNS handle too? Or maybe their birthdate, email, what their parents do for a living?”

“Why not tell me to bring their resident registration or family registry while you’re at it, so I can show your dad and me?”

Rubbing her forehead like she had a headache, Misin sighed as if conceding. Her expression was unreadable—neither pleased nor displeased.

“Don’t come back too late.”

With that, the conversation ended.

With the head of the household’s permission, no one could stop Chiyoon. To top it off, Mokju even offered to drive him to meet his friend. He backed off glumly when told kids these days don’t like parents making a fuss, though.

Chiyoon stepped out of the restaurant, savoring the freedom. A taxi he’d called earlier was waiting outside. Staring at the address on the ride-hailing app, he thought to himself.

What do you mean I can’t lie?

His mom always said a married couple is a deeply layered relationship. It starts as a pair of lovers bound by a vow, but sometimes they become friends, or a pillar of support. And ultimately, they’re reborn as each other’s family.

So in a broad sense, isn’t the person who’ll be my husband a friend too?

Chiyoon propped his chin on the car window, rationalizing.

Inside the taxi heading to Dongjakgu.

Maeng Chiyoon was on his way to Cha Jihwon.

City lights poured over the Han River, its surface darkened under the night sky. Despite the late hour, countless cars crossed the bridge, lit by orange streetlights.

In twenty years, he’d rarely left Ulchogu, but after a few trips lately, the scenery was already familiar.

Chiyoon, staring blankly out, shifted his gaze. The phone screen lit up again, showing the contact list. His fingers moved quickly, sending a message. Even though it was his first time reaching out, the content was curt.

Send me your SNS, email, birthdate, and your parents’ jobs.

The recipient’s name: Soeul University Soeuller Gam Doyeon.

[Really… you’re leaving already? Don’t you feel reluctant? We haven’t finished all the programs yet!]

[I’m done with my business.]

[If it’s because you didn’t answer the balance game earlier… I-I-I think our school’s better!]

[You know that was three topics ago, right?]

That was the contact of the student ambassador from last time, who’d clung to Chiyoon’s pant leg, pleading. She’d insisted he take her number if he was really leaving, so he’d accepted it dismissively.

[If you ever need me later, please, please, call me… okay?]

Chiyoon, who’d trampled on countless shady guys’ and casting managers’ numbers like azalea petals, had meant to delete it right after saving it. But with his mind consumed by Cha Jihwon, he forgot.

Who knew it’d come in handy like this? Like they say, even dog poop has its use in medicine.

Done with that, Chiyoon exited the message window and moved to another number. This one, too, was newly saved after nearly twenty years.

His expression turning serious, Chiyoon typed out a message.

Uncle Choisoo.

What time does your boss get off today?

Ahn Choisoo—aka Taesoo. Chiyoon had coerced his number out of him when they first exchanged names properly. He’d said he could give his own number but would die before giving Jihwon’s. Odd loyalty for someone who’d driven Chiyoon straight to Jihwon.

Not long after focusing, the taxi reached its destination. A building with white walls like the fence. Between them, brown pavement blocks and green plants filled the gaps tightly. From a satellite view, it’d look like a sandwich.

That was the officetel where Jihwon lived. A scenery that didn’t quite match the man always clad in black suits.

With familiar, confident strides like he was entering his own room, Chiyoon stepped out of the car. Passing the security booth at the officetel entrance, a sliding window opened with a rattle.

Someone called out from inside.

“Well, look at that—back again today, kid?”

“Yes.”

A quick, precise reply. A kind-looking middle-aged man leaned an arm on the window, asking with concern.

“Executive Director coming back at dawn again today? Won’t you get cold waiting out here? It’s spring, but nights are chilly… I’d let you into the common entrance, but the Executive Director himself said…”

Chiyoon bowed slightly to the man, signaling it was fine. A habit from living with three generations—grandparents, parents, and himself. He couldn’t hide his pouting lips or the furrowed bridge of his nose, though.

“I’m young, so it’s okay.”

Didn’t look okay at all… The guard scratched his head under his cap, embarrassed.

The first time Chiyoon visited Jihwon’s officetel—no, the officetel’s walking path—Jihwon had carried him around the complex like a sack.

Right here, in front of the security booth.

[Oh, who do we have here—good evening, Executive Director…?]

The middle-aged man remembered Jihwon, who’d skipped greetings and leaned in, showing off the young face in his arms. The sleek-looking man grinned broadly.

[Long time no see. Can you see this kid’s face clearly?]

[Y-yes, very clearly. Uh, who is…]

[This kid—don’t let him inside when I’m not here.]

[Oh, of course.]

The guard nodded repeatedly, flustered, glancing at the “kid” slung over the man’s arms like a rice sack.

He did look young, but calling him a kid seemed a stretch—too big for that. A child…? The Executive Director was unmarried. A nephew…? They didn’t look alike.

And that face, fuming with anger. Like a feral cat unhappy in someone’s arms. Even pulling at Jihwon’s hair, but the man didn’t care.

His polite tone, masking a friendly demeanor, rang out again, heavy with intent.

[But only up to the officetel entrance.]

[Pardon?]

[Don’t let the kid inside the building without my permission.]

Going easy on him.

Only then did Chiyoon understand Jihwon’s words.

The hands yanking his hair froze. A bit less than a handspan apart. Their eyes met diagonally from below.

[Smart kid, as expected.]

As if his odd request was no big deal, Jihwon strode out of the officetel complex without another word. Inside the booth, the middle-aged man watched them with his mouth slightly open.

It was late at night. The road in front of the building and the residential area beyond sank into the dark sky.

Jihwon jerked his chin at Chiyoon.

[Your phone’s got one of those taxi-calling apps, right?]

[What?]

[Time to call a driver to take you home.]

Chiyoon’s eyes widened. Was he talking about a ride-hailing app? No wonder he wouldn’t put him down—he planned to send him home like this. Once the taxi arrived, he’d shove him inside like luggage and say goodbye.

When Chiyoon didn’t respond, Jihwon rocked him lightly, urging him.

[Come on, baby, hurry up. Time to stop playing and go home. Don’t fuss when everyone else is sleeping.]

[Didn’t I tell you I’m twenty-one?]

[Exactly. A twenty-one-year-old listening worse than a newborn. You heard everything I said.]

A chuckling laugh. The long corners of his eyes curved even longer.

[So just listen to me, will you?]

The river breeze blowing from afar tousled Jihwon’s hair. Even though it was a mess from being grabbed and tormented carelessly, it suited him perfectly, as if it was intentional.

But those were all pointless thoughts.

In the end, Chiyoon listened to Jihwon. And the events of the past few days were the result of that.

Not going back to Daeho Construction’s headquarters, texting Taesoo relentlessly, waiting stubbornly for Cha Jihwon in the officetel complex.

His roundabout way of speaking made it hard to grasp the point at once. But Chiyoon, true to Jihwon’s expectations, figured out the meaning. His request was clear enough.

Don’t ever come back to Daeho Construction’s headquarters.

When he thought about it, Jihwon had never truly pushed him away. Despite Chiyoon barging in multiple times as a near-stranger, Jihwon had only warned him, never getting angry or kicking him out.

But what if Chiyoon went back to Daeho Construction and Jihwon ignored him or pretended not to know him? The “ignorant, scary old men” Jihwon had mentioned a few times came to mind.

Even if it’s not Daeho Construction, causing a scene in a big company’s lobby would probably bring out some “tough friends.” And who knows what’d happen after that…

The sudden realization hit him: if that happened, he could really get into serious trouble.

It was a scene straight out of a crime movie, mystery novel, or melodramatic soap opera—a mix of reality and fiction. The powerless civilian trying to stand up to a giant corporation, only to get beaten down by private security.

That was the gist of Cha Jihwon’s words. If you’re going to come see me, come to my house, not Daeho Construction.

To be honest, even that felt like empty intimidation. Just like how Jihwon scared him with talk of sex or pregnancy while saying he had no interest. Still, Chiyoon went along with his request because one offhand remark had seemed logical.

[If you want to get married, you should listen to the person you want to marry. Right?]

Well, yeah. That wasn’t wrong.

It was the same when he thought of his parents.

Chiyoon’s father, Maeng Mokju, said he’d done all sorts of things to marry his wife. If she asked for the stars, he’d fetch them; if she wanted the ocean drained, he’d do it.

Next to him, his mom would smile with exasperation, lost in recollection. To Chiyoon, it was clear even now that his dad would drop dead on the spot if his mom told him to. So those words probably weren’t entirely lies.

As Jihwon said, a bad law is still a law, and hypocrisy is still virtue. A contract marriage is still a marriage, isn’t it? If you want to get married, you should at least listen to your prospective spouse.

A contract marriage is about aligning conditions precisely with a compatible partner and executing it like a business deal. But if the other party doesn’t like you, there’s no way the deal goes through smoothly. You have to at least pretend to meet their demands.

Sorting his thoughts, Chiyoon let out a faint sigh.

After finishing his chat with the security guard, he stood in the officetel complex’s walking path. The spot with the best view of the entrance where the guard booth was located. Chiyoon plopped down on a bench that had become quite familiar.

Spring had gotten noticeably shorter lately. By early May, the weather was already warming up, but for some reason, his body, wrapped in a baseball jacket, shivered. As he shoved his hands into the jacket pockets, an alarm sounded.

Chiyoon immediately brought the phone to his face. The lit screen illuminated his pale face brightly. In the dim walking path, it looked like a glowing egg ghost floating around.

Sorry for replying late, young master

The Executive Director is very busy today too

He’ll probably leave work around dawn again

Finally, a reply from Taesoo. His texts were always riddled with typos, likely from typing with log-like fingers.

Chiyoon’s expression turned grim, like a demon’s.

“Cha Jihwon, this guy, seriously…”

A frail voice muttered ominously.

This had been going on for days.

Nine p.m., when the restaurant closed. Chiyoon would rush to the officetel as soon as work was done. But as if their previous consecutive encounters had been sheer luck, Jihwon never showed up, no matter how late it got.

He told him to come to his house if he was coming, but the guy himself barely came home. Leaving Chiyoon stranded in the middle of the officetel complex like this.

Thud. Chiyoon set the phone down on the bench irritably. He’d already thrown a tantrum once before, but it was no use. All he could sense through the texts was Taesoo’s discomfort.

Cha Jihwon was like a “church open, church closed” kind of guy. He didn’t completely shut Chiyoon out, but he drew an invisible line somewhere and never crossed it.

This was another line he’d drawn. A line that said, I don’t want to put you in danger, but I’m not marrying you either. So give up.

Chiyoon was like a marathon runner searching for a finish line he didn’t even know existed. The image of a face he hadn’t seen in days, smirking in front of him, flashed through his mind.

Crack. His smooth forehead creased.

This was a chicken game.

Driving toward a cliff, where the first to get scared and turn the wheel loses.

Maeng Chiyoon, the sole heir of the Maeng family, was born without a shred of fear. Did Jihwon think he was soft just because he’d hit the brakes a few times? Everything up to now had just been practice to get used to Cha Jihwon, a stranger he’d only recently met.

Chiyoon wasn’t exactly a stellar student. He wasn’t interested in studying, and without any ambition for college, he’d fizzled out on his own. But he’d never fallen asleep in class, and in PE, his best event was long-distance running.

Plus, one of the most important traits for a self-employed person was endurance. The stamina to stay glued to the shop from morning to night. The patience to say the same thing two or three hundred times a day without getting sick of it. The composure to send rude customers away politely.

So when it came to holding out, he was confident he could outlast anyone.

If the homeowner wasn’t coming home, he’d just wait until he did, right? Chiyoon crossed his arms proudly, glaring at the officetel entrance. His eyes, sunk in darkness, gleamed like a predator’s.

It was already 11 p.m. The quiet road at night had just one black car with its headlights on. It looked similar, but it wasn’t Jihwon’s sedan, which he’d seen once before.

Chiyoon picked up the phone he’d set down and sent a reply to Taesoo.

Tell him I’ll be waiting.

Normally, he’d be drifting through cyberspace in bed by now. Pulling his jacket tighter against the spring breeze, Chiyoon leaned back on the bench, sprawling out wide.

“Let’s see who wins this.”

🥂

In the end, that night.

“…Yoon.”

Cha Jihwon, as expected, didn’t show up at all.

Chiyoon rubbed his sleepy eyes, pouting his lips. Overnight, he’d become a kid who’d lost track of time playing with a new friend until 3 a.m.

Yesterday—no, this morning. Misin was sitting like an underworld general in the dark third-floor living room. Wide awake, she stormed at Chiyoon the moment he got home, eyes blazing.

She’d told him not to come back late, and he’d thought it was just talk. But Misin grabbed his arm, dragged him to the fourth floor, and lectured him.

[What were you doing out this late?]

[I told you, I was hanging out with a friend.]

[You were out with a friend until now? You…?]

[That’s what I said.]

[Really? No, no… that’s not the point. You’re making me worry. At least call or text—]

Of course, it seemed like she wasn’t sure how to scold him since it was a first for her too.

“…Chiyoon.”

Blink, blink. Chiyoon kept blinking his eyes.

He’d stayed up all night binging stuff at home plenty of times, but maybe running around outside did him in. His eyelids felt like they had weights attached. He had a lot to do today—restaurant work during the day, going to Cha Jihwon’s place at night…

Thud-!

“Hey, Maeng Chiyoon!”

Someone slammed a spoon down on the table.

Steamed eggs, braised pork, grilled mackerel, and doenjang stew with crab. Baechu kimchi and bachelor kimchi, essentials for a Korean meal. The side dishes, carefully prepared by his dad and grandpa for breakfast, rattled all at once.

Lifting his gaze with effort, he saw Misin frowning, raising her voice.

“I’ve been calling you, and you’re not answering. Are you holding a funeral at the table?! What were you doing out there? Coming home at dawn, dozing off during breakfast…”

Chiyoon let his mom’s words slide through one ear, lazily chewing the rice in front of him. He hadn’t even swallowed the spoonful in his mouth.

Mokju gently wiped his son’s mouth with a tissue.

“Oh, Misin-ssi. You’ll make him choke. College kids stay out late sometimes. We used to do that too, didn’t we?”

Even his words to his wife were syrupy sweet.

“Mokju-ssi, I still don’t buy that he’s friends with a Soeul University student. The world’s a scary place—what if it’s some scammer…”

Gulp. A piece of mackerel his dad put on his spoon went straight into his mouth. Chiyoon mumbled while calmly chewing his side dishes.

“Name’s Gam Doyeon, twenty-one years old. Her dad works at a steel company, her mom runs a flower shop. If you’re so curious, go to Soeul University’s student union building, room 201, the Soeuller ambassador club.”

Good thing he checked that text.

After getting scolded by his mom, he’d memorized Doyeon’s reply by heart. He thought he’d gotten a text while staking out the officetel, but he hadn’t replied yet.

“Daughter-in-law.”

A voice rang out from the head of the low table.

Chiyoon’s grandma carefully set down a crab leg from the doenjang stew into her bowl. Thanks to her healthy teeth for her age, the plump crab meat had been picked clean.

“I know all your worries. It’s only natural for a mother to worry about her child. And our puppy… he’s caused a bit of trouble, hasn’t he?”

“Grandma. I didn’t cause trouble at school—I got caught up in it. I was always the victim, not the perpetrator, okay?”

“…Look at this. Our grandson’s pretty sharp, isn’t he? You don’t have to worry about him.”

Something to worry about. Chiyoon rolled his eyes. Preparing for a marriage wasn’t like committing a crime or getting into trouble, so he didn’t need to feel guilty.

His grandpa nodded as if agreeing with his grandma’s opinion.

“Yes, dear. Tomorrow’s a big day for our grandson. Let’s not stir things up for no reason. It hasn’t been long since all that noise, so we should enjoy it…”

The solemn, textbook lecture was cut off by none other than “that grandson.” Chiyoon picked up some bachelor kimchi with his chopsticks, crunching the radish.

“Oh. I’m going out to hang tomorrow.”

“What?!”

KABOOM. If this were a webtoon, lightning and thunder would’ve struck here. The four elders, looking like they’d been hit by a bolt, turned to their sole heir.

Still not fully recovered from fatigue, Chiyoon yawned. Despite the bombshell, his attitude was as casual as ever.

His dad, Mokju, took the lead.

“Uh, son? Going out to hang? We’ve always spent it together as a family…”

Flutter, flutter. His long eyelashes batted like butterfly wings. Chiyoon clasped his hands, giving his dad his sweetest look. His hair, fresh from waking up, was a bird’s nest.

“I want to spend tomorrow with a friend, just this once.”

Polite speech, of all things? Startled by his son’s sudden shift, Mokju broke into a cold sweat. Since forever, Chiyoon only used polite speech with his grandparents and parents when he really wanted something.

His face, a spitting image of his wife’s, tilted curiously.

“Is that okay?”

Gasp. Mokju covered his mouth with one hand, looking at his actual wife. His desperate eyes screamed, Misin-ssi, honey, I can’t stop him.

Misin sighed as if she hadn’t expected anything else.

“Tomorrow too? With that Kim Doyeon or Gam Doyeon or whatever?”

“Yup.”

“…Why don’t you use polite speech with me, you brat?”

“Because aegyo doesn’t work on you.”

How did I give birth to this kid? A nervous headache was creeping up. Then Chiyoon slid something toward Misin. A fancy rectangular paper envelope.

Misin snatched it from him and pulled out the contents. She read the text carefully.

“What’s this… Yeonha Hotel voucher?”

“Tomorrow. You, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa—go have a hotel staycation together.”

“Where’d you get something like this?”

“Where? You think I dug it out of the ground? You give me an allowance, Mom. I saved up and booked it.”

A family of five who saved money but was too busy to spend it. Chiyoon had always had plenty of allowance since he was young. Well, if they didn’t pay him for all the work he did, even family would have to report to the Ministry of Employment and Labor.

The only times Chiyoon spent money were on webnovels, webtoons, or subscriptions to streaming platforms, so saving wasn’t hard. This time, he’d used his surplus to buy a staycation ticket for the family elders.

The reason was simple. Tomorrow was the official holiday for “Maeng’s Jinmi Bossam.”

Which means I can stake out the officetel all day tomorrow.

Maybe he hadn’t seen Jihwon lately because he only went to the officetel at night after closing the restaurant.

Was Jihwon really too busy to come home? Avoiding him? Or did he have another place to stay besides the one he’d given? Sticking around all day would reveal something.

Part of him felt wronged, too. Like Jihwon said, he was starting to feel like a stalker or a celebrity sasaeng fan. All for what?

But when a man draws his sword, he’s got to cut at least a radish, right? Chiyoon put his hands on his hips, declaring grandly to his family.

“Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa—you all work hard because of me. On the one day a year we get, you should rest without me.”

Huh? Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa’s brows furrowed in unison.

The culprit behind their frowns added:

“I’m twenty-one now. Tomorrow, I’ll hang out with a friend and come back. How about we just have breakfast together as a family? Sounds good, right?”

What’s that…? Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa’s heads tilted so far their cheeks nearly touched their shoulders. They understood Chiyoon’s words but couldn’t accept them.

The holiday for “Maeng’s Jinmi Bossam” was always a family event. Every year, the five of them spent it together harmoniously, but Chiyoon had just declared he’d skip it for the first time.

If he’d thrown a tantrum and rolled on the floor demanding to hang with a friend, they might’ve understood. But with a pseudo-filial tourism pitch and logical reasoning on top, the flustered elders were at a loss for words.

“Honey, Misin-ssi… what’s wrong with our son?”

Mokju whispered, looking like he’d seen a ghost. Chiyoon’s eyes widened at the leaked words.

“Dad, your son’s talking right now.”

“Uh, uh… sorry, son…?”

“I’ll cook seaweed soup tomorrow and prep breakfast, so you all can relax. While I’m out with my friend, you guys go enjoy the hotel. Got it?”

Silence fell over the third-floor living room of “Maeng’s Jinmi Bossam.” Chiyoon, sitting at the center of the table, scanned his family. He asked again, as if to drive the point home.

“Got it?”

The four reluctantly nodded with creaky motions. Chiyoon raised one eyebrow. He didn’t exactly skimp on gifts usually, so what was with this? Why were they all acting broken?

Unaware that the changes he was undergoing were rippling to his family, Chiyoon didn’t realize it yet.

Anyway, the plan worked, so that was good. Having achieved his goal, Chiyoon grinned. His neatly aligned teeth gleamed from his pretty, wide smile.

“And I’m going out after closing today too.”

🥂

Right after closing, as he was about to leave the restaurant.

[Son, can I ask you something?]

Misin called Chiyoon back with a serious tone. Tying his sneaker laces, Chiyoon replied curtly.

[I’ll come back early today.]

[Be back before midnight—no, that’s not it. That Doyeon kid… is it a boy or a girl?]

[…]

[What’s their trait? Alpha? Or omega?]

Her light brown eyes, like mirrors, blinked. She had an expectant look. Like a high school girl asking about her student teacher’s first love. Asking about gender or traits specifically felt exactly like that.

Chiyoon caught on instantly. His first love. She must’ve wanted to know if it was something like that.

Fair enough. Her son, who barely interacted with people, suddenly got close to someone and was meeting them day and night—naturally, she’d wonder if they were special.

Love comes faster than friendship, like roasting beans in a lightning storm. At least, that’s how it was in the world of his phone. Friendship is like filling a bucket drop by drop with a pipette, while love is a storm crashing into a soju glass.

[Mom, that’s more than one question.]

But Chiyoon didn’t answer and stepped outside.

First love felt like a stretch. First marriage prospect, maybe. Oh, first peck, first kiss—that much was true.

To drop hints to his mom and lay groundwork for a contract marriage felt too ambiguous in many ways.

To begin with, the person Chiyoon would bring home wasn’t Gam Doyeon. It was that damn Cha Jihwon, who met all his mom’s conditions and stoked his competitive streak.

“If that guy doesn’t show up today either…”

And so, once again, he was in front of Jihwon’s officetel.

Stepping out of the taxi, Chiyoon shrugged his stiff shoulders. Coming home at dawn yesterday and closing up just now must’ve left him drained; the morning’s fatigue wouldn’t lift.

He was skinny but sturdy by nature. Even with the restaurant’s grueling work, he rarely got sick, but today, a creeping cold seemed to loom.

His round head swiveled, scanning the neighborhood. This kind of exhaustion wouldn’t budge without caffeine. There was a café on the corner across from the officetel complex.

The quiet street barely had any noise. Just the occasional sound of something brushing between houses, scratching the air. It should’ve felt familiar by now, but the neighborhood still seemed alien.

A place where people lived, yet not a single voice could be heard. The complete opposite of Cheongham Market and “Maeng’s Jinmi Bossam” within it.

But why did it feel like this scenery didn’t suit Jihwon either? The fancy, pristine officetel, the deathly silent rich neighborhood—none of it.

Vroom—

Suddenly, a faint engine noise from behind tore through the silence.

Chiyoon, who’d been walking forward, turned around.

In his line of sight was a black car. Similar to the kind Taesoo drove for Jihwon. But, as expected, it wasn’t the one he was waiting for.

His impassive eyes scanned the car’s exterior and license plate. The lifeless gaze sharpened, like a lynx spotting prey.

That car… wasn’t it here yesterday too?

Chiyoon had a good memory. Especially since yesterday, he’d been staring at the officetel entrance without distractions. The car behind him hadn’t moved all night, not even when he went home.

He naturally turned back the way he came. At the same time, the headlights illuminating the dark road flickered, and the car’s engine shut off. Something was definitely off.

The space sank back into silence.

The only sound was Chiyoon’s footsteps.

Knock, knock.

“Hey.”

Chiyoon tapped the window with the back of his hand.

“Hey.”

Again, knock, knock.

No answer from inside. The windows were darkly tinted, revealing nothing beyond.

Just seconds ago, the engine had been running. He hadn’t seen anyone get out while approaching, so there had to be a driver inside.

This kind of situation was familiar. Like lyrics from a 2000s girl group song, people often watched or followed Chiyoon—at restaurants, cafés, streets, even “Maeng’s Jinmi Bossam.” Most were either hitting on him for his number or casting managers from entertainment agencies.

If it was someone tailing him as usual, he’d planned to shoo them off. But this one stayed silent even when spoken to. He’d seen plenty of people desperate to catch his eye, but this was a new reaction.

His delicate eyes narrowed briefly. Suddenly, his mind flipped through a mental library, and a small, round lightbulb flicked on with a yellow glow.

Oh. Could it be that?

Knock, knock.

“Hey. My phone’s dead, and I need to ask for directions. Could you roll down the window?”

After a lengthy explanation.

Perhaps realizing the questioner wasn’t backing off, the window cracked open. Just enough for a few slender fingers to slip through.

A foul cigarette stench wafted from the gap. The kind that builds up over a long time.

“Hey, what’s with all the fuss—”

A deep male voice, as thick as Taesoo’s, grumbled with irritation. Though not clearly visible, it hinted at the man’s bulk. It seemed like a couple of people were in the car.

Chiyoon asked calmly.

“Besides that café, is there another one around here?”

“Ha… Young folks probably know the area better. I don’t know the way either. Just keep going.”

“Oh. You’re new here too?”

“Yeah, like I said. Geez…”

An inexplicable certainty took over his reason.

Chiyoon pressed his eyes to the window crack. To someone inside, it might’ve looked like a scene from a famous horror movie. His light brown eyes glinted.

“So why are you following me?”

“…”

“Did someone tell you to tail me?”

He’d seen this in content before. A scene where underlings follow someone on behalf of a busy boss. Could they be stand-ins for Jihwon or Taesoo?

Chiyoon asked again.

“Do you know Cha Jihwon or Ahn Choisoo?”

His voice was firm and clear.

As the question landed, the man flinched in the shadows. Immediately, the roar of the car’s engine starting echoed.

Just as Chiyoon was about to slip his fingers into the mouse-hole-sized gap.

“Young master?!”

A familiar voice called from the opposite side.

“Huh?”

Chiyoon straightened his bent waist and looked up.

Right in front of the officetel complex entrance. Taesoo, stepping out of Jihwon’s car, was staring at him. His mouth was open so wide it looked like his jaw might fall off.

“Uncle Choisoo?”

It was the very person he’d been looking for just seconds ago.

Huh? Chiyoon let out a dumb exclamation, scrunching his face. Taesoo strode over with earth-shaking steps.

Vroom—

In the brief moment he’d stepped back, the driver he’d been arguing with floored the gas. Despite the 30 km/h speed limit sign across the street, a cloud of dust kicked up like a racetrack.

As he relaxed his furrowed brow, the car was already gone.

Taesoo, Jihwon’s direct secretary, had arrived, and the driver had sped off. So what was that car?

There was no time to keep thinking.

“So, uh, you’re here today too?”

“Yup.”

Chiyoon looked up at Taesoo blankly. He was in his familiar black suit, from shirt to jacket. Oddly, he was holding another suit jacket over one arm.

“I didn’t get a text today, so I thought you weren’t…”

“Worried about me? I’m as busy as your boss, you know. Was gonna send one after heading over there.”

“Oh… I see.”

Chiyoon let Taesoo’s words slide through one ear, pointing his thumb behind him.

“Uncle, you know those guys?”

“Huh? Who… are you talking about?”

“The ones I was just bickering with.”

“That was bickering? On this street?”

His clay-like face went pale. He clearly didn’t know. The car was gone, and one of the people he’d been waiting for was here, so there was no point in asking more.

His cat-like eye corners tilted sharply. Chiyoon crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. A warm-up for getting to the point.

“Since you’re here in person, I’ll ask. When’s Executive Director Cha Jihwon getting off today?”

“The Executive Director is, uh, very busy today too…”

“Of course he is.”

Telling him to go home early like a kid, but leaving him in the complex all night was fine? Chiyoon clicked his tongue at Jihwon’s contradictions.

As he glared at the officetel building, a suit jacket was draped over his shoulders. It was the one Taesoo had been holding.

The jacket was twice the size of Chiyoon’s frame. The fabric wafted with someone’s pheromone scent. Cool yet sharp. He didn’t need to be told who it belonged to.

Carefully wrapping the jacket around him, Taesoo hesitated, as if about to say something difficult.

“Uh, the Executive Director had a message. He said to tell you if you were still here.”

“What is it? Let’s hear it.”

“It’s cold, you’ll catch a chill. I’m busy, so I’m heading in to sleep. Stop acting like a stalker outside a stranger’s house all night…”

His tone was stiff, like reading a textbook aloud. As if reciting Jihwon’s message from memory, Taesoo glanced back and forth between his phone screen and Chiyoon’s face.

Ha. Chiyoon let out a dry laugh and snapped sharply.

“Does Daeho Construction not have any employees?”

“…Pardon?”

“Does the Executive Director handle all the company’s work? Who’s the one who told me to come to his house, yet I can’t even catch a glimpse of a single hair?”

“Well, uh…”

“Is he actually busy? Or is he just doing this to make me sick of him because he’s tired of me? What do you think, Uncle?”

Taesoo was sweating buckets. He looked somewhat exhausted too. Perhaps he found it tiresome that Chiyoon still hadn’t given up.

Sigh. A sigh like that of an old soul burst out. A glossy finger wagged at Taesoo. At that small gesture, the bulky man shuffled closer hesitantly.

“Uncle, are you busy?”

“…W-Well, I’m not exactly not busy.”

“Then give me ten minutes. Let’s grab a quick coffee.”

“C-Coffee…? With me?!”

“If you don’t like coffee, we can get something with a fancy name. I’ll treat you.”

Chiyoon pulled a check card from his pocket and dangled it in front of Taesoo’s eyes. A cute character representing the card company was embossed on it.

A flicker of unease crossed the man’s face. It was as if he were debating whether to pluck out a flea’s liver.

Tsk. Chiyoon forcibly linked arms with Taesoo’s forearm. Then he dragged him toward the café. Since talking to the boss wasn’t working, he figured he’d try working on the boss’s subordinate instead.

🥂

The café’s interior matched its surroundings. White tiles lined the walls from top to bottom, and tables and chairs of the same pristine white were neatly arranged.

Overall, the place was clean and quiet. Soft classical music flowed through the air like a gentle breeze. Cutting through that steady melody, a clear, sharp voice pierced in like an experimental composition.

“Uncle, you know why Cha Jihwon’s so stubborn about not marrying me, right? Not the excuses he throws around—the real reason.”

Shouldn’t have come. Taesoo lowered his head, fixing his gaze on the dark coffee cup in front of him. Steam rose gently from the warm Americano.

Across from him, the same drink sat in a mug of a different color. Chiyoon slurped the hot Americano noisily, prodding Taesoo with his eyes.

“I-I don’t really know what the Executive Director is thinking either…”

That was typical of “Cha Jihwon,” the man.

Even a close aide who’d served him for years couldn’t figure him out. He lived a straighter life than anyone, yet he never seemed straightforward—a walking optical illusion.

But saying he didn’t know didn’t seem to count as an answer. The young man across from him didn’t say “So what?” out loud, but his expression screamed it.

Taesoo reluctantly opened his mouth after some hesitation.

“Maybe because of the age gap…”

“That kind of old-fashioned reason is a no-go.”

Chiyoon, deep in thought, crossed his arms like a judge and tilted his chin up slightly. If that was the best he could do, why even ask for a reason? Sweat seeped from the neatly placed hands on Taesoo’s thighs.

Taesoo swallowed his frustration inwardly.

“Then, maybe because you’re an omega…?”

He answered half-doubtfully, lacking confidence.

Living like he had no eyes or ears by his boss’s side, Taesoo still knew how to navigate social situations. Piecing together snippets of overheard conversations, he could make educated guesses. Like the fact that Chiyoon was an omega.

Jihwon, a dominant alpha himself, oddly only dealt with betas. He wouldn’t even touch an omega with a fingertip. It almost seemed like he avoided them.

Recalling that much, Taesoo felt a strange unease.

Eyes that didn’t shy away from meeting another’s gaze. The moment their straight stares locked, Taesoo’s face flushed red.

“You saw us kiss last time, right?”

“…”

“So that’s out too.”

Exactly, that was the odd part.

For Cha Jihwon, the Executive Director, to go this far with an omega he’d normally never engage with. Bringing someone to his doorstep was a first—beta or omega alike. Of course, he didn’t let them inside the building, but still.

Was it just because Chiyoon was a civilian unrelated to this industry? As Taesoo sank into confusion, Chiyoon had already downed half his Americano. Unbothered by the heat, he wiped his lips while sipping the steaming coffee.

“Your Executive Director needs to get married, doesn’t he?”

“H-How do you even know that…?”

“You and he were yelling about it right in front of our restaurant.”

So this was all his fault? If he hadn’t brought up marriage at the bossam place, it wouldn’t have come to this, right? Taesoo genuinely felt like crying.

Meanwhile, Chiyoon pressed on with a crisp, assertive tone.

“Cha Jihwon and you both think I’ll give up soon, don’t you? Turning me away at the door, dodging me, leaving me standing outside like this.”

“…The Executive Director wouldn’t do that, I think.”

“But you know what? I don’t even know how to give up.”

Taesoo flinched and looked up at the starkly resolute words. Chiyoon started counting off points on his fingers, laying out his argument.

“First, Cha Jihwon has parents pressuring him to marry and have kids. Second, Cha Jihwon doesn’t want to get married or have kids right now. That’s why there’s tension between him and his in-laws.”

Jihwon had called Chiyoon sharp a few times, but to deduce this so accurately from such brief exchanges? Taesoo was genuinely impressed by this twenty-one-year-old he’d only met a handful of times. And the next words sent chills down his spine.

“His in-laws and he both refuse to budge, right? So who’s suffering the most here?”

It was a question he asked knowing the answer. When Taesoo realized Chiyoon knew he understood, Chiyoon grinned wickedly.

“You know how they say when whales fight, the shrimp’s back breaks. Uncle Choisoo’s the one suffering the most, isn’t he?”

An innocent yet sinister face. Using “our” deliberately to feign familiarity—it reminded him eerily of his boss.

“…W-Well, that’s…”

He wanted to say it wasn’t true, but his mouth wouldn’t move. Chiyoon was right. Caught between Chairman Cha and Executive Director Cha’s conflict, it was indeed Ahn Choisoo who always suffered.

Chiyoon placed a hand on his chest and lifted his chin proudly, exuding the confidence of an elementary school kid running for class president.

“If Cha Jihwon and I get married, you could live easy for at least a year, Uncle. Sweet deal, right?”

Honestly, Taesoo nearly nodded at that.

Chiyoon’s words were indeed a sweet offer. A year of relief raining down on Taesoo, who’d been parched by the endless father-son conflict…

“But.”

The budding optimism didn’t last long. Those small, animal-like eyes gleamed with a hint of madness.

“If Jihwon keeps refusing to marry me like this, I’m going to hassle you every single day, Uncle.”

“…Huh?”

“You’d be caught between your father-in-law, my husband, and me—getting it from all three sides.”

“…W-What?!”

“So pick a side and stick to it.”

Wasn’t a loyal vassal supposed to offer honest counsel to their superior? Since that superior wasn’t steering straight or picking a clear path.

Chiyoon swallowed the endless stream of words he could’ve kept spewing. His skinny fingers gripped the suit jacket draped over his shoulders. Even in his baggy baseball jacket, the oversized garment seemed to swallow him whole.

Maybe it was the hot Americano he’d chugged, or the big jacket enveloping him—his whole body felt warm and relaxed.

The gentle slope of his nose, from forehead to tip, twitched slightly. Jihwon seemed to smoke quite a bit, but unlike earlier, there was no unpleasant smell this time.

Anyway, Cha Jihwon wasn’t showing up on time, huh. Chiyoon shot Taesoo an annoyed look as he declared:

“I’m heading home in a taxi now.”

“Y-Yes…”

“Go tell your boss: I’m really good at listening to the person I’m going to marry.”