"…"
"Man, people crack me up. When they come to borrow money, they’re on their knees begging *please lend it to me*, bowing like they’ll die of gratitude, and when it’s time to pay back they’re always like *he’s a piece of shit I shouldn’t associate with*? People really—there’s a saying about being different going into the outhouse versus coming out, but you’ve gotta have *some* conscience, right, huh?!"
Now the situation was clear.
They were loan sharks after his uncle—and the very nasty, illegal kind.
The thugs who forced their way in at dawn were two men built like refrigerators. Under their suit jackets they wore neon athletic tees with sports logos—an astonishing outfit.
Incongruously, in their hands were three large iced Americanos from a cheap franchise.
"We were gonna come yesterday, but the drunk old man needed to sober up before we could talk, so we came at sunrise. We know we were a bit rude, but well, we brought morning coffee, so go easy on us, nephew."
The one who seemed to be the leader—Thug 1—said with a grin, and the underling-like Thug 2 shoved a coffee right under Eunwon’s nose.
"Coming to talk business empty-handed wouldn’t be polite. Unlike the other pieces of shit in this industry, we’re pretty reasonable. We’ve got the basics down, is all." When Eunwon didn’t readily take it, Thug 2 forcefully pressed the coffee into his hand and swiftly stuck a straw in it.
*Polite… reasonable…*
Looking at Thug 1, who’d walked in and plopped himself on his bed like he owned the place, Eunwon thought of the two words he’d just spat. He himself was seated in a dining chair they’d magnanimously offered, as if in his own home, and his uncle was on his knees on the floor.
They were even lighting cigarettes they’d had in their mouths. He could barely breathe. Grief welled up at the wretchedness of his one sanctuary of the past two years being violated.
"Let’s skip the small talk and get to the point. Dolt, show him the contract."
But such feelings vanished the moment he saw the number in the loan certificate tossed onto his lap. It was a staggering sum—enough for his mother’s new-drug treatment twice over.
"Seo Jonghyeok here talked a lot about his nephew. Said he got into a great university and works at a big company? And his brother did that expensive ballet."
"…You know this kind of collection is illegal, right? I’m not even a party to the deal in the first place. Lending at high interest to someone with no ability to repay from the start—"
"*Hee hee, hee. Puh-haha—*"
For all that he’d spat the words out with trembling lips, trying to put strength into them, all that came back was mockery. Eunwon’s face flushed bright red.
"Your uncle wouldn’t have said that. Your mom and dad must’ve raised our nephew *very* sheltered. You don’t know a thing about the world."
"…"
"Everything you said is right. That’s true. We’re not idiots—why would we lend that kind of money to that crazy old man with no ability? That old man’s organs—someone already took one, and if you opened him up now it’d all be rotten from poor management."
Thug 1 ground out his swiftly smoked cigarette on the living room floor and approached Eunwon. An oppressive shadow fell over Eunwon’s face.
"We’re not stupid either—we set collateral in our own way, y’know. But your uncle here had one *amazing* thing in his hands?"
Slurping his Americano obscenely, the man looked Eunwon up and down appraisingly.
"A pretty, kind omega nephew. In this industry, that’s quite the asset. Seo Jonghyeok bragged *so* much about his nephew that day."
*So the collateral my uncle put up… was me.*
Eunwon’s head slowly turned toward his uncle, kneeling on the floor.
"I—I, Eunwon, I mean, your uncle, so at the time… *ugh!*" Thug 2’s thick palm cut off his uncle’s cowardly attempt at an excuse. Smacked on the back of the head with a *thwack!*, his uncle keeled sideways. Under his loose pant leg, the wounded legs Eunwon had worried about last night were exposed.
Only now did Eunwon belatedly realize: his uncle hadn’t come here to "run away"—this visit had been to sell him out, to confirm the goods.
"*Tsk*, you, you—you shameless bastard. You came to your nephew’s house to rob it, saw the omega suppressants and cackled about how great it was and brought them to us. You’re not even recyclable trash, y’know?"
There *had* been missing suppressants. He’d definitely bought new ones just in case, and they’d vanished without a trace—he’d thought it was strange. That was his uncle’s doing. Over half a year ago—and he’d known he was an omega since then, planning to sell him off…
As Eunwon sank into the dark emotion, a thin flyer fluttered down onto his lap.
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"The higher the grade, the bigger the bride price—that’s how it works. And our nephew here qualifies for a *very* high grade. Young and healthy, smart. A prestigious university and a big company? That says it all. The dick’s a slight minus, but there are people with that taste. And with that face, even grandpas who said they didn’t want a male would be clapping and saying yes?"
Like evaluating meat at a butcher shop. Eunwon was nearly out of his mind.
"It’s nothing illegal. Just marriage. Marriage, like everyone does. We just arrange it."
"…"
"You’re young so you might not know, but marriage originally—you’ve gotta look at conditions realistically if you want to live long and well together. Just sweet-talk some rich grandpas, pop out a kid, and you save your uncle and change your fortunes. Money worries—*poof*—all solved. Okay?"
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The letters on the flyer looked like they were crawling like bugs. Eunwon barely moved his blue-tinged lips to ask.
"How… did you confirm I’m an omega?"
People like this wouldn’t have handled it with just a pack of suppressants. Besides, until just a few weeks ago, he hadn’t even filed his trait report.
"Ah, was that a secret?"
The thugs exchanged glances and giggled. No sooner did he think the laughter sounded ominous than a foul alpha pheromone wafted from them.
"Hide all you want—you think we wouldn’t know? You think alpha males like us can’t smell an omega’s sweet scent? Especially an omega we’re *interested* in. We alphas can smell even the scent clinging to the tips of your hair. We’ve been *quite* interested in you."
"You smelled *so* sweet."
The words, laden with unpleasant implication, slithered over Eunwon’s body.
"Okay, Seo Eunwon. We’ll give you a generous three days."
Three days. Exactly the same deadline Cha Muyoung had granted him yesterday. They tossed their cups, now only ice, onto the floor with a *thunk* and brushed off their palms, preparing to leave.
"You’re smart, so I trust you’ll make a wise decision. Think it over *well*. It’s not all bad, y’know?"
While Thug 2 held the door open and waited, Thug 1 swaggered out, looking Eunwon’s home up and down. Then, at last, staring at the fancy entryway light above the shoe cabinet that had been blinking pointlessly in the empty air—despite being a sensor light—he muttered loud enough to be heard.
"But what kind of rooftop room is this, fuck—decorated like a hotel? Impressive, impressive. Fanciest rooftop room I’ve ever seen." "…"
"This is a rental, right? Careful, nephew. Your landlord’s probably some kind of pervert."
Leaving behind words he couldn’t tell were mockery or advice, the door slammed roughly shut. The brown liquid spilling from the coffee cup dropped on the floor made a grimy puddle where they’d gone.
In the small room, only the exhausted breathing of two people at a loss for words remained, heavy.
—
That loan shark *hyungnim*—Thug 1’s—insight was chillingly accurate.
The rooftop room Eunwon lived in now was the product of someone who, unable to stand watching Seo Eunwon insist on finding only the cheapest rooms—giving up the apartment he’d gotten back for him to rent out and stubbornly hunting for cheap rooms—had gone and bought an entire house.
The mad landlord who’d poured the finest materials into insulation, plumbing, even the wallpaper and flooring, transforming the inside of the shabby rooftop room into a "hotel suite." That identity was, of course, Cha Muyoung.
It was a thorough secret from Eunwon. Because the all-too-sharp Eunwon had grown suspicious of the absurdly cheap rent for the location and facilities, this love house, slathered with Muyoung’s capital and affection, had ended up saddled with the stigma of being "haunted."
Still, thanks to that, the sensor-light malfunctions from the CCTV installed in the shoe-cabinet ceiling could be blamed on the ghost, and Muyoung had enjoyed peeking at Eunwon—who refrained from sleepovers and guests so as not to offend the ghost’s temper, and cutely greeted the empty air with "*I’m home…*" every time he returned—so being called a "pervert landlord" wasn’t one bit wrong.
So then, at the very moment Eunwon was being threatened by vicious loan sharks, what on earth was Cha Muyoung—so worried about Eunwon’s safety and peace—doing?
To know his whereabouts, one had to rewind to just after Eunwon had fled his penthouse like a startled rabbit.
Watching the elevator numbers change—already down on the first floor—Muyoung had been torn between *should I chase him right this second, damn my temper* vs. *should I keep the promise of three days’ time*—when he got a call from his mother, Yoon Heejin.
"Why."
The moment he put the phone to his ear, pressing the elevator button, and spat out his first word, his mother’s furious voice boomed out beyond the speaker.
He pulled the phone far from his ear with a scowl, but the words still punched clearly into his eardrums.
[*How dare you send a secretary in your place to a meeting the adults arranged?!*] Keeping his eyes on the steadily changing elevator numbers, Muyoung thought of the other omega from earlier, the one who’d been batting his eyes. The blurry face that had flirted with Eunwon, going on about "fate."
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