He slept like he’d passed out. No dreams, no tossing. He must even have drooled — the moment he opened his eyes he had to hurriedly suck in a breath — ssup — and wipe his mouth.
It had been so long since he’d woken up this refreshed, with no desire to sleep more. Groggy yet clear and light-headed, Eunwon touched the pillowcase marks on his cheek with his fingertips, deeply bewildered.
Even though Muyoung had reassured him he could sleep, how had he relaxed so completely — carried over in someone else’s arms, after all that chaos?
The contrast was stark — fallen asleep in the rooftop room, woken up in the penthouse —which only made it more absurd, and it was astonishing that he hadn’t woken even once during the move.
And this place was… not even the guest room, but Muyoung’s room, Muyoung’s bed. His most private space, steeped in Cha Mu’s heavy, wonderful pheromones.
Too beloved and familiar a scent to feel like a stranger’s bedroom, and the blanket wrapped around him unrealistically cozy — Eunwon burrowed his face into the pillow as if spellbound, letting out a low "ngh…" groan.
In surroundings like these, deep sleep had been inevitable — rationalizing his possibly shameless behavior to himself, Eunwon finally pushed his creaking body upright a few minutes later.
"Even so, sprawling out like this is kind of funny…" He muttered self-reproachfully, looked in the mirror, and let out a hollow laugh. His face was puffy, his hair a complete bird’s nest. He was still in yesterday’s T-shirt and training pants — his at-home pajamas, exactly as they were.
There was no clock in Cha Muyoung’s bedroom, and no phone to be found nearby, so Eunwon left the room unable to even guess the time, roughly combing his tousled back hair with his hand.
Every movement after opening the door was steeped in embarrassment. Except for when they were very young and close as real brothers, even when he’d slept over at his house he’d slept in the guest room or on the sofa — never once had he claimed the owner’s empty bed. Especially since seventeen, when he’d realized his special feelings for Muyoung, Eunwon had strictly kept his own boundaries.
The first thing he noticed in the living room, where he’d emerged all awkward, was the savory smell of food. From the kitchen came the clatter of someone moving about. Given Muyoung’s personality — extremely uncomfortable sharing space with people he wasn’t close to — he wouldn’t have called anyone over on a weekend, so the cook was probably Muyoung himself.
Eunwon’s phone was on the table in front of the living room sofa. He checked the time: Saturday, just past noon. He’d thought he’d slept an enormous amount, so it was a relief it wasn’t that bad.
He inwardly relaxed, confirming the pattern lock was securely engaged on the charging phone. Not that he didn’t know and trust full well that Muyoung wasn’t the type to go snooping through someone else’s phone.
Clutching the phone he’d finally gotten back after a day in both hands, lips pressed tight, Eunwon turned toward the kitchen — when something unsettling caught his eye. A document envelope dropped in the dark shadow under the desk.
In a space where everything was arranged with ruler-straight precision, befitting the home of a famously mysophobic man — anyone in the know knew — this was a jarringly out-of-place mess. He couldn’t ignore it, especially when even his own phone, set on the table briefly to charge, had been placed neatly as if squared to an angle.
Drawn like a magnet, Eunwon approached. Whatever it was, it seemed right to pick it up and put it back properly — losing an important document would be terrible. Up close, it wasn’t just the envelope that had fallen; the contents had spilled out, loose pages scattered messily across the floor.
Thinking nothing of it, Eunwon bent to gather the pages one by one — then read the bold title stamped at the top of one page and froze solid.
"Agreement on Assisted Reproductive Technology and Fetal Surrogacy Management"
What did that even mean?
Unfamiliar legal terms he couldn’t grasp at once — but not entirely incomprehensible either. Assisted reproductive technology. Fetal surrogacy. Feeling the chill radiating off the words themselves run down his spine first, he calmly moved to the next sentence, and the true meaning of the abstruse words drove in, clear and sharp.
Article 1 (Purpose) This agreement is intended to govern all matters relating to the management, until birth, and the transfer of custody, of a fetus carrying the genes of "the client (Party A, Cha Muyoung)" to be implanted into the body of "the provider (Party B, 000)."
Eunwon staggered, his heart dropping. Why would a contract like this be in Cha Muyoung’s house? Why would he have written his own name as the "Party A" of such a contract?
The questions multiplied, but his shock-dulled head couldn’t form a single proper guess. Without realizing it, Eunwon’s hands were flipping through the other pages.
And when he found the main contract — the thickest bound bundle — he understood at once.
"Special Marriage Contract"
Beneath it, dressed up in nothing but fancier wording, was exactly the same sordid proposal the loan sharks had thrown at him just hours ago. Take money, get married, play the spouse — and even bear a child.
He’d never dreamed he’d run into it again here of all places — in Cha Muyoung’s house, as such a neatly drafted document.
This was on a different level from the tacky, crude flyer the loan-shark thugs had shown him — a formal contract custom-made for "Party A, Cha Muyoung." The other contracts attached behind it were every bit as shocking and… unrealistically pristine.
"Biological Asset Consignment and Genetic Preservation Agreement," "Custody Transfer Agreement," "Special Housing Support and Health Management Services Contract," "Exclusive Care and Biodata Provision Contract," and so on…
And attached at the very back were the profiles of omegas hoping to become "Party B" in this contract. Their credentials were dazzling — so much so it was hard to understand why they’d volunteer for something like this.
A strange sense of déjà vu. The profiles of the blind-date candidates Muyoung had pushed him to meet in his place a few days ago had been written up just like this.
"Ah…"
Cha Muyoung was going to pay these people to have his child through a loveless marriage. The reason this conclusion — which he should have reached long ago — arrived a beat late was the fixed idea about Cha Muyoung rooted deep in Eunwon’s head.
That hyung was a kind, righteous person. That he would never do something so immoral. A lifetime of stubborn, almost blind faith.
"You know, that chaebol hyung you trust with your life. Ask him. He’d say it’s no big deal too, wouldn’t he?"
Even when his uncle had said that, he’d thought: as if. Absolutely ridiculous. He’d even been annoyed at someone who barely knew Cha Muyoung guessing such bad things about hyung. But.
Finding this neat, perfect contract in his house — with the name "Party A, Cha Muyoung" written unmistakably on it — left Eunwon’s heart tangled beyond control.
Did people from dominant trait-holder families really all live like this? Could money solve everything? Did Cha Muyoung really… did even hyung think nothing of it?
…Then was it really okay for him to make money this way too?
To put it with slight exaggeration, Cha Muyoung was a clear guide and compass in Eunwon’s life. The hyung who’d held his hand and walked ahead since childhood — always cool, always upright — was practically a living textbook to Eunwon.
If Muyoung said so, then so it was. He’d grown up believing that even things that sometimes confused him were "fine," "the right thing," as long as they fell within what he allowed — no deep thought needed.
Therefore.
If Cha Muyoung said it was fine… then maybe it really was fine. In Eunwon’s heart, his judgment of "contract marriage" was quietly turning over.
Of course, discomfort still lingered in one corner of his heart. Being told to marry as if sold for money — it collided head-on with every moral standard he’d learned and kept until now.
But maybe he just didn’t properly understand the trait-holders’ world yet, and was thinking from too beta a perspective.
In the world of trait-holders — who transcended traditional gender and ethics, called "alpha-omega, the new humanity" — maybe this approach was actually preferred…
That must be why Cha Mu — that amazing person — had drawn up such a contract without hesitation and was looking for someone to bear his child.
Thinking it through calmly, with an open mind, it actually made sense. All the more so because it was Cha Muyoung.
Traumatized by the accident he’d suffered as a child, he intensely hated other people’s pheromones and contact — he’d surely far prefer making a baby cleanly through contractual modern medical technology over becoming intimate enough to share a bed with someone.
"…If it’s like that, isn’t it a bit better?"
At least he wouldn’t feel like he was "selling his body" in the sexual sense.
The great wall of conviction he’d declared would never fall crumbled in an instant. Others might sneer at him for having no backbone, but Eunwon had lived his whole life this way —always using Cha Muyoung as his reference point, following behind him.
True, this time the positions were polar opposites — "Party A" and "Party B," "buyer" and "seller" — and he was being strong-armed at the edge of a cliff, fighting for survival, so using his choice as a standard was a bit of a stretch. But.
"If you get rich, you can take better care of your sick sister-in-law and Yiwon living abroad — how great would that be? Right? Your father would be proud too."
Honestly, 99% of the worries crushing Eunwon’s shoulders were things money could solve. Horrible as the words had been coming through his uncle’s mouth, they were in fact what Eunwon himself most desperately wished for.
If only he were rich, if only he had the means. How wonderful it would be not to let his sick mom and struggling brother suffer. So Dad could rest in peace in heaven, no longer anxious with worry for the family…
Glancing toward the kitchen, Eunwon crouched behind the desk, found the most important clauses in the contracts, and photographed each page’s details, saving them. He tidied the documents back onto the desk, then opened an internet search window.
"special contract marriage"
Holding his breath, typing with trembling fingertips, about to press search — his finger hesitated in midair at the last shred of unease.
"Eunwon."
Muyoung’s kind voice from inside the kitchen snapped Eunwon back to his senses.
"Since you’re up, want to wash up first?"
Like a child caught about to do something very bad, Eunwon startled and — though no one was watching — glanced around furtively and quickly pressed the hold button on the side.
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