⚠ Content note for this chapter: confinement.
Her gaze was cold. Eunseo, standing in place like an animal caught in a trap, flinched when Jiwon gestured as if to tell him to sit. Then he felt the texture of pheromones slowly washing over him and stepped back. Thanks to his anosmia he couldn’t smell the scent, but the texture was unmistakable.
“Sit down.”
“What business…”
“You seem more impatient than you look. Sit and calm yourself, then I’ll talk.” Jiwon sat back down first and gazed steadily at Eunseo. She didn’t exactly press him, but the pressure was unmistakable. Under that piercing, searching gaze, Eunseo slowly approached the sofa and sat across from her.
Eunseo struggled hard to understand this situation. The moment he had left Jaeheon’s apartment, Jiwon’s people had brought him here as if they’d been waiting… What could the reason possibly be? She had once thought Eunseo was a beta and had found that quite displeasing. Was it still that reason now?
“You look quite worn.”
“…….”
“Has Jaeheon not been treating you well?”
The first question was hard to understand. As if she wasn’t waiting for Eunseo’s answer, she drank her lightly brewed black tea and continued right on.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“…No.”
“This hotel does decent Chinese.”
Jaeheon’s way of speaking must have been a family trait. That bizarre manner of not listening to the other person and just saying what he wanted to say. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Eunseo listened as Jiwon, without hearing a word he said, casually ordered several dishes from someone.
“There’s plenty of time. I’ve been out of the management front lines for a while, so unlike Jaeheon I’m not swamped with work.”
“…With what intention did you bring me here?”
A face so like Jaeheon’s smiled. Watching Eunseo’s shoulders stiffen in surprise, Jiwon answered without answering, just gazing silently. It felt as though he were being evaluated, and Eunseo found himself wrapped in quite unpleasant feelings.
“Have some tea.”
“……”
The cup holding the pale brown tea was remarkably light and ornate. Eunseo fiddled with the gold-rimmed top of the cup, then set his hand back down. For some reason his stomach churned as if it would turn over. The nausea and queasiness that Jaeheon’s pheromones had settled began to stir again at another alpha’s pheromones.
Unconsciously sweeping his palm from his chest to his upper belly, Eunseo heard a door open behind him. A man carrying a large tray came in and set the table. Then, lifting a silver lid without a single fingerprint on it, he introduced the food in a confident tone.
“Crab soup, steamed abalone, and shrimp with lemon cream.”
Everything Jiwon had ordered was seafood. Perhaps because it was Chinese cuisine, the spice smells covered most of the fishiness, but even so it was an unbearable situation for Eunseo.
I’m going to throw up—no sooner had he thought it than his stomach turned. Bolting upright, Eunseo opened and closed several doors before finally finding the bathroom, where he dropped to his knees. Dry heaves that brought up nothing repeated until his throat burned raw.
Barely rinsing his mouth and coming out, the untouched dishes met his eyes again. His stomach lurched once more, but this time he managed to hold it in.
“You don’t seem to like it much.”
“…No.”
“Not fond of seafood?”
“That’s right.”
“Hm… a pity, but it can’t be helped.”
As if she had no intention of eating any of it herself, Jiwon had those agonizing dishes cleared from before Eunseo’s eyes with a single gesture. The plates, untouched, went right back out.
“Quite bold of you. How did you think to start a fire and escape?”
“I… didn’t mean to start a fire.”
“Then let’s correct that to smoke.”
The one thing Eunseo had agonized over: how to make that door—that door that seemed like it would never open—open on its own. The easiest way would have been self-harm, but that required tools, and with the thought—still unconfirmed—that there might be another life inside him besides his own, he couldn’t bring himself to wound his own body.
“Thanks to you, my secretary on standby didn’t have to physically clash with Jaeheon’s bodyguards.”
“And the timing was well matched too.”
Jiwon praised Eunseo’s escape with a perfectly pleasant smile. Goosebumps prickling his arms, Eunseo rubbed them with his palms without realizing it.
“Shall we get to the point?”
“…Yes.”
At Eunseo’s small answer, Jiwon sipped her tea and continued in a level tone.
“I’ll settle your relationship with Jaeheon completely.”
“Isn’t that what you want too, Shin Eunseo?”
Jiwon said so easily what Eunseo had begged Jaeheon for, what he had wished for endlessly. The affection that had risen had overflowed and died away, and that space had dried until its floor cracked. Since some point, Eunseo had thought only of getting away from Jaeheon, and acted accordingly.
“I…”
“You nearly risked your life to escape.”
“…….”
“You must be very angry at Jaeheon too.”
There was no anger. That season had already passed. By the time Jaeheon had locked him in that prison, Eunseo had long since poured out everything, and now there was no feeling left to burn. All that remained was fear. Fear of whether the child that might be in his belly was alright, fear that Jaeheon might do something bad to that baby.
“Jaeheon sometimes fixates terribly on one thing. And then he soon tires of it. The piano was like that, swimming was like that, the dog was like that… You’ll probably be the same, Shin Eunseo.” Jiwon’s fingertip tapped the luxurious fabric of her skirt. Piano, swimming, dog, Shin Eunseo… To them he was truly no different from a dog. Eunseo was sick of their ways.
“I thought he’d do the same this time and left it alone… but this time several things are tangled up, and he’s been acting so blindly.”
“Tangled…”
“Well, that’s nothing Shin Eunseo needs to know.” At the cutting words, Eunseo closed her mouth. Jiwon wasn’t conversing with him—she was merely delivering notice. Chewing over that fact anew, Eunseo just bit his lip.
“Anyway, our interests align nicely.”
“…Is that so.”
“Yes. You’re glad to be free of Jaeheon, and I’m glad to separate you from him.”
It was what he had wished for. The dead affection had become hatred, and even that had vanished from a heart long since hollowed out. As if a cold wind blew through his chest, Eunseo pressed his palm over his left breast, then let it fall.
“How can you do that for me?”
No sooner had he spoken than the man waiting behind him held out several documents. They looked like a contract, spelling out in great detail the restrictions on Eunseo and the compensation.
“There’s one thing I want from you, Shin Eunseo.”
“…Never to meet Han Jaeheon again.”
“That’s right.”
The contract ran long and wordy, but the conclusion was one. Never contact Jaeheon first; if you happen to run into him by chance, leave the spot immediately; if you leave the designated area, contact Jiwon’s side without fail…
“The compensation isn’t small. What I’m providing you is a new identity.”
“An identity?”
“Yes. And I’ve transferred an apartment under that name so you can live without worry for life.” The contract listed, in order, a copy of some omega man’s ID, an apartment address in Gyeonggi-do, and a commercial building address. The current market values of the apartment and commercial building were also written—400 million and 8 billion won respectively—and though the commercial building’s owner was someone else, the beneficiary of the roughly 30-million-won monthly rental income was assigned to Eunseo. The rental income contract was for 10 years, so Eunseo stood to gain over 3 billion won from it alone.
There was no need to wonder how she had found out Eunseo was an omega. Any public institution certificate or his resident registration would show it, and Eunseo hadn’t exactly lived hiding his identity. Everyone had simply treated him as a beta.
“I can’t accept this much…”
“No need to refuse, is there? The more money the better, and consider it your share for what you’ve suffered until now.”
The words were kind, but the tone pressed down as if from above his head. Eunseo read the contract over and over. No matter how he thought about it, it felt like walking into a trap, and the words of agreement wouldn’t come easily.
The penalty for violating the contract was a staggering three times the amount paid, but Eunseo had no thought of breaking these terms. And as Jiwon said, Jaeheon would soon forget him, and then there would be no reason to be bound by this contract at all. But…
“What happens if I refuse?”
“What do you think would happen?”
Jiwon smiled. The curve drawn by her smooth lips was truly frightening, and Eunseo could only swallow several times. Probably… he would gain nothing and be saddled with all the contract’s restrictions anyway. Having come this far, his answer wasn’t even a consideration to him.
Han Jaeheon and Han Jiwon were clearly cut from the same blood. Eunseo shivered, recalling how Jaeheon had once threatened him in a similar tone.
“It’ll be just as you’re thinking, Shin Eunseo. So I’d like you to think in the direction of signing.”
The man standing behind him held out a pen. Gazing up at him for a moment, Eunseo opened each of the two copies of the contract and signed beside his name. Jiwon’s signature was already there.
“Good. Contract established.”
“…….”
“My secretary will explain the details.” Jiwon herself put one copy of the contract in an envelope and handed it over. Against Eunseo’s gripping hand, her pretty nails—neither too long nor too short—glinted. Eunseo’s own nails still showed the marks of being torn and broken digging the cat’s grave.
“Have a cup of tea before you go.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ah, can’t have caffeine because you’re pregnant?”
“…What?”
“Aren’t you pregnant?”
“No.”
Eunseo denied it with as much feigned surprise as he could, as if he’d heard something unbelievable. But Jiwon tilted her head slightly to the left, then straightened it, as if she already knew Eunseo’s condition completely.
“You saw the clause about illegitimate children in the contract, didn’t you?”
“Our family doesn’t recognize illegitimate children.”
“…Yes.”
“Then I hope we never meet again.”
Jiwon politely asked him to leave. Steadying his half-unstrung legs, Eunseo left the hotel room and sank down against the wall without realizing it. The envelope he had barely been holding dropped to the floor with a thud.
Eunseo still couldn’t quite believe this situation, but on the other hand this one thing he understood with certainty. He was becoming completely free of Jaeheon. He would probably never see his face again, never even hear his voice. It was the end of the confinement she had wished for, been disappointed by, despaired over, until she could think only of escaping.
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