* * *
Woohee clumsily grabbed the chocolate box, then stood up from his lap, bowed politely, and walked away—deliberately trying to provoke him.
Jinwoo stood there, baffled.
Then, in a fit of rage, he grabbed the bedside lamp and hurled it to the floor.
He tore down the curtains, flipped the mattress over with brute strength.
He had always believed Woohee loved him.
Sure, their relationship had its… coercive aspects, but if he loved Woohee, then surely Woohee loved him back, right?
But no?
Was it really just about the chocolate?
Had all those times he’d made him cry, hit him, tormented him—had Woohee just been smiling through it for a piece of candy?
He yanked out every last chocolate he’d kept neatly displayed in the glass cabinet—the ones he used to lure Woohee into this room—and threw them violently onto the floor.
But no matter how much he vented his jealousy on inanimate objects, the frustration wouldn’t fade.
Gritting his teeth, Jinwoo stormed out.
He needed to collar Woohee, remind him of his place.
Teach him that without Jinwoo, he had no right to stay in this house.
He’d make him kneel and beg.
But when he threw open Woohee’s door, he was gone.
“Where are you?! My omega! Where’s mine?!”
Clutching the chocolate box to his chest, Woohee slipped out of Jinwoo’s room—only to freeze in shock.
Kim Minjeong was waiting there, her face pale and exhausted.
“Woohee… Did hyung punish you again?”
“…Yes.”
Woohee hid the chocolates behind his back.
She already knew—how Jinwoo would abuse him, then reward him with desserts like some kind of consolation prize.
The sight of him like this finally pierced the conscience she’d long suppressed.
Minjeong clutched her chest as if in pain.
Oh? Woohee marveled inwardly. So she does know what her sons are doing.
Well, it’d be hard not to.
But she’d stayed silent because Jinwoo wasn’t someone she could easily oppose.
Still, her pity was obvious—and if he played this right, he could trigger her maternal instincts enough to make a move.
Sniffling, he sucked his lips inward.
His adorable walnut-sized chin trembled as tears welled up in his eyes.
“Mom… hic… Mom, I… I can’t take it anymore.”
Something in Minjeong snapped.
Without another word, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the elevator.
“Huh? Wh-Where are we going, Mom?”
Too tense to answer, she watched the descending floor numbers with frantic eyes.
Meanwhile, Wooo-hee smirked crookedly, imagining Jinwoo’s fury when he realized he’d vanished.
In the underground garage, still in his pajamas, Woohee got into the car with Minjeong.
The driver, spotting them in the backseat, started the engine.
Pressing against the window, Woohee watched the mansion shrink into the distance.
Minjeong finally exhaled and spoke.
“For now, Woohee, stay at Mom’s place.”
“Huh? Your place? But our home is back there…”
“It’s a house I bought before marrying. Quiet, peaceful. You’ll like it.”
She’d thought giving Jinwoo control over Woohee would fix everything—that his madness would fade, that their family could be happy.
But no.
That was just a mother’s wishful thinking.
Her son was a monster, and his sickness was incurable.
Only now was she accepting it.
“It might be dangerous alone, so I called Taejoon. Have fun with his friends—barbecue, swimming, whatever. Okay?”
Woohee’s eyes reddened as he looked at her.
“Hic… Th-Thank you, Mom.”
“What’s there to thank me for? I’m the one who’s sorry—for not taking you away sooner.”
Cupping his tear-stained cheeks, her own eyes welled up.
“My baby… Mom’s sorry. So, so sorry.”
Her face was drenched in tears, guilt overwhelming her for the first time—guilt over the happy slave life she’d enabled.
Silently, Woohee comforted her in his heart.
‘Mom, hyung and I were having plenty of fun. Your sons are both massive perverts, you know.’
But he couldn’t say that.
So instead, tearful yet composed, Woohee shook his head.
I’m okay.
Every time the car sped down the unpaved road, clouds of dusty earth billowed up.
Inside the vehicle, jolting and swaying over the uneven gravel, a terrible nausea churned in my stomach.
I covered my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
Kim Minjeong, who had lived a sheltered life, looked just as haggard, slumped in the backseat.
The driver, now responsible for two delicate passengers, glanced worriedly in the rearview mirror and slowed the car as much as possible.
After what felt like forever, the navigation system announced their arrival at the destination before shutting off.
The villa’s caretaker was in the middle of refilling the large swimming pool.
Using a net, he skimmed fallen leaves from the water’s surface whenever the wind blew.
Just then, a luxurious imported car rolled into the villa’s courtyard.
Wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, the caretaker hurried over to greet the young mistress and the second young master.
Unlike other chaebol omegas, who were often sharp-tongued, the frail young mistress was kind-hearted.
When the caretaker’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer, she had generously covered the medical bills, allowing his wife to live well to this day.
Sun-tanned and wrinkled, his face broke into a warm smile as he approached the idling car, clasping his hands respectfully.
The driver stepped out first to open the rear door.
From the opened door emerged the young mistress and the young master.
The caretaker thought to himself how strikingly beautiful the young master was, taking after his lovely sister.
“Welcome, young mistress. Your friend arrived earlier and is already having a meal.”
Kim Minjeong, her face pale, gave the caretaker a weak smile.
Sensing her exhaustion, he turned his concerned gaze to the second young master being introduced.
“Thank you, Mr. Kim. This is my second son. Woohee, say hello. He’ll be taking care of the villa while we stay.”
Kim Minjeong gave Woohee a gentle nudge, prompting him to bow politely.
Unlike Chairman Yeo and Yeo Jinwoo, who treated staff as beneath them, Kim Minjeong and Yeo Woohee always showed respect to those who worked for their convenience.
“Hello, sir. I’m Yeo Woohee.”
“My, my, how lovely! You look just like the young mistress when she was little.”
Kim Minjeong laughed awkwardly at the comment but didn’t correct him about Woohee not being her biological son.
The fresh, crisp air soothed Woohee’s queasy stomach as they walked past the white-tiled pool toward the villa.
At the dining table, Na Taejoon was stuffing his mouth with japchae when his eyes met Woohee’s.
Choking slightly, he flailed before finally swallowing hard.
“Woohee!”
He leapt from the table and pulled Woohee into a tight hug. In the time they hadn’t seen each other, Woohee had lost some of his baby fat, his already striking beauty now as delicate as an orchid drenched in dew.
The caretaker, noticing Taejoon’s empty plate, hesitantly spoke up.
“Young man, if you’re finished, may I clear the table?”
“Ah—yes! It was delicious, thank you.”
He had wanted to take leftovers home—not just because it was wasteful to leave so much uneaten, but because he wished he could share it with his grandmother.
The caretaker packed the remaining food into airtight containers, wrapping them carefully in cloth.
Taejoon watched, reminded once again of the invisible divide between himself and Woohee.
Just as there was an unspoken line between him and Woohee, so too was there one between the caretaker and the young master.
Someone like Yeo Woohee would never eat leftovers stored in the fridge—not when there were servants ready to cook fresh meals for him anytime.
The caretaker slipped on rubber gloves and began washing dishes.
* * *
