* * *
Nothing had changed.
The view from the top of Naru Villa was as bleak as ever.
The aging wallpaper, the flooring that was light-years away from modern trends, the stiff sofa, the worn-out table—all of it was exactly the same.
The only thing missing was Yoo Junhee.
Like someone had ripped him away and hidden him.
Standing in the middle of the living room, his shoes still on, Taeryu’s sharp gaze burned icy cold.
“…Fuck. Where the hell is Yoo Junhee?”
His eyes darted around until they landed on a familiar canvas.
Peonies.
The flowers bloomed vibrantly against the white canvas.
Peonies were famously scentless, but in reality, they carried a deep fragrance—one strong enough to be noticed even without leaning in.
Most people believed recessive omegas had no pheromone scent.
They were wrong.
They just hadn’t bloomed yet.
And once they did, their scent was intoxicating.
Overwhelming. Impossible to resist.
Just like he had been.
He had watered, nurtured, and carefully raised it—only for it to scatter the moment it bloomed.
Like a dandelion seed carried off by the wind.
“Director, I checked the nearby CCTVs. Yoo Junhee hasn’t returned since yesterday.”
Yeo Daeyun approached cautiously, reporting in a careful tone.
“So he planned this from the beginning.”
It was obvious Hong Yeonggyeong had played a part, but the hotel’s security footage had conveniently gone dark during key hours.
That meant they had no idea when Junhee left, where he went, or what he took to get there.
Ki Taeryu murmured darkly.
“…I should’ve broken him first.”
“…Sir?”
“I should’ve broken something.”
There was weight in those words, and Yeo Daeyun clamped his mouth shut like a mute who had swallowed honey.
“Did you track his phone?”
“Oh, that… Junhee’s original phone was…”
Before Ki Taeryu arrived, Yeo Daeyun had already combed through Naru Villa and now handed something over.
Ki Taeryu looked down at it, his lips twisting in irritation.
“He ditched his phone and ran.”
For someone who looked so full of holes, he was annoyingly meticulous.
Riiip—
The picture in Taeryu’s grip was torn apart, like a flower stem brutally snapped in half.
His secretary, who had been watching, blinked twice in quick succession.
“Let’s see… How long can he keep running?”
Dragging that battered body of his.
Taeryu was willing to bet everything he had—he’d find him within 48 hours.
“Let’s head to the office.”
“Ah, yes. This morning, you have a scheduled meeting at headquarters, and in the afternoon—”
“Leeum.”
“…Excuse me?”
Yeo Daeyun, who had assumed they were going to Taesan, furrowed his brows and asked again.
“Are your ears clogged? Leeum. We’re going there.”
“Ah… Understood.”
Thoughts flickered across Yeo Daeyun’s face as he hesitated.
…He should’ve treated him better while he had the chance.
He had no idea why Taeryu was taking his frustration out on him, but one thing was clear—he needed to lay low for a while.
The Business Development Team’s doors flew open.
Employees looked up in unison—then quickly ducked their heads again.
A man with an ice-cold glare was staring daggers, as if he’d kill the first person who made a wrong move.
And the worst part?
His eyes were completely unhinged.
Even a stray dog could learn tricks in three years, and seasoned employees in the industry had long developed the ability to identify difficult clients with just a glance.
While most of them instinctively kept their heads down, one person stepped forward to meet him.
“Ki Taeryu?”
“Where’s Yoo Junhee?”
“Who? Ah, our Assistant Manager Yoo Junhee?”
Cha Junwoo emphasized the word our as he spoke, making Taeryu’s gaze darken like he was about to chew him up and spit him out.
“Let’s talk somewhere else.”
Junwoo walked past him and gestured for him to follow.
As soon as they entered a meeting room, Taeryu’s impatient voice slashed through the silence.
“Where is Yoo Junhee?”
“Hmm. Why are you asking me?”
Junwoo kept his usual smirk, deliberately provoking him.
“You think I’m fucking around right now?”
Normally, Taeryu wouldn’t fall for such bait, but today was different.
In an instant, Junwoo found himself shoved against the wall, a firm grip tightening around his collar.
With a thud, his back slammed into the pillar.
“Let go. Geonju-ya.”
Taeryu’s glare alone was enough to tear someone apart, but after a moment, he let go, almost tossing Junwoo aside.
Junwoo straightened his disheveled tie and cleared his throat.
“Why are you so worked up?”
“Cut the bullshit and answer me. One more word of nonsense, and I’ll make sure you never open your mouth again.”
“Whoa, terrifying. You’re just as foul-mouthed as ever. Guess people really don’t change.”
Despite his usual smug tone, Junwoo’s smirk had vanished.
“Answer the damn question.”
“And why the hell should I?”
“What?”
Taeryu let out a disbelieving scoff.
“Yoon Geonju. You, of all people—why the hell would I ever help you?”
“What kind of bullshit—”
This time, it was Taeryu’s turn to have his collar grabbed.
Up close, Junwoo’s face twisted with emotion.
“If you hadn’t run away that day, my mom wouldn’t have died.”
“What are you talking about—”
Taeryu harshly swatted away Junwoo’s grip on his shirt.
“That’s bullshit, you asshole. The one who died was my mother. Yours was…”
Taeryu inhaled sharply before spitting out the words.
“Just the perpetrator.”
Junwoo’s mother and Taeryu’s mother had been neighbors, renting separate units in the same red-brick multi-family house.
Their mothers had been close, especially since Junwoo’s mother was exceptionally warm-hearted.
She had been the only person who nagged at Taeryu’s single mother, looking after her like an older sister.
She even drove to visit Taeryu’s school after he was taken away by Taesan, worried about how he was doing.
And then, she hit Taeryu’s mother with her car when she ran out onto the rain-slicked road.
“Fuck. My mom wouldn’t have gone there if it weren’t for you. If it weren’t for your mother and you, she wouldn’t have been there. She wouldn’t have had the accident.”
Taeryu had been just a kid back then.
Even if his mother had never loved him, watching her die right in front of him had still been a shock.
But so what?
What was the point of bringing this up now?
“I know. That’s why I never asked you to bring her back. But for fuck’s sake, what do you expect me to do now? Your mom just had to serve her sentence and walk free, but—”
“She killed herself in prison.”
Junwoo’s face finally crumbled.
Taeryu stood there, speechless, as Junwoo clenched his fists.
“Yeah, I know. I fucking know. It’s not like this will bring her back. And I know neither you nor your mother did it on purpose.”
Junwoo’s eyes turned red as he murmured:
“But I needed someone to blame.”
Because without that, he wouldn’t have been able to endure it.
His head drooped helplessly.
Anyone could see this was a moment that called for words of comfort.
After a brief hesitation, Taeryu simply stared at Junwoo before giving him a light pat on the shoulder.
“So. Where’s Yoo Junhee?”
“…You asshole.”
Junwoo threw him out, telling him to go ask the director himself.
“This system is incredibly frustrating.”
Without even touching the coffee in front of him, Taeryu openly showed his displeasure.
The CEO, however, remained unfazed, maintaining the composed demeanor of a seasoned businessman.
“If our Director hadn’t barged in so suddenly, I’m sure we could have provided you with much more satisfactory service. Quite unfortunate, really.”
“Especially that Team Leader Cha—he’s the worst.”
“Hmm? Our Team Leader Cha? He’s one of the most well-mannered people in our company. His reputation is top-notch.”
The CEO responded smoothly, attempting to soothe Taeryu’s temper.
Between Junwoo’s flustered voice over the phone and Taeryu’s crooked tie, he could already piece together what had transpired between them.
“So, what exactly is your business here, Director?”
“Yoo Junhee.”
“Our Assistant Manager Yoo? What about him?”
“Where is Yoo Junhee?”
Despite the sudden barrage of questions without warning, CEO Lee remained unfazed and stood up from his seat.
He walked over to a desk piled with documents and made a call somewhere.
Soon enough—knock, knock—a staff member appeared, handed him a file, and disappeared again.
“This is our employees’ vacation request forms…”
Before the CEO could even finish speaking, an impatient hand snatched the file away.
“Well, technically, these are company documents, so they aren’t supposed to be shared externally, but… since you’re our headquarters director, you’re not exactly an outsider.”
Rather than seeming offended, he simply watched as the man flipped through the documents at an impressive speed.
Then, as if he had found what he was looking for, he abruptly asked:
“A mere employee is taking a ridiculously long vacation.”
* * *
