* * *

Even right up until his departure, Soohyuk, full of regret, didn’t leave Jingyeom alone.

Even though Jingyeom told him to stop touching him, Soohyuk kept caressing his face and hands as if molding clay, leaving him shiny.

Before leaving, he even handed over the Arctic fox plushie that Jinwoo had taken.

Although Soohyuk’s visit had been short, it felt like a storm had swept through.

As a result, even though it was nearly 5 a.m., Jingyeom couldn’t fall asleep.

Despite being so tired earlier, sleep completely evaded him.

Even as he lay there holding the plushie Soohyuk had left, sleep didn’t come.

He wasn’t tired—instead, his mind was so clear it felt awkward.

‘I need to sleep, but I can’t!’

For the sake of his health, maintaining a regular routine was ideal, so he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep.

But Soohyuk’s face kept flashing before him, making him open and close his eyes repeatedly.

‘Why did I do that…!’

And the person was Soohyuk, of all people.

The reason Jingyeom hadn’t accepted Soohyuk or Wonbeom’s feelings and had tried to keep a distance was always the lingering thought of the “other Baek Jingyeom” who might return one day.

Now, with fragments of unclear memories resurfacing, he had to be even more cautious.

The kiss he’d given Soohyuk was purely impulsive.

He regretted it, but what was done was done.

Jingyeom ran his fingertips over his lips.

‘Still… it felt good.’

Now he understood the difference between a peck and a kiss.

Even now, the sensations were vivid, leaving him with a lingering feeling.

‘Should I just do as I want?’

There was no guarantee he’d still be here in the future, so he’d suppressed his feelings until now.

But now, the urge to act on his emotions was rising.

‘No. I can’t do that.’

It seemed too irresponsible, so he forced the impulse down.

His tangled thoughts wouldn’t settle.

His mood swung back and forth, like a broken compass spinning without direction.

Eventually, he came to a single conclusion: he had to draw the line with Soohyuk again.

Despite his confident promises to Wonbeom that he was a decent person, he felt like a bad one now.

Lost in his turmoil, Jingyeom greeted the morning with sleepless eyes.

Wonbeom, seated across the table, observed the tired-looking Jingyeom.

“Did you not sleep well?”

“…I couldn’t sleep much.”

“Finish breakfast and go rest upstairs.”

“You need to wash up first.”

“Thanks to you taking care of me, I’ve gotten a lot better. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I can manage washing up by myself.”

The wounds had already healed, and as long as he didn’t overexert himself, there wouldn’t be any issues.

Moreover, Wonbeom suggested it because he felt like he was on the verge of losing control over himself.

Each time Jingyeom touched his body, Wonbeom could feel his desires trying to burst forth, and he clenched his body to suppress them.

He closed his eyes tightly, focusing on what he was doing to avoid thinking about the sensations of Jingyeom’s touch.

He was grateful for Jingyeom’s care, but if this continued any longer, something serious might happen.

Jingyeom, who had been contemplating for a while, nodded in agreement.

Even though he had no appetite, he forced himself to eat a few spoonfuls, thinking that skipping a meal would only make his stomach hurt.

Normally, Jingyeom would wait until Wonbeom was finished eating, but today he stood up from his seat.

“I’ll be in the glass greenhouse. Call me if you need anything!”

“Wouldn’t it be better to rest in your room?”

“There are cushions and blankets there too. If I get sleepy, I’ll go back to my room.”

Jingyeom gave a weak smile to Wonbeom, who was worried about him.

As soon as he stepped outside, a sharp cold wind swept over Jingyeom’s entire body.

He shrank his body and quickly headed to the glass greenhouse.

The moment he entered the greenhouse, the warm atmosphere made him naturally straighten up.

He felt like he would think back to this place even after he returned home.

As usual, he exchanged morning greetings with the man who took care of the plants and then went straight to the platform, where he stretched out his arms and legs, lying flat.

Looking at the ceiling, the bright morning sun dazzled his eyes, making him shut them tightly.

“Ugh, damn it!”

Oddly enough, the moment he closed his eyes, Soohyuk’s face appeared in his mind.

Even at dawn, he thought about him, and his image still hadn’t left his head.

“Get a grip, Baek Jingyeom!”

Jingyeom slapped both cheeks hard enough to make a sound.

The sharp pain made him rub his face vigorously with his palms.

Even though he had decided to draw a line at dawn, the moment Soohyuk’s face flashed before his eyes, his thoughts flipped as easily as turning a hand.

But he quickly told himself not to, calming himself down again.

He’d never been so out of control before…

“This is so frustrating.”

He despised the reality where he couldn’t do anything the way he wanted.

It felt like he could stay here forever, but once the irritation set in, everything became unbearable: being unable to leave, being out of contact with Jinwoo.

He even resented why they had to build a house deep in the mountains, trapping them like this.

He was tired, couldn’t sleep, and his tangled thoughts made his nerves highly sensitive.

Jingyeom tried to empty his mind, fearing he might lose it if he continued thinking.

But it didn’t work as he wanted.

Nevertheless, as he kept lying down, drowsiness gradually overtook him.

The gentle warmth of the sun stung his face, prompting him to shift slightly to his side.

He felt like he could fall asleep just like that, so he slowly let his body relax.

---

After being attacked once, Jinwoo delved deeper into investigating the corruption ledger with even more tenacity.

Although it had already been organized once, he wanted to see if there was anything more.

He reviewed not only what was entrusted to him but also related files held by Secretary Yang and Lee Cheongoh, untangling the intertwined connections from the beginning.

His intent was to ensure that no one would receive a light sentence on flimsy charges and that they would rot in prison until they were old and weak.

While some people’s bribes were limited to money or paintings, others had committed all sorts of vile acts.

If he could obtain concrete evidence, this could be the chance to wipe out President Kim’s line in one go.

A few of the executives who supported Wonbeom were listed in this ledger.

However, removing only them was impossible due to the complicated ties.

He had no choice but to sever his own allies.

As Jinwoo aggressively tapped away at the laptop’s keyboard, Secretary Yang casually spoke up.

“Aren’t your fingers hurting? If you keep typing like that, your fingers will give out before the laptop does.”

“I’m fine. Any updates on the fifth ledger?”

“No. It would’ve been easier if one person had managed it all. Why split it into five? Tch. What will they do if even one of them betrays?”

There were currently four ledgers in their possession. It was absurd enough that there were five in total, with a different person managing each one.

Moreover, they still hadn’t located the last ledger.

Even though they were searching diligently, the person in charge of it had hidden himself well after realizing they’d lost the other four.

Jinwoo paused his work and glanced at the wall where the safe containing the ledgers was stored.

Previously, they worked from Wonbeom’s office, but because President Kim’s side had been more aggressive than anticipated, they had moved to a new officetel.

They bought an entire newly built officetel building, where, aside from the place where they stayed, every other unit was temporarily occupied by Cheongoh’s men for protection.

“Guess he thought it was better to split them up than risk losing everything to one person. It’s more surprising that he found five people he could trust.”

“I feel the same way.”

“When is Director Tak coming? We need to wrap this up before the general meeting.”

“He’s still being cautious. Moving too rashly might make him look like a traitor. To dismantle them naturally, it has to crumble from within, which will take some time.”

Secretary Yang stood up and stretched.

“That’s why we let it be known that the Director is in the ICU. If we can find proof that President Kim is behind it, we can bring the neutral executives over to our side.”

“This whole structure… I just don’t get it.”

“Even in regular companies, there’s competition for management rights. Grabbing a strong position is universal in any organization.”

“If that’s the case, isn’t it logical for people to side with the Director, the President’s direct grandson?”

In Korea, inherited management was common, so Jinwoo naturally assumed it would be the norm. But Daejeong’s roots were different.

Survival of the fittest was the rule here.

The rightful heir didn’t have to be the blood son. If a leader grew weak, they would likely be ousted by a vigorous successor before stepping down voluntarily.

In such a place, President Kim had maintained his position for a long time.

Although Wonbeom was the one who expanded Daejeong into a corporate entity, President Kim was the one who laid the groundwork for it to emerge as a social enterprise.

Hence, Executive Tak hadn’t taken anyone’s side.

The elderly executives who had been watching knew this well.

As long as their own interests weren’t threatened, they would prefer to remain neutral.

Very few people were aware of these internal dynamics. Secretary Yang was one of the few trusted aides of Wonbeom privy to such details.

“That may be true, but since Director Kim started Daejeong alongside the President, they follow him.”

“Then why not make Director Kim the President and the Director Tak the CEO? President Kim won’t stay long, so the Director Kim would naturally become the President afterward. Then none of this…”

Jinwoo glanced over the documents piled up in the living room.

“This wouldn’t have happened, and there wouldn’t have been an attack.”

If that were the case, he wouldn’t have had to worry about Jingyeom being in danger.

Secretary Yang smiled bitterly.

Jinwoo didn’t know why Wonbeom wanted to become the President of Daejeong.

That’s why he could say such things. And there was no need for him to know.

“Our Director wants it, so we have to make it happen. That’s our role.”

“…That’s true.”

“You’re on edge because of Jingyeom, but there’s no undoing what’s already been done. Instead of thinking like that, let’s finish this quickly. You’ll be heading back down soon, right? Let’s wrap it up before then.”

The mention of Jingyeom made Jinwoo’s expression soften.

* * *