* * *

Even I would’ve been furious if I were Vice President Han Jiwan.

To have stolen the model and gotten beaten up by Doha every day, only to realize in the end that he’d been nothing but a stand-in.

Thanks to all of this, Reed Construction grew even busier.

It became clear that Doha, formerly our CEO, would now be stepping into Daewon Group.

As a result, Reed Construction was set to merge with a construction company within Daewon Group’s affiliates.

And then, suddenly, the Chairman stepped down from the front lines.

Doha, with all responsibilities dumped on him, was so busy that even a 27-hour day wouldn’t suffice.

“Why go through all that trouble? He could’ve just kept his mother’s shares, and that would’ve been the end of it.”

“Well, only the CEO knows that.”

“How’s the company doing?”

“It was a bit rough without you at first, but everyone’s adjusted now. Still, your position remains! You know, your return is our top priority. Oh! And please, take care of your health. The company nearly fell apart two days after you collapsed. The CEO was here at the hospital, which kept the secretarial office swamped… we thought Reed Construction would go under!”

Mr. Lee, who hadn’t paused for a breath, downed a glass of water before continuing.

“Anyway, you have to come back! I’m planning to stack my vacation days when you return and take a long summer holiday. Or well, autumn at this rate, but still.”

Summing up his long-winded talk was a simple request: he wanted me to return for the sake of his vacation.

But my attention was caught at the mention of vacation.

Whenever anyone at work tried to take leave, something always seemed to blow up—be it unexpected overtime, a sudden resignation, or having to pick up the slack left by someone else.

Usually, the headquarters prefers we use our vacation days rather than pay them out, but our company just doesn’t seem to follow that logic.

Doha’s mind remains an enigma, even thinking it’s more efficient to pay out instead.

“You’ve just been cursed. It’s the vacation curse.”

“Right back at you. I’m taking time off this month, no matter what. Even if the sky falls!”

Resolutely, Mr. Lee continued to chatter about the workings of the company until visiting hours ended, and he was ushered out.

Right before leaving, I asked about Doha, but the answer I received wasn’t what I’d hoped.

“He’s been incredibly busy. He’s actually on a business trip to Europe right now and won’t be back until next week. Kang went with him, so I’ll keep you updated as soon as I hear anything.”

I could only smile, bitterly.

---

Three days later, Ha Eunjoo arrived.

Remembering the hardships I endured because of him made me seethe, but I had to put on a smile.

As long as I held the title of “secretary” behind my name, I had no choice.

“Hello, Mr. Ha Eunjoo.”

“How’s your health? You look okay.”

“Other than some occasional stomach pain, I’m fine. I really wanted to see you that day at the Hanwoo restaurant, but unfortunately, it didn’t work out.”

“Well… I apologize for that. But I brought something good with me. You’re really going to like it.”

Whatever he brought, I doubted it would please me.

I forced a smile, and Ha Eunjoo, taking a seat near me, handed over a thick document.

When I opened it, it turned out to be a medical chart.

“It took quite some effort to find that. I couldn’t understand how neither you nor Mr. Yul had looked into it, so I brought it myself. You should see it.”

At the top of the chart was the name Lee Hye-yeon—my mother.

Not quite understanding, I looked at Ha Eunjoo, who nodded, urging me to keep reading.

The densely written medical records were filled with technical terms I couldn’t decipher, yet page by page, I grew uneasy.

Could a medical record even be this long?

And it wasn’t just a few years’ worth of notes; it spanned 13 years.

I kept flipping through until a certain term, written in bold, caught my eye.

[Pheromone Keratosis]

Below it, there were many hastily written English terms like “50cc” and “500ml/20gtt,” apparently indicating records of medication infusions.

While I was still absorbing this, Ha Eunjoo leaned back on the sofa and spoke calmly.

“Did you know your mother was an ultra-dominant omega? I heard there were only three such people in Korea, and one of them was your mother. It’s a small world, isn’t it? I thought the scent was unusual—that kind of fragrance typically comes from alphas.”

How could I have known?

I vaguely recalled my mother as a frail woman, but omega?

This was news to me.

Then, it would mean my father was an alpha.

To my knowledge, though, I’d never sensed pheromones from him.

“The reason for your mother’s death was due to pheromone keratosis. It’s a rare disease that occurs when an excessive amount of pheromone can’t be controlled. In simple terms, it’s a disease where pheromones solidify in the bloodstream and scrape against blood vessels. When affected, the scent changes slightly. It becomes… what’s the word… pungent.”

When he casually mentioned the word “pungent,” I let out a bitter laugh.

That faint, unidentified odor I’d occasionally sensed from my mother as a child—that had been pheromones?

“The exact reason she couldn’t control her pheromones is unknown, as the record was erased at her guardian’s request. But actually, if an omega receives pheromones from an alpha, they can recover. It’s a rare disease, but the mortality rate isn’t high. The problem was likely with the alpha….”

“….”

“It appears he was a recessive alpha who couldn’t emit pheromones properly. If she’d received another alpha’s pheromones regularly—directly, that is—she might have survived, but it seems your mother refused. She likely endured with refined pheromone medication and painkillers, which, as you know, can be quite costly.”

Receiving it directly… it implied a physical relationship with another alpha.

It meant my mother had stubbornly clung to my father without seeking another partner.

“Hah….”

If it had been because of stock investments gone wrong or bad debts from co-signing a loan, at least I’d have something tangible to be angry about.

But this?

“Oh, and here’s something else. It’s a recently found piece, so it took a while to dig up.”

With a playful wink, Ha Eunjoo handed me a photograph. It was a picture of my mother in her youth.

She was in a school uniform, laughing mischievously. She seemed utterly carefree, without a hint of worry.

As I stared silently at her face, Ha Eunjoo pointed to the person beside her in the photo.

“Do you see the girl next to her?”

A girl with short hair stood right beside my mother.

She had an oddly familiar but unfamiliar face.

“That’s Mr. Doha’s mother. According to school records, they were close friends who stuck together quite often.”

Suddenly, memories of something Doha once mentioned about his mother’s close friend who’d contracted an illness flashed through my mind.

I lowered my head, fiddling with the photograph.

“What difference does it make if my mother had a good relationship with the CEO’s mother? She never mentioned anything like that to me, nor did my father.”

“True, it doesn’t change anything. But do you really think Doha didn’t know all of this?”

Regardless of the truth, it wasn’t his fault, nor was it his mother’s.

It was an unfortunate circumstance, and no one’s burden to bear.

Even if Doha had known, the past wouldn’t change.

As he’d once said, by the time he found out, it was already too late.

I looked at my mother’s smiling face in the photo and quietly asked,

“Why do you have this information?”

“Because of a deal I made with Doha.”

“A… deal?”

“I’m very skilled at finding people—background checks are my specialty.”

I suddenly remembered a business card Ha Eunjoo had once given me.

‘Under Name.’

So that’s what it meant.

And to think Doha once told me he hadn’t looked into my background.

Dumbfounded, I looked at Ha Eunjoo, who chuckled mischievously.

“He kept nagging me to marry someone, so I couldn’t bear it. It was just good timing, a win-win for both of us. Oh, and don’t take it the wrong way—Doha’s only interest was finding out why you ended up in debt.”

“There was no need for him to know about my debt….”

“Ha, Mr. Seonyul, you have a way of joking. Who else would be more curious? Honestly, even if you had gambling debt, he’d probably overlook it. Thanks to that, he was… never mind, that’s irrelevant.”

With a smile as sweet as a flower, Ha Eunjoo continued rambling on about his recent escapades.

Listening absently, a question suddenly came to mind.

“Mr. Ha Eunjoo, do you know who leaked that rumor to the press about me being an omega? It wasn’t you, was it?”

“What would I gain from doing that? Besides, I only learned you were an omega not too long ago. Someone went to great lengths to hide it.”

He chuckled, but noticing my dark expression, he awkwardly patted my shoulder.

“Well… it just turned out that way.”

I was about to press him further when visiting hours ended, and he was escorted out.

With the nurse’s kind reassurance that no one else would be coming today, the room fell silent.

After he left, I examined the chart again.

The first ten years had been outpatient treatment; the last three were inpatient.

Ten years… ten years old.

That’s when my mother had disappeared.

It was also when we’d moved from a spacious three-bedroom apartment to a cramped rooftop room.

“She really went through so much….”

My memories until I was ten were filled with happiness.

My mother, who’d given me everything, and my father, who’d made constant efforts to take us to rivers and mountains.

I’d walk hand-in-hand with both of them, climb onto my father’s shoulders to ride like a horse, and nap in my mother’s embrace.

It was the only time I’d lived without worry.

Then Ha Eunjoo’s words echoed in my mind—the ultra-dominant, who should’ve been most skilled at handling pheromones, unable to control her own scent.

My mother had suffered from that illness after giving birth to me.

Transparent tears dropped onto the worn chart, blurring the black pen marks written across it.

Watching the ink smudge, I roughly wiped away my tears.

I hadn’t turned on the lights, and as darkness slowly settled around me, I focused solely on reading the words in front of me.

I carefully reviewed the chart, recalling every medical term I had learned from watching Doha’s side glances and mutterings over the years.

For the first five years, records appeared sporadically.

But from the sixth year, the records showed near-daily hospital visits, each time with a prescription for painkillers.

I couldn’t understand the exact severity of the illness.

With no access to even a simple phone, all I had were these limited records.

But the frequent prescriptions implied a pain so intense, it was almost unbearable.

My memories of my mother were faint, as if she could vanish at any moment.

But I remembered her as someone who didn’t show signs of suffering.

She was always smiling, always showering me with words of love.

“She shouldn’t have had me… Or at the very least, she should’ve left my father…”

I wanted to ask why she had clung on so stubbornly, only to pass away in a hospital.

But I knew I would never get an answer.

As I stared at the last chart, laden with overwhelming prescriptions, I hugged it close to my chest.

“…If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

* * *