* * *
After asking the question, Junhee immediately wanted to cover his ears.
What if he really started talking about Ki Taeseong?
Worse, what if he brought up the past?
What kind of reaction should he even have?
Ki Taeryu was always so unpredictable that his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.
Ki Taeryu pressed his cheek against Junhee’s without so much as blinking, holding his breath.
The silence stretched on so long it made him wonder if he had fallen asleep.
Then, suddenly—
“Because we can’t.”
“…What?”
Junhee, too nervous to catch the first part, blinked.
What can’t we do?
He slowly lifted his head.
Junhee, frozen stiff, looked up at him.
His eyes were so dark they seemed almost blue, and for a fleeting moment, something stirred within them.
Ki Taeryu’s lips moved once more, slowly.
His words, almost a whisper, pierced Junhee’s ears like a thorn.
“Because if you get pregnant, that won’t do.”
The blood in Junhee’s body turned cold.
The heat that had coursed through him, melting his body, turned into freezing water, chilling him to the bone.
His heart, which had been pumping furiously, hardened like a stone.
It felt like his mouth was stuffed with pebbles; he couldn’t force the words out.
When Junhee finally spoke, his voice trembled.
“Is that… your answer? That we can’t, because I might get pregnant?”
“What I need is a marriage. Not a child.”
“Hah…”
What a piece of trash.
Cha Junwoo was right.
Ki Taeryu was garbage.
Sweet-smelling on the outside, but utterly revolting beneath the surface.
He needed a marriage, but not a child.
Which meant he needed a body incapable of bearing one.
“So, you want Chairman Ki’s fortune, and once you’ve used marriage to get what you need, you’ll discard me? Is that it?”
And a child would complicate things?
How could they all be the same?
Every single one of them.
Junhee’s fingers trembled as he glimpsed the rotten core beneath the polished exterior.
“Why are you so angry?”
His voice felt like a hammer shattering Junhee’s hardened heart.
“For everyone, marriage is just a contract of convenience, isn’t it?”
It broke.
And broke again.
Junhee’s heart shattered into pieces, so small it could no longer beat.
“…Get out.”
“Junhee.”
“Leave. Right now. Get out of my house.”
When Junhee pushed him away, Taeryu grabbed his wrist roughly.
Junhee thrashed, almost in a fit, trying to free his wrist.
When a cracking sound came from his right wrist, Taeryu startled and let go.
“Yoo Junhee.”
There was no undoing it now.
The shattered fragments had turned to dust, scattering into nothingness.
Like a tightly shut faucet, emotions ceased to flow.
Junhee, with eyes as black as death, spoke.
“Get out of my sight. Now.”
“Shit…”
Time felt meaningless.
It took a long time for Junhee’s sunken, subdued senses to rise again.
His wrist throbbed anew.
Just like before, it was a little torn up.
His heart was in worse shape—reduced to tatters.
“What was I even expecting?”
He was always like that.
Was it Taeryu’s fault for making him expect something, or his own fault for hoping?
Either way, Junhee still felt like crap.
The area around his heart, which had been pounding just moments ago, now felt hollow, as though it had been scooped out with a shovel.
Lying on the cramped sofa, Junhee stretched his hand downward.
His fingertips brushed against a crumpled piece of paper beneath the dark sofa.
It had fallen from between Taeseong’s journal pages, just before Taeryu arrived.
Thankfully, Junhee had managed to tuck it into his inner pocket before he was caught.
It wasn’t until late that night, alone at home, that he pulled it out and realized it was a letter.
After some hesitation, Junhee finally opened it.
[Taeryu, it’s me, your brother.
I’m sorry for leaving you behind like this.
If I stayed here any longer, I felt like I’d lose everything.
To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come back.
There are things I need to find. Things I want to search for.
Don’t wait for me. You should find what you need to, too.
P.S. You won’t find me anyway, so don’t waste your time.]
The handwriting resembled what was in the journal but seemed slightly different.
It felt like the writing of someone older, someone more mature.
This was the last letter Ki Taeseong had left for his younger brother before his disappearance.
Junhee’s first thought after reading it was:
“So… they weren’t enemies? Not until the very end?”
He had always thought Taeseong had done something terrible to Taeryu before leaving, but even that theory crumbled.
Until the very end, Taeseong had cared for Taeryu and even felt sorry for him.
…Though the postscript was a bit annoying.
Still, Junhee had thought that day:
“If the reason he’s searching for Taeseong isn’t revenge…”
He would have been willing to help.
So he waited for Taeryu to be honest.
But what he saw instead was Taeryu’s rotten, despicable core.
“Because if you get pregnant, that won’t do.”
To him, a recessive omega was worth no more than that.
Someone to exploit their misfortune and discard without a second thought—a disposable tool.
That was Ki Taeryu’s sole truth.
Junhee’s fingertips tore the thin sheet of paper in half.
Rip. Rip.
He tore it again, and again.
Into pieces as small as his shattered emotions.
The chill that seeped through his palms made him shiver.
The urge to scream surged within him like a tidal wave.
It was a wretched night.
Life moved on sluggishly.
Adjusting to new work responsibilities kept Junhee busy, even on Friday, the end of the week.
After finishing the morning meeting, he checked his buzzing phone.
As he had expected, the message was from the same person.
[Vince: Hi, Junhee 
]
[Vince: Could you send me the materials from yesterday again? ]
[Vince: My cat spilled water. On my MacBook. ]
[Vince: Photo ]
On the screen was a black cat with white paws, staring back with a smug, =“What are you gonna do about it?”= expression.
Vince, a foreign developer, had introduced Junhee to a global chat app for easier communication.
From the first meeting, Vince had been chatty and treated Junhee more like a friend than a colleague.
Because of that, they often exchanged casual conversations like this.
Honestly, work only made up about 10% of their chats; the remaining 90% was cat talk.
[Me: Meeting’s over. I’ll send it to you right now.]
[Vince: Bad kitty 
]
[Vince: Video ]
This time, it was a video.
When the triangle-shaped play button was tapped, the video began to play.
In the clip, Vincent pointed his index finger at the cat as if scolding it, lightly touching its damp nose.
The cat stayed still for about three seconds before suddenly leaping forward with a loud “meow” and biting down hard on his finger.
The video cut off with Vincent letting out a sharp cry of pain.
Junhee couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.
[Me]: Why provoke it if you know you’ll lose?
[Me]: I told you not to mess with a ‘God-cat.’
[Me]: God + cat = God-cat.
Vince: Got it, God-cat. My house’s God-cat XD.
This time, a photo of a soft-looking pink paw pad appeared.
One claw peeked out as if giving a thumbs-up.
From the first email Junhee had sent, Vincent had suggested switching to a messenger app, sharing a link for an easy download.
Unlike Junhee’s blank profile, Vincent’s was an extreme close-up of a cat’s face.
Having grown up at an orphanage where he and the headmistress often fed and cared for stray cats, Junhee found the photo oddly comforting.
It made Vincent seem less like an intimidating developer and more like a slightly goofy, approachable friend.
Returning to his office, Junhee sent over the files once again.
A reply came back almost immediately.
Vince: Thanks, Junhee 
Such a polite foreigner.
Junhee set his phone aside, intending to focus on work, but when he glanced at the clock, he realized there were less than five minutes until lunch.
The office was still bustling with people just emerging from a meeting, so he decided to relax for a bit longer and picked up his phone again.
[Me]: What’s your cat’s name again?
Vince: Snow <3.
Junhee pulled up the photo of the cat again.
Except for its paw tips, it was a completely black cat with no white fur in sight.
“Wouldn’t Black suit it better?” he thought.
Normally, he’d shrug it off, but for some reason, he was curious.
[Me]: It’s a black cat, so why name it Snow?
Vince: It was abandoned in winter. I found it dying on the snow.
…He shouldn’t have asked.
His chest tightened with an unexplainable sadness.
Unsure of how to respond, he just stared at his phone.
The chat window updated.
Vince: But it met me.
Vince: And became a super super God-cat!
The new photo showed Vincent’s finger from the earlier video, now bleeding.
“What a goofball.”
He was such a carefree foreigner.
Still, Junhee felt relieved that Snow seemed to have found a decent owner.
“Assistant Yoo Junhee, let’s grab lunch.”
Junhee looked up to see Cha Junwoo tapping on his partition with a friendly smile.
He hadn’t even noticed him approach.
* * *
