OCMG chapter 11

“Good evening, Director.”

“Sit in the front.”

“….”

Without warning, he closed the door and opened the passenger seat door. Ki Taeryu gestured toward the driver’s seat with a nod.

It dawned to Junhee that, unlike before, there was no chauffeur.

It was just Ki Taeryu in the car.

“Do I have to drive?”

The look in Ki Taeryu’s eyes as he glanced at the side of his face seemed to say, “Well, do you expect me to drive?” Reluctantly, Junhee confessed.

“I… I can’t drive.”

“You don’t have a license?”

Ki Taeryu let out a chuckle at his response.

Desperately trying to salvage some pride, he muttered in a smaller voice.

“I do have a motorcycle license.”

He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. He should’ve just kept quiet.

The only reason he got a motorcycle license in high school was to do delivery jobs.

Since he had no reason to drive a car or the money to buy one, he never considered getting a driver’s license.

Though it was nothing to be ashamed of, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

The interior, filled with Ki Taeryu’s pheromone scent, fell silent for a moment.

It was as if he was so dumbfounded that he lost his words.

“Does Assistant Yoo Junhee see this as a motorcycle or something?”

“No, it’s just that I thought I could ask your secretary to call for a driver…”

“Never mind, just get in.”

With a click of his tongue, Ki Taeryu got out of the back seat, moved to the driver’s seat, and sat down.

With no other choice, Junhee sat in the passenger seat and buckled up.

The car, with Ki Taeryu at the wheel, smoothly exited the parking lot.

As he was about to crack the window slightly to escape his overwhelming pheromone scent, Ki Taeryu suddenly asked a question.

“Why didn’t you get a license?”

For some reason, he felt like the unspoken part was, “At your age.” Maybe it was just his inferiority complex.

“I didn’t think I would ever need to drive.”

He knew that many of his friends got their driver’s licenses right after high school, but at that time, he didn’t even have enough money for the driving school fee, let alone the written test.

He wasn’t sure if Ki Taeryu would understand that.

“But you had a reason to get a motorcycle license? Must’ve used that horn a lot.”

“Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth like you, Director. If you want to work at a restaurant, you need a health certificate, and if you want to do delivery jobs, you need a motorcycle license.”

Junhee was curious to see what expression he would make if he told him he was exempted from military service because he was an orphan, but he left that part out.

“You don’t look like the type to have lived so quietly, but it seems you led a fairly decent life.”

He’s one to talk. For someone who acts like the worst kind of thug, who’s he to judge?

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he turned his head, giving up on responding any further.

As he rolled down the window fully, cold wind rushed in.

“Are you sulking?”

“No, it’s just that I feel a bit a bit suffocated in this car.”

“Your lips seem a bit pouty.”

“They’re always like that.”

Junhee answered curtly, trying not to engage, but Ki Taeryu smirked and twisted his lips.

“If you get me married within three months, I could get you a car as a performance bonus.”

Junhee suddenly recalled Jiyeon’s joke about how, instead of wedding rice cakes, he might just get a car.

“No, thank you. Just stick to what’s written in the contract.”

It was a subtle way of telling him to just make sure he deletes the recording.

A car isn’t some trivial thing, and even a mid-sized domestic car would cost tens of millions of won. Accepting such a thing could come with unforeseen consequences.

From what he’d gathered, Ki Taeryu is someone who always takes back what he gives.

His gaze, directed at him, seemed to carry a hint of displeasure.

“Can’t tell if you’re just being humble or just scared.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want the car; he just didn’t want to be involved with Ki Taeryu any longer.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the meeting place, a fine dining restaurant located in the suburbs. Since Moon Doyoung had been considerate about the date and time, he chose a place close to him.

That meant, of course, that getting home, for Junhee would require three bus transfers.

“I hope you have a pleasant meal.”

“Sounds like you’re telling me to get lost already.”

Sometimes, Ki Taeryu really did seem to read my mind.

The interior lights cast shadows over Ki Taeryu’s face, creating deep contours. His dense black eyes and thick, full hair, perfectly neat, rested above his straight brow bone.

His gaze, directed at his closed lips, was cold, like a frost-covered window. His lips, which had been horizontally aligned, gradually twisted.

Finally, Junhee snapped out of it and managed to speak.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He barely responded, but Junhee couldn’t hide the flicker in his eyes, as if a candle in the wind.

“Why, does it look tasty?”

“No.”

“You won’t get sick from eating it.”

“Enjoy your meal. I’ll be on my way…”

Maintaining an attitude of not wanting to be swayed anymore, Junhee hurriedly stepped out of the car.

Soon after, Ki Taeryu’s shoe tip came into view as he followed him out.

The air outside was colder than expected, but it was better than being alone in the car with Ki Taeryu and smelling his pheromones.

Fortunately, as a recessive Omega, Junhee was extremely insensitive to pheromones when not in his heat cycle.

The doctor explained that just as the pheromones he emitted were weak, his capacity to receive them was also low.

Junhee straightened his posture after a brief bow, his gaze lingering on one spot. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out his hand.

“Let me fix your tie.”

Perhaps because everything else was perfect, the crooked tie seemed like the only flaw.

Interpreting Ki Taeryu’s silence as consent, Junhee began to fix the tie himself.

Due to the height difference, he had to stand closer and raise his arms.

The soft texture of the silk tie, tinged with a slight blue hue, brushed against his fingertips.

The scent of Ki Taeryu’s pheromones, diluted by the wind, wafted to his nose. For some reason, it felt sweeter than before, making him want to bury his nose in it.

‘…This is dangerous.’

Was this really the same scent that had made him so nauseous before?

“I’m done.”

Just as he hastily finished and tried to step away from Ki Taeryu in embarrassment,

“What does this mean?”

The hand holding the tie was suddenly gripped tightly.

The warmth of Ki Taeryu’s hand, which wrapped around Junhee’s, felt as if it were burning.

He tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t let go.

Cold eyes and a burning hand.

Disgusting pheromones and a fragrant scent.

Junhee couldn’t tell what was truly Ki Taeryu’s.

Ki Taeryu’s sly eyes urged him to answer.

“It means I wish you success in your meeting. If anything urgent comes up, feel free to contact me.”

Only after forcing out a response could Junhee finally shake off his hand.

He took two steps back from Ki Taeryu, bowed, and turned to walk away.

Ki Taeryu’s persistent gaze followed Junhee’s retreating figure for a long time.

“Haa…”

Junhee reached out and overturned the pill bottle. Several pills fell onto his trembling palm, while more scattered onto the floor.

He had no strength left to pick up the ones that fell, so he swallowed the ones in his hand.

It had been exactly four months since his last heat cycle.

Because his cycle was so irregular, it was impossible to predict when it would start or end. That was probably why…

The scent of Ki Taeryu’s pheromones, which had once disgusted him, felt different now.

Usually, when the pheromones around him started to feel more sensitive than usual, he would take his medication in advance, considering it a sign of his heat cycle.

But thanks to the dominant Alpha’s pheromones, he hadn’t felt any warning signs.

Even in his fevered delirium, Junhee was just relieved it was the weekend.

Clutching his stomach in pain, breaking out in cold sweat, and dozing off only to wake up and swallow more pills without water—he repeated this cycle several times.

He thought he heard his phone ring a few times, but he was too out of it to answer.

When he finally regained some clarity, it was Monday morning.

He sent a message to his team leader, saying he needed to take a sick day, then fell back asleep.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that his mind cleared enough to crawl out of bed.

“…I thought I was going to die.”

Junhee looked like someone who had barely escaped death.

His skin was so pale it was almost white, and his eyes were sunken.

It was no wonder, given he hadn’t eaten properly in days, on top of being ill.

He forced himself to take a cold shower on an empty stomach to clear his foggy mind.

After a quick, cool rinse, he put on a loose T-shirt and stepped out of the bathroom.

Knock, knock. The sound made Junhee turn his head.

At first, he thought he had imagined it, but it was definitely his door.

Cautiously, Junhee approached the door and peeked through the peephole, his shoulders tensing.

After a moment of hesitation, he opened the door and welcomed the guest.