SPW 72

“Boss. We have a visitor.”

Florian, who was preparing to go out, looked back at Bailey. Displeasure flickered across the eyes of the man who was quite skilled at hiding his expressions. There was only one person who could elicit such a reaction from Bailey.

Kim Sarang.

“I don’t believe I have an appointment.”

Bailey, who had lowered his gaze at the cold voice, asked cautiously.

“Shall I turn the visitor away?”

Florian’s brow furrowed. The more his relationship with Kim Sarang deteriorated, the more people’s attitudes toward him changed noticeably. The point that upset Florian was not that Kim Sarang was being ignored by them. It was the change in attitude of those who looked down on Kim Sarang, a person who had once shared serious feelings with Florian and was still Florian’s spouse.

Though it was a formal relationship, Kim Sarang was still Florian’s spouse. Therefore, the right to ignore and look down on Kim Sarang also belonged only to Florian.

“Bailey, Kim Sarang is still my spouse.”

“…”

Quick-witted Bailey immediately understood the meaning of those words.

“My apologies, Boss.”

“Show him in.”

“You must leave now, or your next appointment will be…”

“What could be more important than household matters. Show him in.”

“Boss, it’s a meeting with people from the Royal Household Agency.”

Bailey also had his reasons for being firm. Florian was not unaware that the Royal Household Agency was reacting sensitively to the recent media fuss. Still, he couldn’t just turn Kim Sarang away at the door. There were too many eyes watching. For them to look down on Kim Sarang was the same as tarnishing Florian’s dignity.

“The traffic in Canton City is world-famous.”

Bailey could no longer defy Florian, who had even thrown him an excuse.

“Show him in,”

Realizing his mistake, Bailey corrected himself properly.

“I will show him in, Boss.”

Florian, who did not even glance at the quietly retreating Bailey, took off the overcoat he had been wearing and perched on his desk. His wristwatch pointed to 11:48. Kim Sarang had probably chosen this time out of consideration for Florian. Lunchtime and dinnertime, without distinction, were not private domains for Florian.

Kim Sarang was unaware of even such an obvious fact. Florian, likewise, did not know how Kim Sarang used his mealtimes, nor was he interested. When they were on good terms, they had almost always mixed their bodies instead of eating.

It had been four years since he had tied the knot with Kim Sarang. Of those years, the period where they were, as is commonly said, on good terms, was less than a year. It was a time when Kim Sarang still trusted Florian, and Florian still had compassion for Kim Sarang.

Soon, the door opened and Kim Sarang entered. His face was gaunt. The drug scandal, the fistfight on the pitch, the disciplinary action, the knotting scandals with omegas. It was not just the face of Kim Sarang who had barely finished a season while experiencing all those things. The muscles in his upper body, which he had bulked up for the fight on the pitch, were also gone. It was usual for this to happen around the end of the season, but it surely wasn’t just because of the match schedule.

“What is this about, coming without an appointment, Sarang.”

“Rian, you don’t make time for me.”

“…Is that so.”

It occurred to him that Kim Sarang’s lack of contact for a while might not have been of his own volition. Bailey and the others could easily block Kim Sarang’s access to Florian if they wanted to. Originally, Kim Sarang would not have been able to get a single step closer to Florian.

“Don’t do that, Rian.”

“Don’t do what.”

“Don’t act as if you had no idea. Rian’s people wouldn’t have thrown me out without your permission. You don’t have to act so troubled.”

“…”

Acting.

Florian was now sick and tired of Kim Sarang, who misunderstood on his own, got hurt on his own, and tried to endure on his own. Perhaps he had been from the very beginning. In a situation like this, was there any point in clearing up a misunderstanding? Sarang wouldn’t believe a word he said anyway.

“You have three minutes left, Sarang. Speak.”

Sarang, who couldn’t hide his emotions despite no longer being a seventeen-year-old kid, bit his red lip. Kim Sarang got hurt every time Florian opened his mouth. Florian had no will to improve such a relationship.

“You said you delivered the contract renewal papers to the club.”

Ah.

So that was it.

Sarang, who was looking at Florian’s face which clearly revealed his inner thoughts, only blinked his dark eyes quietly. Fortunately, his eyes were dry. Sarang no longer wanted to cry in front of Florian.

“How can a contract that I, the party involved, don’t even know about, exist?”

“It’s not as if you were completely unaware of it, Sarang. It was Sarang who rejected my proposal. So I had no choice but to resolve it my way.”

At Florian’s attitude, which seemed somewhat annoyed, Sarang repeatedly blinked his dry eyes.

“It’s my life.”

“Part of it is my life as well, as long as we are still a married couple.”

“Don’t you know that Rian’s actions could be seen as external pressure—no, that they are external pressure?”

“Sarang, I merely delivered one of several options. The choice is theirs.”

“There aren’t ‘several options,’ Rian. The document I agreed to is enough.”

“You mean that sham of a contract? Not even a 10-year-old would sign such a stupid contract.”

“That’s my current market value. It’s not something Rian can decide as he pleases.”

“No, Sarang. I have sufficient ability, will, and purpose to do so.”

“Purpose?”

“Yes. Didn’t our relationship begin to satisfy each other’s purposes in the first place? Why are you reacting as if this is something new.”

It was always like this. Conversations with Florian. Colder than he had prepared for, sharper than he had braced himself for.

“Is a weekly wage of 50 million won not enough? Is that amount not enough to save Florian’s face? Still, you can’t raise my market value with Rian’s power. That’s not right. You shouldn’t do that, Rian.”

“Do you still like soccer, Sarang?”

Sarang’s eyes wavered, as if shocked by the question itself.

“Are you ashamed to use shortcuts for the soccer you love? But, Sarang. Do you really think your market value is a weekly wage of fifty million? Do you really think they offered you a three-year contract at a weekly wage of fifty million because they acknowledge your market value? Not a chance. Even that is the result of them being wary of me, Sarang.”

Sarang’s lips trembled as he correctly understood what Florian was implying. He was still like a child, still so weak. As Florian’s spouse, he should neither reveal nor be caught showing that weakness. It was something Kim Sarang had failed to do in the slightest.

“Rian, you’re really…”

“Yes. An asshole.”

Florian, who looked down at his wristwatch with a face that said he didn’t care what he was called, straightened his body.

“You said you loved me. If that feeling remains, Sarang. Do as I say. Sign that contract.”

Florian, who had put on his overcoat, called for Bailey. Following a knock, Bailey appeared. With a nod indicating that he could leave immediately, Florian, who was passing by Sarang, stopped his steps. Then, he brought the tip of his nose close to the nape of Kim Sarang’s neck.

Flinch. Florian, who showed no expression at Kim Sarang’s stiffening reaction, inhaled slightly and then smiled coldly.

“I do hope you didn’t drive here yourself, Sarang.”

Florian’s breath that had tickled his ear grew distant. The scent that had brushed past his nose, the body heat that had touched him for a brief moment, all receded with increasing speed. Patter, patter. The footsteps, which seemed to ring right next to his ear, felt as if they were treading not on the marble floor but inside Sarang’s head.

Sarang, left alone inside the closed room, sniffed his own scent with the tip of his nose. The smell of the drink his teammate, who had called Sarang to the pub and casually leaked the news of the contract, had accidentally spilled seemed not to have evaporated. But Sarang did not chase after him to explain the whole story.

He no longer tried to explain his innocence, his mistakes, and the misunderstandings to Florian, or to make him understand. Because every time he did, he received a wound he couldn’t handle.

☀️

Florian, sitting with his back against the headboard, looked down at his side. Sarang, sleeping soundly in Florian’s arms, was still a heavy sleeper.

‘Rian, they say sleeping deeply at the same time every day is also a talent.’

‘I don’t think talent alone would be enough, Sarang. Falling asleep at the same time every day is something that can’t be done without ordinary effort.’

‘Haha, that’s true, Rian.’

A conversation they had once had came to mind. It wasn’t a joke; actually falling asleep deeply at the same time every day was in the realm of talent and effort. The rain falling pitter-patter outside the dark window sometimes changed direction and struck the windowpane.

‘Is a weekly wage of 50 million won not enough? Is that amount not enough to save Florian’s face? Still, you can’t raise my market value with Rian’s power. That’s not right. You shouldn’t do that, Rian.’

At 5 AM, the dim light was all there was on a rainy morning. Sarang’s breathing was even and calm as he slept with his left cheek buried in the pure white pillow, his large body turned on its side toward Florian. It was such a peaceful sleep that listening to it made Florian feel drowsy as well.

This dream came late, Sarang.

The content and timing of the dreams were not exactly the same as reality. However, the situations that happened in the dreams also happened in reality, and the outcome changed depending on Florian’s choices. Florian, blinking his eyes as if letting out a sigh, looked down at Sarang’s cheek, which looked soft and was, in fact, soft. His skin, which had been white in the winter, was now healthily tanned as the seasons changed.

It seems I have already done something to make Sarang angry.

Florian, who was gazing down at Sarang, who had a fine layer of fuzz, with his bright blue eyes, carefully brushed back the jet-black hair covering his forehead.