Ch 21

As darkness fell on the red sky, Ideun, who had been reading files by Ji-an’s side while he slept, eventually put the files down, feeling more stifled rather than relieved.

What kind of life must he have lived?

Losing his parents early and living with relatives isn’t uncommon. Many struggle financially and start working part-time from a young age. Sometimes, a family member gets sick, medical bills pile up, and debt accumulates. So they work even harder, but eventually, the family leaves, and they’re left alone. That’s not common, but it’s certainly possible.

And this was Ji-an’s past.

A difficult upbringing might summarize his history, but there were too many peculiarities. Large, irregular deposits from about four years ago, a 30-pyeong apartment in Ji-an’s name, which he later sold, and the aunt’s medical bills that seemed to have been covered by someone else. 

There was a note indicating it would be difficult to trace the source of the money, although little time was given to investigate Ji-an’s background.

Accounts flashed in Ideun’s mind — one with a few hundred thousand won that had been used regularly and another with tens of millions untouched. After his aunt passed, Ji-an hastily sold the apartment and bought a small studio in the outskirts.

Why?

Despite having a decent apartment in a good location, he chose to move and kept the new place empty as if abandoning himself there. Then, what about the luxurious life he led in France?

With the money in Ji-an’s account now, he could easily start a small café. He could also move into a new studio or back into an apartment like the one he’d had before.

Even if he had to struggle now, he wouldn’t touch that money?

Though he used the life insurance from his aunt’s death to pay off debts as soon as he received it?

An inferior omega, almost a beta, without pheromone scent.

A massive amount of money that he couldn’t have earned purely by himself.

And finally, his partial bond.

“The person I like. And the person I hate most in the world.”

Ji-an said that, smiling brightly. The puzzle pieces in Ideun’s mind came together and fell apart repeatedly. Since he’d never seen the completed image, putting the puzzle together was difficult. Everything seemed to align in a negative direction.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Ideun’s gaze on Ji-an grew even darker.

He had brought Ji-an to the studio he’d been using frequently lately, as it was closest to work. Starting in January, it would be the most convenient place for him to commute. As soon as the boiler was fixed, Ji-an would likely rush back there.

But would that boiler really be fixed so easily…? First, the most urgent issue was the boiler. If it was fixed, maybe the plumbing could break down, and after that, perhaps the gas? If it came to it, a major repair due to a burst pipe in the unit above could work.

As he felt pain in his fingertips, he looked over. Ideun’s gaze at Bobo, who was playing with his fingers on his lap, was softer than ever. It would have been difficult alone, but he had this little one now. Ji-an, who was so sharp with him, was endlessly gentle with this small creature.

When he scratched Bobo’s belly after it rolled over, a purring sound resonated.

Throughout his life, his method for dealing with bothersome or troublesome matters had been simple.

Removal.

What could be simpler and cleaner?

But Ji-an was a unique case. Since he was a living being, removal was not an option. So Ideun chose not to look. Trying to push it aside as if he’d never met him was his first mistake.

Ji-an constantly flipped his mind to the point he couldn’t even work.

Then, he had to meet him directly and find out the precise reason. If he had him work at his company, he’d be able to see him anytime. That was the straightforward approach he’d decided on. Silencing the bewildered HR manager wasn’t hard either.

Who would go against the CEO’s orders? And so, he placed Ji-an on the edge of his sphere. Yet, despite all his efforts, Ji-an was now occupying his bed in his home.

It was about time to wake him up for a meal. Ideun checked the time and placed Bobo, who was playing in his hand, next to Ji-an’s head.

The waking-up would be Bobo’s task, not his.

* * *

Without opening his eyes, Ji-an grabbed the little fluffball, Bobo, climbing over his face and neck. Kissing the small body, he burrowed into the warm, cozy blanket, only to snap his eyes open.

It wasn’t the warmth of the blanket that was the problem. Sitting up abruptly, Ji-an scanned his surroundings by the light from the bedside lamp. Though dim enough not to disturb sleep, it was bright enough to observe the unfamiliar room.

With only a large bed, nightstand, lamp, and a single armchair by the window, the room seemed designed solely for rest. Ji-an sought out the familiar scent lingering in the air.

A naturally embedded musk, neither too strong nor too faint. The scent filled the pillow and blanket he held. Hesitantly, Ji-an pulled the blanket closer, inhaling deeply. With the familiar musk, he bit down softly on the inside of his lower lip.

His house, where the boiler was broken. They had hastily packed and left together, Ideun taking him somewhere.

What had he been thinking, falling asleep in the car? His heart beat anxiously.

The companion with Ideun. His acquaintance. The alpha he had marked. Ji-an’s thoughts centered on a single point.

Could he meet that person? Could he see him directly?

Then what should I do?

For him, that person was significant, but for that person, he was likely just a casual partner from a single night. If he had known anything, he would have reached out or tried to contact Ji-an through Ideun.

Ji-an, sitting with wide eyes, cautiously placed his feet on the floor. As he did, he noticed the slippers set there, as if they’d known he’d need them.

Slipping his feet into them, he checked that he was still wearing his outer coat and headed toward the closed door. His breath hitched upon seeing it shut, but thanks to Bobo clinging to his pant leg, he was able to grasp the doorknob without trembling.

Beyond the quietly opened door was a clean, minimalist living room in grayscale. Unlike the brightness of familiar incandescent lights, the space was softly lit by ambient lights, and light jazz played in the background.

“You’re awake?”

Ji-an, peering out from the bedroom with only one foot through the door, looked toward the voice. Ideun stood in comfortable indoor clothes, holding a ladle in one hand. The delicious aroma overpowered the lingering musk in the air.

“Where… is this place?”

Feeling awkward, Ji-an scratched the back of his neck and moved toward the kitchen where Ideun stood. His gaze fell on the pot bubbling on the induction stove.

“An officetel.”

“Is this your place?”

“One of the properties I own. I made abalone porridge. Do you like seafood?”

Since it wasn’t his own space, Ji-an hesitated to offer help or say much and instead took a seat on a stool in front of the kitchen island. Still, he couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering around the kitchen, wondering why this place, filled with a musky scent, lacked Ideun’s usual woody pheromone. Did friends or other guests frequently use this space?

“Seafood.”

“Oh! Yes, it’s fine. I don’t really have any food I can’t eat—except for spicy stuff. By the way, do you like musk scents?” 

Ji-an, pressing his palm over his chest to calm his pounding heart, asked hesitantly.

With just a single gesture from Ideun, he gave a startled “Oh,” realizing what Ideun was pointing at—a room fragrance diffuser. Once he noticed one, he saw others of the same type scattered around the room.

Ideun placed a mat and a pretty set of utensils in front of Ji-an, then set down a bowl of abalone porridge in the center.

“Eat first. You know what’s a trait of businesspeople? They don’t do anything when they’re hungry. Hunger makes you irritable, and it’s hard to make sound decisions in that state.”

Taken aback by Ideun’s casual comment as he ladled his own porridge, Ji-an closed his mouth, observing Ideun eat. Instead of sitting beside him, Ideun leaned against the sink, casually eating his own portion. Only after seeing that did Ji-an lift his spoon. He took a careful bite, not yet sure of Ideun’s cooking skills, then glanced over.

“Did you think I’d serve you something inedible?”

“I just didn’t expect it to be this good,” Ji-an admitted, blowing on his next spoonful and smiling at the rising steam.

“I’m glad it’s to your taste.”

“Oh, Bobo!”

Momentarily distracted by the food, Ideun, and the unfamiliar house, Ji-an suddenly remembered that he hadn’t properly tended to Bobo’s meal that day and jumped up from his seat.

“Bobo just had a lot of snacks earlier. She figured out how to tear open the package on her own while I was sorting things out.”

Knowing Bobo’s insatiable appetite, Ji-an chuckled, settling back into his seat. Life had been nothing but mundane, a rigid routine of part-time jobs, hospital visits for his aunt, and school. But recently, with a cat and Ideun unexpectedly in his life, it had become quite lively. Just in early December, he’d been in Paris, resolved to tie up all loose ends. Yet here he was, with Bobo, sharing a meal prepared by Ideun in Ideun’s home.

The fact that Ideun could cook, along with the thought that Ideun had cared for Bobo while he was away, brought a soft smile to Ji-an’s face. When Ideun noticed him smiling, Ji-an playfully gave him a thumbs-up, saying, “You’re actually not too bad of a guy.”

“If you knew the real me, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Just until the boiler’s fixed, I’ll stay here.”

Ji-an resumed eating the porridge and spoke softly.

“Rent will be fifty thousand won, and I’ll cover the maintenance fee.”

“Pardon?”

“No matter how nicely it’s set up, a home gets stale if it’s left empty. It needs someone living in it. From here, the subway is only two stops from the office, so it’s a convenient commute. But I have one condition.”

Fifty thousand won rent matched the price of his current officetel, and with Ideun covering the maintenance fees, it felt like a golden opportunity had fallen into his lap.

“What’s the condition?”

“Because it’s so close to the office, I might stay over sometimes when I have late work or early meetings. But I’ll use the guest room, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

His current commute took over an hour, with transfers from bus to subway. The cold, bare officetel he lived in couldn’t compare to this place. Reason told him it was best to decline, but he’d already decided to accept, heart and mind. A larger, more comfortable space—who wouldn’t want that? And as he watched Bobo zoom around, he felt it would be beneficial for her, too.

“I’ll cover the maintenance fee.”

Still eyeing Bobo’s high-speed dashes, Ji-an suggested his own offer.

“The maintenance fee is something I’d be paying regardless if the place was empty.”

“I dislike darkness. I need all the lights on, even when I’m alone, and when I leave, I don’t turn off the living room light. I also leave all the doors open, except for the front and main door, including the bathroom. Plus, with Bobo here, I’ll need to keep the heating on all the time, and since I keep the doors open, it’ll mean heating the entire place. The maintenance costs might be high.”

He didn’t explain why he needed to keep things so bright or doors open, but it didn’t matter to reveal a few more quirks. Ji-an figured if it wasn’t acceptable, he’d simply go back to his place.

Seeing Ideun hadn’t responded, Ji-an finally looked up, setting his spoon down. Ideun, having finished eating, was by the sink with his arms folded, wearing an unreadable expression.

“Also, as a tenant, it doesn’t make sense for me to use the master bedroom. I’ll keep the main room closed, so you can use it anytime. The place is large enough, after all.”

“Anything else?”

Ji-an blinked at the brief question.

“What else? Any other precautions?”

“There’s nothing else. Just, I feel uncomfortable with people getting too close or touching me. I don’t like being touched—though, doesn’t everyone feel that way? Anyway, if you need me or have something to say, please call my name instead of touching me.”

Ideun approached the island table, and Ji-an instinctively began cleaning up his used dishes.

“To what extent?”

The island table separated them.

“Like this?”

Nodding, Ji-an tilted his head at Ideun’s question, who then asked, “So, if I want to touch you, I should ask first?”

“Your nose.”

Ji-an froze as Ideun’s large hand reached toward him. His fingertip tapped Ji-an’s nose, a playful touch, but Ji-an didn’t flinch.

“Next, your chin.”

Ideun’s words matched his actions. His finger lifted Ji-an’s chin, tilting his face slightly backward. With their eyes now level, Ji-an’s gaze lowered to avoid Ideun’s.

“Your lips.”

Ideun’s thumb pressed against Ji-an’s lower lip, nudging it to one side. Time seemed to stop, as though only Ideun could move in this space. When his hand finally moved away, Ji-an snapped out of his daze, leaping up from his seat.

“So, asking permission is all it takes.”