“No. That’s not what I was asking. I was just——”
“That’s not what I was asking either.”
It had been a question thrown out partly hoping he’d catch on. A way of saying — do you really think I’m fool enough to be taken in by your obvious lies?
Hyeon studied Seowoo’s eyes, which at first glance appeared transparent. Because Seowoo averted his gaze as though the light was too bright, it was difficult to read what he was thinking. The only impression Hyeon took away was that his eyes were pretty.
It was simply confirmation that his own patience was this shallow. Changing his mind, Hyeon raised his hand and lightly tapped Seowoo’s cheek, then rose and walked off into the darkness.
He’d expected Seowoo to flare up and come at him — you decorated this whole house to deceive me? — but instead he cooled down almost instantly and took a step back. That attitude was similar to how he’d been when he gave up Gallery Suryeon three years ago. Giving up easily meant his expectations were that low to begin with.
Watching him maintain the same expression he wore when they met as professional counterparts dealing with business matters, Hyeon suddenly felt curious. What Yoon Seowoo looked like when he came undone and showed his true feelings without reservation. The face he only ever showed when he was with his child.
“……”
Seowoo quietly watched Hyeon’s back as he made his way toward the entryway. Hyeon found the circuit breaker with ease and reset it, and in an instant the entire space was flooded with light.
The sight of him turning back around was somehow difficult to look at directly. Seowoo carefully averted his gaze, and Hyeon sat down beside him as if he’d completely forgotten the conversation from moments ago.
“I didn’t expect you to come this quickly, so my thoughts aren’t quite sorted yet.”
Hyeon put on a deliberately gentle voice. His gaze as it carefully studied Seowoo’s face was the same as before, but his chin resting in his hand carried even a soft smile.
“Since you’re here anyway, shall we settle on how to go about this? What should we even call it. Pheromone exchange? Treatment? Therapy?”
The question was almost breezy — it could have eased the tension, but the pheromones drifting off Hyeon were anything but light. Seowoo’s heart immediately began to pound.
The scent of pheromones he was deliberately releasing was incomparably thicker and heavier than before. Seowoo straightened his body as it began to lean on its own, and responded.
“……I think just being close might be enough.”
“Just close?”
“Like before…… if you work, and I’m just nearby……”
Hyeon’s smile deepened all at once.
Without warning, he reached out and snatched Seowoo’s hand. Then he pressed his thumb into the hollow of Seowoo’s palm and rubbed it slowly. Seowoo wasn’t as startled as before, but he tensed enough to go rigid.
“That’s too slow.”
Hyeon pulled Seowoo’s wrist toward him and brought it to his nose.
“Just how long do you think it’ll take to get better that way?”
That made Seowoo curious too.
“……Do you need to leave soon?”
“I’m not going to be here forever.”
“I know that.”
“I thought you’d be in more of a hurry, at least for the baby’s sake.”
It seemed he’d unconsciously assumed Hyeon would be staying for a long time. Seowoo’s face flushed red with embarrassment. He didn’t understand why, when it came to Hyeon specifically, he made such foolish assumptions so easily.
“Then what do we do. Do you have something in mind……”
He was the one who had asked for help, and yet here he was asking Hyeon to decide on the method too. Seowoo didn’t even realize it as he let himself be led by Hyeon — much like how Hyeon had been swept up in Seowoo’s heat cycle, he was waiting for Hyeon’s answer without even thinking it strange.
Hyeon began, his voice low and measured.
“First, one condition.”
He still had Seowoo’s hand gripped firmly.
“Promise me you won’t run away, no matter what I do.”
“……Run away?”
“It’s your specialty.”
The smile had disappeared from Hyeon’s face at some point.
“You may be the one to start things, but I’m the one who decides when they end. If you’re planning to come looking for me only when you need me and then turn your back the moment you’re fine — don’t bother.”
“……”
While Hyeon’s lips murmured close to his wrist, Seowoo could barely breathe properly. It was already hard enough to hold onto his reason with just this much — and no matter what I do?
Seowoo couldn’t answer right away and sat frozen, and only then did Hyeon release his hand. Hyeon’s pheromones had soaked heavily into the hand that had been held so tightly.
“You came asking an alpha for pheromones without even being prepared for that?”
Hyeon’s hand suddenly grabbed Seowoo by the nape of his neck. The moment his breath caught in his throat, his balance gave way — and before he had any chance to dodge, their lips locked together.
“……!”
Seowoo, startled, squirmed and twisted his body. He tried to lift his hands and push against Hyeon’s shoulders, but no strength came. Hyeon’s perfectly calibrated pheromones overwhelmed Seowoo far too easily.
There was nothing he could do but take it.
Hyeon’s breath poured straight into him, and the thick pheromones seeped into the soft flesh of him. The moment he gave up resisting, he was pulled in deeper.
At last their lips parted with a quiet sound, and Hyeon exhaled shortly, his body trembling. He shook all over as if gripped by a shudder. Seowoo, breathless, stared at Hyeon’s thoroughly undone expression in surprise. Was he feeling the same torrent Seowoo was experiencing? It felt like the pheromones were making him see things.
Hyeon traced over Seowoo’s wet lips with his hand, like a brushstroke. Then, just like that, he brought his lips close to Seowoo’s cheek and whispered.
“Don’t faint.”
Thunder rumbled again, shaking the windows, and Seowoo clenched both hands tightly in his lap.
……I thought he was going to kiss me on the cheek.
Why was that, he wondered. His heart pounded far more violently from the feather-light graze against his cheek than it had from the desperate kiss itself.
* * *
Sunlight poured deep through the south-facing floor-to-ceiling windows. In the middle of the studio, bright enough to see the dust floating in the air, Hyeon sat wearing a loose knit.
The paint squeezed onto a roughly cut piece of thick cardboard carried a dull, heavy sheen. Cobalt blue, burnt umber, titanium white — thick textures were pressed and mixed in turn beneath the palette knife.
Scrape, scrape. The thin metal blade gathered the colors, then crushed them flat.
On the canvas, the base coat laid down the day before had already dried. Out of habit, Hyeon ran the back of his hand once across the surface, then picked up a brush.
The first touch carried no hesitation. The paint pressed against the stiff bristles and left a long mark. Another layer of color was stacked over the thinly spread one. The parts where clumped paint caught the light and gleamed, and the parts where colors blurred and muddied — all of it was within his intention.
Despite the fearless brushstrokes, the work didn’t last long. After roughly twenty strokes or so, the frequency of his blinking increased. By the time he finally squeezed them shut, the brush had already been set down.
When he opened his eyes after keeping them shut for a long while, the canvas was black and white again. Hyeon lifted his wrist to check the time. It was almost time for the little one to leave for daycare.
He washed the paint off his hands and stepped outside, and just then, Chief Han was coming up the stairs and greeted him with a brightened expression.
“Good morning. Are you heading out for your morning walk?”
“I’m going to take him to daycare. What brings you here. This early.”
He could have waited in the studio for Yoon Seowoo to come — there was no need to follow all the way to the daycare drop-off. Chief Han wondered briefly, but didn’t voice it. Instead, he got straight to the point of his visit.
As Chief Han held out the document envelope he’d brought, Hyeon pointed toward the road and suggested they walk together. It was just over ten minutes on foot to Seowoo’s house — more than enough time to hear a report.
“The Gallery Suryeon sale — after looking into it, your prediction was correct.”
Hyeon’s steps paused for just a brief moment as he flipped through the documents and read.
“Indeed…… Yoon Seowoo’s name doesn’t appear anywhere in the sales contract.”
“Legally, he is included among the heirs. If you look at the document with the red label there, it states that Yoon Seowoo himself relinquished his rights.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes. There is clearly a possibility of procedural defect. If evidence is secured, there appears to be sufficient grounds to argue for nullification.”
It was an open secret that President Yoon Kangwoo despised his half-brother Yoon Seowoo. He was ashamed of the fact that his father Yoon Hyuntae had loved someone else before marriage, and had wanted to erase it from the world. The moment his father stepped down from the front lines, he began destroying Gallery Suryeon — in a society where everyone had their own tangle of exhausting family affairs, it was a strikingly blunt and aggressive display of emotion.
Hyeon quickly skimmed the documents and returned them, envelope and all, to Chief Han.
“What’s the likelihood that his uncle knew all of this.”
“It’s difficult to determine intent.”
“Difficult, sure.”
Hyeon gave a short laugh.
“Keep digging.”
“Director Lee Wooseok’s side as well?”
Hyeon, who had been walking ahead, stopped and turned to face Chief Han. He tapped the document envelope lightly with his finger.
“Not just what’s visible in the documents. We need to find out what else was exchanged besides Suryeon. One thing alone won’t make them so much as blink.”
“Understood.”
Under the sharp sunlight, Hyeon scrunched up the bridge of his nose. He took the sunglasses Chief Han immediately held out and put them on, smiling faintly.
“Let’s finish the drop-off first, then talk again in the evening.”
And with that, he turned away as if nothing had happened at all.
