Morning broke.
Siyeon, having stayed up through the entire night, stared down at his phone screen with eyes that hadn’t seen a moment of sleep. Manager Kang’s low, threatening voice refused to leave his ears, and the draft contract he’d pored over until dawn kept flickering in front of him.
[Beom Yisu]
Instead of typing a reply in the messenger, Siyeon pressed the call button. This kind of conversation had to be done directly. More than anything, he didn’t want to keep moving only on the board the other man had laid out. The dial tone rang twice, then cut.
— Go ahead.
Beom Yisu’s voice was as flat and flavorless as ever. Siyeon continued, just as he’d rehearsed countless times through the night.
“Today — I want to talk about the contract terms. In person.”
— I’ll send someone to you.
Swift and decisive, as though he’d been waiting. After the brief call, Siyeon said a simple goodbye to Butler Kim and stepped out through the church doors.
The pastor had been so close — and in the end, he was leaving without a proper farewell. Part of him wanted to ask for a moment to say goodbye, but in the pale morning mist, a black sedan was already waiting neatly at the roadside.
I’ll come visit after I get the money.
He was still thinking that he’d have to come back loaded with gifts when the headlights softly bled through the fog and the car door swung open.
“I’ve come to pick you up.”
A man in a clean, well-fitted suit inclined his head toward Siyeon. He’d expected Beom Yisu to come himself. Or maybe Chae Yuno. Siyeon eyed the unfamiliar man warily and opened his mouth.
“……Who are you?”
“The CEO has an external meeting, so I’ve come in his place. I’ll take you to the residence.”
The business card read, in neat print: Han Wonwoo, Chief of Secretariat, Beomyeong. Right — he had said he’d send someone. Why had Siyeon assumed he’d come in person? And seeing the name on the card, it clicked — he knew exactly who this man was.
If Chae Yuno had Manager Park Jihun at his side in the original story, Beom Yisu always had this man. Unlike Park Jihun, who had been a villain, Secretary Han was more of a loyalist in Siyeon’s memory. The inconvenient, tiresome extra who kept blocking the protagonist’s escape routes every single time they tried to run. Either way, it seemed wise to leave a good impression — it would make things easier later.
“I’ll be in your hands, Secretary Han.”
Having finished his calculations, Siyeon gave him a sweet eye-smile and got into the car.
The interior was too quiet. Whether it was nerves or something else, even the click of the seatbelt sounded unnervingly loud.
Siyeon sat there in his own quiet tension — and then he noticed Secretary Han turning slightly in the front passenger seat toward him.
“I apologize, but for security reasons, the destination cannot be disclosed. Please put this on.”
He held up a black blindfold.
Right. Of course it comes to this.
It wasn’t unexpected — if anything, knowing it was coming made him feel calmer. Just as the secretary reached out to put it on him, Siyeon stopped his hand first.
“Leave it. I’ll do it myself.”
Keeping his expression composed and faintly somber, Siyeon slowly drew the blindfold up over his eyes. As his vision sank into darkness, the sounds around him sharpened. He sat still with the blindfold on, and the secretary, seeing no further cause for concern, turned his head away.
They’re not tying my hands?
In the original story, the protagonist had been bound at the arms and legs before the blindfold went on — mid-tantrum. But right now, he was completely free. The situation was considerably better; this was something to be grateful for. It was probably the kind of consideration you’d give a well-behaved dog on a loose leash — but still.
“We’ll be departing now. I apologize for the discomfort. Please bear with it a little longer.”
After Secretary Han’s polite warning, the car rolled smoothly forward. The low hum of tires against the road, the soft rush of wind against the body of the car. A gentle classical piece — the kind that seemed like it might be Beom Yisu’s taste — filtered through the vehicle’s audio system, and an unexpectedly peaceful stretch of time passed.
As the scenery outside slid by in grey beyond the window, Siyeon quietly felt around in his pocket under the cover of the blindfold. The rough edge of paper brushed against his fingertips.
Siyeon, if you’re ever in a pinch, come here.
The phone number Butler Kim had pressed into his hand. He’d asked for it separately the night before.
I…… actually have one small favor to ask.
A favor? What is it?
Once you’ve settled in somewhere new — would it be alright if I came to visit? Not right away, I don’t mean that. Later. After everything’s sorted out…… I mean……
Maybe it was because, after being relentlessly worn down in a strange place, he’d felt warmth for the first time. He’d been living by the motto that life was ultimately something you faced alone — and yet Siyeon had been the one to ask for Butler Kim’s contact. Thankfully, Butler Kim had given his number without hesitation.
He couldn’t save it in the phone Beom Yisu had given him, so he kept it only as a scrap of paper — but even that felt like a mental refuge of sorts. Ridiculous as it was, had he really grown attached in just these past few days? People who had real family — did they all feel this kind of security? He found himself genuinely wondering.
Would he take me in if I ever needed to run?
He didn’t want to cause trouble for Butler Kim the way Manager Kang had — so this had to be thought of as a true last resort. That resolve hadn’t even fully settled when a loud alert rang out from the front seat.
Beep.
Beep-beep-beep.
It seemed true that it wasn’t far — the car slowed smoothly to a stop. A moment later, Secretary Han’s dry voice reached him through the interior mirror.
“We’ve arrived. Please step out now.”
***
What passed for his moving-in could be summed up as just himself — nothing else. He had nothing in his hands, and yet Secretary Han personally opened the car door for him. Siyeon stepped out somewhat awkwardly — and immediately found himself at a loss for words at what lay before him.
It hadn’t seemed like a long drive from Nakwon-dong, so this was probably still somewhere in Seoul — but a three-story standalone house? And it wasn’t just one building. The exterior alone was large enough that calling it a mansion wouldn’t be an exaggeration, and Siyeon felt his confidence dim just a little.
“Please come in.”
There were surveillance cameras mounted openly and prominently on the outer gate — they’d apparently seen him coming and buzzed the door open. With a heavy metallic clunk, the black iron gate swung open, and Secretary Han stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.
He’d always told himself that as long as he kept his wits about him, he could walk out of a tiger’s mouth alive. But actually walking into the tiger’s den on his own two feet was a different matter entirely.
Siyeon looked back with an expression somewhere between a doomed animal headed to slaughter and mild despair — but Secretary Han stood silently in place, clearly not intending to move until Siyeon was safely inside.
“Thank you for bringing me here. Take care on the way back.”
Siyeon performed one last bow, keeping up his air of quiet, burdened omega, and stepped through the iron gate.
What is all of this?
The inner garden of the estate was immaculately manicured. Every tree, every light fixture, every gap between the pebbles — all arranged without a single superfluous detail. For a house where only three people lived, to need a space like this — this was a truly spectacular waste of money.
Unnecessarily huge. I wonder what the actual floor space is.
He remembered an episode in the original story where Hong Siyeon used to hide in every corner of this house. He’d thought it was an exaggeration when he read it — but at this scale, you could comfortably fit a game of soccer in the garden.
Cleaning this place must be a nightmare. He was turning over that useless thought as he crossed the entryway — and the first thing that caught his eye was the state-of-the-art security system. Not a keypad, but a card key and fingerprint scanner, and on top of those, a small lens that verified both again — plus a separate side door that appeared to be a staff entrance.
What’s with all this security.
How on earth did the protagonist ever escape from a house like this? Clearly the “#escapist” tag in a story wasn’t handed out to just anyone. Those were skilled professionals. Siyeon took a mental inventory of the garden, wondering if there might be some overlooked gap somewhere, and stepped into the mansion’s interior.
A slightly heavy wooden door swung open. In the living room beyond it, afternoon light poured in through an enormous floor-to-ceiling window.
And at the center of that light, half-lounging on the sofa with one wrist draped loosely over the armrest, was a person.
Bright golden hair caught the sunlight and scattered it like broken glass, and a pair of pale, translucent eyes held the light directly in them as they looked up at Siyeon.
One of the few faces he recognized. Chae Yuno.
“Long time no see, babe.”
Unlike their sudden first encounter, he had nothing on his face — no mask, no disguise. As Siyeon approached, Chae Yuno waved casually and rose from where he’d been sitting. Siyeon had expected to be interrogated immediately — grilled on why he’d run — but Chae Yuno welcomed him with easy warmth instead, which somehow made Siyeon more suspicious.
“Didn’t think we’d end up meeting like this, did you?”
His silhouette stretched long against the backlight of the floor-to-ceiling window. As Siyeon hesitated awkwardly, Chae Yuno closed the distance between them and peered around him.
“You didn’t bring any luggage?”
“I didn’t have…… time to stop by my place.”
“Yeah? Well, if you don’t have anything important, it’s fine. Everything you need is here anyway — clothes, toiletries, whatever. Or you could come out with me to get some.”
“Go out?”
“Yeah. As long as it’s with me or hyung, you can go anywhere.”
