“You’re here.”
The moment a staff member opened the door to one of the private rooms at the restaurant, a voice reached him.
The three people inside all turned to look at him.
They were among the few he had kept in touch with since elementary school.
Jinwoo walked over quickly in his eagerness — and immediately regretted it.
“Of all things to say after not seeing each other in so long — marriage?”
If he’d seen the rapid-fire scolding coming, he would have taken his seat more slowly.
“Well, it was about time. Feels a little fast, but still.”
“My family’s been pressuring me to get married too. I’ve been holding out, but I think I’m going to cave soon.”
Since the purpose of the gathering was to deliver the wedding invitations, marriage naturally became the main topic of conversation.
One of the three was already married, and the rest were still single — so the reactions ran the full range.
“Here, everyone take one first.”
He shut them up before things got worse.
Those who received the paper announcing an invitation to the wedding, now just two weeks away, let out soft sounds of surprise.
The invitation, with its elaborate finishing on the envelope and cover, also served as an entry pass.
It was a thoroughly controlled event — nothing more than a slip of paper, and yet without it, you couldn’t even set foot inside to watch.
The people seated with Jinwoo were all second or third-generation heirs of well-known companies in their own right, so none of that would surprise them.
It must have been something else.
“A weekday?”
“Yeah. That’s how it worked out.”
“Oh, I remember mine was on a weekday too. Too many eyes on weekends, they said.”
They were people for whom visibility mattered more than most, and Yuhan was the same.
No matter how tightly you controlled things, people’s eyes and ears were sharper and more sensitive than you’d expect.
Jinwoo did agree that holding the ceremony on a weekday afternoon was the better call.
These people weren’t in positions where they couldn’t free themselves on a weekday either, so there were no complaints about the date.
“Just bring a generous wedding gift and enjoy the food. I hear the food there is excellent.”
“Ooh, noted.”
Whether the food was good or the drinks were good was of absolutely no consequence to the person getting married.
The sheer fact that in two weeks he would be an unavoidably, irrevocably married man — that alone was enough to leave him stunned and disbelieving.
He let out a deep, heavy sigh, and six pairs of eyes drifted over to him at once.
“What’s got you so worried?”
“It’s just — the moment we’re married, they’ll be on my case to have a baby right away.”
“That’s just how this world works. It’s not like you’re going in blind.”
Heartless lot.
Would it kill them to at least pretend to be concerned?
Jinwoo shot them a look without any real malice, then opened up about the worry that had been weighing on him lately.
“Do you think I’ll be able to raise a child well?”
A brief silence fell.
Regardless, Jinwoo was too absorbed in what had become his greatest preoccupation to even register the shift in atmosphere around him.
His heat cycle came roughly every three to four months.
And the very next cycle was set to arrive right after the wedding.
They probably wouldn’t let the opportunity pass.
He was the one who had said they should use separate rooms except during his cycle — so when the cycle came around, sleeping together was a given.
That was the problem.
Jinwoo — despite having gone abroad for university the moment he came of age — was a virgin.
Since the heat cycle was, at its core, a stage oriented toward conception, having intercourse during it would almost certainly result in pregnancy.
If luck wasn’t on his side, it might take one more time — but it could just as easily be better to get it over with on the first.
“Jinwoo.”
“Hm?”
What broke him out of his thoughts was a voice deliberately lowered.
The friend who was already married leaned toward him with a serious expression.
“Children aren’t raised by people.”
She was not only married, but had a child just shy of entering kindergarten.
“They’re raised by money.”
She too had been bound by a loveless marriage, one forged for the benefit of her family — and so her voice carried a certain chill.
And yet, it felt genuine.
Come to think of it, that was true.
Hospital visits, postpartum care, hiring a babysitter — all of it required money.
Jinwoo had the means to cover every associated cost.
What exactly had he been so worried about until now?
“And once you have a child, it pretty much raises itself.”
“I’ve heard that’s a complete lie.”
“Yeah, it’s a lie. I said it to make you suffer a little.”
Even as she shot back cheekily, a laugh came out on its own.
His mood had lifted considerably.
“Thaank youu.”
He drew out the ending on purpose, and his friends’ laughter grew louder.
Jinwoo laughed openly along with them and gave a small nod to the waiting staff member.
One by one, tableware began to appear on the previously bare table.
“Eat well, come to the wedding. Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
All the food had been finished, and they were sitting with dessert in front of them, conversation flowing without pause, when a knock came.
A staff member entered carrying a paper bag.
He hadn’t asked for anything like that — what could it be?
Just as he was puzzling over it, the staff member delivered the bags to his friends — not to Jinwoo — and cleared up the mystery.
“These are gifts from Director Do Yuhan, for your friends.”
“Oh… thank you.”
He hadn’t said a word about this.
Just to be sure, Jinwoo checked his phone — but there wasn’t a single message.
He must have quietly filed away the fact that Jinwoo would be meeting friends today to deliver wedding invitations.
He knew memory was important in business — but he hadn’t realized this level of attentiveness was also part of it.
And they’d only been living under the same roof for a couple of months.
“Your husband-to-be has quite a sense.”
“I know…”
Something that had happened a few days ago came to mind.
It was the day they’d gone out to eat spicy baby octopus after Yuhan had gotten off work early.
Even now, thinking back on it, the sequence of events made no sense to him.
He still couldn’t figure out what Yuhan had been thinking when he took him out to some place near the office that his employees had recommended.
Between the signature spice of the dish and the drinks, it was impossible to tell which had done most of the filling.
The next day, when Jinwoo was curled up in bed with an upset stomach, Yuhan had sent someone over with porridge and medicine — and that had felt genuinely unfamiliar.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing, never mind.”
Now that he thought about it, every dish on the table today had been prepared without any heat.
He hadn’t mentioned anything — he had no allergies — and yet there it was.
Surely not…
Jinwoo shook his head quickly.
Plenty of people couldn’t handle spice, so he decided to chalk it up to this restaurant simply leaning toward milder flavors in general.
“For someone who was more or less assigned to you, he seems like quite a decent person.”
“I suppose…”
As Yuhan had said himself, even living under the same roof, the number of times they’d actually come face to face could be counted on two hands.
That meant the total time he’d spent getting a real read on him was simply insufficient.
It was probably just that they didn’t know him well enough to say otherwise — and on that single point, Jinwoo conceded.
“He’s not bad.”
Not arrogant, not full of bluster, not someone who made a habit of lying.
At least among all the alphas he’d ever sat across from as a blind date candidate, Yuhan was the best.
But…
“Whether he’s good — I still don’t know.”
Being the best of a particular set didn’t make someone a good person, and Jinwoo knew that well.
“I’m really unsettled.”
First reason Jinwoo was unsettled: the wedding, which had once felt impossibly far away, was now just two days out.
Technically it was the day after tomorrow — so not even quite two days — but he was choosing to believe otherwise.
Second reason: his heat cycle would most likely begin two weeks from today.
Just an hour ago, he had reached for his suppressants out of habit before stopping himself.
Despite being an atypical dominant omega who could manage his heat with simple medication rather than riding it out fully — he couldn’t take the pills.
What a miserable irony.
