Yuhan’s expression crumpled more and more. But Jinwoo was unmoved.
“The last one was bragging about his money. Right in front of me.”
Thinking back on it now, everyone except that last one had given off a sexual undertone. He probably needed to reshuffle his ranking of who was relatively better.
“The reason I’m telling you this is because you’re at least better than those three.”
That was why he had decided to marry him. They weren’t even in the same league as the alphas who had come before — it felt almost rude to compare them.
As if to prove he hadn’t wasted his years, Yuhan was far more mature and composed than Jinwoo. If someone like him became the head of a company, surely the employees who followed him would have no complaints either.
“I don’t want your love. I don’t want your attention.”
Jinwoo knew well enough what a blessing it was to have someone love you. The greater part of his life had been filled with the unconditional love of his family. He had no intention of forcing the same from Yuhan. But people were foolish creatures, and Jinwoo had found himself expecting things without meaning to. Plucking out that seedling of expectation was what it would take to put himself at ease.
“Let’s just do what we’re supposed to do.”
Reporting his every move to Yuhan was necessary for the child to grow safely inside him — and as Yuhan himself had said, the child’s father shouldn’t be left finding out things too late. That was the only reason. Any emotion beyond that was unnecessary.
“It’ll be easier for you too, that way.”
Giving that love to the child who would be born was the better choice for Yuhan as well.
“I’m going to go in now. I’m tired.”
It wasn’t a lie. For something no bigger than a fingernail of a cell, it drained his energy so relentlessly — he grew exhausted easily even without doing anything in particular. Even after Jinwoo went inside, Yuhan didn’t move.
Chapter 3. Regret Doesn’t Change Anything
Morning sickness had begun. Of all times, it started with exactly one month left until his birthday. He had a feeling the nausea and retching would still be going strong by then. He supposed he’d have to write this year’s birthday off entirely. With that thought, Jinwoo rolled the candy to the other side of his cheek.
When you spent your time throwing up, your appetite would drop off sharply and your mouth would turn rough and scratchy, and you wouldn’t want to eat a thing. That was where these candies came in.
“Alright, today… for breakfast, thin watery nurungji. For lunch, soft tofu with just a little dressing…”
He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten something with a strong flavor. It felt like an eternity ago.
“…I want tteokbokki.”
Going through morning sickness had taught him what a genuine blessing it was to be able to eat whatever you wanted freely. He had started keeping a food diary at the doctor’s suggestion, but the entries were nothing but pale, white-colored foods. Anything spicy, packed with chili powder and full of punch, was nowhere to be found.
To make things worse, his pheromone sensitivity had gone through the roof — higher than even most other omegas. They agreed that if it reached the point of disrupting daily life, he would use medication. Forcing his sensitized pheromone glands to go numb was bound to put a strain on his body, so they’d prefer to avoid it if possible — but above all, they said the mental health of a pregnant person came first. Jinwoo had simply nodded.
The child that had taken up residence in his still-flat stomach seemed to have a thoroughly fussy personality.
“Sweetheart. Surely it’s better for your dad to eat something than to starve to death, isn’t it?”
Even if he pleaded like this, the baby’s ears hadn’t formed yet — it couldn’t hear a thing. A laugh escaped him at the sight of himself talking to something that was no more than a cell without a conscious mind.
“I wonder who it takes after, being this difficult…”
After jotting down the whole-wheat crackers he had just eaten — tasteless, scentless — Jinwoo dropped himself onto the bed. Who else would it take after — he already knew perfectly well it took after him. And so he understood well enough the trouble his mother must have gone through. If he had made her suffer a little less back then, maybe he wouldn’t be struggling this much himself now.
On top of that, the compulsion to give birth to a dominant alpha was eating away at him. As much as he tried not to think about it, the purpose of this pregnancy was clear — and the thought crept up on him at unexpected moments, making the morning sickness even worse.
Full summer had arrived, but the inside of the apartment was always kept at a pleasantly comfortable humidity and temperature. The cold air that pregnant people were supposed to be careful of was nowhere to be found. So his insides might be a wreck, but at least his body should be comfortable — and yet even that refused to go the way he wanted.
“If I’d known it was going to be nothing but aggravation, I should have at least begged for us to wait a little longer before having a child.”
It was unreasonable, no matter how he thought about it — the fact that a pregnant omega needed an alpha’s pheromones. To spend all day limp and exhausted as a wrung-out rag, only for his head to clear the moment Yuhan came home from work and his pheromones reached him. Modern medicine was clearly not on the omega’s side.
Despite the line Jinwoo had drawn, Yuhan maintained the same attitude as always. Sharing pheromones also fell under the category of “what they were supposed to do,” so Jinwoo didn’t feel guilty about it or tread carefully around him. He focused only on keeping his heart in check, so as not to expect anything.
He fell asleep thinking about Yuhan. When he came to, thick darkness had settled outside. Half-asleep, he checked the time and couldn’t help being startled.
“What? It’s past ten?”
This wasn’t a nap — he had practically been in a deep sleep. He had thought he was tired, but not so far gone that he’d sleep that heavily. His body had apparently disagreed. He could feel that it was considerably lighter than before.
There was no sign of anyone outside his room. He gathered his bleary head and went out to the living room, but it was dark without a single light on. His feet naturally carried him toward Yuhan’s study.
“Yuhan…?”
Knock knock — he rapped lightly on the door, but there was no answer from inside. He did the same in front of Yuhan’s bedroom, but got the same response. In his memory, Yuhan had never come home this late even once, and the sense of puzzlement was beginning to deepen — when a faint cheerful electronic chime sounded from the front door being unlocked. Jinwoo’s footsteps toward the entryway were noticeably light.
But it wasn’t Yuhan who greeted him.
“Jinseok…?”
To be precise, it was Yuhan — and Jinseok supporting him from the side.
“I’m sorry for the commotion. The director had a little too much to drink…”
He could tell even without being told. There was the flushed face and loosened air — but above all, what he felt from Yuhan was a thick tangle of pheromones that didn’t belong to anyone he knew. Among them, the pheromone carrying a suggestive undercurrent grated against Jinwoo’s nerves — and he had just woken up from a good, deep sleep.
Jinseok assumed the reason Jinwoo’s face was crumpling had to do with something else, and repeated his apologies as he brought Yuhan inside. He couldn’t very well hand a drunk man over to a pregnant Jinwoo.
“There was an important meeting, and the executive on the other side had a fondness for drink — the director was keeping up with him, and it ended up like this. I hope you won’t be too hard on him.”
“Right, well…”
Did he even have the standing to be hard on him or not. Yuhan was the kind of man who would come to him tomorrow with the same composed face as if nothing had happened and ask, ‘How are you feeling today?’
Honestly, even with a stranger omega’s pheromones on him, even if the story about the executive who liked to drink was something Jinseok and Yuhan had agreed on in advance — Jinwoo had nothing to say. Just as he had said before, Yuhan was free to go out and find himself a new lover.
But there was quite a difference between thinking something and actually seeing it with your own eyes.
“…Yuhan. Wake up.”
Whether he was drunk on alcohol or drunk on pheromones — how hard must the other person have been pouring them out for it to cling this thickly.
He covered his nose and mouth with his hand and shook him, but there was no movement at all. The suit he was wearing looked uncomfortable, and Jinwoo had hoped he’d wake up enough to change — but it was looking like that wasn’t going to happen. Just as Jinwoo was about to give up —
“Jinwoo…”
A drunkard’s voice. Completely loose and slurred, but it was his own name, so he caught it immediately.
If you went and had a fine time with an omega whose face and name you don’t even know, you’d call out that person’s name — so why are you calling mine. And with that kind of aching expression.
He clearly hadn’t called out expecting an answer. His eyes were still closed, and his once-neatly groomed hair had long been crushed against the pillow and gone to ruin. Mixed into the sharp smell of alcohol was his pheromones. Like a spray of cool cologne — it was almost refreshing — but trailing behind it, clinging to the end, was still that maddening other omega’s pheromone.
What would he do if I answered right now. The curiosity came out of nowhere.
“What.”
He kept his hand over his nose and mouth because of the other omega’s pheromones, so the words came out muffled. A drunk Yuhan was unlikely to notice something like that, so Jinwoo let himself be a little more shameless than usual.
And then something remarkable happened.
“…Jinwoo…”
He smiled. The corners of his mouth curved softly into an arc, and his eyes creased with it. It was a genuine smile Jinwoo had never seen before.
