“Are you feeling uneasy now that he’s a married man?”
It was my own fault for saying it out loud in the living room. I hadn’t realized Yuhan was listening. I reflexively hunched my shoulders and turned around — there he was, dressed in comfortable clothes, walking toward me with two mugs in hand.
“He’s been a married man for a month now.”
“Ah, right. That’s true.”
Not long ago, the two of them had gone side by side to the district office and submitted their marriage registration. Thanks to that, news of a K Group director’s marriage had made the rounds — but most people seemed to have dismissed it as baseless gossip, so it hadn’t been reported on all that widely. In truth, the only reason it had briefly become a topic at all was because he was first in line for succession; otherwise, it would have flashed across social media for a moment and fizzled out.
Either way, it had already been a full month since Jinwoo and Yuhan had become legally married.
“Even after the ceremony, not much will change from how things are now. Don’t overthink it.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
Yuhan would probably go on living buried in work, just as he always had, fulfilling only his obligations. Jinwoo, too, simply had to do his part. Right — that part he was supposed to do was the very thing making him feel so unsettled right now, and Yuhan had no idea.
Yuhan, whom Jinwoo had assumed was nothing but a stiff, uptight sort of person, turned out to be more thoughtful than expected. He remembered Jinwoo’s parents’ birthdays, and he would check in to make sure Jinwoo was eating properly. At the same time, he never crossed the line beyond that — so Yuhan had no way of knowing that a faint flicker of warmth Jinwoo had almost felt for him had since faded away.
“I’m sorry about the honeymoon.”
“I wasn’t planning on going anyway. What would we even do there.”
It wasn’t only that he had lived in the United States for a long time. He had traveled extensively to neighboring countries, and before starting his master’s program, he had spent a few months staying at a resort. Because of that, a honeymoon didn’t hold much significance for Jinwoo. Even so, Yuhan’s expression was thoroughly grim, as if he couldn’t help feeling sorry.
If they hadn’t known each other long, Jinwoo might have taken that remorse at face value and felt a small stirring of something. But by now, he knew that even an attitude like that was part of business. He didn’t even feel the faintest sting of hurt.
What was in the mug Yuhan handed him was, surprisingly, hot chocolate — half-filled. He corrected himself: it wasn’t surprise he felt, it was bafflement. No matter that Yuhan had been an adult back when Jinwoo was still in elementary school — it was enough to make him wonder if he was being mocked.
“It’s hot chocolate.”
He murmured it quietly, intending for Yuhan to realize the outrage he had committed. Even Yuhan, of all people, would have to react to some degree.
“You like sweet things.”
“I don’t.”
“I think you do.”
He may have only lived twenty-nine years, but he was well aware of his own preferences. And yet, what could someone who had only lived with him for a couple of months possibly know?
“If you don’t like hot chocolate, shall I make you lemon tea instead?”
“……”
Whoever coined the phrase silence is consent — there was never a more fitting moment for it than this. Yuhan smiled faintly and took the mug back from him. The thought that immediately crossed Jinwoo’s mind afterward was, Ugh, how embarrassing.
By any measure, Yuhan was far more of an adult than he was. It was Jinwoo who had picked the pointless fight, and Yuhan had handled it with the composure of a grown man. Jinwoo had wanted to stand on equal footing, but in the end, Yuhan was the one graciously giving ground.
He buried his face in his palms and let out a long sigh — then, the moment he sensed Yuhan returning, he snapped his head back up and pretended nothing had happened.
“It’s hot, so be careful.”
“…Yeah. Thank you.”
His face was burning so visibly that there was no way Yuhan hadn’t noticed the change in him. But Jinwoo desperately played dumb and calmly took a sip of the lemon tea.
It seemed Yuhan had added a spoonful of honey to the lemon syrup Jinwoo had bought. The combination of bright lemon and sweet honey was pleasant. Lemon tea wasn’t something Jinwoo drank for the sweetness — he’d always liked it for its tartness — yet at some point, Yuhan had started adding a spoonful of honey whenever he made it. Even when Jinwoo said he didn’t like sweet things, Yuhan never listened. Later, when Jinwoo had made lemon tea on his own, something felt lacking — probably because he had already grown used to this taste.
Without even realizing it, he had become accustomed to Yuhan’s touch.
When he’d realized that, he had gone and thrown a fit over exactly that — Yuhan’s calmness and ease, the way he seemed to know and yet act as if he didn’t. Of course, when they were face to face, Jinwoo had done his best to appear completely unbothered.
“Don’t be so unsettled — just relax.”
The conversation had come back around to where it started.
Right. Turning things over in his head wasn’t going to solve anything. Better to humbly accept what was coming.
“Are you not nervous at all?”
“Why would I be nervous?”
There it is. That attitude — it definitely came from that infuriating, insufferable maturity of his.
Whenever they talked, Jinwoo felt himself shrinking, even though he’d thought of himself as fully grown. The alphas from before had either openly looked down on him or tried to seduce him outright, but Yuhan drew him in subtly, without making it obvious. It was a pure talent of Yuhan’s. Without a doubt, there were well over ten decent omegas or business partners who had fallen for it.
“You can’t even get in without an invitation, so don’t be too tense.”
That was fair enough. Unlike Yuhan, who occasionally appeared in the media, Jinwoo had been free from that kind of exposure — and he had been reluctant to have a public wedding, worried his personal details might get out. He didn’t want to become fodder for strangers’ gossip. Yuhan had accepted that with a positive response.
At any rate, Jinwoo’s unease right now wasn’t only because of the wedding. But he couldn’t exactly say the second reason out loud, so Jinwoo simply nodded as if that were the whole of it.
Yuhan still wore that easy, pleasant smile of his.
Even if it had rained, it probably wouldn’t have mattered.
This was Jinwoo’s first time visiting the wedding venue, even though he had been the one to choose it. A soaring ceiling and a wide hall. The guest count was set, but that only meant the space felt all the more open and comfortable to use.
“Groom. Has the guest who’ll be receiving the bouquet arrived?”
The planner, who had been checking off everything one by one at his side, asked.
The bouquet was something that made the groom and bride shine on the day of the ceremony — but ultimately, it was meant to be handed off to someone. He had decided to carry one, so it was only right to find someone to give it to, but finding the right person hadn’t been easy. He’d tracked down the friends who had received their invitations late and, after finding one who was soon to be married, finally let out a breath of relief. That friend was set to tie the knot with the person they loved and had been over the moon about it — even the day before, going on about how nervous they were, how they couldn’t pick an outfit, getting more worked up than the person at the center of it all, to the point where Jinwoo had to calm them down himself.
“They said they’re almost here.”
“Understood.”
As if stepping onto a stage, the coordinator was meticulously checking the staging and sound — still relaying messages to someone over a walkie-talkie, endlessly busy. He had been at a salon in Cheongdam since early morning, sitting through hair and makeup, and now had to wear a perfectly fitted suit he didn’t usually put on — just that alone was steadily draining his energy.
The sensation of thick makeup sitting on his face didn’t feel good either. Only by evening would he finally be free from the uncomfortable clothes and the stiff, unfamiliar makeup. A sigh escaped on its own.
It was a closed-off event, but the structure of the wedding itself wasn’t all that different. Sitting through a tedious officiating speech, reciting vows he didn’t mean. He had lost count of how many times he had shaken hands with people — who knows which household or which company’s executives they were. And then, at long last, it was finally the moment everyone had been waiting for.
“We will now proceed to the ring exchange.”
At the emcee’s words, they turned to face each other. Yuhan, dressed up just a little differently from his usual self, suited the pure white suit rather well. The yellow boutonniere that had been pinned at Jinwoo’s suggestion added just the right accent, livening up what could have been a plain outfit. I may have no talent for drawing, but my eye for these things is spot-on, Jinwoo praised himself inwardly.
Just before opening the ring case handed over by a staff member, he caught a quick glance at Yuhan — and Yuhan didn’t look the least bit nervous. What makes him so confident, not even knowing what design I picked. Jinwoo, who had secretly been looking forward to this moment, felt his excitement deflate completely.
“It’s beautiful.”
The small voice, just barely audible enough for only him to hear, carried a smile in it.
“With this, the two of you have become husband and wife under your vows.”
The processional music swelled magnificently through the speakers.
The paths they had each walked alone — they now had to walk together, in step with each other. This, too, they had already rehearsed, so it shouldn’t have been difficult — and yet, his feet wouldn’t move.
“Jinwoo.”
