Secretary Lee felt goosebumps rise along the back of his neck from the charged current passing between the two of them.
The control over this marriage had originally belonged to Kwon Gi-jeong.
He, too, had chosen Seo-in out of necessity and accepted him as someone to marry.
And yet — the feeling that what had seemed like an uneven relationship was now leveling out was no illusion.
Kwon Gi-jeong dropped the document he’d been holding onto the table.
“Are you pulling something? Trying to catch me by the ankle with this?”
Seo-in, who had been quietly watching Kwon Gi-jeong’s behavior, let his lips part softly.
“Not at all. I promise you — nothing like that will happen.”
“Who trusts a promise?”
“That’s why I signed it right there.”
Seo-in fluttered the paper bearing his signature.
“Have you forgotten who drew this up in the first place?”
It was a contract Kwon Gi-jeong himself had made out of distrust of others from the very beginning.
Seo-in’s clause had simply been added to it.
“At the very least, what I’m asking for is smaller than what you demanded.”
Seo-in was asking for exactly one thing.
The problem was that, as Seo-in himself had said, it was by no means a small thing.
It may well have carried more weight than every single clause Kwon Gi-jeong had laid out.
Kwon Gi-jeong’s near-perfect, refined eyes creased.
He was looking at the document fluttering in Seo-in’s hand.
Then, slowly, his gaze fixed on Seo-in.
The intent behind this marriage — the one Kwon Gi-jeong had wanted — was relatively simple.
It was just a matter of filling a need.
Like an exchange of sorts.
Only conducted in the form of marriage.
Up until now, Kwon Gi-jeong had never hesitated when it came to doing what he wanted.
Even in dealing with his own father, Chairman Kwon, it had been the same.
His feelings came first above all else, and he had always done as he pleased.
No one had ever been able to predict him — and even if they did catch on in advance, the other party was still Kwon Gi-jeong.
Refusal was never something that came back to him.
He had never been slighted.
Whatever it was, it had always gone according to Kwon Gi-jeong’s will.
To a degree that was almost dull.
And yet — at this moment, a strange thought flickered through his mind.
That the intent filling Seo-in’s head and the intent filling Kwon Gi-jeong’s head were not the least bit different.
Kwon Gi-jeong felt unsettled.
There was no other word for what he was feeling.
It was as though he was looking at someone in front of him who held the exact same thoughts as himself.
“Do you know why I singled out Park Seo-in as my marriage partner?”
“……”
Seo-in, more than anyone, wanted to know.
The document he’d been holding out slowly lowered.
“You seemed like someone who could read a situation, and at the very least had the sense to know your place. And that head of yours — it seemed like you could actually use it to think.”
Seo-in tried with everything he had not to let anything show outwardly, but his heart was beating faster than it had a moment ago.
He was not an easy opponent.
That had been true in the past, and it hadn’t changed in the present.
“Tell me again what you want.”
Kwon Gi-jeong’s manner had eased somewhat compared to a moment ago, but his cool eyes were unchanged.
Even so — this was the person he would be marrying, and living with under the same roof, if only briefly.
“And since it seems you may not know, let me make this clear again. I’ve already agreed to pay a price for this marriage.”
Kwon Gi-jeong’s posture was close to languid.
With a tilt of his eyes, he gestured toward the exterior of the crumpled envelope Seo-in was holding — the Horim Savings Bank logo.
“I’ll increase the agreed investment amount tenfold.”
From the start, Kwon Gi-jeong had assumed that what Seo-in wanted wouldn’t be any different from this.
That’s why he’d agreed without listening to Secretary Lee’s words.
To him, it was nothing difficult.
Seo-in’s gaze seemed to move toward the same spot for a moment — then returned to where it had been.
Having barely steadied the trembling inside, he made himself meet those razor-sharp eyes with forced composure.
“It sounds like you’re the one with the wrong idea, Gi-jeong. This marriage is with me — so why are you offering the payment somewhere else, as if you’re doing someone a favor?”
“……”
This time it was Kwon Gi-jeong whose words were stopped cold.
But Seo-in’s argument was sophistry, at best.
Horim was Seo-in’s family.
The image of Seo-in that Kwon Gi-jeong had built up from watching him all this time — it scattered before him now, piece by piece.
“Everything I want is written in there.”
Kwon Gi-jeong’s gaze dropped to the document that had been tossed onto the table.
Seo-in’s demands were laid out there, point by point.
Clearly shorter and more concise than what Kwon Gi-jeong had stipulated.
“So you’re truly going to push it this far?”
“I simply want to receive what I want.”
“And that’s my child?”
“My child. It’s written right there.”
“……”
Once again, it was Kwon Gi-jeong who couldn’t find a word to fire back.
There had never been a single person who had shut his mouth one after another like this.
Kwon Gi-jeong’s disposition was not something built up overnight.
He had maintained the same attitude from childhood to now.
And until this moment, there had never been anyone it hadn’t worked on.
And yet……
Secretary Lee flinched.
The taut tension that had been holding between them snapped.
Kwon Gi-jeong picked up a pen.
As though accepting what Seo-in had said, he signed.
“……It will be notarized through a law firm.”
Secretary Lee watched as Seo-in signed the returned document once more, and explained.
And likewise, Kwon Gi-jeong moved his hand with the same clarity, taking in Seo-in’s handwriting.
As delicate as his appearance.
“Ah — I forgot to mention one thing.”
Seo-in gathered the signed document and slipped it into his inner pocket.
In the past, during the time they had been bound as husband and wife, a child had never come.
The marriage hadn’t lasted long — but the real issue lay elsewhere.
Kwon Gi-jeong’s gaze shifted to the side.
Ordinarily, that sort of thing was something he initiated.
But as though to make sure it wouldn’t be forgotten, Seo-in’s declaration followed.
His eyes traveled down from Kwon Gi-jeong’s upper body — downward.
“If you’ve done anything to tamper with your cock, fix it back to how it was while I’m still asking nicely. Before the wedding.”
“……”
With that, Kwon Gi-jeong found himself speechless for the third time in a row.
He was so taken aback that the thought of arguing back didn’t even occur to him.
“I’ll be going now.”
Seo-in rose from his seat, the crumpled Horim envelope clutched in hand.
“Allow me to see you out.”
“It’s fine.”
Secretary Lee hurried after Seo-in.
This was no ordinary person — this was the man who would be marrying Kwon Gi-jeong.
He could not simply let him go unaccompanied.
There was no taking it back now.
……As though something massive had swept through and left him adrift in its wake, Kwon Gi-jeong leaned back against the sofa.
He looked at the empty spot where Seo-in had been sitting just moments before.
Somewhere vague.
“It doesn’t sit right.”
He had stepped back — not at all like himself.
But Kwon Gi-jeong hadn’t even realized he was stepping back.
He told himself that he simply needed a marriage partner urgently right now.
And that rather than wasting time meeting someone new all over again, it was simply more sensible to give Park Seo-in what he wanted and prevent things from falling apart — and he let himself believe that.
“Secretary Lee, you can head back up.”
Secretary Lee, who had followed him all the way down to the lobby, hesitated.
But Seo-in, as though he had said all he needed to say, turned away calmly.
He passed through the people coming and going and stepped out through the revolving door.
He had come here in the car Chairman Kwon had sent.
Because of that, Seo-in hadn’t brought his own vehicle.
What to do.
Seo-in stood for a moment at the entrance, as though thinking over how to get back.
A black sedan slid up smoothly and came to a stop in front of him.
Seo-in opened the rear door and got in.
This was the same car he had arrived in.
More than anything — in the past, this car had never come back for him.
He had taken a taxi on the way home.
He remembered it clearly, precisely because it wasn’t any ordinary day.
He had gone back over his mistakes again and again, in such a tangled and heavy state of mind.
Seo-in glanced briefly at the back of the driver’s head.
The driver must have felt Seo-in’s gaze — and yet……
Just as when he had brought Seo-in here, the driver said nothing at all.
He simply drove for a short while until they had left Yeonbaek Group behind — and then the car came to a stop along a quiet roadside.
