Could it have been presumptuous of him to compliment his handwriting? He wasn’t sure of the exact reason, but it seemed clear enough that Cesare was angry. Because, just as Cesare had said, he did look awfully healthy for someone who was supposedly ill.
Seohan debated whether to just pretend not to notice, then decided to ask one more time. By nature, Seohan was a safety-first, timid sort of person who never spoke to anyone who seemed angry and simply avoided them — but Cesare was now his employer, so he had to at least try to keep him in good spirits.
“Then, are you perhaps angry?”
“Because you went and tried to flatter me with something that didn’t even suit you.”
The volcano-like gaze that had been drilling into Seohan’s hands now rose to his face. Seohan pulled his shoulders in tightly and looked away.
“I said it was cool because it genuinely is cool……”
Seohan muttered, pointing at the signature again. Cesare’s gaze naturally followed. And once again, he was confronted with the wretched handwriting beneath his own signature. His brow furrowed on its own.
“Tch.”
Even at a glance he’d thought it was poor handwriting, but calling that poor handwriting felt like an insult to poor handwriting. It was no different from a trail left behind by an earthworm. There was no way anyone could call it pretty, even as an empty compliment.
“St— still, as long as you can read and write, isn’t that all that matters?”
“Who said otherwise?”
“It’s just that I’m better at reading than writing……”
Having easily read the meaning behind Cesare’s reaction, Seohan muttered with a slight pout.
The world collapsing meant the normal education system had collapsed along with it.
District 2 at least had an academy, but District 4 had no educational institution whatsoever. There were many children who started learning to beg the moment they could walk, so there weren’t many people there with any real hunger for learning.
Seohan was at least somewhat better off than most. Because Eddie could read and write, he’d been able to pick up a lot just by watching over his shoulder. Except for particularly difficult words, he could read fairly well.
Even so, by the standards of the Graven Federation, where illiteracy rates were high, that was decent enough. But seeing that elegant handwriting, he couldn’t help feeling a little small. Without realizing it, Seohan dropped his gaze and took in Cesare’s penmanship.
“I’m envious. I’d like to write well too.”
“Then practice.”
“Did you practice too?”
“Why on earth would I?”
The look that shot back at him was arrogant, as if he’d said something utterly beneath consideration. It was a terribly irritating expression — and yet, because it was Cesare wearing it, his head just nodded along.
He really did seem like someone who’d been good at everything from the moment he was born. From penmanship to athletics to business. There was an ease about him that belonged to someone who’d never once felt inadequate in any area of his life.
That was just how dominant alphas were. Their capacity for learning was exceptional, so they excelled in every regard. The power of genetics was something no amount of human effort could overcome.
“Ah…… I see.”
Seohan gave a hollow nod and glanced alternately between the nearly empty cocoa cup and the door to the room.
The contract was fully signed now, so he wanted to head home for today. Despite having fallen dead asleep in Cesare’s bed, his fatigue hadn’t lifted at all. That was just how draining facing Cesare in person was.
“You read it properly, right? I absolutely can’t stand it when people say something different later, so if there’s anything you need, speak up now.”
“I read it……! 600 Krang……!”
Seohan declared confidently, even going so far as to hold up his fingers. Cesare’s brow furrowed as he snatched the contract back and flipped through it with a sharp rustle. He was utterly exasperated by the shamelessness of someone who’d only memorized his own cut out of the whole thing.
“And the rest?”
“The rest— the rest?”
The contract was dense with all manner of items — the cycle of pheromone exchange, the penalty for failing to fulfill the stress-relief duty, the confidentiality clause, and more. In truth, it was a contract loaded with terms that put Seohan at a disadvantage. And yet, out of all of it, the only thing that had registered in this fool’s head was 600 Krang. It was beyond absurd.
“Out of all of that, the only thing that made it into your head was that? Is your brain wired differently from other people’s?”
“That’s not it……”
“That’s what you get when you hold up your end properly. You hear me? Next rut, I won’t be letting things slide the way I did today. Understand?”
“Yes. I understand.”
At the warning that followed, Seohan clenched his fist and answered firmly.
Seohan was well aware that Cesare had found many things about him unsatisfactory. If he fumbled as badly as he had today during an actual rut, someone with Cesare’s temperament was not going to stay quiet about it.
But what Cesare had failed to account for was that Seohan was, beneath it all, quite responsible. Working part-time jobs seven days a week wasn’t something a person could sustain without real backbone. As much as he was being paid, he fully intended to be worth every bit of it.
For instance — at the very least, he ought to be able to properly undo the other person’s buttons. And as Cesare had said, it probably wouldn’t hurt to practice prepping himself on his own.
“Next time, I’ll make sure I’ve learned properly so you won’t be bothered.”
“Learned?”
The dramatic declaration, meant to earn some goodwill, was met with a reaction that turned ugly fast. Cesare’s already sharp eyes went immediately colder. His face went flat and expressionless, and a twisted curl appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“Ha! The hell — where are you planning to learn that?”
“On— on my own, I was going to practice……”
The atmosphere plunged in an instant, and the icy voice that followed made Seohan’s eyes dart around uncertainly. He simply could not keep up with this man’s moods. A moment ago he’d seemed angry, then briefly eased, and now he’d sharpened again — it was impossible to gauge.
Seohan replayed what he’d just said in his head. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t find anything he’d said wrong.
It seemed like Cesare simply didn’t trust him, and that was why he was reacting this way. Seohan decided to make his intentions known with an even more steadfast and confident expression, to try to give Cesare some reassurance. He wanted his employer to know just how serious he was about this.
“I’ll really practice properly!”
But the colder Cesare’s handsome face seemed to grow. The muscles of his jaw tightened.
“Right, so. A guy who doesn’t even know how to use gel — how exactly are you going to practice on your own? Planning to grab someone off the street and drop your pants?”
“Why would I drop my pants——! I— I was going to ask a friend.”
Eddie was the same age as him, but Eddie knew more than Seohan in pretty much everything. He’d actually had a few relationships before. So he’d surely know about things like how to use gel, and all sorts of other things besides. And what’s more — unlike Cesare, he’d definitely explain it kindly.
“A friend?”
With his brow creased and one eye narrowed at an angle, Cesare rolled the word around in his mouth. His voice was sharp enough that Seohan’s neck instinctively pulled in. A sudden chill filled the room so thoroughly that the temperature itself seemed to drop.
“Ah — that guy you live with?”
“You kn— you know Eddie?”
He’d known Cesare had looked into his background, but he’d never imagined that investigation would extend to Eddie. The information network of the Herald household was staggering — and the fact that Cesare knew about Eddie, too, was a little frightening.
“Just learned his name now.”
Cesare was completely unapologetic, even in the face of Seohan’s shock. He muttered with a voice that made no effort to hide his displeasure.
If anyone here should be feeling aggrieved, wasn’t it the one whose private life had been dug through? Seohan couldn’t understand why Cesare was the one wearing an expression like he’d bitten into something sour.
“Um…… did I do something wrong?”
“……”
He asked because Cesare’s reaction nagged at him — but Cesare only turned his face away with a cold expression and offered no answer at all. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Cesare rolled his fountain pen a few times in his hand, as if deep in thought. Seohan stared at nothing but that fountain pen in a kind of daze for a good while — and just as his impatience got the better of him and he began fidgeting in his seat, Cesare’s gaze returned to him.
At last, Cesare stroked his chin slowly and opened his mouth.
“I’m adding a condition to the contract. You’ll be living here for the duration.”
“What?!”
At the bolt-from-the-blue announcement, Seohan’s mouth fell slightly open. Had he heard that right? It took him a long moment to fully process what Cesare had just said.
“What are you suddenly talking about?”
Only after a considerable delay did the meaning register, and Seohan snapped to his feet in alarm. He’d been holding his breath and let it all out at once, which produced an embarrassingly high-pitched sound.
But he couldn’t help being alarmed. For the duration of the contract — that meant all three months.
“Exactly what you heard.”
Yet Cesare, who had just lobbed a bomb of a condition, was as unbothered as someone asking whether he’d had lunch. The person who’d said something earth-shattering was acting like it had nothing to do with him.
Seohan searched Cesare’s face for any trace of mischief. Or at least hoped that Cesare would laugh it off and say he was joking.
But Cesare tapped the table in a steady rhythm with his fountain pen and waited for Seohan’s answer. The message was clear — give in and respond quickly.
“Wh— why? Why do I have to do that?”
Seohan’s face crumpled close to tears as he pushed back. Meeting Cesare’s wolf-like eyes while trying to argue made his voice tremble, but there was no helping it.
At least give a reason. To suddenly tell him to live here — what on earth did that mean? He’d already had his energy completely drained today, and if he had to go through this every day, his lifespan — already only four months — was going to get even shorter.
But as if unmoved by Seohan’s desperation, Cesare looked back at him with absolute shamelessness and turned the question around.
“What did I say I hated most?”
“That would be……”
Seohan’s blinking eyelids gave a small, rapid flutter.
In short — something in Seohan’s behavior had gotten on his nerves, and this was the price: an added condition to the contract.
