Son of a bitch. Worthless piece of trash.
Beomwook kept his head bowed, glaring at the red velvet carpet as though he could burn a hole through it. Left behind in the silence were just the two of them — himself, the idiot who’d been thoroughly stripped bare by Seo Ihyeon, and Baek Yeonjun, the sacrificial lamb he’d turned into a victim.
“Um… Executive Director.”
It was Yeonjun who came to his senses first. From start to finish, none of it had made any sense — but what was certain was that something enormous had just unfolded right before Yeonjun’s eyes. Beomwook, who had been bowing his head so low the back of his skull was nearly visible, finally lifted his face. Without thinking, Yeonjun swallowed.
Oh, right. Come to think of it.
“…Should I keep holding your hand?”
He gave a small shake to the hand he’d been holding since grabbing Beomwook’s trembling one — still not having let go — and asked. Beomwook looked at the hand Yeonjun was holding and deeply furrowed his brow. No answer came. Is it okay to just keep holding it? Yeonjun didn’t particularly feel like letting go. Instead, he carefully set Beomwook’s arm back down.
“Yeonjun. First of all — I am genuinely sorry. For getting you caught up in something like this… Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
Beomwook naturally slid his hand free from Yeonjun’s and rubbed his jaw. A low exhale echoed in Yeonjun’s ear. The vanished warmth felt unfamiliar, and Yeonjun absently brushed his now-empty hand for no real reason. Beomwook’s expression was heavy with thought. The furrow between his brows showed no sign of easing.
“Executive Director. Wait a moment.”
He’d never given even a gram of thought to getting tangled up in something like this — and yet here it was, already crashing down on him. He couldn’t simply sit still and trust only Beomwook’s words when the man looked anything but fine, and honestly, his own nature wouldn’t let him stay put regardless. Beomwook moved to stop him in surprise, but Yeonjun had already darted toward the waiting room door.
“Baek Yeonjun. What do you think you’re doing.”
Beomwook said it in a low voice, jaw clenched tight. His mind — tangled with the lingering embers of rage toward Seo Ihyeon and the humiliation of having been played so completely — wasn’t in any state to think clearly. Plans not going accordingly was already enough of a headache on his own. He needed to keep his head and make sure no stray sparks landed on Yeonjun.
“Don’t worry. I’m annoyingly good at reading rooms. Reading people too.”
Yeonjun said it carefully as he opened the waiting room door. Recalling Seo Ihyeon’s comment about reporters being stationed outside, he quickly swept his eyes over the corridor. He checked the spiral staircase first — the one he’d been practically dragged up earlier, following Beomwook. Fortunately or unfortunately, there wasn’t a soul to be sensed. Now that he thought about it, where had all those hulking figures gone? He checked the hallway on the opposite side as well, but not even an ant was in sight.
“That’s strange. There’s no one here. Not a single reporter — and those men from earlier, the, ah… those gentlemen, not one of them either.”
“Noted. Lock the door and come back over here. And Yeonjun — refrain from any further action beyond this. It’s dangerous.”
His tone was like someone scolding a child. Yeonjun locked the door and turned back around. Beomwook had his phone out and was trying to call someone. The look on his face, eyes slightly narrowed, was still stiff. The blunt, unmistakable stare that said don’t talk to me, just wait quietly — Yeonjun matched it with an equally unchecked sulky look of his own.
“Yes, Secretary Choi. Please send a car to the Seosung VIP parking garage. Not my car, and not yours either. Once it’s parked, just text me the location. Yes. I’ll be in touch.”
The plan’s more or less clear. Obvious, really. Slip out of here unseen, sneak down to the parking garage, get in the car, and quietly disappear. But seriously, if you’re BS Securities level, shouldn’t you at least have a helicopter on standby? The plan was so predictable and plain that Yeonjun let out a small, involuntary laugh before he could stop himself.
“…Baek Yeonjun. Does this look like something to laugh about right now?”
Beomwook looked at him coldly with an expression of pure exasperation. He didn’t want to cause Yeonjun any more harm, didn’t want to subject him to any more discomfort — but it wasn’t as easy as he’d like. Faced with the bright, open face in front of him, lips curled in a smile, Beomwook shook his head and steeled himself.
Baek Yeonjun is a victim. The sacrificial lamb he’d dragged into this whole mess.
“Don’t be angry, Executive Director. I’m not laughing at the situation.”
“I’m not angry. I’m worried about you, Yeonjun… I’m sorry.”
“Executive Director. I appreciate the concern, but please stop apologizing. I’m trying to find my own way out of this too.”
The chaebols you see in dramas and on the news are all so shameless. Yeonjun reached out and grabbed Beomwook’s arm as the man started to bow his head again. He was the one who’d walked in here of his own two feet in the first place, because of the money. Something unexpected had happened, sure — but it was fair to consider it one of the costs of the choice he’d made.
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble either. If we’re going to slip out quietly — oh, hold on.”
At that moment, something caught Yeonjun’s eye. A small wardrobe tucked away in the inner corner of the waiting room. His feet immediately quickened, as though he’d found a savior.
“…Oh — there it is. Executive Director! Come over here. Quickly!”
Baek Yeonjun swung open the wardrobe door and waved Beomwook over with a bright face. Beomwook followed the call as if pulled in by some invisible force. Yeonjun was already going through the clothes hanging inside, checking them one by one. A bit wrinkled, with what seemed like a faint musty smell — but a few uniforms found their way into Yeonjun’s hands.
“…What is this?”
“What do you mean, what is it? Clothes to change into. If we want to walk out of here without being noticed — nothing beats a hotel uniform, right?”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, Yeonjun started holding the uniforms up against Beomwook’s frame, checking sizes. “I’m on the bigger side so I’ll take this one.” He held up the largest-looking white uniform and smiled brightly.
Smiling. In this situation. No matter how he looked at it, Baek Yeonjun was clearly failing to grasp the gravity of things. “For you, Executive Director… oh, this is perfect. You’re already wearing black anyway, so just throw this vest on over it.” Faced with Yeonjun’s somehow-gleeful expression, Beomwook felt both utterly baffled — and simultaneously as though something in his chest had, strangely, loosened a little. It was probably just the shock of too many absurd things happening back to back.
Beomwook half-dazedly accepted the clothes Yeonjun held out to him. It was a vest — the same deep red color and texture as the velvet carpet lining the floor. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it aside. The reflection of himself threading his arms into the vest appeared in the full-length mirror.
“Executive Director. How do I look? Don’t I look like an actual hotel employee? Look — we won’t get caught, right?!”
Yeonjun suddenly appeared in front of the mirror. Without quite planning for it, Beomwook found himself standing side by side with Yeonjun, staring into the full-length mirror together. Yeonjun, who looked to stand a full head taller than him, was grumbling that the clothes were a little small — while still turning to Beomwook with a grin.
Had he lured in prey, or a sacrificial lamb? Neither word suited the man standing in front of him.
Beomwook sent Yeonjun, now disguised as a hotel employee, out of the waiting room first. He was worried — but there was no other way to get out of the hotel. Knowing Yeonjun didn’t know the location of the VIP parking garage, Beomwook arranged for them to meet in the middle and move together from there.
B3 emergency stairwell. That was where they’d agreed to meet. Beomwook slowly opened the waiting room door. Yeonjun was already gone — must have taken the elevator. He exhaled slowly and steadied his breathing. It seemed like no one was around, but if there were hidden cameras, there was always a risk of being caught on film. Beomwook paid careful attention as he swept the area around the waiting room.
[Secretary Choi. Heading down now.]
Now fully out of the waiting room, Beomwook quickly sent a text to Choi Myeongjin. Not a single hotel employee was in sight — and neither were the suited security personnel, whose presence would be near-impossible to hide anyway. In name they were bodyguards, but in reality they were all remaining members of Beomsanpa. Do Beomryeol, who would be angrier than anyone now that he knew Seosung Group’s plan, had gone silent as well. The reporters Seo Ihyeon had supposedly packed the place with were nowhere to be seen either. As if someone had swept them all away, an inexplicable stillness blanketed the hotel’s wedding hall.
But Beomwook had no time to linger. Even if all of this was some trap Seo Ihyeon had set, he had little room to spare for suspicion. He confirmed once more that no one was around, then ran toward the emergency exit at the end of the corridor.
Is Baek Yeonjun safe? Is he already down there, waiting for me?
All the way down the stairs, Beomwook kept thinking of him. “Executive Director. I know this probably sounds crazy, but… I feel like I’m filming a movie right now.” That bright, excited voice — so absurd it had made Beomwook want to smack him — kept circling in his head.
Second floor basement.
Beomwook confirmed the floor number on the glowing emergency stairwell sign and moved his feet faster without a second’s pause. Whether it was drowned out by the sound of his own breathing and footsteps, he couldn’t sense a single presence. Pushing back the creeping anxiety as best he could, he took the tightly packed steps in one continuous rush.
“…Shit….”
B3. The moment Beomwook confirmed the floor number, a low curse slipped out.
Nothing. Not a trace of Baek Yeonjun — not even a sign that anyone had been there at all. For a moment, Beomwook thought — if only I were an alpha or omega, I could track his trail by scent. And then Beomwook took a startled step back. An alpha. An omega. The fact that meeting this man today had him wishing he were a different designation — that was a little shocking, even to him.
Beomwook tried to gather his scattered thoughts. What mattered was Baek Yeonjun’s safety and whereabouts. He tried to reach him — only then realizing, with a jolt, that in all the chaos he hadn’t even thought to exchange contact information.
Creak — And then it happened. The iron door beneath the emergency light began to slowly push open.
“…Oh — Executive Director!”
“Baek Yeonjun…?”
The face peeking through the gap in the iron door was Baek Yeonjun’s.
