He reacted as if it was the first time he’d heard the story.
His older brother must not have told him anything.
Well, it wasn’t really the kind of story you’d share with others.
Seo Jeong-won raised his lowered gaze to briefly meet Kwon Tae-hee’s eyes before continuing slowly.
“Our parents passed away. When we were young.”
“Ah.”
“My brother and I lived at our aunt’s house… A little after I graduated high school, they went on a trip and got into an accident. A car accident. It was due to poor driving… on one of those winding roads. They both died in that accident.”
Recalling the funeral, Seo Jeong-won furrowed his brows slightly.
He had learned too many things then.
The existence of debt from taking over the flower shop.
That the life insurance and compensation money his parents had left, supposedly to be given to them when they came of age, was already gone.
“Even on the last day… that day, my brother didn’t answer the phone. I honestly thought he would come.”
That money his brother used to send every month to an account under Jeong-won’s name—he later found out it had all been withdrawn the very next day.
There was no one to ask what had happened.
The truth remained forever shrouded in mystery.
“I didn’t want to see my aunt and uncle, but… I thought he’d at least come to see me.”
As Seo Jeong-won spoke, Kwon Tae-hee looked at him with an indescribable emotion.
He resembled Seo Gyu-won but was still different.
This one was more delicately beautiful.
He had a mood that went perfectly with the damp, rainy weather.
His sorrowful voice and fair face kept drawing Tae-hee’s gaze.
His unsteady gaze, his naively honest speech, and his gentle manner somehow stirred not desire, but a more twisted impulse—to break his, to see his cry.
What filled Tae-hee’s head was the image of that pale face drenched in tears.
Suppressing the dark desire, Tae-hee offered a courteous smile.
“It must’ve been hard, being alone.”
“N-no, it’s okay.”
“I know it might be a burden to say this in such a situation… but the truth is, Gyu-won had promised me something. The engagement was just a formality to get that. I was going to pay for it. I was the buyer.”
When their eyes met again, Kwon Tae-hee felt certain: he wanted this person.
More precisely, he wanted to play with him.
It was an irrational desire to destroy something clean and beautiful that no one else had touched.
“Your brother?”
“We had a contract. I provided financial support as needed… but for some reason, Gyu-won changed his mind. He couldn’t be persuaded. Honestly, it’s odd to be talking about our private matters to you.”
“We were both emotional back then. It shouldn’t have led to a broken engagement, but neither of us backed down. A few days after we ended things, Gyu-won came to my apartment…”
As Kwon Tae-hee explained, Seo Jeong-won’s expression began to collapse.
His eyes filled quickly with tears, and they spilled like crystal beads down his cheeks.
Tae-hee had expected it to be satisfying, but it was even better than imagined.
Was this what it felt like to find something you’d forgotten you’d lost?
There was even a hint of euphoria.
“He had to undergo several major surgeries. Each time, the doctors told me to prepare for the worst, but he held on better than expected.”
“That’s why I’ve come this far, too.”
Seo Jeong-won looked straight into those brown eyes before turning his head away.
“Jeong-won.”
When Tae-hee said his name, his voice was full of sorrow and regret.
He didn’t know what to say or how to say it.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
This was his way of saying he planned to end Seo Gyu-won’s life support.
Should he agree with Tae-hee’s decision to remove the ventilator, or should he—just as Tae-hee said he had waited—continue to wait, keeping his brother alive on the machine?
Seo Jeong-won opened his mouth, and his answer escaped like a sigh.
“I… I don’t know.”
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, his voice full of pain.
Tae-hee nodded gently and patted his trembling shoulder as if to comfort him.
“It’s okay.”
The story Tae-hee had told was emotionally charged, but unkind.
It was vague from start to finish.
He had only shared the provocative parts and deliberately avoided explaining what was actually in the contract.
Thankfully, Seo Jeong-won was too consumed by sorrow to question it.
He only pitied his brother, his glass-like eyes quivering with emotion.
It was fortunate he was young and naïve.
If he’d been a bit smarter, he might’ve grown suspicious instead of confused.
“I really need what Gyu-won promised to give me. It might sound heartless, but I believe I’ve fulfilled my moral duty.”
“You didn’t know anything until now, Jeong-won. I didn’t call you to push responsibility onto you—I called to let you know there’s no need for you to take any.”
“Um… what was it that my brother promised you? Is it something no one else can give you? Could I… offer it instead?”
Tae-hee smiled at the earnest question.
To test Jeong-won’s traits, he released a small amount of pheromones—but there was no reaction.
“Ah.”
A Beta couldn’t give it.
A shallow curiosity surged endlessly like waves.
“It’s okay, though.”
Even though Tae-hee knew that what Gyu-won promised couldn’t possibly be given by Jeong-won, he nodded as if it didn’t matter.
“If you can give it, I’ll gladly take it.”
His gestures were excessively graceful.
Even the way he slowly extended his hand held attention.
Jeong-won cautiously took the hand, as if shaking hands.
“Then what about my brother…?”
“If you keep your promise, I’ll let you keep the ventilator on for as long as you want. I’ll cover the medical expenses too, just as I’ve done so far. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
“Thank you. Really, thank you.”
Despite the strange feeling in Tae-hee’s smile, Jeong-won didn’t realize he’d made a potentially terrible choice.
He was fixated on the hope that his brother might wake up if they just kept the machine going.
Shameless as it was, getting Tae-hee’s help to keep his brother alive was his priority now.
Tae-hee noticed that Jeong-won’s palm had more calluses than expected.
He looked so fragile, like a small, soft-furred animal that might break under pressure—yet he clearly did rough work.
“When the documents are ready, I’ll come to you.”
“Ah…”
“Shall we meet again next week? Let me know what days work, and I’ll adjust my schedule.”
“Anytime is fine, as long as it’s not the weekend.”
Jeong-won released the hand he’d been holding and rubbed his palms on his thighs.
It was fascinating.
That large, thick hand was strangely soft, like a fresh sprout just breaking through the earth.
“Avoid the weekend?”
“Weekends are a bit busy. We get quite a few customers.”
Kwon Tae-hee slightly furrowed his brows.
“Customers,” to him, usually referred to those who paid for bodies.
He wondered if the seemingly innocent comment meant something similar.
“That’s a bit difficult to interpret.”
“Ah, I run a flower shop. It used to belong to my aunt and uncle, but somehow… I couldn’t just close it down. So now I’m running it. A lot of people come on weekends to repot plants or buy flowers. A lot, actually.”
“So customers come to the flower shop. Got it. I’ll contact you on a weekday then. Want to leave together?”
At the question, Seo Jung-won shook his head.
Kwon Tae-hee stood up.
He politely said he thought he should get going.
An apology for leaving first followed naturally.
“Make sure you take a car. I was so out of it, I didn’t even ask how you got here. If I’d known, I would’ve come to pick you up.”
As if he had prepared in advance, he handed him a business card.
With a charming smile, he added a word of caution:
“Take care on your way back.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
“See you again.”
As soon as the conversation ended, Kwon Tae-hee left the lounge without hesitation.
Seo Jung-won, who followed behind, wondered if he might drop by Seo Gyu-won’s hospital room.
But Kwon Tae-hee headed straight for the elevator without even the slightest hesitation.
He was speaking briefly with the man in the black suit following him when he suddenly turned around.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
Embarrassed, Seo Jung-won quickly bowed his head.
Walking toward the hospital room after what could hardly be called a proper farewell, Seo Jung-won fell into thought.
“He doesn’t seem to lack anything…”
What could my brother possibly have promised to give that man?
As he stared at the business card he had received, he suddenly realized something important—he hadn’t asked the most crucial question.
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