Chapter 59: The Sweet Promise

Yoonwoo managed to calm Seowoo, who had been intent on thoroughly interrogating Yeon-chae. Seowoo’s expression remained deeply dissatisfied.

Just then, the attending physician burst in. They greeted Yeon-chae warmly and urged him to hold the patient’s hand, effectively silencing Seowoo before he could even properly open his mouth.

Seowoo, who always had ten times more to say than anyone else, looked so frustrated he seemed ready to leap. Yoonwoo, unable to show his amusement, secretly gloated.

“As you know,” the doctor began, “it’s far more effective for an Alpha to make physical contact than to simply be present.”

“The patient’s condition is still precarious, so please continue to be attentive. Given his recessive nature, bordering on Beta, you must exercise extreme caution.”

“And above all, do not remain separated like this again.”

The attending physician added a few more admonitions before exiting the hospital room. As soon as the white-gowned figure vanished, Seowoo’s eyes narrowed, clearly preparing to initiate round two.

Yet, Yeon-chae smoothly intercepted him, drawing a polite boundary with a perfectly composed face.

“I need to make contact with Yoonwoo-hyung, so would you mind stepping out for a moment?” Yeon-chae asked. “It makes no difference to me if you stay, but I suspect Yoonwoo-hyung might feel uncomfortable.”

“…Contact?”

Seowoo’s eyebrows shot up dramatically. Though it was evident they would, at best, simply hold hands, the chosen word felt remarkably explicit.

Yoonwoo’s cheeks inexplicably flushed with heat. Seowoo briefly glared at Yeon-chae with a look of utter disbelief.

However, perhaps the thought of witnessing his brother’s “contact” with an Alpha live was too much, as he eventually relented and moved. Even so, as he gripped the doorknob, he couldn’t help but hurl one last comment toward Yeon-chae.

“I’m going for now,” Seowoo stated, “but let’s meet separately later to have a word.”

“Of course,” Yeon-chae replied smoothly. “I’ll formally introduce myself to you very soon.”

Facing Yeon-chae’s beaming face, his eyes curving into beautiful crescents, Seowoo found himself utterly speechless. It was, after all, quite rare for anyone to silence Seowoo.

“Ohh…”

Yoonwoo was just about to clap for Yeon-chae. However, Seowoo sharply turned his head, fixing Yoonwoo with a glare.

Disheartened, Yoonwoo let his enthusiastically raised hands fall, his face deflating.

Yeon-chae retrieved a folding chair and settled himself intimately close to Yoonwoo’s bedside. He then extended both hands toward Yoonwoo and spoke.

“Hand.”

“…Am I being trained?”

“Quickly. Hand.”

Feeling utterly like a trained puppy, Yoonwoo placed his hand upon Yeon-chae’s large one. The warmth from their clasped palms instantly suffused his entire body.

A bright, refreshing pheromone, reminiscent of spring blossoms, permeated his chest. Even the faint, sweet scent of coconut milk, usually imperceptible, now mingled with the pervasive cherry blossom fragrance within the hospital room.

“How do you feel now?”

Yeon-chae intertwined their fingers, asking cautiously. His tone was utterly different from the brazen manner he had just used with Seowoo.

Yoonwoo couldn’t help but smile at the way Yeon-chae treated him, as if he were fragile porcelain. He then squeezed Yeon-chae’s intertwined fingers.

“I feel much more comfortable now.”

It was astonishingly true. The dizziness and the churning in his stomach had all subsided, leaving him instantly and profoundly at ease.

Yeon-chae, still smiling faintly, lowered his head. Only his reddened earlobes and long, gently trembling eyelashes were visible within Yoonwoo’s sight.

For a while, Yeon-chae’s lips parted and closed, yet he ultimately uttered no words. Yoonwoo, sensing his hesitation, spoke instead.

“Yeon-chae.”

“Yes…”

His response suggested he already knew what Yoonwoo was about to say. Yoonwoo had been the one to place his hand on Yeon-chae’s palm, like a trained puppy, yet it was Yeon-chae who now whimpered more like one.

Yoonwoo suppressed the laugh that threatened to escape his lips, then called Yeon-chae’s name again, coaxingly.

“Yeon-chae. Please, look up.”

“…”

Yeon-chae hesitantly lifted his head, his expression clouded with uncertainty. His large, clear eyes trembled, filled with an unsettling anxiety.

Moments ago, confronting Seowoo, he had been a cunning fox with several tails; now, he was a whimpering puppy on the brink of abandonment. ‘I can’t waver,’ Yoonwoo thought, taking a deep breath to steel his resolve.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Yoonwoo began. “My brother was pressing me so hard, I got flustered, and trying to smooth things over, it just came out that way. I didn’t truly mean it… You know that, right?”

Yeon-chae pouted his lips, a clear indication that he was silently saying, ‘I don’t know.’ Yoonwoo wanted to tell him that not speaking aloud didn’t mean he hadn’t spoken at all.

A hollow laugh and a sigh escaped him simultaneously.

“I’ve been thinking about it constantly,” Yoonwoo continued, “and marriage really doesn’t feel right. I’ll handle my brother myself, so don’t worry about it… Yeon-chae, Yeon-chae?”

“Yes…”

“Y-Yeon-chae. Are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

Yeon-chae bowed his head deeply, the top of his round head swaying gently before Yoonwoo’s eyes. Growing increasingly uneasy, Yoonwoo urgently leaned in to peer at Yeon-chae’s face.

Fortunately, his eyes were not wet.

“I won’t cry,” Yeon-chae insisted.

However, his stubborn repetition suggested he was forcibly holding back tears. It seemed he regretted having cried before, mid-persuasion, when trying to convince Yoonwoo to have a baby.

Feeling both adorable and a touch pathetic, Yoonwoo used his free hand to gently stroke Yeon-chae’s head, offering a soft compliment.

“There, good boy.”

Yeon-chae’s face was etched with dissatisfaction, yet he passively accepted the comforting touch.

But it seemed he still had something he needed to say. Yeon-chae bit his lip for a moment, then spoke in halting, fragmented sentences.

“I thought you had truly made up your mind to marry me…”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was so happy. Truly, incredibly happy.”

“Oh… I see…”

Yeon-chae’s cheeks puffed out, much like a child whose candy had been snatched away. It was, after all, always more heartbreaking to have something given, then cruelly withdrawn.

Yoonwoo remained utterly bewildered as to why Yeon-chae desired marriage with such intensity. Given Yeon-chae’s self-proclaimed conservative nature, it seemed plausible he believed marriage was the natural progression once a baby was conceived.

His stubborn, almost childlike assertion that he would neither date nor marry anyone else might have been entirely sincere in its own peculiar way. Yoonwoo tried his best to understand Yeon-chae, concluding that family appeared to hold more significance for him than love or romance.

Moreover, while Yoonwoo struggled to comprehend Yeon-chae’s unwavering insistence on marriage, he intimately understood the feeling of having something given, only to have it snatched away. As the middle child, he had grown up watching Seowoo, the eldest, claim all the best things, and being constantly overshadowed by his younger twin siblings.

He had never truly been able to keep anything he received. Now, having unintentionally become the cruel adult who offered and then rescinded a piece of candy, Yoonwoo felt profoundly awkward.

Yeon-chae’s eyes grew steadily redder. It was heartbreaking to watch him blink fiercely, desperately trying to hold back his tears until the very last moment.

Yoonwoo’s carefully constructed resolve, which he had so painstakingly built, began to softly, languidly melt away.

“Was it just something you said? Truly?”

Early summer was just beginning to unfurl. The hospital room, in the late afternoon, was steeped in a gentle warmth.

The sunlight pouring through the wide window was both hot and dazzling, causing Yoonwoo to subtly frown. That warm light kissed Yeon-chae’s long eyelashes.

Each time Yeon-chae blinked, struggling with all his might to hold back his tears, the sunlight fractured into countless pieces, shimmering down his clear cheeks.

He didn’t want shadows to fall upon those radiant cheeks. He wanted to grant Yeon-chae every single one of his desires. But…

“Hyung, if you marry me…”

Yoonwoo hesitated, opening his mouth once more to voice his refusal. But Yeon-chae was a step ahead.

As Yoonwoo turned slightly toward him, a cascade of Yeon-chae’s gaze met his own. Moisture shimmered in the younger man’s flushed eyes, making them sparkle.

“It might be difficult right now, but later, once I secure a job…”

Yeon-chae squeezed Yoonwoo’s intertwined hand. In stark contrast to his pale face, his hand felt wonderfully warm. The heat radiating from his palm gently warmed Yoonwoo’s skin.

“Then, we’ll live in a three-room apartment with our baby,” Yeon-chae envisioned. “Even if it’s a bit old, it’ll be in an apartment complex with many ancient spring trees, where cherry blossoms and magnolias burst into bloom every spring.”

Yoonwoo suddenly found himself recalling the apartment complex where he had spent his childhood. It would likely be quite worn now, showing its age.

Built long ago, the buildings were spaced widely apart, and every available space was filled with mature spring trees.

“We’ll have one bedroom, one study, and one room for the baby,” Yeon-chae envisioned. “When the weather turns warm, you and I can each hold one of the baby’s hands and go for strolls. If their legs get tired, I’ll carry them, then take them to the playground to push them on the swings…”

Yoonwoo remembered holding the hand of the child from next door, wandering through the apartment complex. No matter how much they walked, even until his own legs ached, the child was never satisfied.

Nevertheless, it was so endearing to see the child giggle, cherry blossom petals clinging to their chubby, steamed-bun cheeks, that Yoonwoo invariably granted their every wish. Their strolls always culminated at the playground. When he pushed the small back of the child on the swing, their light body would soar halfway to the sky, chirping with pure delight.

“We can be happy,” Yeon-chae whispered.

Yeon-chae concluded his words in a whispering voice. He then smiled faintly, his gaze cast down at the floor. His red lips trembled, looking utterly pitiful.

As if entranced, Yoonwoo reached out a finger toward Yeon-chae’s pale cheek. Below eyelashes that fluttered like butterfly wings, Yeon-chae’s light brown eyes gazed steadily back at Yoonwoo.

Soon, his fingertip brushed against the soft cheek. A swell of emotion choked him, a deep warmth spreading through his chest from that gentle touch.

Yoonwoo had never once in his life acted spontaneously, without a plan. His calm, ocean-like existence had seen its first willful decision when he chose to have a baby.

Now, he encountered another storm. This tempest, while as frightening as the first wave, was also warmer and gentler, and the fear that had gripped him melted away like a marshmallow over a campfire.

Yoonwoo wanted it, too. He wanted every future Yeon-chae had promised.

The sudden surge of desire grew, ballooning instantly and miraculously. Yoonwoo had lived his entire life as the middle child, the most delicious and best candy always belonging to his older brother or younger siblings.

But this piece of candy had rolled to him first, whimpering and declaring itself Yoonwoo’s.

“Marriage…”

A voice far deeper than his own, a voice he barely recognized, escaped Yoonwoo’s lips.