Chapter 90: Interrupted

What is it that I actually want to do?

That was how the question had begun.

But Han-geon soon realized that the very question itself was flawed.

If he had decided to think only of himself, then from the start, he never should have asked himself something like that.

There was no room for hesitation.

Of course, it was right to think and act exactly as Jinwoo had said.

Just as he said, Han-geon was still young.

The person who had created this existence—one that now felt like nothing but a heavy burden of guilt—would be absent from his life forever from here on out.

If he had come all the way here, abandoning everything to forget Eun-gyeol, then he needed to erase and remove anything even remotely connected to him.

He couldn’t understand himself at all for being unable to make a decision.

There was nothing left in his life that could be ruined further.

It was practically the same as knowingly jumping into an abyss.

Whatever was growing inside his belly, it should never be allowed to hold greater value in his life than he himself did.

Wasn’t that exactly why he had decided to leave and come here—to never do that again?

And yet, I…

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around to see Jinwoo striding toward him.

Jinwoo smiled brightly and lifted up a carrier filled with drinks.

“Oh, hyung.

When did you buy those?

Is there already a place open this early?”

“Yeah.

This is the only place around here that opens early.

Remember it—if you ever crave coffee, come here and get one.”

“Yes.”

He had bought grapefruit juice and an iced Americano.

Han-geon took the juice that seemed to be assigned to him, bowed his head in thanks, and immediately took a long sip.

The tart flavor spread across his tongue.

Jinwoo smiled with satisfaction as he watched Han-geon drink.

But even as he slowly sipped the juice, Han-geon’s gaze kept drifting toward the coffee for some reason.

It was a drink he’d had out of habit for so many years, which only made it worse.

Realizing belatedly that he might be staring too intently, Han-geon awkwardly snapped his gaze away—

“Do you want the coffee?”

“Ah—no, hyung.

I’m fine.”

“Kid, don’t lie.

Drink it, drink it.

Here.”

The grapefruit juice that wasn’t even half gone was smoothly taken from his hand.

At the same time, a cold Americano—still almost untouched—was placed into it.

“You’ve been craving sour stuff a lot lately, so I got you juice.

Guess I was wrong.”

“N-no… it’s really fine…

Still, thank you for thinking of me.”

“There you go again.

Don’t thank me like I’m some stranger.

Just drink both comfortably.”

Han-geon generally ate and drank well, but like at the barbecue place, he occasionally felt nauseous or queasy.

His appetite would also flip completely without warning.

Food he ate just fine one day wouldn’t go down at all the next, and there were even days when he threw up.

Sometimes he felt lightheaded, his vision spinning.

But the most agonizing thing wasn’t the nausea or the dizziness.

It was himself—desperately longing, to the point of madness, for some stimulus deeply engraved within his body.

It felt like an unbearable thirst.

Night after night, as he experienced an indescribable heat and dizziness, Han-geon had no choice but to vaguely realize what it was he was yearning for.

It was none other than the pheromones of the alpha who had made him this way.

Only then did the doctor’s words truly sink in.

But he had no choice but to pretend not to know and endure it.

As painful and exhausting as it was, it wasn’t as if it would kill him.

Whether it was imprinting pain or anything else, there was no other way but to endure until it passed.

If this, too, was labor pain he had to suffer as part of breaking free from Cha Eun-gyeol, then he would endure it as he should.

Noticing Han-geon’s changes over the past few days with keen sensitivity, Jinwoo took meticulous care of him in every way.

He had always been kind and easygoing, yet at the same time a very strict senior when it came to work.

Seeing someone like him do so much solely for his sake felt unfamiliar—and brought tears of gratitude to Han-geon’s eyes.

“Han-geon.

Did you contact your parents?”

“Ah… yes.

I just told them I was going on a bit of a trip.”

“They must’ve been really surprised.”

“They were.

I mean, I quit my job and disappeared without a word…”

Han-geon smiled faintly.

Just a month ago, he’d gone to his parents’ house with Eun-gyeol, eaten together, drank together, and shown them how smoothly his life and work were going.

Then, all of a sudden, he quit his job without a word and even changed his phone number—of course they’d be shocked.

As expected, Eun-gyeol had apparently gone all the way to his parents’ place looking for him.

That was why Han-geon had deliberately sought out a nearby payphone to call them, so his number wouldn’t be exposed.

He’d told them not to worry too much, that he was resting for a bit at an older friend’s place, and that he’d stay in frequent contact.

“…Yes.”

“Right.

Nothing to be done about them being surprised.

Since you’re already here, rest as much as you want before heading back.”

“And stop talking about finding your own place and moving out.”

Han-geon let out a soft laugh.

The two of them sat side by side for a while, quietly sipping their drinks.

After drinking in silence, Jinwoo finally spoke in a heavy voice.

“…Han-geon.”

“Yes.”

“Sorry for asking again, but… what are you really going to do?”

“…..”

“I mean the baby.

The more you hesitate, the harder it’s going to be on you, right?”

Knowing all too well why Jinwoo was growing impatient, Han-geon only nodded silently.

He spent hours every day blankly staring at the sea, but even during that passing time, the thought that the baby was growing inside him made him feel so anxious he thought he’d go mad.

The stray thoughts filling his head to the breaking point only attacked him more viciously the harder he tried to empty them.

“Hyung.”

After tearing at the grass growing nearby for a long while in silence, Han-geon finally spoke.

“Hm?”

“…If… if I were to… I mean, if I…”

The impulsive words that burst out never reached an ending.

Yet even just opening with that much left Han-geon deeply shaken.

The worry that had been driving him insane for days had burst out in a form he himself had never once anticipated.

The sound of the waves filled the silence that followed.

After a long pause, Jinwoo finally spoke with a sigh.

“…Yeah.

What you were about to ask—that would be crazy.”

A gust of sea wind lashed across Han-geon’s face.

He breathed in the salty air and remained silent.

“I’m being honest.

Completely honest and cold about it—I care more about you than about some kid of yours whose face I don’t even know.”

Like someone guilty of a crime, Han-geon only lowered his head.

The hand that had been tearing at stiff blades of grass fell limp.

Jinwoo’s deep voice continued.

“Think about your parents.

First you suddenly present as an omega, and now you’re saying you’ll have a baby.

Alone.

Without a father.

How shocked do you think they’d be…?”

“…..”

“And you—what about marriage or dating later on?

If you meet someone you truly love in the future, what then?

Most of all, what are you even lacking that you’d—haah.”

Jinwoo scrunched up his face and let out a heavy sigh.

His chest rose and fell roughly as he took several deep breaths.

He didn’t say anything more.

The two of them couldn’t bring themselves to meet each other’s eyes, both staring off in the same direction instead.

Looking only at the shimmering sea, shining so innocently as if unaware of anything, Han-geon bit down on his lip.

Like someone who had forgotten how to speak, he just sat there, unmoving.

Every word Jinwoo said hurt.

Because every single one of them was painfully right.

They were things Han-geon had already gone over in his head dozens of times on his own.

If—though it was truly absurd—even so, he decided to be with the baby.

The road ahead was all too clear.

The more he thought about it, the more bleak it became.

In truth, the fact that he was even entertaining such thoughts was ridiculous.

There was no way someone as unprepared as him could become a proper parent.

And yet, why was I…

Why, of all things…

Han-geon bit his lip until it bled.

His vision blurred, and he closed his eyes.

A certain fact, branded into his chest like a mark, kept circling relentlessly inside him, shaking him to his core.

Even now, the unbelievably strong heartbeat he’d heard in the examination room was pounding in his ears.

Even in this moment of hesitation, the baby was clinging stubbornly inside him, drawing in nutrients and growing steadily, determined to live.

No matter how confused or shaken he felt, that was an unchanging fact.

“That’s what I think.

But… in the end, the decision you make is the right one.

You must have your reasons for whatever you decide.”

At last, Jinwoo let out a resigned sigh.

After staring straight ahead almost as if glaring, he slowly turned his gaze toward Han-geon.

“So whatever choice you make, I… I’ll support you.”

“…Hyung.”

“As much as I can, I’ll be right there helping you.”

A broad hand came over and rested on Han-geon’s shoulder, pressing down firmly.

A rough warmth spread from that hand.

It was something Jinwoo had often done in the past to boost team morale.

Listening to his gruff yet kind voice, Han-geon felt the suffocating weight in his chest ease just a little.

“…Thank you, hyung.

Even just for saying that… I’ll do better.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now.”

At Han-geon’s earnest tone, Jinwoo snorted.

The hand patting his shoulder moved up and ruffled his chestnut-like hair roughly.

That teasing touch, unchanged from before, made Han-geon smile without realizing it.

He was grateful for Jinwoo’s consideration, which let him forget his pain—if only for a moment.

That was when it happened.

Behind them, the sharp screech of tires scraping rang out.

Turning around, they saw an unfamiliar sedan slam to a rough stop nearby.

Dust billowed up from the ground, clouding their vision.

Seeing the car stop far too close to them, Jinwoo frowned.

“What the hell?

That crazy bastard.”

Following Jinwoo’s curse, Han-geon reflexively lifted his gaze.

The car door flew open.

The moment he saw the man urgently jumping out of the driver’s seat, Han-geon froze completely.

It was Cha Eun-gyeol.