“You didn’t… hff… do anything… wrong….”
“Heeyeon, you can tell me later, slowly.”
But Jung Heeyeon shook his head. He knew it was stubborn of him, almost foolish, but he needed to say this now. If he stayed silent just because it hurt to speak, the man holding him might be left drowning in needless guilt.
It didn’t make sense for someone who had done nothing wrong to be eaten alive by that emotion. The one at fault was Chairman Jung, not Director Yeon.
“You weren’t… late either.”
Director Yeon listened with a kind of desperate focus, as if he were trying to engrave every single syllable into his ears. Even though Jung Heeyeon insisted otherwise, for the first time in his life, Director Yeon felt something close to guilt. If only he had moved quicker, maybe this fragile body wouldn’t have suffered so much. If only he hadn’t granted Kang Seoui’s request, maybe this accident wouldn’t have happened.
“You didn’t do anything wrong… Director. So there’s no reason for you to be sorry. I’m alright…”
“What do you mean by ‘alright’?”
Director Yeon forced a smile, letting out a breath that blurred the line between a sigh and a bitter laugh. It could have been a smile he wanted Jung Heeyeon to see, or a sigh he hoped the omega wouldn’t notice.
The omega held in the man’s arms was anything but alright. His lips were split open, his pale cheeks had swollen into a bruised blue hue, and his neck bore stark fingerprints. Although the steady flow of pheromones had calmed the trembling in his body, their close contact—skin against skin—made it painfully obvious that Jung Heeyeon’s breathing was still unstable.
The murderous rage toward Chairman Jung surged again, and Director Yeon clenched his teeth hard. He didn’t want Jung Heeyeon to see the rawness of his emotions. He couldn’t risk tightening his grip on this already wounded boy.
“I’m alright… physical pain will heal fast.”
Jung Heeyeon whispered as his eyes drifted to the man’s hardened jawline and the cold stillness in his gaze. His torn lips throbbed, his fingertips stung down to the bone—but even so, he truly felt alright.
Because now, he understood something he hadn’t before. He understood that the wounds dealt by emotional violence cut far deeper than any physical blow. Just as he didn’t realize he had been living inside a nightmare, Jung Heeyeon hadn’t even known that what he’d endured was emotional abuse. Just because he hadn’t realized it didn’t mean it hadn’t left scars.
He only began to understand all this after he met the man in front of him. It was only after meeting Director Yeon that he realized his recurring ‘dreams’ were actually nightmares, that the words whispered by Chairman Jung and Lee Yootae were nothing but manipulation and deceit.
It was in this man’s arms that Jung Heeyeon finally understood why he had never truly feared Chairman Jung. The white-haired old man might have been capable of inflicting physical violence upon him, but he instinctively knew his psychological reasoning had slipped beyond the old man’s reach.
“Even if the body heals fast… when the heart is hurt, it doesn’t go away so quickly.”
He spoke carefully, choosing each word with deliberate thought. He wanted to tell Director Yeon everything the man had given him, everything he had come to understand because of the man.
“But Director, you were the one who showed me that. That my heart had been hurt… I didn’t know it before. But Director… you told me.”
His breath grew labored from speaking too long. Still cradled in the man’s arms, Jung Heeyeon slowed his breathing.
“You have to know you’re hurt before you can heal. And now, my heart doesn’t hurt anymore. Because you made it stop. Director, as long as I have you, everything’s okay…”
Even in a situation like this, Director Yeon gazed down at that soft, trusting face in silence. His bloodied hand smoothed through the soft hair, then moved to the trembling back and gave it a calming pat, over and over.
“So even if my body is hurt, it’s okay. As long as my heart’s okay, the body will heal fast.”
Feeling a bit tired, Jung Heeyeon rested his head against the man’s chest again. Outside the car window, the white snowflakes flew past in a blur and the sky slowly brightened.
“Do you remember… when I told you my name before?”
“Yeah.”
In a few moments, dawn would come.
“After meeting you, Director… I think now must be that time for me.”
Director Yeon recalled a memory that happened not too long ago.
‘He told me that somewhere in the countryside, the dialect there has a word which says ‘Heeyeonhada.’ I don’t remember the exact term, but…’
“Heeyeonhada?”
‘Yes. It means when the first white rays of sunlight make the sky glow at dawn.’
A time just like right now, the sky was starting to glow.
“Heeyeon. I didn’t know…”
That it was very important to you? Director Yeon swallowed his words.
Each time the heart of the person in his arms beat, he could feel its gentle rhythm resonate right into his own chest. They shared their warmth, and their breath.
Director Yeon never once thought he meant that much to Jung Heeyeon. It wasn’t him who carried the beauty of the meaning behind that name, it was Jung Heeyeon himself.
He was a man who had lived the world bored and dulled by habit. He had come to believe that all that remained for him was death. And truthfully, even death felt too grand a word for an unworthy life like his. He had simply clung to survival out of a refusal to die at someone else’s hands, and in doing so, had made his way to where he now stood.
The violent, cunning nature within him was as sharp and permanent as the scar that split across his eyelid. Just as he could never erase the scar that had been left behind as a mark, Director Yeon could never separate himself from the true nature he carried.
Most of Yeon Woobeom’s childhood had been a life smeared with violence, and even after becoming an adult, things hadn’t changed much. The man had always believed he would fully indulge himself in the filthy world that matched his true nature, enjoying it to the fullest, until one day, he would lose interest and end up destroying himself.
He had always thought that would be the ending most fitting for him. After all, what was there to mourn if a life so used to the mud fell right back into the mire?
“Director, that’s who you are to me.”
As if he had understood the words that were left unsaid, Jung Heeyeon looked straight into his eyes and whispered softly. His voice still sounded as faint as a breath. And yet, within that quiet tone, there was an unmistakable firmness of steady certainty.
At that moment, the man felt a sensation he couldn’t begin to put into words. It was as though a searing pain had pierced through his entire body.
What Jung Heeyeon had said was entirely wrong.
In Yeon Woobeom’s life, the only person who could ever possess a meaning as beautiful as that was Jung Heeyeon. Only him
“Haaa…”
Instead of replying, he simply drew the body in his arms a little closer.
There was a time when he’d looked at Jung Heeyeon and thought, how could someone give such blind, unconditional affection toward him?
What an arrogant thought that had been.
Above the cold winter dawn, pale sunlight began to appear. Daybreak was slowly blooming in the sky.
Cradled in Yeon Woobeom’s arms, the small omega turned his face toward the direction of the rising sun. The man’s gaze followed, naturally drawn to where Jung Heeyeon’s eyes had lingered.
It was the time when the white light of dawn began to brighten the sky.
Looking at the same scenery as his lover, Yeon Woobeom realized.
The blind devotion of love was not a term that applied solely to Jung Heeyeon.
Every single moment that this small, delicate omega had brought into his life had always been, without exception, Heeyeon’s time.
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