The room that had been a complete warzone just monts ago fell into a heavy silence. My mouth, which had been spitting out nonsense threats and fake persuasion, shut tight. And so did Kim Daehyun’s, who had been flailing around like a rabid dog. The only sound left was one made by Yoon Taeo alone.
Hiss—
The quiet burn of his cigarette was the only thing that could be heard, the silence so thick it made even that sound ring loud.
Outside the room, the security team had already ford a blockade like a wall. Inside, it was just , Kim Daehyun, Security Team 3’s leader, and Yoon Taeo.
“Take it off.”
“...What?”
The voice that broke the long silence ca from Taeo, and it made Kim Daehyun blurt out a confused question. I was just as baffled. Even for a psycho, asking soone to strip at a mont like this was...
Maybe I’d need to vacate the room soon for so private ti between him and Kim Daehyun.
“Still... I an, here... I’m injured, hyung...”
The pitiful whine that ca out of Kim Daehyun’s mouth, standing next to , almost made snap. Gone was the arrogant bastard who’d sneered at earlier. He sounded so weak and pathetic that even I started to feel like the villain in this situation.
But Taeo didn’t answer. Just sat there, cigarette smoke curling up like fog.
With what looked like resignation, Kim Daehyun slowly began undoing the buttons of his shirt, stained and stuck with blood. His trembling fingers—whether from pain or fear—made him look tragically fragile. This bastard really was sothing else. I started getting the sinking feeling that I might end up taking the fall for cracking open his skull.
“Not you. I ant Secretary Kim.”
“...It’s Secretary Baek, actually.”
The correction slipped out reflexively. But now wasn’t the ti to nitpick—
“That’s what I said. Take it off, Secretary Baek. Do I really have to repeat myself, again and again? It’s fucking annoying.”
“M-? Wait, why do I have to...”
The irritation laced into Yoon Taeo’s low, growling voice triggered sothing primal in . Still babbling questions I didn’t understand myself, I shrugged off my jacket and tossed it to the floor. Then I started undoing my shirt buttons, one by one, quickly.
“...That’s enough.”
Wait—was he really going to make strip completely? Why ? My hands, frozen in the middle of the motion, stopped instantly at that curt command.
That’s when Yoon Taeo finally moved from his spot on the couch.
“P-President! This is... I just made a bad call for a second, that’s all! It’s true Daehyun’s head cracked open, but he’s actually... he’s mostly fine! R-Right, Daehyun?!”
Obviously, anyone could see that this scamr bastard was anything but fine. Whether the booze had worn off or just his survival instincts kicked in, Kim Daehyun looked like he was about to pass out, his already narrow shoulders curling in tighter and tighter, swaying like he might fall any mont.
“Hyung... it’s true... I was being threatened... I didn’t have a choice... sniff...”
Did he prep that in advance? Kim Daehyun began offering a sob story nobody asked for. He cried, claiming he’d been harassed by loan sharks, how his tiny debt had snowballed from the interest, and how they threatened him every single day.
“Sniff... Still, I shouldn’t have done that to you, hyung... I-I just lost it for a second...”
Ah. That’s it. Ga over.
Tears rolled down Kim Daehyun’s blood-cleaned face. And whether it was because he was genuinely a ss or because he looked like a ss, even I—who knew this was all bullshit—had to admit he looked like soone worth pitying. Objectively speaking, anyway.
“...I’m sorry, sir...”
Overkill? I’d nearly gotten a new airhole sliced into my throat, but none of that mattered anymore. Yoon Taeo stood in front of , still motionless, one hand in his pocket, cigarette smoldering. His presence alone radiated pressure.
Saying anything bad about Kim Daehyun now wouldn’t help at all. That much was obvious.
“I made a ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) mistake.”
Maybe it was because I was an Oga. Or maybe it was just that the pheromone suppressant I took this morning had worn off by now. But I could feel the sharp energy pouring off Yoon Taeo’s body. Like raw Alpha pheromones, completely unfiltered. I couldn’t even et his eyes, but the mont I bowed my head, my body started to tremble on its own. Maybe it was just fear.
“You should know this by now. I hate when my belongings get damaged the most. Don’t you, Secretary Baek?”
...Was that the first ti?
The first ti Yoon Taeo ever called by my actual na?
Should I just get on my knees and beg for my life?
His voice ca out low and dry, with no visible emotion—but I could tell. His mood was at rock bottom.
“...I’ll accept whatever punishnt you decide.”
It was aningless. I knew better than anyone that a few words couldn’t sway Yoon Taeo’s judgnt. And honestly, if I could, I’d run away from here right now. But I had zero chance of getting past the Security Team 3 leader blocking the entrance. Not to ntion the entire hallway outside was lined with them too.
“Hyung... it wasn’t his fault... It’s all mine...”
And just like that—I beca the villain. The villain who tried to kill a guy over a minor “mistake.” Kim Daehyun’s voice, soaked in fake emotion, made it clear there was no escape from this trap I’d walked into.
“You’ll have to take responsibility.”
The weight in Yoon Taeo’s voice sounded like a final judgnt. I looked up. His eyes were still locked on . And they were far more vicious than Kim Daehyun’s blood-drenched ones had ever been.
“I said—you’ll take responsibility.”
Yoon Taeo answered himself, then flicked the stub of his cigarette to the floor. He slipped the watch off his wrist—a watch that probably cost sowhere in the billions—and instead of setting it down, he slid it across the back of his hand and curled his fingers into a fist.
That hand suddenly looked massive.
Just one punch from that thing could snap a neck. Add the weight of that luxury watch, and it’d hurt like hell—probably way beyond imagination.
I’d been forcing strength into legs that kept wanting to give out, biting hard on my lower lip as I braced for whatever punishnt was about to fall on —
THUD!
A heavy, bone-shaking impact rang out so loud it felt like it might rupture my eardrums.
But the pain I expected never ca.
“Where do you think you're putting your hands, you arrogant fuck.”
That fist—slamd directly into the center of Kim Daehyun’s face.
It was a massive movent.
It happened just one step in front of , yet I barely caught it with my eyes. If that fist had landed on instead, there’s no way I could’ve dodged it. Sa went for Kim Daehyun.
The mont the punch collided with that smug face of his, Daehyun went flying like a paper doll and smashed against the wall.
“A-AAGH!”
His scream ca a beat late, a second after the crash. He didn’t even try to recover—just cradled his face in both hands, unleashing a guttural moan.
“H-Hyung...! I told you, that bastard was trying to kill ...!”
Even now, the mask wasn’t completely off. Kim Daehyun was still trying to squeeze out sympathy, his face soaked in tears and blood, reaching for any sliver of compassion Yoon Taeo might have.
“Did I give a bad order?”
“...Sorry?”
But Taeo—like he was filtering out Daehyun’s voice entirely—never took his eyes off .
My brain had practically shut down from the shock of what had just happened, so it took a second to register what he ant. And then—thunk—the expensive watch wrapped around his wrist dropped to the floor like it didn’t matter.
“I’m pretty sure I told you to go ho and rest, Secretary Kim.”
Shhhhk—
The fabric around my forearm ripped. The sleeve, once white but now sowhere between crimson and filth, was torn off—revealing the shallow slash the knife had left behind. Taeo grabbed near the wound with his bare hand.
“...I—I’m sorry...”
I didn’t even know what for, but the apology ca out on reflex. Honestly, it was less about social cues and more about the unbearable pain that shot up my arm from where he was pressing down. It felt like he might rip the whole damn thing off.
He stayed like that for a mont, then pulled the sleeve free and wrapped it tightly around my exposed forearm. Too tightly. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to stop the bleeding or just kill the limb off entirely.
“Open your shirt.”
“...My shirt...?”
Still didn’t make sense. Taeo’s cryptic way of talking really hit different today. Half in a daze, I spread the already half-unbuttoned front open a bit more. The hand that had been on my arm moved this ti to brush down my neck.
“Guh—!”
The mont his hand grazed a certain spot, a sharp, searing pain made gasp. He stopped abruptly, and I had to bite down hard just to keep from groaning again. One wrong sound, and he might grip my neck the sa way he had my arm—hard enough to crush it.
“You need to be punished, Secretary Kim.”
“...Baek—yes, sir.”
He got my na right once—then ssed it up again. I almost spoke up, but in the end, just agreed.
My brain was still short-circuiting.
The mont I answered obediently, Taeo’s stare—one that looked like it could tear limb from limb—finally pulled away. So did his hand.
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