Soo-hyun let out a faint laugh, the sound laced with irony. "How ironic..."
Taehan frowned. "About what?" His playful tone had long vanished; what lingered now was cold curiosity.
"That we'd be sitting here," Soo-hyun said, swirling his soup spoon idly, "sharing one table—just to entertain the public's eyes." His voice was calm, but the mockery in it dripped like poison.
He raised his gaze slowly. "It never really occurred to me that you'd be interested in marriage."
Taehan leaned back, one arm resting lazily on the back of his chair, though his eyes were anything but relaxed. "Yeah, well, it's not like I want to marry you. I only came because I had to—in order to shut those old geezers up."
"Your father's associates?" Soo-hyun asked dryly.
"That," Taehan muttered, "and those damn relatives of mine."
He hissed through his teeth, jaw tight.
"You make it sound like he didn't push you into doing this," Soo-hyun said smoothly. His tone slicing through the room like a quiet blade.
Taehan froze mid-breath. His glare sharpened—and for a moment, his composure cracked.
Soo-hyun caught it and chuckled lowly. "So, I was right." His voice carried a mocking lilt. "You're not the type to obey your family, even when they put a collar on you and restraint your reckless behaviors. You'd bark and pretend to hate it—but if it's your hyung, you wag your tail like a dog and follow him without question."
Taehan's knuckles turned white as he gritted his teeth. "You trying to pick a fight with me?"
"Oh, please..." Soo-hyun sighed, his lips curving faintly. "We're too old to be throwing punches and tantrum here. I'm not trying to provoke you—I just find it amusing."
He paused, setting his chopsticks down. "I'm saying there's no point continuing this arrangement if your hyung ever changes his mind. He might order you one day to stop playing around and knowing you.... you'd likely listen and wait for him to pat your head."
Silence thickened between them. The faint hum of music filled the space their words left empty.
"Agreeing to all this... what can you gain from it?" Soo-hyun continued, voice soft but firm. "Once the public learns the truth, all you'll have left is backlash from every side."
Taehan leaned forward now, eyes dark, tone low. "I get what you're saying."
"Oh?" Soo-hyun raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression.
"Just wait," He said, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous. "Wait until I figure things out on my end."
Soo-hyun's cold gaze locked with his. "Then I'll let you know this much—using me isn't free."
Taehan smirked, the corner of his mouth curling back into that familiar mischievous grin. "Same goes for you, Mr. Je."
Their eyes met, sharp, unyielding, and neither one was willing to back down. For a fleeting moment, amid the quiet clash of pride and power, the tension between them burned hotter than the tea that sat untouched on the table.
[A few days later.]
At night, the city outside Soo-hyun's office was cloaked in a sheet of midnight blue. The skyline shimmered faintly through the glass walls—distant, and indifferent.
Inside, only the soft rustling of paper filled the silence. The faint hum of the desk lamp cast a pale circle of light around Soo-hyun, whose focus was buried in documents stacked neatly in front of him.
Then, a sharp buzz broke through the quiet office. His phone, face-down beside his files, lit up.
He glanced at the screen.
[Taehan: Mr. Je, are you busy tonight? Care to join me for some drinks?]
Soo-hyun's brow twitched faintly. His eyes, cold and unreadable, lingered on the glowing text.
Another message came through.
[Taehan: I assure you, it will be worth your time. Let's hang out for once.]
His lips pressed into a thin line, a trace of annoyance flashing across his face. It wasn't as though this was the first time. Ever since the matchmaking trial began, they'd been paraded around together—expensive restaurants, private galleries, quiet rooftop lounges. All for the sake of appearances. For the public and the press.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple briefly before sighing through his nose.
Still, he reached for his phone and began to type, fingers moving without enthusiasm.
[Soo-hyun: Where are you right now?]
For a moment, he stared at the sent message, then placed the phone back on his desk.
It wasn't that he wanted to go. But this could be another strategy Taehan laid out for the public to see.
*****
Later that evening, Soo-hyun arrived at the bar.
The exterior looked modest, but once he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted—thick, and humidity, and indulgent. Neon lights in shades of pink and crimson bled across the dark walls, and faint thump of bass resonated from the floor.
The air smelled of liquor and perfume, faint smoke drifting lazily through the dimness.
A staff member in uniform quickly recognized him, bowing politely before leading him upstairs. The VIP area was quieter but heavier—the laughter that echoed behind the closed doors was low, and confident.
When the door opened, Soo-hyun was greeted by a wave of sound and heat.
A group of men—all well-dressed, loud and clearly intoxicated on wealth and ego—lounged on a long, curved red couch. A massive TV screen glowed on one side, displaying karaoke lyrics no one was singing. The glass table in front of them gleamed with half-finished bottles of vodka, tequila, rum, and an assortment of crystal glasses.
Their chatter halted the moment Soo-hyun stepped in.
"Wow~ he really came!" One of them said, voice dripping with disbelief.
"I thought it was just for show," another added, grinning wide.
"He did come," a third chuckled, raising his glass. "But still not enough to convince me otherwise."
At the center of them, all Taehan reclined lazily, his arm draped over the backrest as if he owned the room—which perhaps, he did.
When his eyes landed on Soo-hyun, his expression lit up like he'd just spotted something amusing.
"Soo-hyun! You made it. Thanks for coming!"
Soo-hyun stepped forward, the low light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the measured pace of his stride. He stopped an inch short of the table, gaze sweeping briefly across the room before settling on Taehan.
"Is this why you called me here?" His voice was cool, calm and steady, the kind that made the air feel suddenly thinner.
Taehan blinked, feigning confusion. "What do you mean? Why so cold, Soo-hyun?"
"I didn't come here to entertain you and whatever bet you made with your friends, Mr. Wang."
Soo-hyun knew Taehan too well to be just inviting him for drinks when his whole gang are present.
A brief pause. Then Taehan's grin stretched wider—sharper.
"Ah, so you knew," he said, rising to his feet chuckle. He walked closer, steps slow and deliberate, the distance between them closing like a trap. "And here I thought you were just a naive little thing."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. "Also, drop the honorifics, will you? We've been going out for some time now. We can afford to be a little more casual with each other."
He turned his head toward his guests, throwing an arm over Soo-hyun's shoulder—just enough to test his patience.
"Told you guys he's quick. Our Soo-hyun's a smart one."
The men laughed—not because they found it funny, but because that's what men like them did. Their laughter was empty, edged with curiosity and a little envy.
Soo-hyun didn't flinch. He met Taehan's eyes head-on, his expression carved in ice.
Whatever game Taehan was playing, he wasn't planning to play by his rules.
Soo-hyun exhaled softly through his nose, his patience thinning. He twisted on his heel, the smooth sound of his shoe echoing faintly on the marble floor.
"If there's nothing else," he said, his voice sharp but restrained, "then I'm leaving. I don't have time for any of this nonsense."
He had already taken a few steps when someone from the group abruptly stood, a glass in hand.
"Wait," the man said, grinning wide. His eyes glimmered with mischief. "You should have a drink first, Mr. Je. It'd be a waste if you didn't and just leave like that."
Soo-hyun halted mid-step, turning his head slightly. His eyes flicked toward the glass—amber liquid swirling lazily beneath the dim pink lights. He raised an eyebrow, skepticism written across his face.
He didn't move to take it. What is this jerk scheming?
But then, from the corner of his eyes, he caught Taehan watching him, a faint smile curling his lips. The message behind that smile was clear, unspoken but heavy.
Go on. Don't make this difficult. Taehan thought.
Soo-hyun's jaw tensed. He hesitated, but eventually reached out, fingers brushing the cold rim of the glass before wrapping around it.
He lifted it to his lips and drank.
The liquid burned as it went down, sharp and bitter. He didn't even bother to ask what kind of alcohol it was. He just wanted this over with.
The room erupted with cheers and applause.
"Whoa! He downed the whole thing!"
"I knew the Director could drink!"
"So he's not as picky as the rumors said, huh?"
Their laughter and teasing filled the room, but Soo-hyun barely listened. Something about their voices felt distant and hollow.
As his gaze swept across the group, he noticed something odd. Among the Alphas seated comfortably on the couch, there were Omegas—a few males, and fewer females—scattered between them. They looked out of place, too quiet, their eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
It wasn't just drunkenness. It was something else.
Their cheeks were flushed unnaturally red, their movements sluggish, detached. One of them giggled softly, glass slipping from his hand—yet no one reacted. Another leaned limply against the shoulder of the man beside him, who smirked without concern.
Soo-hyun's stomach twisted.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat when the heat started spreading through his body.
At first, it was subtle—a light burn beneath his skin, his pulse quickening. But within moments, his chest grew tight, his breath became uneven.
He blinked, trying to steady his sigh. The lights blurred at the edges, the pink and red neon blending into one dizzying haze.
What... is this?
He looked down at the empty glass still in his hand. Nothing seemed unusual abou it—no smell. But that only made the unease worse.
Another glass appeared before him.
"Here," the same man said, smiling wider this time. "You've got quite the tolerance, don't you? Let's see if you can keep up."
Soo-hyun hesitated, his mind fogging further.
He lifted the glass slowly, sniffed—and that's when he realized it. The taste. The faintest chemical note underneath the alcohol's bite, though subtle.
"This..." His words slurred slightly as he tried to focus. "The taste—"
The man tilted his head. "Hm?"
"The taste gets different every time you pour another drink," Soo-hyun said, his voice quieter now, but heavy enough to draw the room's attention.
The laughter stopped.
For a brief second, no one spoke. Then the man chuckled almost too quickly and awkwardly. "Huh? What do you mean? It's the same bottle, Director Je."
Soo-hyun didn't answer right away. He could feel his heart pounding unusually in his chest, his throat dry. His tolerance had always been high—years of business dinners and social gatherings had made sure of that. Three shots were nothing to him.
But this... wasn't alcohol.
His gaze flicked to the Omegas sitting across him—dazed, glass still in hand, lips trembling as if to speak but failing to form a word.
That's when the realization hit.
They weren't drunk. They were drugged.
Soo-hyun's expression hardened, even as his body began to sway. He shoved the next offered glass aside, the liquid spilling across the table.
"I'm not drinking... anymore."
The men exchanged looks.
"Aww, come on, Director," one of them cooed mockingly. "We're just getting started. Don't ruin the mood now."
"How could you refuse now?" Another added, laughter thick with malice.
Soo-hyun tried to take a step back, but his knees faltered. He caught himself on the edge of the couch, breathing shallow, forcing his body to stay upright.
Taehan finally stood, his expression unreadable, though the faint smirk at the corner of his mouth gave him away. He walked toward him slowly, his shadow stretching in the dim light.
"What's wrong, Soo-hyun?" He asked softly, his tone almost sweet. "This isn't like you."
Soo-hyun lifted his gaze, his vision trembling, yet his eyes burned with fury.
"You..." His voice was rough, barely audible. "You bastard..."
He could feel it now—the heat spreading further, crawling up his spine, pooling low in his stomach. His body reacting to whatever had been slipped into his drink.
Taehan crouched down in front of him, close enough that their faces nearly met. "Careful, Mr. Je," he murmured, voice low and dangerously smooth. "Wouldn't want anyone to think you can't handle your own drinks."
Soo-hyun's breath hitched, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady his vision. He knew then—he wasn't just trapped in a room full of elites.
He was trapped in Taehan's game.
*****
Meanwhile, Kiyonari was buried in paperwork, his pen moving in rhythmic strokes as he signed off the last few reports his boss had passed over earlier that evening. The quiet of the office was only disturbed by the faint ticking of the clock and the soft hum of the air conditioning.
After checking the documents one last time, he stacked them neatly and placed them on Director Je's desk with precision, just as he always did. He was about to take a seat when his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket, vibrating insistently.
He fished it out and glanced at the caller ID.
[Assistant Secretary Eunji]
He quickly swiped to answer. "Hello, Eunji-sshi."
"Oh, thank goodness you answered quickly!" Her voice came through—breathless, laced with a hint of panic.
Kiyonari straightened. "Is something the matter? Why'd you call?"
"Well—" she paused, and he could hear her swallow, as though trying to steady herself. "Is Director Je there right now?"
Kiyonari frowned, glancing toward the closed office door. "No, he's out right now."
"Where?" Her tone sharpened with urgency.