Chapter 30

The pair seated across from them did their best to avert their eyes, but the dense layer of awkwardness hanging over the table refused to disperse.

With Taegeon still holding his left hand in a firm grip, even the simple act of setting down his chopsticks felt strangely unnatural.

Jaeha’s lip curled faintly. He picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and guided it toward Taegeon’s mouth. Unable to meet the man’s eyes, he fixed his gaze instead on the sharp, commanding ridge of Taegeon’s nose.

Taegeon did not move. He kept his mouth firmly closed, leaving Jaeha no choice but to finally look him in the eye. The gaze fixed upon him curved ever so slightly, the change so subtle that it was barely perceptible.

At that moment, Jaeha understood.

So this is how Jang Taegeon smiles.

“Just eat,” Jaeha muttered.

“Quite demanding, aren’t you?”

As though indulging a petulant child, Taegeon opened his mouth, revealing the vivid red of his tongue. The sight struck something deep within Jaeha, and his pheromones nearly surged free in a blind, instinctive rush.

He fought down the sudden heaviness sinking into his lower abdomen and barely wrestled himself back under control, though he could do nothing to stop the heat flooding the tips of his ears.

Never before had his pheromones flared so violently in public, much less in the middle of a restaurant. Even during the volatile years of puberty, when he had first manifested as an Alpha, his ironclad discipline had prevented such a lapse. The reaction left him utterly bewildered.

He had never imagined that he would discover such a clumsy, immature side of himself at this stage in his life, yet here he was, stripped of his usual composure because of Taegeon.

Worse, he had no idea how to correct it. This was a first for him, a moment in which raw emotion, rather than cold reason, had seized control of the reins.

For Lee Jaeha, everything involving Jang Taegeon was a first. Every facet of the man, and every gesture Taegeon directed toward him, belonged to a world Jaeha was encountering for the first time in his life.

“Why are you looking at me like you’re starving? You had plenty earlier.”

Jaeha had believed his expression remained perfectly neutral, but Taegeon somehow noticed the faint heat coloring his cheeks. He tugged on Jaeha’s hand and drew him closer until their shoulders knocked together.

The whispered words seemed to seep directly into Jaeha’s skin.

“Ah, hyungbu-nim, did you suggest we eat even though you’d already had dinner at the office?”

Jeong-gil looked at Jaeha, his eyes suddenly glistening with emotion. “Was it because I looked hungry? Ha! From now on, you are my hyungbu-nim too!”

Jaeha fell silent, uncertain where he should even begin correcting Jeong-gil’s spectacular misunderstanding.

Taegeon gave a low chuckle, his lips brushing the shell of Jaeha’s ear.

“Our Executive Director is simply full from eating his wife to his heart’s content. Isn’t that right?”

“…Director Jang.”

Jaeha’s voice dropped into a low, warning rumble. Had his earlobes not been blazing red beneath his otherwise impassive expression, the reprimand might have carried some authority.

Rather than showing the slightest hint of intimidation, Taegeon flicked one of those burning earlobes with his index finger, laughed, and ordered a Coke. Since he had forbidden alcohol, it appeared he had decided to settle for cola instead.

Using his blunt fingertips, he cracked open the soda can, which looked almost comically small in his enormous hand, and poured the contents into a glass.

As he watched, the rigid edge of Jaeha’s composure gradually softened, though he only just managed to suppress the urge to rub his tingling cheek.

Near the kitchen, a server approached with a tray bearing four bowls of cold noodles, the water-style variety Myeongsun had ordered on a whim. Once the bowls were added, the table became completely overcrowded.

Jeong-gil shifted a bottle of soju aside to make room, casting them a wary and tentative glance.

Jaeha smirked and held out his glass. It was somewhat difficult with Taegeon still refusing to release his hand, but he managed regardless.

“Please pour me a drink, Mr. Jeong-gil.”

Resting his left hand lightly against his chest in a gesture of refined courtesy, Jaeha extended the glass with calm, steady poise.

Struck by Jaeha’s sincerity and effortless grace, Jeong-gil instinctively straightened his back. Still caught off guard, he poured the liquor while supporting his wrist with his free hand as a sign of respect.

The sudden tension tightening Jeong-gil’s features was both puzzling and amusing. With the faint smile still lingering on his lips, Jaeha raised the glass, tipped his head back, and drained the soju in a single swallow.

He then reached out without a word and took the bottle from Jeong-gil’s hand. Jeong-gil chuckled softly and offered his own glass with both hands.

Jaeha poured for him, once again resting his left hand against his chest and mirroring the same etiquette he had observed while receiving the drink.

“Director Jang mentioned that I should rely on you and Myeongsun for transportation from now on. In that case, I’ll be in your care.”

“Oh, no! Please, just speak casually, hyungbu-nim!” Jeong-gil blurted, visibly flustered and unsure how he was supposed to conduct himself.

Jaeha did not find it particularly strange that a man so broad-shouldered and imposing, despite standing only slightly shorter than himself, would behave with such deference.

It was the typical response most Alpha and Beta men showed in Jaeha’s presence. Hosting clients had long since become second nature to him, but receiving that same hospitality felt somehow even more instinctive.

Myeongsun and Jeong-gil watched him in fascination, captivated by the smooth elegance of his every movement.

At first glance, Lee Jaeha appeared cold and stern, much like Taegeon. Yet he often wore an unexpectedly gentle expression.

That softness, which he extended toward his subordinates without ever compromising his unshakable dignity, possessed a quiet magnetism the two men could not help admiring. Even they, who had spent their entire lives in a world ruled by brute strength, found themselves drawn to it.

The drinks continued to pass around the table with increasing ease. Jaeha never refused a glass, and despite the restaurant’s less than pristine condition, he voiced no complaint. He ate everything placed before him with unwavering refinement. His chopsticks moved soundlessly, precise and sharp as a blade. His impeccable table manners, so flawless that not even the faintest sound of chewing escaped while he spoke, left both Jeong-gil and Myeongsun feeling strangely mellow.

Taegeon observed the entire display with a private smirk. Perhaps dissatisfied by the brief interruption in their contact, he laced his fingers through Jaeha’s once more.

Startled by the sudden intimacy, Jaeha turned to look at him. Taegeon merely raised an eyebrow, his expression shamelessly brazen.

His gaze conveyed the message clearly.

What are you staring at? You’re the one who held my hand first.

Perplexed, Jaeha turned back toward the table and answered Myeongsun’s question.

Taegeon lowered their interlocked hands onto his lap. Jaeha did not look at him again, but his voice slowed almost imperceptibly as he continued responding to Myeongsun.

Watching him, Taegeon pressed the cold rim of his cola glass to his lips and settled in to listen.

***