"Pfft!"
Heemin was supposed to say his next line exactly as written in the novel, but hearing his friend’s face spout such obscene words was too much. Before he could stop himself, he burst out laughing.
Iheon’s neatly furrowed brows twisted in an instant, his sharp-angled eyes narrowing dangerously.
"What the hell is so funny?"
"You just— you sound so different from the real one... Puhaha!"
"You must be high out of your mind."
Iheon clearly thought Heemin was spouting nonsense under the influence of drugs. It made sense—Heemin had been on the verge of vomiting, desperately gulping down water in the middle of the stage, and now he was saying things that completely clashed with the delicate, sensitive personality of the Seo Heemin from the novel.
Letting go of Heemin’s chin in apparent disgust, Iheon grabbed his wrist next, as if to check something. His grip was so strong that Heemin staggered.
"...Ah!"
Iheon’s gaze traveled over Heemin’s pale, slender arms, scanning both his right and left forearms. His lips pressed into a thin line.
There, along the bluish veins, were several needle marks. On both arms.
Iheon retrieved a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket, gripping it between his lips. A man standing quietly behind him moved immediately, lighting it with both hands, his motions practiced and respectful.
A faint glow flickered in the dimly lit container.
Smoke curled into the air like a coiling serpent, spreading its sharp scent.
Back in reality, Heemin had occasionally smoked, but Seo Heemin’s body had delicate lungs—too sensitive for the acrid smoke.
Cough, cough.
He started hacking almost immediately.
Iheon deliberately exhaled a stream of smoke in his face, watching him struggle with clear amusement. Heemin’s eyes stung, his throat burned, and he broke into another fit of dry coughing.
Iheon smirked slightly.
"A junkie acting all high and mighty, huh?"
His tone was cold, his gaze filled with nothing but contempt, as if he were looking at something filthy.
"I’m not a— ugh—"
He couldn’t even finish the sentence before another ragged breath clawed at his throat.
Iheon clicked his tongue in irritation and turned slightly, blowing the rest of the smoke away.
Cough, cough.
But once his throat started spasming, it wouldn’t stop. Heemin clutched his mouth and nose, trying desperately to suppress the fit.
"This is fucking annoying."
Iheon took a deep drag of his cigarette before abruptly stubbing it out against the wall.
Hissss.
The glowing ember crumbled under his force, vanishing into nothing.
The suffocating burn in Heemin’s throat finally began to subside.
Did he just... take pity on me?
Heemin almost laughed. This guy really is obsessed with Seo Heemin.
"Secretary Jung."
"Yes, sir."
"Take him home. Call Dr. Hwang to flush the drugs out of his system. I have a meeting with President Park."
"Understood."
Jung, who had been responding to Iheon with flawless deference, immediately pulled out his phone to make a call.
Heemin recognized the name—Dr. Hwang was a character from the novel.
Secretary Jung.
The man didn’t even have a name in the book. After Seo Heemin, he was the most pitiful character in the story.
How could someone work nonstop, day and night, without a single day off?
Even when Heemin had taken on an extra part-time job over winter break, he had spent every waking moment counting down the days until his next break. For him, rest was as vital as oxygen.
Iheon, on the other hand, was the CEO of Wushin Capital, so it made sense that he lived that way.
But Secretary Jung? He voluntarily threw himself into being Iheon’s lapdog, taking bullets for him without hesitation.
Heemin couldn't understand it at all. Just how much was he getting paid?
More importantly—
"Why aren’t you hitting me?"
In the original novel, Seo Heemin had sobbed and begged for death. In response, Iheon had slapped him twenty times before summoning Dr. Hwang.
Iheon’s hard, frigid eyes flickered with a trace of confusion.
He was probably thinking, Is this idiot high again?
His gaze sharpened as he studied Heemin.
"You want to be hit?"
"N-No! Absolutely not!"
Heemin, who had just turned twenty-one, realized that this Cha Iheon was almost ten years older than him.
For a moment, he instinctively used formal speech—before quickly correcting himself and switching to casual speech, remembering that Seo Heemin and Cha Iheon were supposed to be the same age.
Iheon muttered darkly, "That bastard Park. How much did he pump into you?"
His rising fury seeped into the air, thick with pheromones.
A suffocating rage.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
For the first time, Heemin felt a shiver of real fear.
This was the gangster Cha Iheon.
“...Haa.”
After Iheon and Secretary Jung left, Heemin was alone in the container.
His legs gave out, and he slumped against the wall.
‘Even being someone’s victim isn’t easy.’
He had been lucky not to get slapped today, but who knew about next time?
Even if Cha Iheon was obsessed with Seo Heemin, the novel’s early plot was filled with nothing but violence and cruelty.
Slapping him at the slightest provocation.
Treating him worse than a street whore.
Demanding humiliating acts.
And when Seo Heemin kept trying to escape, Cha Iheon had finally broken his ankle.
He had paid for him in cash, after all.
He had purchased him, and that meant ownership.
Iheon had torn off Seo Heemin’s wings, crushed his free will, and caged him like a bird—nothing more than a tool to relieve his pheromone congestion.
A toy for his pleasure.
‘If I have to pay you back, then take my corneas, my organs—take whatever you want. Please. Please just let me go, Iheon.’
‘Tsk. Come on now. If we’re settling debts, what about my father’s life? How do you plan to pay for that?’
Cha Il-moon, Cha Iheon’s father, had taken his own life after Seo Jae-han, Seo Heemin’s father, stole his company.
The betrayal had been devastating.
Their families had been close—practically brothers. Cha Il-moon had helped the Seo family countless times through difficult times.
And yet, he had been discarded, left with nothing.
The shock had been so overwhelming that he abandoned his family and took his own life.
It had happened shortly after Seo Heemin, who had grown up like a brother to Cha Iheon, cut ties with him the moment he was classified as a Prime Alpha.
Even when his mother collapsed and became comatose, Cha Iheon had tried to believe in Seo Heemin until the very end.
Because he loved him that much.
To Cha Iheon, Seo Heemin had been like a newborn chick imprinting on its first sight.
Pure. Devoted. His one and only.
Even if Seo Jae-han had truly destroyed his family, Seo Heemin himself must have been innocent.
He had convinced himself it was all just a misunderstanding.
But then—
Seo Heemin never showed up at Cha Il-moon’s funeral.
At school, he acted like Cha Iheon didn’t exist.
On the eve of his forced transfer—after being expelled for attacking his classmates—Cha Iheon had clung to his last shred of hope, begging Seo Heemin to meet him one last time.
But the only people who showed up were hired thugs.
They shattered his ribs.
Split his brow open.
Left him bleeding in the street.
Even as his vision blurred and his consciousness flickered, he waited all night.
Heemin never came.
And as the dawn broke—
his love curdled into hate.
In the end, Cha Iheon’s wish—to be Seo Heemin’s one and only—was never fulfilled.
R𝑒ad lat𝒆st chapt𝒆rs at free𝑤ebnovel.com Only.
Instead, he had been betrayed, abandoned, and thrown onto the streets.
His love had been deep enough to turn into something else.
Something twisted.
Something obsessive.
He had clawed his way up through his great-uncle’s criminal organization, dragging himself through filth and blood for years.
Even as he was beaten, threatened, and used, one thing kept him standing.
His rage.
His hatred.
His all-consuming obsession with Seo Heemin.
They had called him "the chairman’s dog."
And he had crawled like a dog to reach his position at the top.
All for one thing.
To take revenge on Seo Heemin and Seo Jae-han.
“...I don’t like getting hit.”
Unlike Seo Heemin, an only child, Heemin had three older sisters.
Their father had died in an accident right after he was born, leaving their mother as the sole provider.
So his sisters had stepped in to raise him, acting as his second mothers.
They had struggled financially, but once the eldest and second sister landed corporate jobs, their situation improved.
And as soon as they had spare money, they discovered hobbies.
Unfortunately for Heemin, their hobby of choice turned out to be BL novels and webtoons.
At first, they would read and pass books among themselves, deliberately excluding him.
Annoyed, Heemin had asked to join—only to be cussed out without explanation.
Determined to get to the bottom of their secret, he snuck into their stash.
That was his mistake.
The hidden books turned out to be shockingly entertaining.
When he begged them to let him read more, his sisters seized the opportunity—and began openly discussing things at the dinner table that should never be spoken aloud.
Before long, he had memorized every obscure term.
And his sisters?
They were all brutal.
Whenever he acted out, they would lock the door, blast “Good Little Child” nursery songs, and forcefully “educate” him.
Once, he had tried telling their mother.
But instead of siding with him, she had scolded him instead:
“You deserved it. Learn how to be a decent person first.”
Getting beaten up didn’t make you stronger.
If anything, it just taught you how to read the room.
Heemin sighed, rubbing his forehead.
He imagined Iheon’s large, calloused hands—hands that had likely killed people—and shuddered.