Dirty Switch

Imprinted...
Seo Baekhan simply stared at Joo Taehyun, who was repeating the word imprinted like a broken machine. Maybe the word was taking a little time to register in that young mind of his—Baekhan didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.
“Yeah. You and I both imprinted each other.”

“…I see.”
And that really was all there was to Taehyun’s reaction.
I see.

You imprinted me. So now even you're lying like this, huh.
Well, once the pregnancy was exposed, guessing about an imprint wouldn’t have been that hard. Regardless of how indifferent Baekhan acted, he had a degree in genetic phenotyping, and he was the head of one of the most renowned research institutions in the country.
So sure, maybe bringing up imprinting made sense. But why was he testing him, if he believed it was mutual? What did he expect Taehyun to do? Did he think if he pushed the right buttons, Taehyun would obediently cooperate?

Or maybe…
“I don’t understand why you’re suddenly doing this.”
Taehyun lightly shook off Baekhan’s hand. It wasn’t a forceful rejection, but it wasn’t as cautious as he usually was around him either. It felt like how he’d react if a stranger on the streets of Pyongyang suddenly grabbed him. Calm. Measured.
“Is this about sex?”

“…What?”
Yeah. Maybe that really was it.
Even if Baekhan hadn’t offered comfort and had instead spit on his broken body, he’d still ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ used it thoroughly afterward.

He’d kept him around for days, did whatever he wanted with him without much resistance, and Taehyun’s body had held up just fine. No damage, no backlash. Honestly, what better sex toy could there be?
Yeah. That was probably it.
‘Sure, maybe I don’t care that your body’s failing because you can’t receive my pheromones.’

If he’d really imprinted on Taehyun—if he was Baekhan’s imprint partner—
‘Love? That crazy feeling that makes you wreck everything every damn time?’
He wouldn’t have said things like that to his face, like he’d wrapped his tongue in knives.

Taehyun knew exactly how gentle Baekhan had been with his ex-girlfriend.
The way his expression shifted the moment Choi Yeonjun said she’d arrived. The way he set down his drink and picked up the cookies she liked without a second thought.
That man, who could treat someone that sweetly, wouldn’t act like this toward someone he believed he’d mutually imprinted with. Not whether it was one-sided or both.

“You’re saying you imprinted me, so you want me to stay close to keep your pheromones stable. That’s what this is, right? Even after everything, you still want sex.”

“Why do you have to say it like that? You could’ve used a softer, more elegant phrase.”
“I’m mocking you because I don’t get why you’d lie about imprinting.”

“Oh? You think I’m making it up?”
Baekhan didn’t even seem irritated that Taehyun had dismissed it as a lie. He looked like a man who’d already won.
“And you think I was supposed to believe all that crap you said about pregnancy and divorce?”
“Hyung.”

“But Taehyun, I’m the one doing things I don’t normally do, aren’t I? What more proof do you need?”
Because I imprinted on you.
Even the way he said it—tossed out like it meant nothing—was devoid of any real sincerity.

It’s all because of the imprint.
Seo Baekhan couldn’t stand things not going the way he wanted. And yet, he was more flexible than anyone—able to pivot instantly and still get the results he desired.
So this—cutting Taehyun to pieces with that voice—despite claiming Taehyun was acting “out of character,” was exactly the kind of thing Baekhan would do.

Taehyun couldn’t deny it. When Baekhan said he’d imprinted him, something inside him stirred.
But that wasn’t his will. It was just an old, deeply ingrained reflex.
Even if it was mutual imprinting, what would change?

Baekhan didn’t love him anyway. Mutual or not, imprinting was just another temporary symptom of pheromonal instability.
His feelings—just rags now. Useless shreds he needed to quietly let rot and disappear. So whether or not they imprinted, the decision to divorce, to end this pathetic one-sided love—that didn’t change.
“This actually works out well. Makes things easier.”

Taehyun averted his gaze slightly, avoiding the sharp glint in Baekhan’s eyes.
“I’ve been doing some research too. They say it’s easier to break a mutual imprint than a one-sided one.”
The more he spoke, the more certain he became. Right? If this really was mutual, there’s no way Baekhan would act so unaffected. He’d be shoving pills down Taehyun’s throat by now, or scheduling procedures to break the bond.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
But Baekhan just flicked his brows, smiling like it was all a game. His tone was sweet, playful. He clearly had no intention of taking Taehyun seriously. Not the love, not the pain, not even his resolve to give everything up.
“I must’ve gone on too long with someone who’s exhausted. Sorry.”

“…”
“I’ll be in Seoul the day after tomorrow. Get some rest. We’ll talk then.”
Even now, Baekhan’s voice was too sweet—so sweet it hurt. Taehyun wanted to cover his ears, but Baekhan’s grip on his wrist didn’t budge. As if indulging his tantrum had been a one-time grace.

“I hope next time we can have a more productive conversation.”

At last, Baekhan let go. He gently rubbed Taehyun’s wrist, which now bore a clear, red mark even in the dark, then turned and calmly walked back to his car.
Not once did he look back.

The engine revved, the headlights flared to life.
Unlike before, when the tires had screeched like they might tear apart, the massive vehicle now rolled away in its usual smooth, elegant glide.
The guards, seeing Taehyun hadn’t said anything, just fidgeted, waiting for instructions.

Gukwon’s car, its windows rolling up and down repeatedly, like a nervous tic.
And Taehyun—replaying every word, every gesture of Baekhan’s like a compulsion.
Left alone in the wreckage, Joo Taehyun felt abandoned, drowning in the residual sensation Baekhan had left behind. All he could do was gasp for air.
“Young Master.”

“…Yes.”
“Is it really okay to let Director Seo go like this?”
“…Yes. Please tell my brother we can leave now.”

“Yes, Young Master.”
Yeah. It was time to go to Seoul.
To my real home.

Even though the atmosphere had been tense, his big brother had stayed put and let them finish. Taehyun was grateful for that. He felt like he should go tell him—it’s over. I’m okay now. But even knowing that, his body wouldn’t move.
Lying used to be so easy, and now not even a single I’m fine could make it past his lips.
He stood for a long moment, staring at Gukwon’s idling car, then finally got into his own.

This—acting like a child—ends today.
Even if I said it’s over, I knew I wouldn’t be able to cut it all clean right away. I knew that. My feelings for Baekhan, my connection to him.
So the moment I reach Seoul, I’ll be someone who’s okay.

His reflection in the window looked blank. Gloomy. Quiet. Just like always. The face he’d trained so hard not to let show anything—so it would appeal to Baekhan—had finally paid off.
At least something came out of that mess of a relationship.
It was late enough that the Ferris wheel was slowly spinning again, just like before. But the cluster of lights and reflectors set up nearby by waiting reporters made its silhouette hard to see.

Blinded by the glare of camera flashes, Taehyun tried to recall what that date had felt like.
It had ended in sex so rough his body nearly gave out, but on the way here, he’d been genuinely excited.
What did they even talk about that day? What color was the car they rode in? He’d bragged to his sister that he was going on the Ferris wheel with Baekhan not that long ago—and now he couldn’t remember a single detail.

He stared at the streaks of light smudged across the window like spilled paint, and finally closed his eyes.
And as someone who never looked pathetic when he cried, he was honestly thankful for that.
***

“Aigoo, baby—our sweet Taehyun!”
As soon as the car pulled into the parking lot, Chairman Baek came rushing out barefoot.