Dirty Switch

“Let’s get you inside. Oh—your mom’s resting in her room. She was a bit shaken, but it’s nothing serious, so don’t worry.”
“Aigoo, Dad. You should’ve at least put shoes on.”

“Look at me, rushing out like this... I just panicked. Come in, baby. Gukwon, you too—thank you for all your trouble. You hungry? Knowing you, you probably skipped every single meal.”
“I’m not hungry, but please be careful. You keep forgetting you’re a grandfather now, not just some old man. What if you slipped and fell?”
“What did you just say, punk?”

“I mean it, I’m still not interested in taking over the chairman’s seat. I hate working.”
Chairman Joo and Joo Gukwon bickered back and forth, guiding Joo Taehyun into the house. Whether their antics paid off or not, the youngest’s lips twitched faintly at the corners, the beginnings of a smile tugging at them.
Seeing that expression, the chairman finally let a smile of relief creep onto his own face.

Good. He still has enough in him to smile. That’s all that matters.
His youngest son had to be physically and emotionally drained. All Chairman Joo wanted now was for him to rest here, at home. No guilt, no shame, no “sorry.” Not even a speck of it. He didn’t want Taehyun to carry any of that weight.
He reached out and gently ruffled the bangs of the boy who’d once been smaller than his forearm. When had that tiny kid grown up so tall? So broad? It scared him sometimes—how his baby still looked like a newborn puppy in his eyes.
“Sit for now. I’ll get you some water.”

Before Taehyun could even properly settle on the living room sofa, Joo Kyunghan and Joo Yoonwoo came flying out. They’d been on the phone with the PR team in a quiet room.
“Welcome home, baby. That must’ve been a rough trip. Big bro must be tired too.”
“Right? Oppa, did you eat? I don’t think you even stopped at a rest area.”

Normally, Yoonwoo would’ve shrieked something ridiculous and tackled Taehyun the second she saw him. Kyunghan, who liked to chomp on Taehyun’s chubby cheeks like a stress toy, now just patted his shoulder and stepped back.
And who could blame them? The youngest—barely twenty-six—was pregnant.
Even if a Beta or Omega had gotten pregnant, the family would’ve been worried sick. But Taehyun was a male Alpha.

Maybe it was all just a story to help with media damage control. But to the chairman and the rest of the family, that wasn’t what mattered. What hurt them was that their youngest had been pushed to the point where he had to publicly announce a pregnancy.
“And where’s Sangwoo?”
“He’s still at work. Said he probably won’t make it back tonight.”

“Click. Father, maybe it’s time to rethink the leadership structure. I personally believe in abolishing inefficient overtime.”
“These days, times are tough. It’s good for the higher-ups to set an example.”
Yoonwoo shook her thumb down at the chairman in a mocking “boomer” gesture.

The chairman clicked his tongue but still felt satisfied. The mood wasn’t too heavy—maybe they could keep things this light moving forward.

“I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry.”
The moment Taehyun blurted out his apology, the cheerful atmosphere froze in an instant.
The faces of the chairman and the rest of the family clouded with pain. A second ago they’d been teasing and joking—now every mouth in the room clamped shut.

Ah… our baby.
We tried so hard to pretend we didn’t notice, just so he wouldn’t say something like this—with that face, in that voice.
“Тhe youngest, didn’t you promise hyung you wouldn’t say sorry?”
Taehyun shook his head hard and clenched his fists tight. It was a desperate attempt to keep his hands from trembling.

“…Back when I was sick as a kid—Dad, Mom, all of you—my brothers and sister, you all know how painful that time was. And I went and {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} brought it up like that today. Used it like that… I’m so sorry.”
Chairman Joo opened his mouth in shock but couldn’t say anything. Meanwhile, Taehyun continued his carefully rehearsed apology.
“I was the one who pushed for the marriage. It was my decision. And yet I handled things so poorly that it all exploded… and then, trying to fix it, I dragged up the family’s painful past like it was nothing—”

“Taehyun.”
Before he could finish, Yoonwoo reached out and messed up his hair. She had to stand on tiptoe now just to touch his bangs—but still treated him like he was a little kid.
“I know what you’re trying to say. I really know. So it’s okay. You did great today, baby.”

“…Noona.”
“You looked like a real adult on screen. Well—way better in person, obviously.”
They all piled around him. Soft, warm, and impossibly strong—like a cradle made just for him. Everyone did their part to embrace the youngest who had fought and survived the day.

Chairman Joo watched for a moment, then opened his arms wide too.
“Tomorrow… let’s talk tomorrow, baby.”
He pulled close this child—too big now to even fit in his arms—and whispered softly.

He finally realized how careless he’d been, trying to sweep things aside with a smile.
He’d always wanted to keep his children close. Wanted to shield them from every hardship. But now, even their youngest, who had seemed like such a baby… was growing up. Just like all the others had before.
“I wasn’t thinking. Seeing you handle that press conference so bravely… I still treated you like a little kid.”

Taehyun shook his head faintly at first, then with more force, as if trying to suppress something rising inside him.
Chairman Joo simply held his son. He didn’t say you did well or I’m proud of you or go ahead and cry. He didn’t say anything.

* *
“Wow. Kim Seungjun is seriously insane.”
Choi Yeonjun stared at the documents neatly spread out across the table and clicked his tongue.

“He’s the one who was hopped up on pills—and then he went after Joo Taehyun like that?”
It hadn’t been hard to trace the original post that triggered Taehyun’s press conference. Just as expected, it had come from Kim Seungjun’s side. The only surprise was that the bastard had also been in contact with people connected to the DH Group’s extended circle.
“Secretary Nam. I don’t understand how someone this sloppy, who leaves evidence everywhere he goes, managed to get his hands on records from Taehyun’s early study-abroad days. And now the guy who found Kim Seungjun can’t be tracked either?”

Seo Baekhan lazily flipped through photos of Kim Seungjun moving around the U.S. East Coast.
“Then… should we start by reaching out to the drug dealers he’s been meeting with?”
“DH Group or the Assemblyman’s office is probably already on that. We can follow up later. No point wasting time—let’s dig elsewhere.”
Secretary Nam’s brows furrowed deeply. It felt like Baekhan already had an answer in mind, but he couldn’t guess what it was.

“The dealer Taehyun first encountered—the one who ran his business through a delivery app—he should be easy to identify.”
“Y-Yes, sir. Of course.”
He would’ve received disbursements from the platform. If they traced the payment routes, they’d find something. Even if he’d laundered his identity, the starting point was clear—it wouldn’t be hard to catch him.

“DH should stop chasing the others and go after Thomas—that dealer. Before he runs his mouth any more. But the weird thing is, they’re moving strangely slow on that front. No way they haven’t thought of what I’m thinking.”
“Damn it. So what do we do then?”
Yeonjun finally burst out, unable to hold in his frustration. Secretary Nam looked just as confused.

Hah. Seo Baekhan swallowed down the annoyance rising in his chest. If this were Taehyun, he would’ve already figured out what Baekhan was trying to say.
“I think… the Crown Prince’s side wants this buried.”
“Huh? The Crown Prince? Where did that come from?”

“Think about it. DH Group, which should be focused on protecting Taehyun above all, is moving too cautiously. My father’s side... he probably backed off because there’s something bigger at play—something he can’t touch, now that he holds office. If the royal family isn’t involved, there’s no reason things should be dragging like this.”
“So… it’s because Kim Seungjun’s known to be close to the Crown Prince? Then what do we do now?”
“What do you mean, what do we do? I said I’d dig into it myself.”

Yeonjun blinked slowly, like he didn’t get it.
“Hey, Seo Baekhan.”
“DH is too big to move quietly. But they also don’t want any backlash from this mess—neither do I. So that means—”

“No, I get what you’re scheming. What I don’t get is…”
Sensing the conversation was veering personal, Secretary Nam awkwardly fidgeted with his phone and rose from his seat.
Baekhan narrowed his eyes. It was already past midnight. He’d be heading to Seoul tomorrow. He didn’t want to waste any more time like this.

“If it’s urgent, save the questions for later—”
“Seo Baekhan. Do you... maybe like Joo Taehyun?”