Dirty Switch

“So then… what about Taehyun? Our Taehyun—he’s going to be fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?”
He was still just a baby in her eyes. How could she possibly resent him? Even if half of that child’s blood came from Seo Baekhan, President Yoo—and in truth, the entire family—was ready to cherish and love Joo Taehyun’s baby.
But that baby would never be as precious as Joo Taehyun himself. If something happened to the child, but their youngest made it through safely, then that was enough. Maybe some would call that cruel, but that was how President Yoo honestly felt.
“Dr. Woo, how are his CA levels?”
“Ah, CA… thankfully, they’ve stabilized a little. It’s hovering between 11 and 26.”
Seo Baekhan pulled Joo Taehyun closer, cocooning him more securely. He cradled Taehyun’s head against his shoulder and pressed his own face to Taehyun’s pale cheek.
And astonishingly, the steep drop on the lower section of the graph began to level out. The once-wild lines that had looked like a rollercoaster started to mellow into a gentle curve.
“Thank goodness. Because the young master has an imprint partner, his condition hasn’t hit rock bottom.”
Dr. Woo murmured in amazement. Chairman Joo and President Yoo stared at the screen in stunned silence.
“How is he now?”
“Hm, about the same. Things have stabilized slightly, but the numbers aren’t significant.”
They had heard of imprinting before, but it had never really felt real—until now. All they were doing was clinging tightly to each other like animals sharing body heat, and yet Taehyun’s frozen body was recovering like it had been doused in some mythical healing elixir.
Chairman Joo and President Yoo, too consumed earlier by rage at Seo Baekhan’s audacity to give imprinting any serious thought, swallowed hard.
Imprinting… it was something far beyond a human phenomenon. All those people who called it fate, a fusion of souls—they finally understood what they meant.
“What about the A-hP and A-hBP values?”
“…That…”
Seo Baekhan gave a brief nod, as if he understood without needing to ask, and adjusted his grip around Joo Taehyun.
But now that she thought about it, why was that bastard acting like this all of a sudden? President Yoo began studying Baekhan with growing unease.
Yes. This was the Seo Baekhan she remembered. The colder the crisis, the calmer he became—a stillness so cold it actually felt scalding.
The way he’d latched onto the baby earlier, cornering Taehyun… and then how he’d broken down, pleading with him to breathe, repeating his name like a desperate mantra—that hadn’t felt like him.
And yet, why did this version of him now—the calm, controlled one—feel even more terrifying?

“Doctor, I believe it would help Taehyun if I accompany him into the OR. Please relay that to the hospital staff.”
“That shouldn’t be an issue.”
From that point on, Baekhan didn’t move a muscle. He kept his face buried in Taehyun’s shoulder, utterly still.
President Yoo watched the two of them—fused into one, like some ancient artifact—her thoughts in turmoil.
Imprinting…
Perhaps it wasn’t the pregnancy that was the real problem.
***
“As you saw, the surgery was successful.”
Joo Taehyun had to undergo an operation immediately after being transferred to Donghwa Hospital.
Seo Baekhan had remained in the operating room the entire time, standing by as they extracted the lump of flesh smaller than a child’s fist. It was to help stabilize Taehyun’s pheromones. Chairman Joo and President Yoo had joked that Baekhan was basically their son’s human charger—and they weren’t wrong.
They’d been worried, since pheromones weren’t something that could be emitted at will. But thankfully, just having the imprint partner nearby was enough for Taehyun’s body to begin stabilizing rapidly.
“Um… Director Seo?”
“…Yes.”
When Seo Baekhan stared silently at the bloodied lump on the surgical tray, one of the medical staff hesitated before carefully offering a word of comfort.
That… was a baby.
Joo Taehyun had really been carrying his child…
“I’ve also sent requests to Pyongyang University Hospital and Jejungwon.”
“Sorry? Ah, right. Good. They’ll have patient records too, so that should help with the analysis.”
“That, and I believe we’ll need to consult specialists in genetics and traitology.”
“True. We’d welcome any assistance we can get. As you know, traitology cases are extremely rare.”
“I’ve arranged for direct contact with Dr. Woo. Once he finishes his review, he’ll issue additional directives.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Only after that did the medical staff finally exhale and lead Seo Baekhan to a private suite. Not the kind of VIP room reserved for celebrities or politicians, but a special space directly above the operating theater—used exclusively by the DH Group.
Or rather, it was more accurate to say it had been built for Joo Taehyun alone.
There were no comforting views of nature or attempts to make it feel like home. Everything was designed with brutal efficiency—to deliver immediate access to high-end equipment and accommodate emergency interventions. Even the redundant empty space around the equipment reeked of desperation, like they’d do anything to ensure whoever stayed here recovered completely.
“That someone could recover this fast just by having their imprint partner nearby… I’ve never seen it in real life. It’s incredible.”
“Yes. I also recovered quickly thanks to Taehyun.”
Only then did the staff remember: Seo Baekhan himself had been injured not long ago during that attack. They eyed his abdomen subtly.
It was because they’d imprinted with each other that he’d healed so fast. They’d assumed it was just his Alpha cells making one final desperate push before fading, but they were wrong.
They hadn’t realized just how overwhelming it was—binding every part of your being through traits and imprinting.
“Director, you look exhausted as well… would you like to lie down and receive some fluids—?”
“…No. I’m fine.”
Seo Baekhan clenched and released his fists, quietly testing his body.
What was this… this gnawing discomfort that had been eating at him for a while now? When Taehyun had collapsed into his arms, he’d been sure they were connected.
But now, after the surgery… he wasn’t so sure.
…It must be because of the miscarriage.
“Ah, you’re here.”
They finally reached the suite, tucked at the end of a hallway like a hidden courtyard. Chairman Joo, President Yoo, and Joo Yoonwoo—who looked like she had come rushing over—were anxiously pacing out front.
“The surgery went very well, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° so you can rest easy. However, going forward, as the legal guardian, you’ll need to—ah!”
Smack!
The sharp crack of paper tearing echoed through the hallway. Joo Yoonwoo had stormed over like a bullet and slapped Seo Baekhan across the face with everything she had.
The medical staff, who had just begun reporting Taehyun’s progress in a lightened tone, froze in place with mouths agape.
“President Joo, please—this is right in front of the room, can you calm down just a little—”
The doctor tried to deescalate the situation gently, but their words only seemed to pull the trigger.
Smack! Slap!
The wet crack of flesh rang down the corridor. The doctor yelped in surprise, and the rest of the medical staff flinched from the sheer force of her fury.
“President!”
“Seo Baekhan—how dare you show your face here?!”