Dirty Switch

"…I’ll eat it myself."
Meal times were the most exhausting part of it all.
It wasn’t like Seo Baekhan nagged him about not eating enough—but his gaze, as if trying to read him, made Taehyun uncomfortable.
Is this because I mentioned the orange allergy? That hadn’t been meant as a jab. Not really.
Maybe this was just how caretaking worked. Since he had no real experience looking after someone, Taehyun decided to let it go, even if it left him vaguely uneasy.
Either way, it was his own fault. He still hadn’t shaken the habit of assigning meaning to the smallest things.
“Oh, by the way—I'm planning to press charges against Kim Seungjun this afternoon.”
After handing Taehyun’s tray to the caregiver waiting outside, Baekhan spoke casually.
“I’m going to file the report myself.”
His tone was no different from when he’d been asking during the meal if something tasted alright or if he needed more salt.
“It’s not a weird look, is it? A husband submitting the complaint on his partner’s behalf?”
…What?
The whole process—from mixing room-temperature water with cold and handing it over—had been so calm and natural that Taehyun, who’d been keeping a detached demeanor all morning, finally widened his eyes.
Baekhan didn’t say another word, seemingly prepared to wait for Taehyun’s reaction—whether that meant anger, refusal, or a barrage of questions.
Even as he sat back down with a bottle of pills Taehyun had to take in thirty minutes, Baekhan’s posture was unfamiliar.
No, seriously. What is with him?
Taehyun could understand him making sure he ate or took his medicine. Even someone inexperienced in caregiving would know to do that much.
But the way Baekhan was gauging his reactions—that part he couldn’t make sense of at all.
“If you’re unsure about anything, just say so. I’ll explain.”
Since Taehyun remained silent, Baekhan offered gently, like he wanted to give him some kind of hint.
But… Am I supposed to be unsure about something? And if he was—what difference would it make?
Either way, Baekhan had already decided to press charges. His tone might have softened, but the way he made decisions unilaterally and then informed Taehyun afterward hadn't changed.
“I know it’s sudden. But DH Group can’t handle this openly, so I’m taking it on.”
“Ah, I see.”
“…Don’t you want to ask anything? I really don’t mind. If you hate this approach or something—”
“Well, isn’t it already decided?”
“We’re still in the planning phase. If you’re uncomfortable with it—”
Baekhan cleared his throat awkwardly, maybe aware his own attitude felt off.
“If you’re uncomfortable, we can adjust the direction.”
See? That’s just wordplay. Adjust the direction? Even if the road curves a little, the destination’s still the same. In the end, he’s just going to do what he wants anyway.
“I’ve never been bothered by the way you handle things. Then or now. So go ahead and do whatever you want.”
Not once had there been an exception. If Baekhan said something like this, it meant he’d already made up his mind. And Taehyun had always followed.

He’d never once raised an objection. Baekhan’s methods were always clean, efficient. Occasionally, he’d thought to himself this doesn’t feel right, but he never voiced it. He didn’t want to pick a fight or ruin Baekhan’s mood.
And Baekhan, in turn, had always appreciated his silence and compliance.
“Taehyun.”
So why now—why was he suddenly acting like Taehyun’s opinion might influence anything?
“Do as you want. It’s not like you actually wanted to consult me.”
It wasn’t out of respect for some unwritten marital rule that he was refraining from criticism.
It wasn’t like Baekhan was interfering in DH internal affairs, or trying to stop the divorce through some other tactic.
And this mess caused by Kim Seungjun likely harmed Baekhan personally, so if he wanted to clean it up himself, Taehyun wasn’t going to object.
…No. Let’s be honest. Taehyun just didn’t want to think about it anymore. Especially not if it had anything to do with Baekhan.
Maybe it was irresponsible, but right now, he didn’t want to think about anything.
“Oh—do you need a power of attorney for that? You can ask my secretary.”
He answered flatly and picked up the book he’d been reading before lunch.
“Exploring Math for Kids.”
‘Right, Young Master. I’ve kept those books you used to read during hospital visits.’
‘Weren’t those from when I was a little kid?’
‘Exactly. Back when you were just a little guy. Not that you ever found them fun—too easy for you.’
‘Yeah… that’s true.’
‘Ha, I knew it. You can’t even deny it politely. You were always too smart for those, weren’t you?’
Children’s books from the past. He’d asked for them out of curiosity, not expecting the wave of nostalgia to hit this hard.
Sure, the content was still boring. But reading them emptied his mind for a while, and for now, that was enough. He planned to lose himself in these childish books for a while.
At least, that was the idea.
“…Hyung.”
Maybe there was still something he wanted to say. Unable to bear the heat of Baekhan’s gaze on his head, Taehyun looked up. When he shot him a questioning look, Baekhan simply shook his head, lips pressed shut.
Taehyun let out a long sigh through his nose. It wasn’t like he disliked the stillness that came with Baekhan’s presence. Sometimes it felt… peaceful. But right now, the silence just felt awkward.
“By the way—when does your medical leave end?”
He should chat a little, say he was tired, then use that to send him away.
Part of him genuinely wanted to know when Baekhan was going back.
Taehyun kept forgetting, but Baekhan had been stabbed not long ago—had undergone surgery. He was technically on leave but wasn’t resting at all. He’d come all the way to Seoul to do this.
Especially given that he worked at Jejungwon. As the director, wasn’t it inappropriate for him to be away like this?
“I’m fine.”
“No, I’m not fine.”
He rarely used vacation time anyway—maybe he was just banking it now. Either way, it wasn’t really Taehyun’s place to say, but it made him uncomfortable.
“Even staying in the same room 24 hours a day doesn’t seem to make your pheromone levels noticeably change. In that case, maybe we should set a schedule—"
“For someone who studied genotypology, that’s a disappointingly vague take. When nothing is certain, conservative approaches are best.”
“……”
“Sometimes, the best you can hope for is that it doesn’t get worse.”
So basically—just shut up and let me do what I want.
Figures. He was going to do whatever he pleased anyway.
It wasn’t even surprising anymore. In fact, everything that had been bothering him just moments ago now felt strangely clear.
Taehyun said nothing more and flipped through the pages of his book.
The main character was explaining fractions to a younger sibling who had just started kindergarten.
“Hyung, fractions are still too hard for me.”
“No, you’ll learn quickly. They’re really easy!”
Taehyun tapped at the illustration of the little kid in a pale yellow uniform, looking teary-eyed as they tried to count with pudgy fingers.
If only the child had been born safely…
If they had, maybe someday he’d have handed over this same book and said, “Dad used to read this when he was little.” Given the child’s strange condition, they probably would’ve been in and out of hospitals often, just like him.
He probably ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) would’ve thought long and hard about how to explain things that felt obvious to him.
If the kid had asked how they could be born from an Alpha father—how would he have answered in a way that wouldn’t hurt them?
He’d never even been serious about raising the child. And yet, here he was, thinking about the child who was no longer here.
It hadn’t affected him before. Even hearing about the surgery—how the baby had been pulled from his body—he’d simply thought, oh, I see.
So why was he now overwhelmed by all these useless thoughts?
He found himself imagining a future he could never have—one that had almost been real, now lost forever.
Shaking his head briefly, Taehyun recalled the photo he’d been sent the night before.
They’d buried the baby in the family plot, and the photo they’d shown him…
The grave was so small you could miss it if you stepped on it by accident.
Taehyun shut his eyes.
But the blank headstone, with no name carved into it, stuck stubbornly to the inside of his eyelids—refusing to come loose.
* * *
“Hey. Do I look like your secretary?”
“Secretary Nam’s busy.”
“So am I, jackass.”
Ignoring Choi Yeonjun’s grumbling, Seo Baekhan reviewed the final documents in the car. Since his showing up would cause a media circus, Yeonjun had agreed to file the complaint on his behalf.
The reason Baekhan had insisted on submitting the report in person while in Seoul wasn’t anything special.
He just didn’t want anyone else to use it.
Not Kim Seungjun’s family. Not the Crown Prince. Not even his own father, Assemblyman Seo.
Once the complaint was filed, rumors would spread no matter what. But he wanted to prevent a premature public narrative from defanging the whole effort before it even began.
Baekhan’s desire to protect Joo Taehyun was more genuine than anything else. Taehyun was far too valuable to be reduced to some tragic, love-blind child or pitiful media victim.
People had always been surprised that Choi Yeonjun treated Taehyun so well—but it wasn’t a coincidence. Baekhan had always thought highly of him.
“…Hey, Baekhan. Did you drag something along behind you? You being followed by paparazzi or something?”
Seo Baekhan was about to tell him to quit the nonsense—but stopped when he saw what was outside the heavily tinted window.