Dirty Switch

The sickly-sweet scent of overripe peaches—what Taehyun claimed he could no longer feel—swirled violently between the two of them.
Its vivid, almost tangible trail was something only Joo Taehyun could no longer perceive.
The Joo Taehyun who once embraced Baekhan’s pheromones—and perhaps everything else about him—without hesitation was gone. The once-lush green tree that seemed it would never wither now no longer turned toward Seo Baekhan at all.
***
“How is His Highness doing?”
“If you’re asking how he feels about all this, he’s fine. He actually seems… entertained by it.”
But despite his words, Jeong Sangwon let out a heavy sigh.
“Though being summoned to Seoul so often lately means he’s constantly separated from Her Highness, and that really—ah, pardon me—pisses him off.”
“Haha, sounds just like him.”
As they walked toward the pavilion where Prince Yi Hwang was staying, Jeong Sangwon wasted no time airing his complaints. But Baekhan knew well that even those grievances were steeped in affection, and he smiled along politely.
“Come to think of it, Director Seo, isn’t this your first time inside the inner section of Changgyeong Palace?”
“Yes. This is the first time I’ve come this far in.”
Changgyeong Palace.
He’d first met Joo Taehyun here too.
“It’s not as grand as Yeonhwagung, but it has its own charm. Take your time and look around.”
There was no time to stroll like a tourist, but Baekhan returned the courtesy with a small bow.
“Director Seo Baekhan has arrived.”
As Jeong Sangwon announced him, the sensor-activated paper doors slid open one after another.
With each soft click, the elegant interior came into view. The palace was ornate, and instead of flowers, the corridors were adorned here and there with ink paintings and ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) white porcelain—perhaps reflecting Yi Hwang’s tastes.
Maybe he’d redecorated after increasing his visits to Seoul. That wouldn’t be surprising. The Crown Prince often avoided Gyeongbokgung—Royal Palace, claiming it lacked charm, and insisted on staying in other palaces during city visits.
“You’re quick.”
Prince Yi Hwang—Lee Rok—was chewing jelly instead of rice gruel as he raised a casual hand in greeting.
Baekhan appreciated the attempt to keep things relaxed, but stood before him with more formality than ever.
“Your Highness.”
“Oh, Director Seo. Please. Let’s skip the ‘forgive me, I’m sorry’ nonsense. I’m begging you.”
Seeing Baekhan about to bow and apologize with a grim face, the prince waved it off like it pained him. He motioned for him to sit.
“But—”
“Nope. Don’t want to hear it. It’s awkward and annoying. More importantly, you’re apologizing to the wrong person. You didn’t wrong me. You wronged Taehyun.”
Prince Yi Hwang stretched with exaggerated boredom. And yet, when Baekhan remained stiff, face frozen, he clicked his tongue.
“You heard about my brother, right? Apparently he saw the news and nearly had a seizure.”
“Yes. I acted without consulting anyone. I deeply apologize.”
“It was shocking, sure… but it was a bold move. Something only someone your age could pull off. And the first time anyone’s ever gone after a royal like that. It’s no wonder people are reeling.”
In other words, future complaints against royals probably wouldn’t have the same effect. Baekhan had blown a valuable card—one that could’ve been used in a bigger moment—out of emotional impulse.
Civic groups often staged symbolic accusations, but never before had a director of Jejungwon gone after royalty over something so personal.

“You don’t regret it, though, do you? Saying His Highness’s name in front of all those cameras.”
“I can only offer my regrets if it caused trouble. But… no. I don’t regret it.”
Mentioning the Crown Prince by name—that, Baekhan would not take back.
His father, a Special Assemblyman, had gone ballistic. Pro-Crown Prince factions were acting like they wanted him dead. But the impact exceeded expectations.
Negative press about Joo Taehyun had disappeared almost overnight. Some mentions remained, but only to contextualize what Kim Seungjun had done and how it tied into suspicions surrounding the Prince.
The anti-Crown Prince faction had seized the moment, leaking materials they’d kept under wraps—documents Baekhan hadn’t even known about. Details of slush funds, petty corruption, and questionable favors.
Foreign media had especially picked up the part about Kim Seungjun consorting with drug dealers and attempting to have one killed. That dealer, the one Taehyun allegedly bought Dirty Switch from, hadn’t yet been named—but rumors were spreading. They planned to go public with that the day after tomorrow, timed with Yi Hwang’s upcoming statement.
In short, Baekhan’s first act of rebellion was, by all accounts, unfolding smoothly.
All except for one thing:
“I can’t even feel your pheromones anymore. There’s no reason to stay close to you under the excuse of recovery.”
Everything except his relationship with Joo Taehyun.
“You caused quite a spectacle, more than I ever thought you capable of, Director Seo. So why do you look like you’re about to die?”
…Do I? Do I really look like that?
Baekhan touched his rough face, forcing a small smile.
“I apologize on many fronts. I’ve burdened Your Highness with something purely personal.”
“Well, yeah. It’s annoying that everyone’s buzzing about dethroning the Crown Prince again. My dream is to laze around with my wife in Pyongyang and die on the same day, you know.”
There had been talks of dethronement before, but never with this much heat. Yi Hwang was being summoned to Gyeongbokgung more frequently. His statement the day after tomorrow would address his stance on the matter.
“But as for what happened with His Highness… That’s mine to handle. It always has been.”
He spoke like a man finally ready to brush off years of dust.
“So you don’t owe me any apologies.”
The calmness in Yi Hwang’s voice came from deep, unshakable confidence. He’d caused his fair share of trouble in his youth—fighting hostile press, showing up everywhere to gather allies, and most of all, surviving each day like a war after taking his consort.
Wasn’t he twenty-three at their royal wedding? Or twenty-four? And his partner, the Princess Consort, had been a pharmaceutical test subject smuggled into the palace under false pretenses.
“…Director Seo, what is it?”
Baekhan realized he’d been staring.
He couldn’t help but marvel at how this man, so young then, had wagered everything on love and made it this far.
How had he known? How could he have been sure his feelings—and hers—were real?
“Your Highness.”
“Hm? Speak freely.”
“Taehyun had a miscarriage.”
Maybe that’s why. Baekhan didn’t even realize the words had left his mouth.
There was no plan. It was pure impulse.
But if it was Prince Yi Hwang… if it was this man, who had endured every storm for the sake of love—if it was the person Baekhan had long admired—then maybe, just maybe, he’d have an answer for this vast emptiness.
“Wait—miscarriage? When?”
Yi Hwang’s voice, once calm and composed, faltered instantly.
“It’s been a little over a week.”
“Oh… no…”
Instead of offering a clumsy condolence, Yi Hwang let his voice trail off.
“It’s not public yet, right? So… I shouldn’t mention it to Taehyun?”
“No, not yet. But… I think I made a mistake, regarding that.”
“Mistake? What the hell did you do…”
At the word miscarriage, Yi Rok’s solemn face twisted like a suspicious cat.
“Don’t tell me you said something like, ‘you’ll have another one soon’ or ‘it’s okay, next time.’ You didn’t, right?”
Baekhan shook his head and repeated what Taehyun had said.
“…So I told him, ‘I’m sorry. About the baby.’”
“…You what?”
Yi Hwang let out an incredulous breath and waved his hand like he couldn’t bear to hear more.
“Director Seo. Go apologize. Now.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Beg for forgiveness. Grovel if you have to.”
It probably wouldn’t be enough, but Yi Hwang opened a lacquered box and crunched into some chestnuts. Like the jelly earlier, they looked a little awkward—probably handmade by his consort.
“Seriously, Director Seo. Even if you wrote the whole Tripitaka Koreana with ‘I’m sorry,’ it wouldn’t be enough. And you went with ‘I regret it’? In that moment?”
“I truly am sorry to Taehyun. But at the time, I thought ‘I regret it’ was a more appropriate way to—”
“Oh, sure. Just keep doing whatever you think is right. That’s how you ended up with Taehyun holding a press conference about divorce.”
“Your Highness!”
Yi Hwang slammed the table, exasperated.
“If you’re sorry, say you’re sorry. If you’re wrong, say you’re wrong. Don’t hide behind your pride. Be honest with your partner. That’s what communication means in a marriage.”
“But—”
Baekhan wanted to object, but no good retort came to mind. He bit down on his lower lip. Maybe the very self-control he’d always demanded from Taehyun had turned into his own flaw.
“But what?”
“…Isn’t that kind of thing too impulsive? Too… irresponsible?”
“What is? Speaking from the heart?”
“Yes. Saying sorry just because it’s the first thing that comes to mind—blurting it out impulsively—it feels… irresponsible to me.”
All he’d wanted was to handle things in the most respectful, rational way possible.
“I tried to be as sincere as I could. I really did… I wanted to protect Taehyun. I truly was sorry.”
And he meant it.
He regretted everything. And he was sorry for all of it.
He had doubted Taehyun’s pregnancy. He had used that doubt to push him. And then, after the miscarriage, he hadn’t considered how shattered Taehyun must have been—and had instead run his mouth in front of cameras.
“I just wanted to express how I felt in the most respectful way I knew. I wanted to fix it. I thought Taehyun, of all people, would understand me.”
But now even his pheromones were being rejected. Yes, he could understand that Taehyun was angry and hurt—but for it to go that far…
The imprint was still there, albeit faint. But even after multiple injections, Taehyun still couldn’t detect Baekhan’s pheromones.
“Director Seo. Regardless of everything else—you do love him. Don’t you?”
“…I don’t know.”
“…What?”
“I don’t know how I feel about Taehyun. Not really. I don’t understand it myself.”
“…God.”
Yi Hwang narrowed his eyes into thin slits and stared at him—like he was watching the most hopeless fool in the world.