TATMFL - 64

Unaware of the way Joon was looking at him, Do-kyung exhaled a long plume of smoke and lowered his gaze. His eyes caught the young saplings he had recently begun planting.

How many years would it take for them to grow fully? What had he been thinking when he planted them?

One thing was certain: as he personally planted each sapling, he had undoubtedly imagined Raon’s smiling face. He thought it might be nice to show her the trees’ growth year by year and have her capture it in her paintings.

“To talk about giving up before even starting—wouldn’t that be premature?”

Do-kyung finally responded to Joon’s earlier question, shaking the cigarette between his fingers. The ash fell silently to the ground.

“End” or “giving up”—those were words meant for people who had truly started something. Not someone like him. He had foolishly convinced himself that he held the power to end things in his hands.

Crushing the cigarette into his palm like a spent ember, Do-kyung let out a bitter chuckle.

When he opened his hand, the black ash scattered in the wind. There was no sensation of heat or pain—his focus was already elsewhere.

[At this point, I think I’ve repaid the debt I owed you. So let’s settle our contract here.]

At that moment, he had answered her request with a simple “Alright.” It was the only response he could give to Raon.

He couldn’t stop her from leaving. Even apologizing felt futile, and promising to do better was meaningless.

After all, he was the one who had created this mess in the first place. What sincerity could there be in apologies or promises now?

Thus, the only answer he could give her was “Alright.”

“...”

But as time passed, he began to think that maybe this was for the best.

Once everything was resolved, they could move beyond a finite relationship that would lose meaning once completed. Instead, they could aim for a connection without an endpoint in mind.

To do that, it was right to nullify the shitty contract he had used to bind her.

Afterward, he planned to take things step by step and attempt a proper “start.”

As Do-kyung recalled Raon’s retreating figure that had haunted him these past few days, he closed his eyes painfully.

…His excuses sounded pathetic, even despicable, just as she had once said.

The sight of himself desperately trying to spin the situation into something positive was pitiful.

But what choice did he have?

“If I don’t do this, how will I find an excuse to stay by her side?”

Do-kyung smiled bitterly.

“End?” “Giving up?” Despite having dismissed the idea that their relationship warranted such discussions, the truth was that he had never once considered giving up on Raon or ending things with her.

If Joon knew how many sleepless nights Do-kyung had spent thinking of ways to stay by her side, he wouldn’t dare ask about giving up.

Recalling how he had hidden from Raon the previous night, Do-kyung awkwardly rubbed his nose. The acrid smell of cigarettes lingered on his fingertips.

Joon, seeing the faint smile on Do-kyung’s profile, understood the answer to his earlier question and asked worriedly,

“But what about your pheromones?”

Do-kyung blinked, then turned to Joon with an innocent expression as if to say, “What’s the problem?”

[Your pheromones are too repulsive.]

“What else can I do? I’ve lived 30 years as an Alpha, so living the rest of my life as a Beta doesn’t sound so bad.”

“...Huh?”

Joon stared at him in bewilderment, his eyes widening as though witnessing something bizarre. By the time he processed it, Do-kyung had already turned his gaze back to the window.

Do-kyung was declaring that he would suppress his pheromones for the rest of his life to stay by Raon’s side—not allowing even a trace to escape.

He knew how difficult that would be.

Even for someone like Do-kyung, who excelled in pheromone control as an extreme Alpha, completely suppressing his pheromones would require immense effort.

Yet, he was determined to do it. And this was coming from Do-kyung, who had never once restrained himself for anyone.

Unaware of the incredulous look Joon was giving him, Do-kyung hummed softly, rubbing his nose.

To start a proper relationship, it would be best to pursue a natural meeting.

Do-kyung concluded his days of deliberation with this thought:

Without being overbearing… For that, he needed to go to school.

He faintly smiled as he recalled the general education class he had been paired with Hye-sung for at the beginning of the semester due to mentoring.

Understanding Korean Art. Hye-sung had chosen this course largely because of Raon’s recommendation.

[It’s Professor Park Eun-taek’s class. As long as you participate well, you’ll get good grades. The assignments are manageable and not overly demanding.]

Raon wouldn’t lie to him, so Hye-sung had enrolled in Understanding Korean Art without hesitation and was now attending the class fairly smoothly. Thanks to Raon pointing out the professor’s tendencies, he had even scored well on the midterm exam.

The problem, however…

“…Hello.”

“It’s been a while.”

He had forgotten, but Han Do-kyung was also in this lecture.

At the start of the semester, thanks to Do-kyung’s scheming, Hye-sung had been forced into mentoring with him. According to Ji-an, there was a ridiculous rule requiring them to take at least one general education class together, which led to this situation.

And that was just the beginning. In the process, Do-kyung had inevitably discovered the art-related courses Hye-sung had added to his shopping cart.

Looking back, it was clear that Do-kyung had been interested in Raon from the start. Why else would he have specifically chosen Understanding Korean Art without even glancing at other options?

But Do-kyung had skipped class so often that Hye-sung had almost forgotten about him. He had even missed the exams, so much so that only the professor, who checked attendance regularly, seemed to remember him.

But now…

Hye-sung’s eyes widened as he watched Do-kyung take the seat next to him.

To be honest, it was uncomfortable and awkward. He felt an immediate urge to escape the neighboring seat.

He couldn’t help it.

While he was endlessly grateful to Do-kyung for saving him from loan sharks, the fact remained that Do-kyung was no different from them—a mobster. Moreover, he was the one responsible for turning Raon into an Omega. From Hye-sung’s perspective, Do-kyung was far from a welcome presence.

And yet, of all the available seats, why did he choose the one next to him?

Hye-sung blatantly showed his discomfort by pulling his desk slightly away. Fortunately, the desks were designed for individual use, so they could remain separate even if adjacent.

“If you’re so obvious about it, won’t it hurt my feelings, junior?”

Do-kyung grinned cheerfully, resting his chin on his hand. Hye-sung ignored him, maintaining a stoic silence.

Meanwhile, Professor Park Eun-taek stepped onto the podium.

With a kindly smile, the professor projected a PowerPoint slide and delivered shocking news.

“Well, the midterm is over, and the festival has ended, so let’s assign a project.”

“No-o-o!” Groans and sighs erupted from all sides.

The professor chuckled, clearly enjoying the expected reaction.

“The project is to visit an exhibition in pairs, as previously announced. The deadline is before the final exam. You’ll need to submit proof of attendance, photos, and a reflection paper.”

Hye-sung winked, recalling Raon’s explanation during orientation: every year, students were assigned to visit exhibitions, but whether individually or in groups depended on the professor’s discretion. Even if assigned in pairs, submitting a group photo from the exhibition was sufficient—it was practically an individual task.

After scanning the classroom, the professor nodded contentedly.

“I was planning to assign pairs myself, but it seems you’ve already paired up nicely.”

…Surely not. Hye-sung’s face paled as he glanced around.

But the professor was merciless.

“Let’s stick with your current seating arrangement for the project. I’ll collect the pairings after class.”

With that bombshell dropped, the professor cheerfully declared, “Now, let’s begin the lecture,” and picked up the microphone.

At that moment, a smooth voice pierced Hye-sung’s stunned silence.

“Since it’s come to this, why don’t we include Raon and visit the exhibition as a trio?”

“…”

Hye-sung’s stiffened gaze turned toward Do-kyung.

Only then did he remember that Do-kyung had been excessively friendly solely because of Raon. Clenching his lips tightly, Hye-sung spoke calmly.

“…I don’t think Raon would want to see you.”

Do-kyung smirked faintly, his smile chilling.

“So that’s why you whisked her away so quickly that day?”

“…”

Hye-sung knew full well that “that day” referred to the first day of the festival.

What nerve. Do-kyung had approached him to ask for the location of Raon’s booth.

But Hye-sung had stayed silent, and an unknown senior had answered instead, likely seeing it as an opportunity to cozy up to Do-kyung.

After receiving the information he wanted, Do-kyung had thanked them and left. Immediately afterward, Hye-sung had hurriedly exited the booth and called Raon. He couldn’t let her meet Do-kyung.

But she must have been incredibly busy, as the call didn’t go through.

Fortunately, it was Hye-sung who arrived at Raon’s booth first, not Do-kyung, who had briefly gotten lost navigating the crowded campus.

“Listen, junior. It’d be wise to stop meddling so much.”

“What do you mean?”

Do-kyung’s icy smile sent shivers down Hye-sung’s spine as he spoke in a tone dripping with irritation. Gone was the earlier friendliness.

“To be blunt, do you even have the right to interfere?”

Hye-sung’s eyes hardened, matching Do-kyung’s frosty demeanor.

“Compared to you, I think I have more right to intervene.”

“Heh.”

Do-kyung exhaled sharply, his sharp laugh sending chills down Hye-sung’s spine.

“You’re right. That’s exactly why it pisses me off.