Cozy Obsession

A dark Brioni suit, a dress shirt in a similar tone, and a navy silk tie with a subtle pattern.

Though his towering frame neared 190cm, his lean, muscular build gave him more of a businessman’s air rather than that of a gangster. A well-fitted suit, a sharp and intelligent gaze—by all appearances, he was a successful young entrepreneur.

“...My head hurts.”

“Quit faking.”

“It really hurts. Ugh.”

He hadn’t even had a full drink, yet the hangover was worse than usual. So much for the saying that expensive liquor left you feeling better the next day—it was clearly just a marketing gimmick. Gripping his throbbing head, Heemin swore to never touch whiskey again.

“Tuck that big mouth in before I twist it shut.”

Iheon’s words were merciless. Grimacing, Heemin threw the blanket off himself and looked up at Iheon, whose cold gaze bore down on him. Instead of complaining, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“The primary color of Shinwon Cement’s rival company’s logo is navy. If you don’t want to get criticized on your first day, change your tie.”

Kwak Yoonseong had used the color of Iheon’s tie as an excuse to rally the employees, warning them not to hand over company secrets to an unknown figure.

Ridiculously enough, the gullible employees of Shinwon bought into his words completely, responding to Iheon with defensive hostility—completely unaware that he was the son of the former president of Taeseong Ready-Mix, Shinwon’s predecessor.

“Why are you cooperating with me?”

“I already told you. I’d rather you not do anything you’ll regret.”

“You don’t even hate me? I’m the one who took your father’s company.”

“What would I get out of hating you?”

If I started hating you, my chances of going home would only shrink.

He swallowed those words and simply stared at him. For the first time, Iheon’s expression faltered. He looked as though he wanted to ask something, but instead of voicing it, he hooked his fingers around the knot of his tie and pulled it loose in one swift motion.

It was such a simple action, yet the certainty in it made Heemin’s chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. The way Iheon listened even to the smallest details, the way he smiled at the most unexpected moments—those little things had a way of shaking Heemin.

Maybe I’m still feeling the alcohol.

Ignoring his erratic heartbeat, Heemin got up and walked into the bathroom. He had to stay sharp if he was going to face Kwak Yoonseong and Do Junyoung at the inauguration ceremony.

It was going to be a long day.

—

“We’ve arrived.”

Shinwon Cement’s headquarters was located in a high-rise building in Gangnam. Secretary Jung parked the car at the entrance and promptly opened the door.

“Get out.”

In the distance, a company employee who had come to greet Iheon bowed deeply. Heemin, who had remained silent the entire ride, nervous and on edge, quietly stepped out of the car and stood beside him.

The employee’s eyes widened the moment he recognized him—the son of the former president, presumed missing after being kidnapped by human traffickers.

Come to think of it, ‘Seo Heemin’ was still officially listed as a missing person.

Keeping his expression neutral, Heemin gave a slight nod to the employee before slipping his arm through Iheon’s and linking them together.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Iheon looked down at him with a sharp, sidelong glance, his voice low.

“Just trying to make myself worth fifty billion.”

If he was going to face these people anyway, it might be best to establish his relationship with Cha Iheon as undeniable from the start—eliminating any room for ulterior motives.

Feigning the demeanor of an affectionate lover, Heemin pulled Iheon’s arm closer and flashed a bright smile.

“What exactly are you scheming?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Iheon’s perfectly sculpted face twisted in irritation, like a canvas suddenly smudged.

“There’s no scheme.”

“Let go.”

“You were the one who said you’d make it clear who I belong to.”

Iheon tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing him, his jet-black eyes rippling with thinly veiled suspicion.

“You’ve arrived, Director.”

The employee who had come to greet Cha Iheon gave a subtle nod toward someone approaching from deeper within the lobby. Shifting his gaze naturally forward, Iheon’s lips curled into a smirk.

That man was the one who looked like he had something up his sleeve.

"If you’re going to do it, do it properly."

Before Heemin could even process what properly meant, Iheon let go of his arm—only to lace their fingers together instead, intertwining them firmly.

"W-What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Holding your hand."

The moment their skin touched, a dense musk scent filled the air.

Mixed in with the pheromones was something even more subtle—Iheon’s emotions. Heemin wasn’t familiar enough with pheromones to decipher them completely, but something about them struck a primal nerve. Even without words, the sensation seeped into him.

Still unaccustomed to his heightened Omega senses, Heemin reacted immediately. His breath hitched, and his body flinched involuntarily. Iheon tightened his grip in response, his fingers pressing in so firmly that Heemin felt the pressure down to his bones—like he was physically ensuring that Heemin couldn’t slip away.

"This is what it takes for people to understand who you belong to."

A slow chuckle escaped from between Iheon’s sensual lips.

Their eyes met, and a sudden wave of nausea rolled up from Heemin’s stomach, as if the remnants of last night’s alcohol were resurfacing. His dizziness had nothing to do with intoxication, though.

“...Don’t hold so tight. It hurts."

"I don’t feel like letting go."

The pressure of those fingers wasn’t just on his hand—it pressed down on his chest, constricting him. The air around them grew heavy, all his senses honing in on the single point of contact between their palms. The heat radiating from Iheon’s skin seared into his own.

To his older sisters, Heemin had never been seen as a man. He was more like a genderless, harmless presence. They had always hugged him freely when they were happy, linked arms with him when walking, and slung their arms around his shoulders casually.

Physical affection wasn’t something that had ever made Heemin uncomfortable.

But this was different.

This was a complete stranger—one with whom he shared no blood ties—holding his hand. And it was shaking him to his core.

His face grew hot, as if his circulation had gone haywire.

Then, suddenly, an unwelcome thought surfaced.

There was one thing every BL novel had in common: sex.

Now that he had become Seo Heemin, it was only a matter of time before he ended up in bed with Cha Iheon. That was how fate worked in this story.

He had steeled himself for this reality. He had told himself that he would try to sway Iheon’s emotions, to lessen the percentage of hatred in his twisted affection.

But if he was getting this flustered over just holding hands...

Maybe it wasn’t just his own body reacting. Maybe it was Seo Heemin’s emotions—the lingering remnants of a man who had once loved Cha Iheon—that were making his heart pound so violently.

Before he could dwell on it any further, someone called out.

"Heemin!"

Heemin shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

A man—one with the kind of striking looks straight out of a romance novel—was rushing toward him, calling his name in a frantic voice.

As the distance between them closed, something strange happened.

Iheon’s pheromones, which had been flooding the air, suddenly dulled.

Why?

Who was this man, to make Iheon react so unpleasantly? @@novelbin@@

"Heemin, what happened to you?! Where have you been all this time?"

Tears clung to the corners of the man’s eyes as he looked at Heemin with a heartbreaking expression. If Heemin hadn’t known any better, he might have instinctively reached out to console him.

But he did know better.

Instead of extending a hand, he squeezed Iheon’s even tighter.

This man—this beautiful man—was most likely Kwak Yoonseong.

Seo Heemin’s stepfather.

The same man who had orchestrated the death of his own spouse, then sold his stepchild to human traffickers.

"Why didn’t you call? Your father’s gone, and then you disappeared too—do you have any idea how much I suffered? I prayed every day for your safe return, you little brat."

Tears streamed down his sculpted face in a perfect waterfall. Crocodile tears.

Wasn’t this exactly what people meant when they used that phrase?

Watching him put on such a pathetic show was almost impressive.

Last semester, Heemin had taken a liberal arts course called Introduction to Theater. As part of the curriculum, he’d gone to see a play in Daehangno.

Even the lead actor in that production hadn’t been this convincing.

Kwak Yoonseong had once been nothing more than Seo Jae-han’s friend, but when the ever-successful Jae-han had begun to falter, Yoonseong had wasted no time severing ties.

In a desperate bid to secure his own future, he had arranged for Jae-han’s "accidental" death through a hitman hired via his old associate, Shin Seungbeom.

Then, to rid himself of all remaining liabilities, he had saddled Seo Heemin with all of his father’s debts before selling him to the Samho Manpower Agency.

Even knowing full well that Cha Iheon had repaid every single one of those debts after acquiring Shinwon Cement.

To Cha Iheon, Seo Heemin had been a symbol of his tangled emotions—a mixture of love and hatred so intertwined that they had become indistinguishable.

To Kwak Yoonseong, however, Seo Heemin had never been anything more than a useful asset.

And now that Seo Heemin had become Cha Iheon’s Omega...

There was no doubt he would try to use that fact against them, just as he had in the original novel.

Heemin had spent the entire ride preparing himself for this moment.

But now that he was actually standing in front of Kwak Yoonseong, his fingers trembled slightly.

If not for Iheon’s firm grip anchoring him, he might not have been able to say a word.