A Happy Day

Click, click—

The man who had been typing at the keyboard glanced at the clock.

2 a.m.

He had rushed home after ending the meeting, but because he hadn’t wrapped things up properly, he ended up continuing his work at home like this.

It was an ambiguous hour, too late to sleep yet awkward to keep working.

He wanted a glass of water, so he opened the refrigerator in his study, only to find it empty.

It seemed he would have to get some downstairs, so he left the study and went down to the first floor.

The first floor was filled with a strange scent.

Park Jaekyung’s pheromones?

No.

The pheromones he had sensed when he first met him were recessive and very faint, but this felt lighter, cleaner.

Even back at the hotel banquet hall, when Jaekyung’s heat cycle had been triggered by an alpha, the scent had been weak, but it had still been there.

Tonight, however, he couldn’t sense Jaekyung’s pheromones at all.

Why was that?

Had he suppressed them?

Then what was this unpleasant smell?

—Crash!

The sharp sound of glass shattering rang out.

Han Taeseok startled and turned toward the sound.

It came from the bedroom.

Soon after, something toppled over with a loud thud.

Sensing that something was wrong, he hurried to the bedroom door.

As more frantic scraping and crashing sounds followed, he grabbed the doorknob and pushed.

The door opened easily.

What he saw inside was unbelievable.

Park Jaekyung was shaking violently, as if having a seizure, vomiting continuously.

The pheromones filling the room were tangled like a knotted ball of yarn, so dense and foul that breathing itself was painful.

“Park Jaekyung!”

Han Taeseok rushed over and pulled him into his arms, but his body was trembling uncontrollably.

His pupils were dilated, and he looked like he could barely breathe.

“Damn it!”

Taeseok lifted him and laid him on the bed, then grabbed the phone that had fallen to the floor and immediately called an ambulance.

◆

“Park Jaekyung!”

It rang in his ears as if someone had struck a gong.

No—like thunder and lightning crashing directly into his head.

With a jolt, Jaekyung shot upright and looked around.

The house was pitch-black and silent.

He was alone in the wide bedroom.

He clutched the blanket tightly with both hands and scanned the room again.

Of course, no one was there.

This wasn’t that room, and this bed wasn’t that bed either.

So why did it feel like he was still there?

Perhaps not enough time had passed to erase those five years.

Jaekyung sighed and checked the time on his phone.

Because of the curtains, he hadn’t realized it was already 6 a.m.

It wasn’t too early to get up.

He threw off the blanket, stood up, and opened the curtains.

The sky wasn’t fully blue yet, tinged more with a yellow-brown hue, but the sunlight in the distance hinted that it would be a clear day.

He went to the bathroom, showered, sprayed mist over his body, and changed into fresh clothes.

He brought in the newspaper tossed by the front door and the milk hanging on the handle, then sat at the dining table.

While reading the paper, he spread jam on toast and ate a simple breakfast.

Then suddenly, the voice he’d heard in the dream resurfaced.

Yes.

That was definitely Han Taeseok’s voice.

When was that again…

He couldn’t remember.

But in the dream, the place had been a bedroom, and Han Taeseok was standing in front of him as he woke.

“I’ve marked you.”

Looking at him sitting blankly on the bed, the man had said it casually, with the same businesslike expression he always wore.

It was completely different from the desperate 모습 where he’d shouted “Park Jaekyung!” in panic.

That cold, composed attitude confused him as to which version was real.

But he believed the desperate shouting had only been a dream.

“Marking…”

He had no memory of marking anyone after the divorce.

His condition back then had been truly terrible.

He’d been forced into a choice, and after shutting the door and rejecting him, his memories became hazy.

When Jaekyung asked how they’d marked each other, the man calmly explained everything.

Even so, there was a lingering discomfort that couldn’t be explained.

But he didn’t press further.

He didn’t want to know.

Just knowing they’d marked and spent the night together was enough to bring relief.

It felt like everything he needed to do was finished.

Nothing else mattered.

After that, Director Ji had noticeably backed off.

“Huh?”

As Jaekyung finished the newspaper and stood up, two notifications arrived.

One was a schedule alert.

The other was a new email notification.

The schedule alert said today was a “Happy Day.”

The email was from Kim Un, the painter he’d been waiting so desperately to hear from.

Jaekyung rubbed his eyes, confirming it wasn’t a dream, and quickly opened the email.

[Hello. This is Kim Un. I have been receiving Park Jaekyung’s emails every day. I would like to meet you and talk in person. If it’s alright, I hope you can come to my studio. I’d like to discuss the details over the phone, so please reply with your number and I will send mine as well. Take care.]

If all the emails Jaekyung had sent so far were combined, they would amount to dozens of A4 pages.

Yet the reply was only a few short lines.

Even so, he felt like he could fly.

He didn’t shout “Hooray,” but he raised both arms and clapped, unable to contain his joy.

Was this what it felt like to win the lottery?

He bounced around the house in excitement, then quickly turned on his laptop.

Carefully, deliberately, he typed a reply to Kim Un and finally let out a relieved breath.

“Perfect.”

The gallery would be opening soon.

If he could display Kim Un’s painting there beforehand, it would be incredible.

He had deliberately left the best spot empty—the place every visitor’s eyes would inevitably land on.

That had been the right choice.

Jaekyung quickly messaged Jaeyoung.

A few minutes later, a congratulatory message with cute emoticons came back.

Since it was before work hours, Jaeyoung said they’d talk at lunch.

Jaekyung told him not to overdo it and hummed softly to himself.

Kim Un hadn’t even confirmed he’d give him a painting yet, but Jaekyung had a good feeling.

Today truly felt like a “Happy Day.”

◆

Knock, knock.

The hand holding the documents paused at the sound and looked toward the door.

It opened, and a middle-aged man in a neat suit entered, bowing politely before approaching.

It was just past 7 a.m., but the desk was already piled high with work.

In other words, he hadn’t slept at all.

Secretary Oh frowned briefly and sighed deeply.

He wanted to scold him, but knowing nothing would get through right now, he chose a different approach.

“Kim Un has sent an email to Jaekyung.”

He handed over a printed copy of the captured email.

Han Taeseok read it carefully and placed it on the desk.

His eyes then flicked to the empty medicine pouch beside him.

“Did he agree to meet?”

“Based on Jaekyung’s reply, it seems he’ll be visiting Kim Un’s studio soon.”

“…I see.”

“Kim Un said he hopes the promise will be kept.”

“Yes. Make the transfer as agreed.”

Years ago, Kim Un had lost a lawsuit against an art gallery and was left with millions in debt.

He learned that Jaekyung was opening a gallery and gathering exclusive artists.

When Han Taeseok found out Jaekyung was especially focused on Kim Un, he met Kim Un personally to persuade him.

At first, Kim Un refused to meet him simply because Taeseok was Director Ji’s son.

But after days of hesitation, he accepted when Taeseok offered to pay off all his debts.

The condition was simple.

Kim Un would become the main artist of Park Jaekyung’s gallery.

And today, Kim Un finally sent that email.

“Do you think it’ll be a good gift?”

Taeseok asked casually while signing documents.

Secretary Oh gave a bitter smile.

He knew better than anyone.

He was the one who’d coordinated both of their schedules.

Today was that day.

“He’ll be happy.”

“I know he’s calling me an idiot in his head.”

“Yes. Honestly, I think so too.”

“Enough. I’ll head to work in an hour. You can go.”

“Understood.”

Han Taeseok smiled as he signed the remaining papers.

As soon as the door closed behind Secretary Oh, the smile vanished completely.

Sometimes his fingertips trembled, and his heart ached.

The urge to go see him flared up again and again, but he endured it.

He didn’t even have the right to be in pain.