Act of Service

Chapter 9

Song brought Do-yoon inside the modern villa. He was fidgeting with his fingers until he saw the interior beauty of the mansion. It was spacious and vibrant. The windows were big and wide, and the curtains rustled from the soft wind. 

It was mesmerizing in his eyes. The dazzling chandeliers hanging at the center of the first floor were sparkling. It felt more like a home than Tae-sung.

Song looked at him and said, “Stay here for a moment. I’ll go talk to Mr. Lee.” 

Mr. Lee? Do-yoon wondered. It’s the same surname as Tae-sung. Yet he nodded at Song. 

The cotton curtains swayed between the wide-open arc window. The wind gives off a calming rapport. Lee Joon-Ho had been staring far ahead again at the backyard garden from his office. His grieving eyes had been longing for Han Na-ri’s touch. But she’s no longer by his side to feel her presence.

Song lurched as he walked. He happened to have suffered from polio in his right leg, which caused him to limp. “Excuse me, Mr. Lee, do you have a moment?” His tone was polite. 

Joon-Ho didn’t turn around and asked, “What is it, Song?” 

“I happened to find a young guy sleeping at the back door,” Song said. “He said he escaped from Tae-sung and was asking for help.”

Joon-Ho glanced to his left. “Tae-sung?” He looked puzzled. He thought, was Tae-sung in his villa? I heard he never brings anyone there, unless he’s in a rut. But for someone who escaped, meaning he’s up to something again. 

His forehead crinkled.

“Yes, Sir,” said Song. “What do you want me to do?” 

It happened that Do-yoon was looking around. Until a subtle trace of warm, woody, and earthy scent with a hint of sweetness wafted through his nose. 

Hmmm. The smell tickled his nose. It smells so good. Where does it come from? He looked to his left.

Song forgot to close the door. It was half open. And Do-yoon tried to follow the scent that was giving him comfort.  

“Send him back to Tae-sung,” Joon-Ho said in an annoyed tone. 

I don’t want any ruckus in my house. 

“But, Sir, he didn’t want to go back there,” Song took pity on Do-yoon. “He was crying and begging not to bring him back there.” 

In an instant, they heard the door creaking. Joon-Ho turned his wheelchair handrim to face Song and glanced toward the door. His eyes widened in surprise. The peeking position that Do-yoon did from the door was quite the same as Han Na-ri's. 

A recessive omega? And what’s that distant smell of lavender and chamomile scent? Is that his pheromone? 

Hold on a second―Joon-Ho's gaze grew wider in disbelief. His heart pounded. Bewildered by the sudden reaction, he was getting like a sedative. No way… I should be feeling discomfort and mad from smelling pheromones. 

Do-yoon's eyes looked stunned as he stuttered. “Ah, Ah,” he cowered like a puppy. 

“Do-yoon. I told you to wait outside,” Song said. He looked troubled by Do-yoon’s sudden disturbance. Joon-Ho looked baffled. Song said, “I apologize, Sir. His name is Do-yoon, he’s the guy I was talking about. He’s half-deaf and can’t speak well.” 

Do-yoon looked naive. He couldn’t hear a single word from Song. He couldn’t read his lips. Then he wrote something on his pad and showed it close to them. 

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble. Please help me.”

“Help?” Joon-Ho asked as he narrowed his brow. 

Do-yoon felt nervous. He nervously swallowed and tried to put his words together before he spoke. He said, “Y-yes, I n-need help.” He clasped the pad to his right, and Joon-Ho noticed he was trembling. 

Do-yoon bit his lower lip and knelt on the floor. Their eyes went wide. He pleaded, rubbing his palms together. He looked frightened. He didn’t want to go back to Tae-sung’s petrifying house. 

“P-please, p-please,” Do-yoon sounded anxious, adding, “Don’t send me back to T-Tae-sung. I’m scared, I’m scared. P-please.” He was begging them…to save him.

Joon-Ho scowled at him and said, “Why should I help you?” And Song felt sorry for Do-yoon.

“Ah, Ah,” Do-yoon took his time to reply. He held his neck to be able to speak again. He said, “I, I c-can’t go back to m-my father. Fa-father, so-sold m-me to, to, T-Tae-sung.” He stuttered as his vocal cords tightened. His left eye twitched.

He wanted to say more. But he couldn’t speak anymore. He wrote again and showed it to them. 

“I have no family. I have nowhere else to go. I have no friends. I don’t have anyone. Please... please help me.”

His tears trickled down his chin as the droplets touched the tiled floor.

Song could sympathize with Do-yoon’s pure reasons. But he’s not sure if Joon-Ho would allow him to stay even if it’s for another day. He shifted his glance to Joon-Ho. 

Joon-Ho looked composed and heartless. But he was staring at Do-yoon’s innocent face. He couldn’t fathom the darkness Do-yoon's been through. And yet, a ray of light was giving him a piece of hope from someone who was asking for his help. 

What did Tae-sung find in this impaired recessive omega? 

By the looks of it, he’s ignorant of many things. He’s naive but not slow-witted. 

So, why do I need to help this homeless guy? He furrowed his brow and said, “If I help you, you can’t stay here for free.”

Do-yoon's eyes beamed. A glimpse of certainty shadowed on his face. He tore a piece of paper and wrote something. And Joon-Ho found it amusing. 

What is he writing? 

Do-yoon gave it to him. 

His penmanship was not good, but readable. Joon-Ho read it.  

“I can cook. I can do laundry. I can clean the house. Anything that I can repay you for letting me stay?”

Somehow, it gave Joon-Ho a sense of relief in his heart. Something he had never encountered before his eyes. He put Do-yoon's piece of paper inside his right pocket. 

“Very well, Do-yoon, was it?” Joon-Ho said, unfazed. 

Do-yoon bobbed his head with ease. He was still kneeling on the floor. 

Joon-Ho said, “Song will tell you what you need to do.” He looked at Song. “Song, tell Yu-Na to prepare the guest room. And since you need someone to help you with gardening, teach him how to do it.” 

Song felt relieved that he smiled and said, “Of course, Sir Lee.” 

“Now, please leave me alone,” Joon-Ho said. He turned the wheelchair back to the open sliding glass door.

“Get up, Do-yoon and follow me,” Song said with a smile. 

Do-yoon stood. He shifted his glance to Joon-Ho. He looked sad. Why? He followed Song behind.

They strolled toward the door, and before leaving, Do-yoon didn’t hesitate to ask Song. 

“Sir S-song,” 

“Oh, just... call me Uncle Song.” He scratched his right cheek. 

“Ah, Ah, Uncle Song,” Do-yoon said. He asked, “I, I, s-mell a-amber, and o-oak too. W-where was it c-coming f-from?”

Joon-Ho overheard Do-yoon's words. His eyes dilated with astonishment as he looked back at them. His heart palpitated. Since it's been a long time, he hasn't smelled his pheromone. 

Did he just... smell my pheromones? That's impossible? Dr. Shin said that I can’t smell my pheromone due to the psychological trauma I am going through. 

So, how could an impaired recessive omega like him even smell it? 

He clenched his left fist. Don’t tell me―His chest tightened as he held it with his right hand.

“Ah, that would be from the garden that you’re smelling it,” Song said. 

“Ah, ah,” Do-yoon said, but he seemed confused.

He looked back and locked eyes with Joon-Ho. His eyes startled, and he looked back to where Song was walking. He flustered. 

What was that about?    

His heart skipped a beat. He held his chest for a moment. 

Let’s be thankful that Mr. Lee let me stay here, even though it's temporary. I’ll repay his kindness. I'll save money. I’ll ask Uncle Song for help to look for another place once I’m ready to leave. 

As long as I am away from Tae-sung. 

Three days later, Do-yoon was able to live well. He helped Song in the garden by trimming and watering the plants during the day. He also helped the housekeepers clean the house and the laundry. 

They were glad to have him around. So helpful and pretty in their eyes. 

At times, Do-yoon would bring snacks and tea to Joon-Ho’s office. It was brief, but Joon-Ho never talked to him. Neither did he. And whenever he saw Joon-Ho by himself and was looking lifeless, Do-yoon would ponder. He knew that it was not his place to intervene in anyone’s private life. But whenever he saw his broken world, his heart ached…for reason at all. 

It wasn’t the same feeling when he first met Tae-sung. 

Tae-sung for him was like a drop tower. You’ll never know when it drops. It was unpredictable. That was Tae-sung in Do-yoon’s moment of being with him. Fickle and lies.  

Meanwhile, Tae-sung's house was turned upside down. Disarrayed. Scattered bottles of whisky were on the floor when Da-won arrived by himself. 

Tae-sung was lying on the sofa, topless. He looked miserable as he held his forehead. 

“Did you find him?” He asked in an irate tone. 

“No, Boss,” Da-won said politely. “Our guys were still looking for him.” 

“What about that housekeeper?” 

“We went to her house, but she’s not there either,” Da-won said. “She hasn’t been back since Do-yoon's disappearance.” He added, "Her brother was also not in the hospital when we checked."

Tae-sung sat up. He frowned. He said, “There are only two things we could think of. Either Do-yoon escaped with that woman, or he crossed the stream and got help from someone.” 

“Well, I checked his foster parents' place and he hasn’t been there, Boss,” Da-won said and kept his head calm. 

Tae-sung wondered. If he crossed the stream, he might end up in my half-brother’s place. Should I go and check? I have reasons to go there since our dearest father wanted him back. He smirked. 

“What do you want us to do, Boss?” Da-won asked. 

“Go back to the Dark Club." He said, "For now, pressure the debtors.” Tae-sung stood and faced back with his wicked mind. He added, “Get someone to clean up this mess.”

“What about you, Boss?” Da-won’s forehead perspired. 

He looked back with a demented smile and said, “I’ll soon visit my ill-fated brother.” 

Da-won's eyes flinched. He looked speechless yet puzzled. 

He’s going to cause an uproar again. He scratched the back of his head. “Tsk.” He mumbled with a headache.

He thought, dammit! I don’t want to deal with them. Their heads are all fucking messed up.