Yejun reached over to silence the alarm on his side, groaning as he slowly sat up in the bed. His body ached from where they had sex, but not in any way that surprised him. Jieun stirred beside him, one arm still tucked under the pillow, her face turned toward the window as the morning light started to press faint gold lines across the floor.

Yejun slid out from under the covers, careful not to wake her, and began to dress. His clothes were still scattered from where she’d pulled them off after the first round of sex, before she had pushed him back onto the bed with that same assured confidence she always wore in private. After all, he was going to be gone for two weeks. She had to make it count.

He had wanted her to.

He dressed quietly, rolling his sleeves just below the elbow and smoothing his hair with his fingers before glancing once more toward the bed. Jieun hadn’t moved. Her dark hair was a tangle against the pillow, the sheet pulled halfway over her hip. She looked peaceful and Yejun smiled. He liked the idea of seeing her like this every day.

He collected his blazer and watch from the narrow shelf by the door, then checked his phone. No new messages. Just the calendar reminder for his flight and a few overnight news alerts he swiped away without reading. He opened the app to request a taxi, careful to close the door quietly as he stepped into the hallway. The carpet outside was patterned in a generic, abstract print, the kind found in every mid-tier love hotel across Seoul; tasteful enough to imply discretion, forgettable enough to fade from memory.

Outside, the street was still quiet. Early enough that even the cafés hadn’t opened yet. His cab was waiting, hazard lights blinking steadily in the dull morning light. Yejun climbed in, muttering his destination before settling back against the seat.

“Lim estate, Seongbuk-dong. Right at the Seongbuk-ro junction.”

The driver gave a short nod, pulling away from the curb as they merged back into light traffic. Yejun watched the buildings blur past through the window, his reflection ghosting faintly in the glass, overlaid with the sleepy sprawl of the city waking up around him.

By the time they finally turned onto Seongbuk-ro, he could already feel the shift. The houses became estates. The fences became gates. And the quiet became deliberate.

When the car pulled up to the Lim residence, the outer gates were already unlocked, the long driveway clear of the staff vehicles that would arrive later in the morning. The garden lights were still on, their faint glow catching against the low fog that clung to the grass. The house stood ahead of him, quiet and dark at the corners, its lines sharp against the overcast sky.

He let himself in.

The soft sound of footsteps on polished wood reached him from the left. Yejun turned as Taehyun appeared in the threshold of the sitting room, already dressed in a tailored gray jacket, grey eyes landing on him with the same flicker of distaste they always carried.

“Ah,” Taehyun said. “You’re back.”

Yejun dipped his head. “Morning, Father.”

Taehyun didn’t respond. He turned away without another word, disappearing back into the sitting room, the door closing behind him with a soft, final click.

Yejun stood still for a beat, then turned toward the stairs. At the top of the stairs, the hallway light caught in warm relief against polished frames and the quiet hum of the air vents. He passed Jinwoo’s door without slowing. It was closed, as it always was when Jinwoo was sleeping, and Yejun had no interest in poking a hornet's nest this early in the morning. He had a flight to catch.

His own room was as he’d left it two days ago.  The same half-packed suitcase near the closet, open and waiting like a bookmark. Yejun rolled up his sleeves and started to move with purpose. Two weeks abroad meant he couldn’t afford to forget the essentials. Chargers, adaptor, itinerary printouts, two blazers, five shirts, two pairs of slacks, and the dark charcoal tie Jieun liked. He folded each item with precision, stacking them with practiced rhythm before zipping the suitcase closed and setting it upright by the door.

He paused, checking the inner pocket of his carry-on for his passport and company documents, then glanced at his watch. There was still time to spare. Enough, maybe, to ask the question that had been sitting at the back of his mind all week.

He stepped out into the hallway again, bags in tow, heading toward the stairs. At the landing, he hesitated. The faint clink of a spoon against ceramic echoed from the kitchen, where the staff had likely started preparing breakfast for Jinwoo. A second set of footsteps approached from the east corridor, and Yejun turned just as his mother  appeared, tucking a hairpin into place with one hand, a travel mug in the other.

“There you are,” she said, reaching for his shoulder to steady the brief one-armed hug she offered. “You didn’t forget your passport, did you?”

Yejun shook his head, smiling faintly. “First thing I packed.”

“Good.” She stepped back and gave him a once-over. She hummed with affection, running her fingers over his wrist. “You’re still a little pale. I hope you’re not getting sick.”

“I’m fine.” He rolled his suitcase closer. “I just didn’t sleep much. Jieun wanted to spend our anniversary together.”

At that, his mother  allowed a small laugh to escape her. “Two years already. I still remember the day you two met.”

As she started toward the front hall with him, Yejun hesitated again, slowing his steps. “Has there been any decision yet, Mother?”

“Not yet, Yejun, although I do believe we’ll have one soon,” his mother  smiled, her tone pleasant, but unmistakably final. Yejun nodded once, careful to keep any disappointment from reaching his face. The matter of Jieun’s omega pairing had been ongoing since they started dating but it wasn’t something openly discussed with him or Jieun. After all, it was up to their parents to decide on a well-bred omega of agreeable temperament and ideal bloodlines. Someone who could carry children Yejun would one day raise with Jieun.

“Do you know if her family’s leaning toward anyone in particular?” he asked again, trying to find a way to word what he really wanted to ask. He knew if he seemed too eager, his mother would question why, so he had to remain calm and subtle. “It’s been two years, I don’t want to wait forever to marry her.”

“They’re just being prudent. You’d think they don’t want to see her married, the way those two fuss,” she brushed an invisible speck from the lapel of his blazer. “I’ll let you know as soon as the decision is made. It won’t happen while you’re overseas, I promise.”

Yejun gave a quiet “mm,” the sound more hopeful than agreement, and they both fell into silence as they approached the front door. His driver was already visible through the frosted glass panel, a dark silhouette waiting patiently beside the town car, hands folded behind his back. The kind of punctuality his mother  insisted on.

“You’ll meet the other leads at Incheon?” she asked, handing him a slim envelope with the flight and hotel information printed on embossed letterhead.

“Yes. We’re scheduled to meet at the lounge by ten. The flight’s not until eleven-forty.”

“Good, make sure you get breakfast.” She said, straightening the collar of his shirt one last time and Yejun leaned down to allow her to press a kiss to his cheek, light and familiar.

“I will,” he said, adjusting the strap of his carry-on, “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you. Have a safe trip, dear.”

With that, his mother  opened the front door and stepped aside. The driver offered a polite bow as Yejun stepped out into the cool morning air, his suitcase wheels humming faintly against the stone path. The car door opened with a soft click, and he slipped inside.

His screen lit up with a single unread message.

Jieun 🟢: Good Morning, Sena. Hope you make it to Incheon safely.

Yejun smiled, leaning back into his seat as the car began to pull away.

Yejun: on my way now 

His phone vibrated again before he could put it down.

Jieun 🟢: Have a safe flight, okay? Just a reminder I might go into rut while you’re gone, so I might not be in the office when you get back.

Yejun nodded, barely reading before he started typing his reply. It was about time for her rut again and despite being on contract, Jieun was allowed to take rut leave due to her engagement to Yejun. She often didn’t, but Yejun couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be at the office when he was going to be away as well. 

Yejun: I remember. Did you need me to schedule the visits for you?

Jieun 🟢: No, I’m all set if it happens. I’ll let you know, just focus on getting that deal! 

Yejun: I’ll do my best. My mother said she might be close to a decision with your fathers about the omega.

Jieun 🟢: Really?? That’s amazing. What season would you want it in?

Yejun glanced out the window, watching as the city seemed to float by in the morning light. Yejun wasn’t sure if he really had a preference. There may have been a time when he cared about details like flowers and venues, but lately, the idea of marrying Jieun felt more about certainty than celebration. They had been married in practice for more than a year.

She knew him well, treated him like he mattered, and was a good partner. Things weren't perfect, but Yejun knew expecting perfection was just a set up for disappointment. He had chosen her from all the other alphas who bid for his hand, and it felt like the best decision of his life.

Yejun: I think it would be beautiful no matter what season it happens in. But maybe spring. That would suit you.

He let the message sit for a moment before hitting send, his expression softening. Spring weddings meant fresh blooms, garden venues, and light hanbok colors. It would be a good time of year for his grandparents to attend, assuming they decided to show. And it would give his mother time to arrange everything exactly the way she liked it.

Yejun took a deep breath, relaxing into the seat. He only had to be patient a little longer.