Dirty Switch

Before they realized it, the sun had begun to set, and dusk—its color resembling the hem of the robe Seo Baekhan was wearing—gently settled over the pond at Chundangji.
“So in the end, Choi Yeonjun ended up bawling his eyes out.”

“But wouldn’t he have been really upset? He worked hard on it.”
“Still, what kind of nineteen-year-old cries in front of others? It would’ve been better to ruin the reputation of the bastard who broke his piece.”
Riding on the warm breeze, Seo Baekhan’s voice, layered atop the soft resonance of traditional instruments, felt like a musical composition in itself.

In truth, Joo Taehyun hadn’t been particularly fond of summer. But he began to think the sound of insects on a summer night wasn’t all that bad. No—he had a fine feeling that he might start liking it quite a lot from now on.
“By the way, Taehyun, what kind of suppressant do you use?”
“Uh, when I was a baby, I got monthly injections. Now I take pills once a week…”

Seo Baekhan didn’t bow deeply like others did when speaking with him. So Joo Taehyun had to crane his neck until the back of it went stiff just to look up at him, or when he had something to say meant only for him, he had to go up on his toes. Like just now.
“Hyung, by the way. I don’t like that rice cake, it doesn’t taste good.”
“Then don’t eat it.”

“But it was brought specially. My brothers said you shouldn’t leave food received from the palace.”
“Yeah? What now, then. I’m not a nice hyung like your brothers, so I don’t want to eat it for you.”
“…”

“What’re you doing. Open your mouth already.”
Things like that.
Though his words were a little mean, Seo Baekhan still held the tray with Joo Taehyun’s drinks and snacks himself, just as his brothers had earlier, and when someone decent-looking passed by, he’d call them over and briefly introduce them.

“I don’t particularly like that person. But it’s still necessary to know them. Especially for you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. That’s something for you to figure out? I just told you what your father does, didn’t I?”

“…Hmm. Give me another hint.”
“Haha, should I?”
That wasn’t all.
He talked about struggles in college life, which Joo Taehyun hadn’t experienced yet, funny episodes from other banquets hosted by the royal family, and even scenes you could supposedly only find in Moran District of Pyongyang where Seo Baekhan lived…

“Only the Kaema Highlands? Oh, the ski resort.”
“Yes. Uh… is Kaema close to Pyongyang?”
“What? Do kids these days not learn geography?”

The stories Seo Baekhan told were like endless popping candy bursting in his mouth, vivid and varied, and the topics flowed without end like a millstone endlessly spilling salt.
“…So I’m thinking about creating a group or something for young descendants of independence fighters, centered around His Highness Prince Yi Hwang.”
“Then can I join too?”

“What are you talking about? Of course you have to join, you.”
Seo Baekhan roughly messed up Joo Taehyun’s hair.
Rather than worrying that his neatly combed hair was now ruined, Joo Taehyun’s heart dropped with a thud, startled by the touch.

Wait, is it okay to just touch someone else's—no, another Alpha’s—hair so casually like that?
According to Basic Knowledge on Secondary Traits for Elementary School Students, if you’re going to come into physical contact with someone with a different trait, you’re supposed to ask first. Regardless of whether they’re the same trait as you or not.
Do those rules disappear once you’re an adult?

But Seo Baekhan is still nineteen.
Sure, he entered and graduated science high school early, then went on to enter Pyongyang University early as well… but even if he’s not physically an adult, does that mean he’s recognized as one socially?
“By the way, kiddo, how bad was your episode when you manifested? I heard you didn’t even go to school.”

Just before he could sink into a philosophical spiral about the definitions of physical and mental maturity, Seo Baekhan asked.
“Ah, they said I was lucky to survive. The doctor figured out it was manifestation fever right before calling brain death, and administered emergency suppressants…”
“Ahh…”

“The suppressant worked well, but then I was hospitalized for months in isolation…”
“That’s a relief… You know, they say a lot of unexplained child deaths in the past were probably due to manifestation fever.”
He nodded shortly as if he’d heard the story before, but truthfully he hadn’t. It was the first time Joo Taehyun had heard of it. He’d completed his elementary curriculum ages ago, but none of the books he read mentioned anything like that.

“That’s why I’m majoring in boring Traitology. And trying to create these organizations.”
“Why…?”
“Look, someone like you—DH Group’s youngest son—only survived because of who you are. Other kids died without even knowing why. One round of suppressants and they would’ve been fine…”

When Joo Taehyun fell silent, Seo Baekhan ruffled his hair again, saying, “Not that I’m saying it’s your fault.” Why does he keep touching someone else’s hair? It’s not like I’m a puppy… And more than that, I’m a fellow trait holder, an Alpha. Even if I’m considered underdeveloped, still. He didn’t do that to anyone else, so why is he casually touching only me? Well… it’s not like I hate it or anything…
“When I came out of the clinic after being officially diagnosed as an Alpha, not a single person there had a calm expression like my family. They were all distressed, worrying about what to say to the school, what to tell the company, why insurance didn’t cover it. Back then, there weren’t even that many patients in Trait Medicine, but everyone else there—except me—looked, how do I say this… Yeah. Just like they were about to die.”
He braced one knee lazily and muttered,

“Whether someone’s Alpha or Omega, it’s not like they chose to be born that way. So why should social class and wealth apply even to traits?”
“…”
“That’s what gets to me. People like you and me, and people living off basic income support, should be equal when it comes to traits. That’s what’s right.”

Joo Taehyun also knew he was lucky.
But to him, that luck was more like, at the edge of life and death, I happened to receive the grace of fate — something that shallow.
The lives of other trait holders? The lives of ordinary people who didn’t get invited to royal concerts like this?

He’d never really tried to imagine those in detail. Because Joo Taehyun’s daily life and happiness had always stayed within the shallow present.
He’d heard that after ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) he was born, his father implemented welfare policies for traited employees across all DH affiliates. Later, that became the national standard for legislation across the Daehan Empire.
He remembered how proud he felt when he found that anecdote in his textbook.

But he had never seen anyone cry and beg for their manifestation to be covered by insurance. He had never tried to find out what things were like for trait holders outside of the DH Group or other big corporations—those outside the legal safety net.
He always tried not to forget how much of a privilege it was to live as part of a chaebol in the Daehan Empire. His endlessly soft family had always been firm on that point.
But realizing that just being able to stay alive had been a privilege… To be honest, he had never really felt it.

“Wow, that got way too serious. Kid, what’s your dream? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Maybe noticing how quiet Joo Taehyun had gotten, Seo Baekhan smoothly changed the topic.
“Kids your age usually say some ridiculous things. Like they want to be a robot or something. Oh wait, maybe you’re past that age? Twelve-year-old Mr. Joo Taehyun.”

“…I never said that, even when I was younger.”
“Really? I did.
Well, not a robot, but I wanted to be someone like in a superhero movie. Like Iron Man.”
But I didn’t want to wear a tight suit or a mask, so I gave up on that.

“Would’ve been a waste to cover a face like mine.”
Then Seo Baekhan grinned widely.