Dirty Switch

The volunteer group Haechi, founded by Prince Lee Rok—now titled the Prince of Harmony—and Seo Baekhan, had garnered overwhelming public support since its inception.
And it wasn’t surprising. To join, you had to be a descendant of independence activists. Even after becoming a full member, you’d be removed from the roster if you didn’t contribute to the public good. Being a full member of Haechi was essentially a certificate proving your sincere involvement in various campaigns and charity work.
Because of that, powerful families across both political and business circles spared no effort to help their children get close to Haechi members. For the next generation needing to build a public name, there was nothing more appealing than Haechi.

The DH Group, a major conglomerate, was no exception. But in this case, at least, Taehyun held full membership—putting him on a different tier than the hangers-on.
A full member of Haechi, a high-value donor, around the same age, and a fellow male Alpha.
Because of those shared traits, Joo Taehyun and Seo Baekhan had often been mentioned together.

That didn’t mean they were close.
It was more like they greeted each other out of obligation because falling out would be troublesome for both sides.
At most, they were acquaintances—someone you’d vaguely say you “sort of know.” The kind of connection where even if you deleted their number from your phone, it wouldn’t affect your life one bit.

To Seo Baekhan, Joo Taehyun was exactly that level of existence.
Ah. So that’s how it was.
That such a Joo Taehyun liked him—no, had liked him.

It was surprising, sure. But that was all. He didn’t even care whether it was past or present tense. A confession from a boy who looked more suited to a school uniform than a tuxedo didn’t mean much to Seo Baekhan. He’d grown far too used to the gaze of people who admired him.
Being told “I like you” by someone he barely knew? It had happened too many times to count since he was a kid. Whether he wanted it or not, situations like that had occurred often enough for him to understand why people always used the past tense when confessing.
People who told themselves not to expect anything… yet still wished, deep down, that the other person felt the same.

In those moments, they’d say things like what Joo Taehyun once said—and wear the same expression he had—while glancing at him as if by accident.
This wasn’t even about Baekhan’s keen intuition anymore. The lines were always the same, like mass-produced scripts—too familiar for him to even pretend not to notice.
"I like you."
"Actually, I liked you…"
People who blurted out stuff like that and ran off—just today, he’d met five of them. No—six, now that Taehyun was included.

It was getting tiresome.
It wasn’t that Taehyun’s confession made him dislike the boy, or made him suddenly look pathetic or laughable. It was just that the predictable cycle repeated itself again, and he’d grown bored of it.
If anything, Baekhan held a decent opinion of “Joo Taehyun, the youngest son of DH Group.” Despite all the stories about how obsessively his family protected their youngest, there hadn’t been a single major scandal involving him. That alone showed he knew how to carry himself well.
A person who could handle the weight of ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) his name, given his circumstances.

Baekhan always respected people like that, even if he wasn’t personally interested in them. And considering how young Taehyun still was, maybe he had real potential.
Taehyun, how old were you again?
Even as he muttered the question to himself, he recalled how the adults had once surrounded the kid, babbling about boarding schools and liberal arts colleges. They’d said it proudly—he was only seventeen at the time.

Seventeen…
Baekhan repeated the number under his breath, and a soft, ironic chuckle escaped without him meaning to.
He probably wouldn’t ever get particularly close to Joo Taehyun—but he didn’t see any need to make things awkward, either. Thinking like that made him feel a little ridiculous.

Unwanted affection was always a nuisance. But that didn’t mean he wanted to take things seriously with a kid who was seven years younger than him.
Seventeen…
The more Baekhan talked about age, the more Taehyun’s shoulders shrank.

Now, Taehyun couldn’t even lift his face properly. His eyes hovered somewhere around Baekhan’s solar plexus.
"Do I… have to give an answer right now?"
"What?"

Taehyun’s head shot up as if startled. His eyes were so dark, it was like someone had spilled ink into them—but at the same time, they were oddly cloudy. His gaze reflected none of the brilliant chandelier light overhead; instead, it held its own unique dimness. Taehyun’s features were actually striking, maybe even beautiful—but he rarely heard people say that. Probably because of those tired, sorrowful eyes… and the set of his lips.
"No, that’s not it… not at all."
Watching Taehyun shake his head, eyes wide, Baekhan found himself laughing despite himself. So he could look flustered after all. For the first time, Taehyun looked his age, and that made Baekhan’s usual impulse to tease him fade a little.

"I’m leaving the country soon. Studying abroad. I won’t be back in Korea for a while, so I just wanted to say it… once, before I go."
"I see. Well… thanks for thinking well of me, Taehyun."
Baekhan smiled faintly, lifting just one corner of his lips. It was a look he knew made people freeze in place—he’d mastered it long ago. And Taehyun, of course, wasn’t immune. There really was no easier way to end an uncomfortable encounter.

"Was it London where you’re going? Study hard."
He’d never seen Taehyun this close before. But under the chandelier’s light, he could even see the soft fuzz on the kid’s cheek. Thinking back on how annoyed he’d felt earlier, Baekhan realized Taehyun was too young for that kind of frustration. He was just a kid.
"Call me when you’re back in Korea. I’ll treat you to something nice."

It was a gentle enough offer, but hollow at its core. And when he said it, Taehyun inhaled quietly. He must’ve just now realized his confession wasn’t taken seriously. The boy wasn’t completely oblivious, it seemed—but maybe just unfamiliar with rejection. That made sense. A kid raised with nothing but praise probably hadn’t encountered many people who drew firm lines.
"…Yes."
Even after Baekhan’s veiled rejection, Taehyun opened and closed his mouth a few more times, as if something still lingered. Then, wearing his usual blank expression, he offered a stiff farewell.

"Then… Happy New Year, hyung."
"You too."
At least he wasn’t the kind to act out just because his pride was hurt. That was a relief in itself.

"Study hard."
Baekhan ruffled Taehyun’s hair thoroughly and turned away without hesitation. He pretended not to notice the lukewarm stare that lingered on the back of his head for quite a while.
That was the first—and last—genuinely personal exchange he’d ever had with the gloomy-faced kid.

"I'm sorry, hyung."
"Hm."
Still caught in the memory of Joo Taehyun’s teenage face from three years ago, Baekhan made a low hum in his throat and snapped out of his thoughts.

"It’s kind of a serious topic, so… I think I’m just a little nervous."
When Taehyun had been seventeen, he looked exactly like a kid wearing clothes chosen by adults. But now, the coat and jacket he’d picked himself didn’t look out of place on him. He hadn’t just grown taller—he’d filled out a little, too. He wasn’t bony and frail like before, and that downy fuzz on his cheeks was long gone.
Of course, some traces of youth still remained.

"It’s fine. Just take your time and say what you need to. I just have to leave here by 6:40."
"I know you’re busy, so…"
"Taehyun."

Baekhan glanced at his watch, then picked up the book lying on the table. He’d been flipping through it while waiting—an exhibition catalog from the National Museum.
"Still got fifty-three minutes left."
Opening the marked page, he glanced at a staff member waiting nearby. As the server started to approach, Baekhan gave a subtle shake of his head and gestured toward the water glass instead. The staff had been working in the Haechi lounge long enough to pick up on signals like that.

"I am busy—but I made time because I thought today was worth it."
"……"
"If it’s a topic that’s hard to speak about, just take your time and explain it properly. That’s better for both of us."

"Excuse me. Is there anything else you need?"
"No, thank you."
The server placed a water glass in front of Taehyun at just the right time, and Baekhan answered on his behalf.

"I cleared this time specifically for you. So however you choose to use it, that’s your call. No need to feel sorry."
"……"
"But if you let that guilt ruin this moment, then you’ll really owe me an apology."

"…Yes. I understand what you mean."
"Good. Just talk when you’re ready."
Baekhan sank into the sofa with a relaxed posture and returned his gaze to the book.

Surely he wasn’t about to say something like, ‘I still like you. I’m twenty now, so please accept me.’ Surely not that.
Please, let it not be that. If someone who knows the weight of my name this well used a family issue as an excuse just to confess again… Then this time, Baekhan really might be done with Joo Taehyun. Regardless of his background—he wouldn’t want to deal with him ever again.