Dirty Switch

“I want to marry you, hyung.”
Seo Baekhan folded his arms and slowly mulled over what he had just heard.
Joo Taehyun’s proposal felt as light and flimsy as one of those casual throwaway comments like, we should grab a meal sometime. It was so unthinking that Baekhan nearly replied with a mindless, Sure, why not.

“…Marriage.”
“Yes.”
“You and me… the two of us?”

“…Yes.”
Just as Taehyun had done earlier, Baekhan repeated the same words several times. It was so absurd that it felt like his brain had temporarily short-circuited. It took him a moment to fully register what those words meant. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like this.
“Marriage… marriage, huh…”

“…”
“So, Taehyun… are you saying you just proposed to me?”
“A pr-prop… ah, yes. I guess that’s what it boils down to…”

He had hoped Taehyun would get to the point, sure—but he hadn’t meant just the point, with the rest of the context chopped to bits and thrown away.
And what?
“That’s what it boils down to”?

Baekhan still saw him as a kid, but Taehyun was technically an adult now. Maybe he had his own ambitions. Maybe he wanted to build a certain image, and was hoping for Haechi’s support… and along the way, he might tack on another predictable, “I still like you” confession.
That was the kind of scenario Baekhan had vaguely expected.
But the proposal from this barely-twenty brat? It was something Baekhan hadn’t even begun to imagine.

“You said you wanted to talk about a family matter, but then you ask me to get married.”
He knew Taehyun was watching his reaction, but Baekhan kept speaking, voicing his thoughts as they came. At first, it was to grasp the situation; then, to cool the anger that was starting to boil inside him.
Maybe it wasn’t even just talking to himself—maybe it was his way of double-checking with Taehyun.
Did you really just propose to me, Seo Baekhan?

No one enjoys being blindsided to the point of frowning. But for Baekhan, the part he couldn’t stand wasn’t the surprise itself—it was the loss of control in that moment. He needed to be in command of every emotional fluctuation, every way he expressed himself.
And because that was who he was, Taehyun’s little bombshell landed with real force. The fact that it had come from him—some brat—only made it worse.
“You realize that’s not something you say to someone you haven’t seen in years.”

“…”
“You also know very well that we’re not close enough for that.”
Seo Baekhan tamped down the flames of his rising anger as best he could.

“But since we’ve known each other for some time, I figured you’d have a decent idea how I’d react to something like this.”
If Taehyun had just asked to grab a meal while visiting Korea, and then brought up the idea of marriage afterward—it’d still be ridiculous, but Baekhan might’ve let it slide. Still a kid, he’d have thought.
“But even so, you chose to bring it up anyway. And to make this appointment under the pretense of needing advice on family matters. I’d like you to explain. Because I seriously don’t understand what the hell is going through your head.”

“…”
“We still have a little time. Convince me before I get up.”
Taehyun had claimed he wanted to ask for advice about family issues. But in reality, he’d hauled his personal emotions all the way here and brought them to the table. That part—that manipulation of pretense—was what pissed Baekhan off the most.

“…I heard that hyung is planning to meet with another Alpha for a marriage match.”
It wasn’t until the ice in his coffee clinked softly in the cup, slightly melted, that Taehyun timidly tried to reclaim Baekhan’s attention.
“And?”

“After I heard that… I started wondering why you were so set on choosing another Alpha. So I thought about it a lot… and I figured, maybe it’s because it would help you become the next director of Jejungwon.”
Jejungwon was a special research institute for secondary gender traits that had branched off from Gwanghye Hospital. It was located in Pyongyang. Since the Prince of Conciliation—the empire’s first and only Alpha royal—was based there, much of the research around secondary genders was conducted in that region.
The Daehan Empire’s laws on secondary traits had started influencing the entire continent, largely thanks to the Prince’s aggressive investment in foundational research.

Even if the Crown Prince constantly tried to sabotage him out of jealousy, the Prince of Conciliation remained resolute.
From his early twenties to well past forty, he and his people had dedicated themselves to improving public understanding and implementing protections for secondary genders.
“And since there haven’t been many cases of Alphas marrying other Alphas or Omegas marrying each other…”

“Taehyun. Did I ask you for speculation?”
“…”
“I didn’t ask for guesses about me—I asked for the reasoning behind your conclusion.”

Taehyun’s guess wasn’t wrong.
Seo Baekhan was known to be aligned with the Prince of Conciliation, often openly referred to as his political heir.
And Baekhan himself had always chased that vision. Not by inheriting a political district from his father, as had been the family tradition—but by building a seat for himself with his own hands.

Among all the strategies he could use, marriage was one of the most effective. That’s why he’d agreed to the matchmaking meeting.
“Do you not understand what I’m saying?”
“…That’s why, I thought—if that’s the reason… then wouldn’t I be the best choice for you?”

“Because you’re an Alpha too, a ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Haechi member like me, and rich to boot, since you’re a chaebol?”
Rather than deny it, Taehyun lowered his gaze. Each time his long lashes blinked, shadows draped across his delicately shaped cheekbones.
Despite his age and still-growing body, he looked more mature than his peers—likely because of those eyes. Eyes that seemed full of tragic backstory despite a life that likely lacked any true hardship, and lips that drooped slightly, always closed tight.

“How old are you?”
Baekhan’s voice was coaxing, almost like he was soothing a child. Taehyun clamped his mouth shut, sensing where this was headed—he knew the point of that question, and it wasn’t one he wanted to entertain.
“Why don’t you answer when I ask? Can’t you hear me?”

“I… I’m sorry.”
“Every time you clam up and sulk, do you expect me to coddle you and let it slide?”
“…I’m sorry.”

As Taehyun’s demeanor shifted into something far more polite than before, the tension in Baekhan’s gaze softened slightly. Barely enough to notice—likely too subtle for Taehyun to even realize.
“How old are you now?”
“Twenty… I’m twenty.”

“Right. You’re not stupid. So what more do I have to spell out for you?”
There were far worse idiots spouting far dumber shit out there—but for some reason, Taehyun’s nonsense was really getting under Baekhan’s skin.
Pondering that, Baekhan finally realized something: he’d actually been looking forward to this meeting.

After confessing and then fleeing the country, Taehyun had finally called him again after years—saying he needed advice. Knowing his personality, he must’ve agonized over making that call. It wasn’t hard to imagine.
And yet, Baekhan had assumed—hoped—that when it came to things involving DH’s public image, Taehyun would know how to set personal feelings aside. He thought Taehyun was mature enough to do that. Thought he was responsible. Maybe even admirable for it. Different from all those other people who’d thrown their emotions at him uninvited.
Baekhan valued people who kept work and emotion separate. Whether it was family, friends, or passing acquaintances. He had been willing to cut Taehyun some slack because of that. Not because he’d once confessed. Not because he was the pampered heir of DH. But because he had taken this meeting seriously, approached it professionally—that ability to compartmentalize was exactly what Baekhan liked.

And then the kid had to go and bring up his family, only to say this?
“Hyung, is this maybe because of what I said before? Back at the year-end party… before I left for the States…”
Even now, when Baekhan was holding back some very cruel words simply because Taehyun was young, the kid’s shoulders kept sinking lower and lower.

And even that irritated Baekhan. What kind of reaction had he been hoping for? If he couldn’t handle the outcome, he shouldn’t have started any of this.
“You mean when you said you liked me?”
“…Yes.”

Taehyun’s fingers drifted lightly across his water glass, leaving faint trails of condensation. He was clearly shaken—sweaty and trembling—but still managed to keep his expression calm. Maybe that was worth commending?
“Just so we’re clear… I don’t have any feelings for you now.”
His voice, though quiet, was firm—delivered at a deliberate pace. He looked like a cornered animal, frightened but trying not to flinch. And yet the words he spoke came out smoothly, like he’d practiced them countless times.

“Seriously. I don’t.”
It was almost rehearsed—like he’d prepared that line for this exact moment.