Silence reigned in the intensive care corridor, broken only by the soft rustle of lab coats and the quiet beeping of machinery. The secretary stood by the window, looking out at the night city. The car lights seemed distant, as did the normal life beyond these walls. In his pocket was the number written on a scrap of paper - the one he had received from the alpha.
"Let him go... Mr. Kim ordered me to let him go."
But before his eyes was Minjun's pale face, his trembling eyelashes, and his fingers clutching the sheet even in his unconscious state.
The secretary took a deep breath, pulled out his phone, and, breaking all the rules, dialed the number.
"Hello?" the voice on the other end was hoarse, as if the person hadn't slept for many nights.
"This is the Kim family's secretary," he said evenly, but more quietly than usual. "I'm calling you, Mr. Hyuk."
Silence. Then a sharp, broken whisper.
"Where's Minjun? What's wrong with him?"
The secretary closed his eyes for a moment.
"He's in the clinic. His condition is stable... but there are complications. Mr. Kim decided to make a decision on his own, without Minjun."
"What decision?!" Hyuk's voice broke, filled with pain. "Tell me!"
The secretary slowly inhaled, making his choice.
"He's eighteen weeks along. Minjun desperately needs your pheromones, otherwise, his body's balance will be disrupted."
Silence hung on the other end, too long not to feel everything inside crumbling. Then Hyuk let out a heavy sigh:
"My god... Minjun..." his voice trembled, and every word sounded like a plea. "I have to be with him."
"Mr. Kim is categorically against it," the secretary said. "He told us to do everything possible. Even if it means... an abortion as a last resort."
The words hung in the air. Hyuk stood up abruptly - the chair he was sitting on fell to the floor with a crash.
"I won't allow it!" his voice rose to a shout. "How could he... how could he do that to him?!"
The secretary's gaze shifted to the ward where Minjun lay, his fingers moving slightly in his sleep. His heart ached.
"You'll have a chance. Mr. Kim is leaving for negotiations tomorrow morning. I'll have a couple of hours to let you in. But you must be careful."
"I'll be there. I swear," Hyuk said quickly, his voice cracking. "Tell him... tell him I'm coming."
The secretary shook his head slightly.
"No. He can't know until you're in the room. Too many eyes and ears. Get ready - I'll pick you up tomorrow."
They hung up. For the first time in years, a feeling akin to conscience stirred in the secretary's chest.
***
Meanwhile, Hyuk stood in Minjun's empty apartment. Everything on the table was as the omega had left it: the mug, the open book, the neatly folded notebooks. But the scent was almost gone - only a faint, barely-there trace of pheromones, like a memory, not a reality.
He ran his hand over the shelf, clenched his fingers, and closed his eyes. "Eighteen weeks... he's carrying my baby... and he's there alone."
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he only clenched his jaw tighter.
"Minjun," Hyuk whispered.