Chapter Text
[Baekhyun]
“Harder… hnngg… faster…”
Baekhyun was all nerves and heat.
His entire body was set aflame as he thrashed weakly on the sheets. From where he lay with his thighs parted in utter surrender, he felt every ruthless thrust of the man between his legs.
And this man… he wasn’t just anyone.
He was nothing like the people around them.
Sometimes it felt like he stood above the whole city, like half of Seoul somehow belonged to him.
This was Park Chanyeol.
Chairman of the Park Conglomerate.
And Chanyeol was determined to fuck him senseless tonight.
Chanyeol drove into his tight, trembling hole with such a delirious pace, the thick length of his phallus stretching him open in ways both sinful and divine. Baekhyun welcomed the ache—always did with this man—feeling those swollen veins drag along his pulsing walls each time the cock slid in and out of his wet cavern.
Baekhyun’s vision blurred with tears of pleasure. His pretty eyes, heavy with lust, fluttered helplessly; his lips, parted beyond sense, released mewls he could not restrain.
Tonight felt different… wickedly so. He could feel it deep in the pit of his cum-bloated womb. It was as if this huge dick drilling into his swelling insides was going to knock him up soon.
”Ahh… fuck, hnggg…”
“You want it harder, hmm?”
He hissed then mewled, “Yes—ooh daddy…”
“Daddy?” The man scoffed. “Daddy, huh?”
Their moans, the slick squelch of his used pussy, the thud of the bed against the wall, all echoed through the presidential suite. Truly what a life, to be ruined in a room worth a fortune for a single night steeped in decadence. Even the wine from earlier had been too costly, potent enough to lift him into a dizzy, floating haze at once.
And Chanyeol watched him, never once looking away. This wealthy man who could buy the world if he wanted to, kept his gaze pinned on him, lids half lowered in pleasure as Baekhyun’s warm, pliant pussy welcomed him again and again.
Though dazed, Baekhyun let his eyes travel down the man’s glorious abdomen, muscles tensed and gleaming with sweat. Those large, calloused hands gripped his waist with possessive strength, certain to leave blooming marks by dawn. Up his arms Baekhyun looked next—veins prominent, muscles rippling with every movement—and he moaned at the sight.
Unbelievable.
How did he end up with a man so rich, so handsome, so untamed in bed? Fifth round, and Chanyeol still moved like sin incarnate.
Baekhyun felt his breath hitch the moment Chanyeol leaned in again. And everything in him fluttered at once, his thoughts, his nerves, even the tight stretch of his hole; because he knew what it meant when Chanyeol kissed him like that.
His mind barely had time to wander before that mouth claimed his own, stealing whatever fragile focus he had left. The man braced his arms on either side of his head, shielding him from the weight of his large body, but the shift pushed the thick cock even deeper. Baekhyun felt himself filled so completely he thought he might fall apart right there. The kiss was messy and greedy, and he moaned straight into it, unable to hide how his walls clung tighter around the thick length inside him.
When Chanyeol pulled back with a grunt, Baekhyun shivered at the hot drag of his tongue along his jaw. He tilted his head back instinctively as the taller man pressed into his neck. Heat spread where that hungry mouth latched onto his skin, and he forgot how to breathe for a second. A rough hand slid over his chest, teasing his nipple, making him mewl again before those fingers travelled up to his throat. Those long fingers slipped into his mouth, and Baekhyun welcomed them with an eager suck. He moaned wantonly around them, tasting the salt of his sweat on Chanyeol’s skin, feeling his body react as if the fingers were meant for him and him alone.
“You look such a sight when I fuck you… hmm, teacher?” Chanyeol’s voice rumbled against his ear.
Baekhyun felt it everywhere. His walls clenched so hard around the thick cock that even he felt the squeeze, and the hiss Chanyeol released in response sent shiver spilling down his spine.
Then Chanyeol slowed—far too suddenly for Baekhyun’s unraveling mind. The fingers left his mouth, and strong hands steadied his waist. But it was the torturously slow circles of those hips that dragged a whimper out of him. Each deep roll made his toes curl as pleasure flooded him, too thick to hold back. He bit his lower lip, helpless and trembling, trying to swallow the moan that kept rising anyway.
“Hmm… f-fuck me…” he whispered, thin with need.
Chanyeol grinned, triumphant and cruel in that way Baekhyun secretly loved. “So good, baby?” Baekhyun nodded without thinking, like a spoiled thing desperate to be touched again.
“Fucking good?” Chanyeol again added, and Baekhyun felt his whole body jolt when the man finally touched his swollen cock. “You want me to impregnate you, hmm baby?”
keyword: impregnate
another keyword: baekhyun, he’s not wearing a condom.(Well from the beginning, Chanyeol was the skin-to-skin type of guy so…)
another keyword: “Did you take your pills today, Baekhyun?”
He had no chance to answer. His mouth opened on a silent cry as Chanyeol resumed his brutal pace. Hard, deep thrusts shook through him while that rough hand stroked his cock in long, deliberate motions that had him utterly writhing. His legs trembled so much he thought they might fail him, but he could no longer think clearly. He clung to the sheets, mind too far gone to care about whatever mess he was making. After all, he was being fucked by the owner of this god damn hotel.
"That's it baby, milk my cock with your tight little pussy," Chanyeol snarled, his grip on Baekhyun's cock tightening just a fraction more, making his head spin with euphoric haze.
Chanyeol devoured him with his eyes. And Baekhyun felt his hunger, his lust, like watching him bounce helplessly beneath him was even turning him on.
He was absolutely undone; his skin flushed red, neck marked with bites, and body shimmering with sweat and cum. He was utterly at the chairman’s mercy at this point.
“So pretty, my baby…” Chanyeol growled, and Baekhyun felt the cock inside him swell, the tip hitting that sweet spot again and again.
“Deep… f-fucking deep… aah!”
He barely heard the sound of his own voice over the pounding in his ears. Chanyeol felt him close—Baekhyun saw it in those eyes just a moment before he leaned down to crash their mouths together once more. He whimpered into the kiss, begging through breathless moans for more, harder, deeper. And Chanyeol obeyed, thrusting with reckless force while stroking his pitiful cock until his walls tightened in uncontrollable desperation.
And then, it hit. The fifth climax caught him without mercy, making him tremble hard against Chanyeol. His moan was swallowed between their lips, his body still shuddering as the feeling spread everywhere at once.
Chanyeol followed with a guttural sound, spilling thick, hot seed deep into his womb. So much warmth filled him that it leaked around the cock still inside him, dripping down his trembling skin.
Chanyeol lifted his messy hand to his face and deepened the kiss, his palm slick with sweat and cum. Baekhyun felt his breath stutter as smaller aftershocks trembled through his body.
The kiss broke with a soft smack. Chanyeol stared at him—at his ruined, flushed face—and let out a low chuckle. “That’s all the cum I saved to fill your greedy pussy tonight, baby.”
Baekhyun clenched involuntarily at the words.
His stomach felt heavy, full of heat. Needing closeness, he wrapped his arms weakly around Chanyeol’s neck. He wanted to keep the cock inside him. He wanted the warmth to stay exactly where it belonged.
The only cock that ever took him. The only cock that ever claimed him.
But Chanyeol moved. A busy billionaire did not linger. Baekhyun felt his heart sink as the man gently pulled his arms away and slid out of him. Warm cum dripped from his loosened hole, and Baekhyun saw the fascination in the man’s eyes as he watched it twitch in the cool air.
“We should clean you,” Chanyeol said, voice softer now.
Baekhyun let out a small pout. “I-I am tired… carry me.”
They were only supposed to be friends with benefits, something easy and uncomplicated that stayed safely between the sheets. But the way Chanyeol lifted him so carefully made Baekhyun feel like his heart was starting to get tangled in something it was never meant to.
final keyword: Baekhyun forgot to take his pills this morning.
Baekhyun first met Chanyeol on a night that already felt cursed long before fate decided to meddle further.
He had arrived at the bar hopeful, dressed in clothes he rarely wore and with make‑up carefully applied to highlight the beauty people often praised him for. He wanted to make a good impression on his blind date. It had only been an introduction set up by a friend. They exchanged a few messages, nothing serious, and they were supposed to meet today.
He wanted, just for once, for things to go smoothly.
Instead, he walked straight into a mortifying mess.
His date, whom he had never even seen in person, had run up a lavish bill of drinks—ridiculously expensive ones—and abandoned it in Baekhyun’s name before running away like a coward.
The bouncer stopped Baekhyun the moment he stepped inside, insisting he pay for the extravagant orders he had not even touched. No matter how desperately he explained, no one believed him.
Baekhyun felt his frustration rising far too quickly. His chin lifted in an attempt to stay composed, yet the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. His eyes stung, and he kept blinking hard to stop any tears from forming. He absolutely refused to cry in a bar. Especially not in front of strangers.
But judging by the bartender’s doubtful look and the bouncer’s harsh tone, it was clear they weren’t the type to entertain excuses.
Tonight was truly the worst.
And then, just as he was about to lose hope, a voice cut through the noise.
“What seems to be the problem here?”
Baekhyun turned and nearly forgot how to inhale. A striking man stood behind him, tall and composed, with features so handsome that his flustered mind momentarily stalled. He had never seen this man before. He certainly did not know anything about him. But something about his presence quieted the room effortlessly.
Chanyeol, though Baekhyun did not yet know his name, listened to the explanation with intense focus. He watched Baekhyun’s trembling attempts to defend himself, watched the panic flicker across his expression, watched the tiny way his hands tightened around his phone as if clinging to the last of his dignity.
And then, with a calm confidence that left Baekhyun blinking in astonishment, the man settled the entire bill.
Baekhyun stared at him, stunned. His heart thudded unhelpfully against his ribs. He had expected judgment, impatience, even pity. But not this. Not someone stepping in so decisively on his behalf.
Chanyeol offered him a small, reassuring smile that sent warmth crawling up his neck. “I saw everything,” the man said gently. “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
Anyone with a deep, velvety voice like that could melt a lonely heart.
Baekhyun was flustered. “T‑Thank you… really.” He bowed. “I don’t know what to say—”
“You can start,” Chanyeol interrupted softly, “by allowing me to be your date for tonight.”
Baekhyun’s eyes widened. His heart skipped, stumbled, then tripped entirely. He had planned to offer the man a drink as thanks, but this—this invitation—felt like something out of a far grander story. He did not know who Chanyeol was. He did not know why someone this handsome, this poised, would choose him.
But he wanted the night to become something better than humiliation. And he wanted, if he was being honest, to keep looking at this man a little longer.
So he agreed.
Chanyeol guided him toward the bar’s upper section, a place Baekhyun had never even glanced at before. Everything seemed different there—softer lighting, elegant seating, a view that made the whole venue feel even more expensive. Baekhyun simply assumed Chanyeol was the type to know the right people.
His chest warmed as he settled beside him. Chanyeol spoke just enough to keep him enchanted, and listened just enough to make him feel interesting. Hours slipped by in a haze of laughter and stolen glances. The earlier scam felt like a distant nightmare.
Unfortunately, the alcohol slowly caught up with him.
His head felt light, and he had to blink just to stay focused. But every time he looked at Chanyeol, something in those dark eyes made his stomach twist.
Before he could even think about excusing himself, the world suddenly went black.
When he opened his eyes again, he felt as though he had awakened in a dream. The room was far too luxurious to be familiar. The bed felt impossibly soft beneath him, the blankets warm and comforting. For a moment, he wondered if he was still asleep.
Then that same, familiar, deep voice reached him. “Are you alright, my dear?”
Baekhyun jerked, startled, and turned to find Chanyeol seated beside the bed. He could feel himself turning red instantly. His mind scrambled to recall what happened, and his voice came out small and frightened.
“W‑What happened?”
“You fainted,” Chanyeol explained gently. “The drinks were stronger than you realised.”
Baekhyun immediately checked his clothes, his skin, every part of himself for signs of anything amiss. He finally breathed out when he realized nothing had been touched.
Chanyeol watched the entire flustered display with knitted brows. “Are you certain you are alright?”
Oops. That was embarrassing. He shook his head quickly, offering an apologetic, shy smile. “S‑Sorry… I just panicked.”
Like, why would a man so dignified like him touch a mere peasant like him? In his dreams.
Instead of appearing offended, the man seemed almost endeared. He coaxed Baekhyun into taking the medicine on the bedside table, then called room service for warm hangover soup. Baekhyun felt really touched. Well, embarrassed, but he was deeply grateful.
It felt awful to sip his soup while Chanyeol was watching him. Baekhyun wanted to drown right there in the bowl and never come back up. What made it worse was knowing he had been thinking those things about someone who had only ever been kind to him.
The silence was so awkward and heavy with his scrambling thoughts. He wanted to thank Chanyeol properly. He wanted to repay his kindness. He wanted to say something intelligent, or at least coherent.
But when Chanyeol softly said his name, “Baekhyun?”, the sound startled him so badly he just blurted out…
“F‑Fuck me!”
The room froze.
Chanyeol blinked. Baekhyun blinked faster. His heart dropped straight to the center of the earth.
“Pardon?” Chanyeol asked, sounding both amused and confused.
Baekhyun had no explanation. His mind spun, his embarrassment flared, yet something strange and stubborn stirred in his chest when he finally met the man’s gaze.
“I‑I want you to… f‑fuck me,” he whispered, trembling but earnest. “N‑Not only to thank you… but to begin our first day as f‑friends?”
Aack!!
He wanted to hide under the blankets after saying it. Yet Chanyeol only stared at him, expression shifting, darkening in a way Baekhyun had seen once before.
“Friends,” Chanyeol repeated softly. “With certain benefits involved?”
Baekhyun swallowed hard and nodded.
And that was how they met.
He did not know the man before him would one day become Byul’s father.
He did not know Chanyeol’s world, his influence, or the danger surrounding his life.
All he knew was that this night, disastrous as it began, had placed him in the hands of the man who would upend his life and never allow it to return to what it once was.
Baekhyun never expected anything to follow after that first night. He had already tucked it away in his heart as one of those rare, beautiful memories a person keeps for comfort on lonely evenings.
Surely it was sweet, and truly unforgettable.
A single night with a man who had been strangely kind to him when the world had been painfully cruel. Perhaps Chanyeol merely wished to soothe the wounds of a humiliated teacher. Or perhaps he simply wanted to offer warmth where Baekhyun stood trembling.
Whatever the reason, Baekhyun assumed it ended there.
He had not told Chanyeol about his innocence, but he suspected the man realized it quickly enough. Chanyeol had paused at the first breach, concern flashing across his features as he quietly asked whether Baekhyun had indeed never done this before. The pain was sharp, (because, heavens, he was huge) but Baekhyun clung to him anyway, whispering pleas he did not know he possessed. The man obliged anyway, that by morning, Baekhyun just found himself boneless and breathless from the experience.
He thought that would be the last he saw of him.
But the gallant stranger called for him again—and again—and again. Not once, not twice, but several times each month. Three months into their surprising arrangement, their most recent encounter had left Baekhyun convinced the man was trying to empty his entire soul into him.
How he discovered Chanyeol’s identity was less dramatic than one might imagine. The hints had been there from the start: the exclusive lounge, the expensive drinks, the luxury of the hotel room. Still, Baekhyun chose not to assume anything. It was only during their afterglow conversations—when Chanyeol, oddly humble, claimed he merely worked hard for the luxuries he enjoyed—that Baekhyun truly wondered.
A simple search answered him. Park Chanyeol was old money. A chaebol. A titan in the business world. A man whose shadow stretched across industries Baekhyun had only read about.
Their arrangement continued, though the meetings were never frequent. And he understood perfectly. Recovering from their sessions was nearly a second job; walking into his classroom limping was a peril he refused to risk. Children, with their wide eyes and sharp minds, noticed everything, and Baekhyun would rather battle dragons than endure their innocent scrutiny.
However, weeks passed after their last encounter, something in his body began to behave oddly. He was nauseated every morning. His patience shortened. His palate shifted in strange ways, everything either tasted magical or revolting. At first he blamed the stress of work, but when the vomiting persisted and fatigue clung to him like a heavy shawl, he knew he needed help.
Jongdae, his close friend, accompanied him to the clinic. There were questions, examinations, and blood tests. But when the doctor requested an additional urine sample, Baekhyun felt his stomach turn cold with dread. He asked him to take a pregnancy test, just in case.
And then some minutes later, two little lines sealed his fate.
Pregnant.
And with a horrifying jolt, Baekhyun remembered the days he had forgotten to take his pills. Especially the last night, where Chanyeol’s determination could have set entire empires ablaze.
He was in trouble.
He wrestled with the decision for days. Should he end it while it was still so small? Or confront the father, a man undeniably intelligent and perhaps capable of offering advice an overwhelmed teacher desperately needed?
Three days later, Chanyeol called for him. Baekhyun arrived at the presidential suite with his heart trembling, his words already rehearsed and his courage borrowed from thin air.
However, he was not prepared to hear Chanyeol speaking on the phone with his mother.
“Not now, Mother. I am not ready to settle down. I am far too busy…”
He swore his heart had stopped for a second. His face drained of colour. Every fragile thread of courage snapped at once.
He could not tell him. Not now. Not when he was so clearly unwanted in the path of this man’s future.
That night, Baekhyun allowed Chanyeol to hold him again—to kiss him, touch him, soothe him—one last time. It felt like saying farewell to something he never truly possessed. He feared the Parks, feared what they would do if they discovered he carried their heir. And if Chanyeol himself did not wish to settle or have a child, then Baekhyun had no place in that world.
And so, he resolved to end the pregnancy. He went back to the OB-GYN clinic, hoping they would allow him to go through with the procedure.
But his doctor urged him to undergo a scan first, if only to understand what he was choosing.
With a trembling heart, Baekhyun lay on the examination bed. The cool gel spread across his abdomen made him shiver. The transducer pressed lightly against his skin, gliding until it found what it was looking for. A small adjustment of the knob, and suddenly the room filled with a steady, powerful sound.
A heartbeat.
Strong. Alive.
Baekhyun’s breath caught. His eyes widened and locked onto the monitor as though terrified to blink.
“You are fourteen weeks pregnant, my dear,” the doctor said warmly. “Your baby is thriving.”
His eyes burned, and then he was crying. All the dread weighing on him melted away in an instant.
He wanted this child.
He truly wanted this child.
Baekhyun made his choice. He resigned from his job, packed his belongings, and left the city for his parents’ quiet province. He braced himself for the scolding he would undoubtedly receive, but none of that mattered now. He needed distance from the storm that was Park Chanyeol.
If Chanyeol did not want a child, then that was his choice.
Baekhyun wanted this baby. And he was keeping it.
Some years later…
It was, quite decidedly, the saddest family day Baekhyun had ever attended.
He sat with his son on a modest checkered mat that had seen better years, spread neatly over a patch of grass that was not quite level. Around them, other families had come prepared with grand picnic blankets, folding chairs, towering baskets, and elaborate spreads. Laughter drifted on the breeze, children squealed, and camera shutters clicked as parents tried to capture every perfect moment.
Baekhyun fixed his smile in place and tried not to let his heart sink.
Their own offerings were simple. A small lunchbox with neatly cut sandwiches, a single thermos of juice, and a packet of biscuits he had picked up on sale the night before. It was not nothing, he reminded himself of that often. They had a roof, food, and clothes that were clean if not always new. But today, surrounded by the shimmer of other people’s abundance, their modest life felt terribly bare.
Byul sat tucked against his side, legs folded, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their thin mat. He was three years old and the very centre of Baekhyun’s world. Baekhyun had named him Byul because he was the light that had appeared when everything else had seemed so impossibly dark.
Life, however, remained quite fond of cruel ironies.
For all the months Baekhyun had carried him, for all the pain of bringing him into the world, the boy had still inherited so much from his other father. The round, manhwa-like eyes. The distinctive, perky ears. Even the shape of his mouth when he pouted—there was no mistaking it.
No test was needed. Anyone with sense could see whose child he was.
Baekhyun had always known there would come a day when Byul asked about his other parent. He had prepared lines in his head, half-truths softened with warmth, gentle explanations that might spare his heart. He had simply hoped that day would not arrive quite so soon.
“Mommy,” Byul asked suddenly, voice small but clear, “where’s my daddy?”
And he wasn’t ready for that.
His son’s head tilted slightly, curiosity bright in his big eyes. Around them, classmates were surrounded with their mothers, fathers, and even grandparents. Some families sat three generations thick. Children ran back to arms that caught them easily.
And there they were. Just the two of them on their little mat.
Baekhyun felt something inside him crumple. Truly, he was not ready. There was actually no plan, no tidy script to follow. Byul was too young to be burdened by the ugliness of adult choices. Too small to feel abandoned by someone who had never even seen him.
He reached out, cupped his son’s soft cheek, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Far away, love,” he said, summoning a smile he hoped would be enough.
Byul’s brows pinched together. “He won’t come? When will Daddy come?” The question wobbled at the end, weighted with confusion and innocence.
Baekhyun pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling. A single tear would undo him, and if he started, he feared he might never stop. He inhaled slowly, then forced his voice to stay light.
“Maybe soon, baby love,” he murmured. “And Mommy’s here, hmm? You and me… we always have each other.”
Byul stared at him for a heartbeat longer, lips still turned down, before nodding slowly.
Mercifully, Jongdae arrived at that exact moment as though summoned by sheer desperation. He sat down beside them with a rustle of plastic bags and an energy bright enough to cut through their gloom. His gaze flicked from Baekhyun’s carefully schooled expression to Byul’s unhappy pout, and understanding sank in his features without a word spoken.
“I brought strawberry cupcakes,” Jongdae announced, pulling out a small box with exaggerated flourish. “Look, Byul… your favourite.”
The child’s innocent eyes instantly widened, the sorrow in them easing for a moment as curiosity and delight took over. “For me?”
“For you,” Jongdae replied, beaming. “And your mommy, of course. But mostly you.”
The cupcakes did their magic. For a while, Byul was too busy getting frosting on his lips and crumbs on his shirt to think about anything else. Baekhyun watched him eat, felt affection swell up so fiercely in his chest, and yet the earlier question still echoed in his mind.
His child was clever. Quick. Far too observant for his age. Baekhyun knew, deep down, that cupcakes and tender lies would not satisfy him forever.
He did not want to lie. If life had been kinder, he would have been honest from the very beginning. But the world he had walked away from was not kind, and the Parks were not merely wealthy; they were powerful in ways that frightened him. They removed obstacles. They erased problems. Baekhyun had vowed, the day he left, that his son would never become either of those things to them.
As Byul concentrated on demolishing his treat, Jongdae’s hand found his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Baekhyun looked up and was met with a soft, understanding smile.
“Come on, Baekhyunee,” Jongdae said quietly. “It will be alright. He’ll understand one day. You’re enough for him. More than enough. And I’m here. You’re not doing this alone.”
Baekhyun’s lips curved into a faint smile in return. He wanted to believe him. He truly did.
He glanced back at Byul, only to find his son already watching him. Those familiar, round eyes—so painfully reminiscent of another man—held nothing but trust and love.
You’re enough.
More than enough.
The ache in his heart softened as he looked at his son. They didn’t have much, but they had love, and somehow that made everything feel a little less scary. Byul was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and no missing father or rich family was going to change that.
He had made the right choice. He knew this with absolute certainty. He had no idea what might have become of them had he told Chanyeol the truth years ago. Every possibility his imagination conjured veered toward danger.
Still… there were moments when his mind wandered.
How is Chanyeol doing now? Is he married already?
The thought struck him unexpectedly, leaving a faint, bittersweet taste behind. Baekhyun shook it away. It was none of his concern. Their worlds had parted the day he left, and there was safety in that distance.
Far from the schoolyard, however, the distance was not nearly as wide as he believed.
Park Chanyeol sat in the back seat of a sleek car parked discreetly just beyond the gates, the engine idling in low, expensive silence. From where he sat, he could see the field, the coloured banners, the clusters of laughing families. And among them, he saw a small boy with round eyes and familiar ears sitting on an old checkered mat beside a very recognisable figure.
His dark eyes glinted, not with surprise, but with something sharper, something that felt like curiosity twisted with certainty and possession.
“I am here now, sweetheart,” he murmured, rich with promise, “and this time, I am not leaving without you.”
Baekhyun did not know that his quiet life was already beginning to tilt.
He left Byul in Jongdae’s careful watch for a short while when the principal summoned him to the teachers’ booth. There were forms to sign, schedules to confirm, and a handful of trivial matters that required his attention. It was supposed to be a brief errand. The school grounds were crowded with parents and staff; it felt safe enough to step away.
He lost track of time. He was mid-discussion about the next activity when the booth door burst open and Jongdae stumbled in, pale and shaking.
“Baekhyun!”
Baekhyun shot to his feet, heart lurching at the sight of his friend’s tear-filled eyes. “Hey, what happened—”
“Byul!” Jongdae choked out. “B-Byul… Baekhyun, he’s—he’s gone!”
For a heartbeat, everything inside Baekhyun went silent. The world narrowed to that single, dreadful word.
Gone.
His knees nearly buckled, but panic had a way of forcing strength where none existed. “What do you mean gone?” he demanded, voice cracking. “Where is he? You were with him, Jongdae, where is my son?”
Jongdae dropped to his knees, sobbing openly now. “I-I just turned away for a second! Just a second… to throw something in the bin. When I looked back he wasn’t on the mat anymore. I’ve searched everywhere. I can’t find him, Baekhyun, I’m so sorry—”
Baekhyun did not wait to hear the rest. His body moved before his mind caught up. He ran.
The next hours blurred into a nightmare that refused to end. He tore through the school grounds, calling Byul’s name until his throat burned. Teachers and parents joined the search. Classrooms were checked. Bathrooms, storage rooms, playground corners, every hidden gap a small body might fit into. Each time someone shook their head, another piece of Baekhyun’s soul seemed to splinter.
He was so scared.
The authorities were called, their questions were expected, almost scripted, and their reassurances painfully slow. Baekhyun stood there, trembling and wild-eyed, as they told him to stay calm. To wait. To trust the process. Wait, when his child was missing. Wait, when each passing minute felt like a new kind of torture.
He could not wait. Not like this.
At one point, he found himself back by the now-empty mat, knees sinking into the grass as he clutched a discarded cupcake wrapper in his shaking hand. He should never have left. Not even for a moment. It was his fault. If anything happened to Byul…
“Where do I even start?” he trembled. “How am I supposed to find you, baby?”
He was not powerful. He did not command wealth or influence. He was just a teacher who packed careful lunches and tried to dress well despite a limited salary. To the world, he was one more ordinary man in a sea of worried faces.
And yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a single thought pushed its way through the panic.
Influence.
It was a desperate idea. Reckless. Dangerous. But it was all he had left.
He needed someone who could search faster than the authorities. Someone who could move people and systems with a single call. Someone who would not accept “wait” as an answer.
He needed Park Chanyeol.
It was, he realized with a sick twist of irony, about time he told the man he had a son.