Chapter Text
Jongin first arrived at the Park manor in March.
The day was sunny, although, as usual for March, cold. Jongin, with what few belongings he owned in tow, left his sister’s house at five, caught the train he was supposed to take at six, and reached the countryside station at ten. The Park family had kindly provided a car as well as a chauffeur, so he hopped in and let himself be driven for the next half an hour.
The chauffeur, a gruff, middle-aged beta called Minho, didn’t say a word throughout the entirety of the ride, and Jongin was fine with that.
Once they finally arrived at the manor, the first thing that caught his eye was the garden: despite the thick layer of snow, the bushes were trimmed to the point of perfection, the lamps were well-oiled and cleaned, and the stone trail towards the house was already cleared from snow and dusted. Not a hair was out of place, and the precision of the entire scenario made Jongin’s skin itch.
He left the car with a quiet goodbye and looked at the building. The whole thing was quite wide and had three or four floors in total, but Jongin couldn’t be sure because of the weird way in which the windows were arranged. The house was built with red, expensive-looking brick and finished with white frames around the windows, balconies and the roof.
It was… well. Grand, but at the same time not too posh, as if its owners wanted other people to think they are not as rich as they truly are.
Jongin heaved a sigh and walked towards the entrance. He wiped his sweaty–sweaty! in this weather!–hands down his coat and, using the golden knocker, knocked on the door.
A minute or two passed before an elderly man came into his view, “Good morning,” he said. Jongin sensed that he was probably an alpha, “Mr. Kim Jongin?”
He nodded, “Yes,” Jongin replied, “I was hired as a handyman. My notice said 12th, so, uh, here I am.”
The man let him inside, and Jongin barely bit down the sigh of relief at the warmth that hit him after he stepped through the threshold, “My name is Lee Seungjae and I am Mr. Park’s butler,” he started as he led Jongin through the main corridor, “I suppose you already know it, but you will be living alongside other alpha servants in the hunting house at the end of the backyard. There are three meals every day: breakfast at six, dinner at two, supper at seven. Being late without an excuse is not tolerated, and that includes not only meals but all of your duties as well.”
“My duties?”
Seungjae looked at him as if he grew a second head, “You will be given a list later. It’s close to two, so you will most likely meet other servants then. You will also sign the documents and choose whether you want to receive your salary weekly or monthly.”
Then, Seungjae stopped in his tracks and headed inside of something that looked like a supply closet, “You are given two free days every month, and the rest are either full or half-days, depending on the schedule. You can ask for additional leave for, for example, family reasons. Mr. and Mrs. Park are, in most cases, kind enough to allow it.”
Hearing the words made his blood boil and scent spike, but it’s not like he could say anything. His sister already warned him that the fact that he got the job was nothing short of a miracle, “Thank you.”
“You have nothing to thank me for,” the man replied and shrugged on the coat he got from the supply closet, “It’s their generosity, you see,” he said and led Jongin outside, presumably to the hunting house, “I’ve been working for this family since I was about your age, and they always treated me and other workers with respect–both Mr. Park and his father before him. The pay is never late, the food is always on the table, and the clothes we are given are of good quality.”
Jongin nodded and followed Seungjae to the hunting house. It was designed in a similar fashion as the manor, but it was considerably smaller and less ornate. The inside was warm, though, and Jongin’s room–his own!–was spacious and clean.
“This space is for you to use. Though, once a week, I do a cleaning inspection to check whether the standards of the house are maintained,” the man said, “Da-In, one of the maids, will bring you your work clothes tomorrow morning. After the tour, the rest of the day is free for you to do as you please.”
Jongin nodded, content enough that he will get some time to rest after the hectic morning, “Thank you.”
Seungjae gave him a wry smile, “I forgot to mention, but it’s very likely that Mr. Park will call you to his office to meet you–it’s a tradition of both his and Mrs. Park’s, but the latter is not present in the house at the moment.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he only nodded, “Will you be the one giving me the tour?”
“Oh, no,” Seungjae waved a hand, “I will call Mr. Song or Sung-ki to walk you through the house. For now, you can use the time to unpack your belongings.”
Jongin looked down at the meager, worn-out leather bag his sister had given him that held some of his clothes and toilettes and, with a sigh, nodded, “Alright.”
*
Sung-ki, one of the alpha hallboys, came to his room roughly an hour later, “Hello!”
The man had entirely too much enthusiasm for Jongin’s liking, but, nonetheless, showed Jongin all the places that he needed to see for now, as well as explained some of his duties, “It will be mostly work around the house, you see–chopping wood, carrying things, repairing stuff. Nothing too serious,” Sung-ki said as he clapped Jongin on the shoulder, “You know, the previous guy had gotten a girl pregnant, and they had to move to live closer to the girl’s family, so that’s why the spot had to be filled in so quickly–”
Jongin didn’t know what to do with that information, “I see.”
“–he was so sad to go, though,” Sung-ki finally took his hand away from Jongin’s shoulder, “Anyways. You got his room, you lucky bastard. Everyone wanted it.”
“Yeah?” Jongin raised an eyebrow, “Why?”
Sung-ki gave him a sly smile, “Because,” he leaned closer to whisper, “It has the perfect view of the master bedroom. Sometimes, when they forget to draw back the curtains, you can see everything.”
He grimaced, “What?”
“Oh, not like that!” Sung-ki laughed at Jongin’s expression and rushed to explain, “You see–Mrs. Park is very beautiful. The most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen, and to just… catch a glimpse, really, is…well, you will see. Mr. Park is one lucky alpha.”
Jongin scoffed, “You can’t be serious.”
Sung-ki smiled and repeated, “You will see.”
Sung-ki then led him downstairs, where the servants who lived in the manor had their rooms and where all servants ate their meals. Jongin was introduced to two fellow handymen, more hallboys, the cook, the housemaids and the valets, as well as the gardener and the second chauffeur. Everyone was kind to him, and he was surprised to see how happy and at ease they seemed.
Maybe work here wouldn’t be so bad.
*
After dinner, Jongin went back to his room and unpacked the rest of his belongings.
Once done, he absentmindedly looked outside of the window and, true to Sung-ki words, saw that the view led straight to one of the windows in the manor: it was the biggest set of windows there, so Jongin assumed that it truly must be the master bedroom, “Huh.”
He didn’t have time to think about it before a knock echoed on the door to his bedroom, “Yes?”
Another hallboy, Yul, came in, “Mr. Park would like to see you, now,” he said, “Seungjae told you about it, right?”
Jongin nodded, “Yeah,” he replied, “He said that it’s a tradition, of sorts.”
“Mhm,” Yul opened the door, “It’s just a conversation with the two of them–well, Mrs. Park is absent, so it’s only Mr. Park–and it lasts maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Just the typical what brings you here? What were you doing before?” he said, “And they even pretend to be interested!”
He snorted, “Well,” he followed Yul outside of the hunting house. It was only around five, but the sky was almost dark from the clouds, “How are they? Mr. and Mrs. Park, I mean.”
“Nice,” Yul answered, “Fair, too. Understanding. Sometimes…” he paused, “Well, sometimes they argue and the mood in the house is horrid, but it only lasts a few days or however long it takes Mr. Park to please Mrs. Park again.”
“Really?” Jongin questioned, “Is he that type of an alpha, then?”
Yul laughed, “You wouldn’t believe it.”
They walked through the house again, this time to the right wing on the second floor where Mr. Park’s office was. Yul stopped in front of the door and gave Jongin an encouraging pat on the back, “Good luck.”
Jongin nodded and then followed Yul inside, “Mr. Park,” the man bowed, “I brought our new handyman, Kim Jongin.”
Mr. Park looked up from his desk and gave them a smile. He was young, Jongin observed, maybe in the middle of his thirties. He had a pleasant face: round, with big eyes and equally big ears, and his expression was kind and earnest. His hair was slicked back neatly and he wore a dress shirt that looked like it cost Jongin’s monthly salary, “Thank you.”
Jongin bowed and observed as the other man–the other alpha –stood up from his seat and walked towards both him and Yul.
Mr. Park extended a hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Jongin.”
The man towered over him–both literally and figuratively–but Jongin wasn’t phased, “Likewise, Mr. Park.”
Something glinted in the other alpha’s eye, “Leave us, Yul,” he instructed and then stepped towards the drinking cabinet, “Would you like a glass of bourbon? It’s quite good, I got it from my brother-in-law.”
“You needn’t trouble–”
“–ah, don’t worry,” Mr. Park poured them both a glass and then motioned for Jongin to sit on the chair in front of his desk, “That’s the most I can do, truly.”
Jongin settled himself and accepted the glass, “Thank you.”
They looked at each other for a hot minute, and then Mr. Park began, “How are you enjoying yourself so far?”
“Uh,” Jongin squeezed his knees, “It’s been quite nice–the people, especially. Everyone’s been kind and helpful. And the house… it’s quite beautiful, too.”
Mr. Park smiled, “I’m glad, then,” he said, “Seungjae walked you through the rules and duties, I take it?”
“Yes, he was kind enough to do so.”
The other man nodded, “Good,” he brought out a stack of papers from one of the drawers, "Would you like to receive your pay monthly or weekly?”
“Weekly, sir.”
“Alright,” Mr. Park answered and scribbled something down on one of the papers. After a minute or so, he put the pen down and looked at Jongin with a puzzled expression, “What brings you here, then? Seungjae told me you’ve been to America—a comeback here is quite surprising.”
Jongin inwardly grimaced, “I—well, my mother got sick and my sister asked me to come back.”
His mother had been dead for almost a decade, but Jongin figured she wouldn’t mind him lying about her for his own sake.
Mr. Park gave him a sympathetic look, “I am sorry to hear it. How is she?”
“Better, sir.”
“That’s good, then. Hope she makes a full recovery,” he smiled, “If need be, you can request a paid day off—did Seungjae tell you this?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered, “Thank you.”
Mr. Park waved a hand, “You’ve got nothing to thank me for—it’s common decency, nothing more. If there’s anything you will be needing help with, don’t hesitate to ask.”
He nodded his thanks and allowed himself to take a sip out of his glass. The stuff was strong—and better than anything Jongin had ever drank.
Mr. Park asked him some more questions about his life: his sisters, his nephews and nieces, his previous job at a big house, as well as his stay in America. Jongin answered as vaguely as possible, not wanting to drag this thing for longer than necessary.
The other alpha finally let him go once both of their drinks were finished, “Thank you for your time,” he said, “I hope that your work here will be enjoyable.”
Jongin smiled, bowed, and left the room.
*
On the very next morning, at 5AM sharp, a knock echoed on his door.
It was, as Seungjae promised, Da-In, “Good morning.”
Jongin looked at her, then at the sack of clothing that she carried, and then back at her, “Morning.”
“Not a morning person, Mr. Kim?”
“Yeah,” he took the clothes from her hands, “Thank you.”
Da-In nodded, “Don’t forget to go to Seungjae after breakfast–he has a list of your chores for today,” she said, “We usually get those right after breakfast, but for the first few days you need some more guidance.”
Jongin dressed himself, went to the communal bathroom to freshen up and headed for breakfast. Sung-ki was the first to greet him with a smile and a quiet, “Morning. How did you sleep?”
He hummed in reply, “Good morning,” Jongin leaned closer, “Pretty good, all things considered.”
“All things considered?”
"You know, new place and all that–and the hour is ungodly.”
Sung-ki raised an eyebrow, “Ungodly? Weren’t you working in service before?”
Jongin, “I was but,” he paused–what was he supposed to say? That he had tasted a better life and considered waking up at five the biggest chore of them all? “I never got used to it, I guess.”
“You better do now,” Sung-ki looked up at Seungjae, who was busy discussing something with the head maid, Mrs. Han, “Because Seungjae will forgive you for a lot, but not for being late.”
He lifted his hand in a mocking salute, “Noted.”
*
“Alright,” Seungjae said, “The last thing you will have to do today is to carry the chopped logs to the master bedroom–do you know where it is?”
“I can find my way through the house, yeah.”
“Alright, you do that,” the alpha replied, “Once there, start a small fire–only enough to heat up the room and push through the dust in the chimney. Mr. Park won’t be sleeping there anyways.”
Oh? “Why not?”
"Mrs. Park is not present,” Seungjae explained matter-of-factly, “Mr. Park doesn’t sleep there alone.”
Huh , “Where does he sleep, then?”
“In his old room,” Seungjae raised an eyebrow, as if what he was saying was the most obvious thing ever, “Now, there’s no time for idle gossip, you need to start on–”
*
The corridor that led to the master bedroom was only dimly lit, but Jongin found the door quickly enough.
The room was as beautiful as the rest of the house: the walls were covered in sage green wallpaper and finished off with dark, mahogany panels. The furniture was made out of the same material as the wooden panels, only each piece had a special engraving on it: flowers, tiny birds, animals, mushrooms; everything was so detailed Jongin had to take a double take to make sure it’s actually real.
(He felt bad about snooping around but hey–it’s not every day you get to see your employers’ bedroom.)
Perhaps the grandest object was the bed: a giant, canopy piece covered in silk, red sheets. It was obvious that it hadn’t been slept in for quite some time, since the pillows lost some of their original fluffiness and the corners of the covers were pressed so tightly one would have to yank them out by force.
Besides the ornate furniture, there were plenty of paintings as well as pictures. Jongin had only seen a few in his life, and had his taken maybe once or twice back in America, but Mr. and Mrs. Park had an entire collection.
The first photograph, settled right in the center of the cabinet, was, as Jongin assumed, their wedding picture. It was his first time seeing Mrs. Park and, shit, he had to give it to Sung-ki–the omega was absolutely breathtaking.
He looked very young, and Jongin assumed that he was probably closer to his age rather than to Mr. Park’s. The first thing that drew Jongin's attention were, well, his lips: big and plush and, on top of everything, heart-shaped. Then, despite the graininess of the picture, Jongin could make out a few moles and birthmarks that covered his cheeks and chin. Further up, he noticed the omega’s nose that was straight and symmetrical to the point of perfection.
And then–then he looked at Mrs. Park’s eyes.
They were big and round–perfectly doe and a little owlish, if you asked Jongin, but they didn’t make him look weird. Intriguing, more like.
Jongin picked up the photograph and looked at it closely: despite the fact that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Park were smiling in it, the air around them was nice–comfortable to a degree that it was obvious that they were one of the few lucky upper-class marriages that were joined by love, not money.
He turned the piece around and looked at the date that read twenty-second of August, 1905, which meant that they had been married for five years. Huh .
Jongin put the photograph back on its rightful place and examined other photos: there were mostly pictures of what he thought were family members–mothers, fathers, siblings, and so forth.
After a few minutes, Jongin stepped away from the cabinet with one last look towards the wedding picture. He couldn’t help himself; he wanted to have one last look at Mrs. Park’s eyes.
*
During his second week of work at the Park manor, he woke up to an incredible ruckus.
He went down for breakfast at 5:45 only to find the dining room in a state of complete disarray: half of the servants were missing, and the other half was eating something very hastily created, “What’s going on?”
Soyoung, one of the scullery maids, replied between bites, “We just got word that Mrs. Park is coming back today,” she said, “Earlier than expected.”
Jongin scratched the back of his head, “Why is everyone panicking?” He asked, “It’s not like the house is in ruins.”
“Well, no,” she agreed, “But–well, let us just say that Mrs. Park is much less lenient about any shortcomings in terms of housekeeping. Every detail matters, I kid you not.”
He heaved a sigh, “Really?”
“Really,” Soyoung sighed, “He’s not mean or anything but he just…looks displeased. Comments, sometimes. It’s been worse these past few months, you know, with the issues with the inheritance and the mis–”
“–Soyoung,” Mrs. Han scolded sharply from where she was sitting at the head of the table, “You know better than to gossip about Mr. and Mrs. Park.”
Soyoung swallowed the bite of her food and bowed, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Han.”
The head maid then turned towards Jongin, “And you?” she raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you have any work to do?”
“I haven’t eaten any breakfast yet–”
“–then better do it quickly,” she huffed, “Seungjae will be here any minute to deliver you the list.”
*
Since six, Jongin had cleaned up the balustrade at the front of the house, oiled the creaky hinges in six pairs of doors, dusted the entire road from the gate to the house, collected the traps settled in the snow and wiped the windowsills of all the windows on the ground floor.
It was only eleven.
He was busy collecting the supplies to fix up one of the railings in the stable when Taehyun, one of the valets, came running to him, “Jongin,” he said, “Good to see you! Listen–Yul is not feeling well, and San is busy with the silver, so you need to help with the luggage.”
“Now?” He looked at himself–while he wasn’t dirty per se, he definitely could use a wash after all the day’s work, “I’m dirty.”
“You don’t look half bad,” Taehyun assured him, “And you are handsome enough for no one to notice it, c’mon.”
Jongin rolled his eyes but followed Taehyun back to the big house, “Has Mrs. Park arrived, then?”
The beta shook his head, “Not yet,” he gave Jongin a look, “But he’s supposed to be here any minute–Mr. Park is beside himself.”
“How long has he been gone, then?”
“A month or so,” Taehyun opened the backdoor and let Jongin inside, “He’s been visiting his brother.”
Jongin hummed and went to one of the bathrooms to wash his hands and his face to look at least a bit more presentable. Although, in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t really care about Mrs. Park's opinion of him, the alpha felt like he ought to make a good first impression.
He went towards the front door of the house where, true to Taehyun's words, Mr. Park was already pacing around with a big smile on his face. Seungjae, Taehyun, Sung-ki and Kwanghee stood still next to him, and the picture they all painted was pretty funny.
Five men to carry one person’s luggage, damn–just how much junk did Mrs. Park carry around? Though, Jongin supposed, it was a month-long stay.
As he stepped closer to the entire group, he first caught Seungjae’s unimpressed–no doubt at his appearance–eyes, and then he moved his gaze towards Mr. Park, who gave him a smile, “Long time no see, Jongin. Thank you for your assistance.”
Jongin wanted to say likewise or joke around the fact that they don’t exactly run around in the same circles, but instead he just bowed and returned the smile.
They stood in silence for a few more minutes before a sound of a car could be heard from the front, “They are finally here,” Mr. Park laughed.
They left the house and stood, like little ducklings followed by the biggest mallard, in the front yard. Surely enough, after another minute, a sleek, black car appeared in the distance. It was followed by another car, probably the one where all the luggage they were supposed to carry was stored, and they both came to a stop right in the middle of the yard.
Mr. Park wiped his hands down his coat and quickly started walking towards the cars. Jongin didn’t know whether or not he, as well as others, were supposed to follow, but seeing as Seungjae hadn't moved an inch, he figured they had to stay still.
The front door to the first car opened and a chauffeur Jongin hadn’t seen before stepped out. He moved around the vehicle and rushed to open the backdoor but was ultimately stopped by Mr. Park who made a here, let me gesture.
The alpha of the house took the handle and opened the door to reveal a very delicate, gloved hand. It was too far for Jongin to hear what was being said, but, after a second, Mrs. Park finally emerged from the vehicle.
The omega was as beautiful as he was in the wedding picture, if not more.
Even though he was bundled from head to toe, his face was still well visible: the soft-looking cheeks, heart-shaped lips, as well as round eyes. Mrs. Park was a bit flushed from the cold, and his eyes were really glassy as if he were sick, but it only added to his charm.
Jongin observed as the omega gave his husband a soft, pleased smile and accepted the offered elbow. The couple moved towards the house and stopped only to exchange pleasantries with Seungjae and some of the staff that stood closer to the butler than Jongin or Sung-ki did.
“Yes, much better, thank you,” Mrs. Park replied in a surprisingly deep voice, “A beta girl, yes. My brother is over the moon… She is so adorable, and so calm, too. Sleeps through the night and settles easily.”
Mr. Park said something, then, but Jongin couldn’t hear what it was very well. Both Seungjae and Mrs. Park laughed, though, so he guessed it must have been some joke related to the baby–probably the Park’s newest niece–that was being discussed.
Mrs. Park looked first at his husband, and then his gaze moved somewhere else. His eyes turned melancholic, and, as they absent-mindedly traveled around the frozen garden, they finally reached the servants. The omega looked first at Taehyun and Kwanghee, then at Sung-Ki, and then, finally, at Jongin.
The moment they locked eyes, Jongin felt as if a bolt of lightning went right through him: he stood still, barely daring to breathe or blink, and he had no idea whether it had been seconds or hours before the omega tore his eyes away and once again focused on his husband.
The couple chatted for a bit more and then retreated to the house. Seungjae shooed them right to work and, as they were unpacking a bunch of valises, another car approached.
This time, whoever sat in the back let themselves out and immediately called out, “Has Mrs. Park gone to the house already?”
“Yes,” Taehyun answered, “What happened to hello, Baekhyun?”
The newcomer–Baekhyun–rolled his eyes and stepped closer, “You say that as if you missed me,” he examined the state of valises and people who were carrying them, “Hey,” he pointed at Jongin, “You are not Yul.”
Jongin stopped in his tracks, “I’m afraid not.”
Baekhyun walked towards him. He was slightly shorter than Jongin, very pretty–not like Mrs. Park, but close–and smelled like a beta, “I’m Baekhyun, Mrs. Park's personal valet,” he extended a hand, “And you?”
“I’m Jongin,” he replied and shook the beta’s hand, “I’ve been hired here as a handyman.”
“Ah, right,” Baekhyun hummed, “Hyunjae got that girl pregnant and left.”
Seungjae stopped in his tracks, “Baekhyun,” he scolded, “Must you always be so vulgar?”
“Oh, please,” the beta waved a hand, “It’s the truth,” he stepped away, “Anyway–I need to go back to the big house. Mrs. Park has been unwell these past few days.”
“That’s why you returned early?”
The beta sighed, “Yes, partially,” he said. “The new baby–well, it was not good for Mrs. Park to stay there.”
Seungjae made a non-committed sound and then he and Baekhyun had some sort of a staring contest. The old butler had apparently lost it, because he just clicked his tongue and waved for Baekhyun to go back inside.
Jongin wanted to ask what was that about, but figured that if he did so now Seungjae would scold him. And he had a sense that Baekhyun would not disclose such information to him, anyway.
*
In the evening, Jongin, as usual, was delegated to bring up wood and coal to the master bedroom.
He didn’t know whether or not there was a different protocol to be followed now that both Mr. and Mrs. Park were going to be there, so he just stood in front of the door and knocked–once, twice, and then for the third time to no avail.
Jongin heaved a panicked sigh: he didn’t want to interrupt, but he also didn’t want–couldn’t, really–leave the wood and coal by the door. The alpha knocked once more to test the waters but, hearing no reply, finally decided to let himself in.
No one was in the room, so he fully stepped in and closed the door behind himself. Nothing about the room visibly changed, though the air was much different: instead of the somewhat neutral smell, it was now covered in both Mr. Park and, what Jongin assumed, Mrs. Park scent.
While Jongin got used to the overbearing smell of amber, vanilla, and juniper that radiated from the alpha of the household, the omega smelt more delicately, like a mixture of white flowers–lilies and jasmine–and, out of everything, saltwater. His scent was mixed with the one of the alpha’s, as was bound to be since they were mates, but it was not oppressive in the same fashion.
He licked his lips and walked towards the chimney. The coal and wood from the morning were already cleaned by one of the maids, so he only had to put it all inside and lit it up. It was simple and quick enough, and after maybe five minutes he already had a nice fire going. Jongin stirred it with a poker and then, satisfied, prepared to leave. That was when he heard–
“–Chanyeol,” a voice called– the voice, “Have you seen my seal anywhere? I need to send word to my brother that I arrived safely.” The omega, dressed only in a flimsy nightgown and a robe, stepped into the room from the en-suite bathroom, “Oh.”
Jongin swallowed, “Uh.”
“You are not my husband.”
“No,” Jongin shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the person in front of him. Mrs. Park had his hair down and thrown over one of his shoulders, and the nightgown he was wearing was cut in a way that perfectly showed off the thick scar tissue around his bondmark, "No, I–uh, I was sent here to start up the fire.”
Mrs. Park nodded and crossed his arms on his chest, “It’s alright,” he examined Jongin’s face, “You are the new handyman, right? Chanyeol told me about hiring someone new.”
“That’s right,” he replied, “Kim Jongin. I started working here two weeks ago.”
“Kim Jongin,” the omega repeated, as if tasting the name, "And how are enjoying yourself so far, Jongin?”
“The job is nice and people are really kind, Mrs. Park.”
Mrs. Park looked at him for what felt like hours–but could be seconds, at most–and then turned around to sit by the desk, “I’m glad, then,” he said, “I have to finish a letter, please don’t mind me.”
Jongin wanted to say–cry out, really– how could I, how could I mind? But, obviously, couldn’t, so he only nodded and continued on with his work.
*
That night, after Jongin blew out all of the candles in his room, he looked at the window situated opposite his.
The lights to the master bedroom were on, and he could see Mr. and Mrs. Park talk and laugh around. The omega was still by the desk, and the alpha was walking around the room, gesturing about something excitedly: even though Mr. Park was a pretty lighthearted guy on a daily basis, it was the happiest he had ever seen the man.
Shit, with an omega like that Jongin would’ve been the happiest man on Earth, too.
Mr. Park stopped walking around and stepped behind the chair on which Mrs. Park was sitting. He pointed at something on the desk, and then leaned down to wrap his arms around the omega.
Jongin averted his eyes, then, feeling like he was witnessing something he shouldn’t have.
*
Two days later, Jongin had to wake up earlier than usual to prepare guns for the hunt on which Mr. and Mrs. Park were going.
It was apparently Mr. Park’s idea, though, as Sung-ki told Jongin, both of them were keen on the sport. They took horses, usually, and disappeared somewhere for a few hours only to come back with a goose or two.
He hummed an old lullaby his sister used to sing to his nephews as he polished the metal thoroughly. The guns were not exactly new, but were still well kept and balanced to the point of perfection. Jongin could very well imagine how nice it was to shoot geese from a toy like that.
The alpha raised the piece to his chest and stood in a shooting stance, “That’s right,” Jongin said to himself and closed one of his eyes as if he were preparing to shoot something, “I bet it doesn’t ever get jammed.”
“It doesn’t,” a voice behind him said.
Jongin immediately turned around, gun still held in place, and spotted Mrs. Park at the entrance.
The omega immediately lifted his hands up in mock surrender, “Hey,” he said, “I hope you are not planning on using it.”
He immediately lowered the gun, “I’m sorry–”
“–don’t worry,” Mrs. Park stepped inside of the room, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t play jokes on someone holding a gun.”
Mrs. Park was dressed in riding gear from head to toe: he wore thigh high boots, dark pants and a long-ish, woolen coat. His black hair was put into an elaborate updo and hidden under a hat, and he wore leather gloves that looked soft even from afar.
Jongin swallowed and put the gun down, “It’s alright,” he mustered a nervous smile, “I–I shouldn’t be playing around like that, either.”
The omega returned his smile and picked up one of the guns, “Chanyeol received them as a gift after he finished his studies,” he said, "It must’ve been a decade ago, but, since then, they haven’t jammed even once.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but at that very moment Mr. Park came into the room, “Here you are,” he grinned, “Hello, Jongin–how are the guns?”
“Done, sir,” Jongin stepped away from Mrs. Park, “Perfectly oiled.”
“Thank you,” the alpha replied and extended a hand towards his husband, “Mr. Choi prepared the horses, are you ready?”
Mrs. Park nodded, “Yes,” he handed the gun he was holding to Mr. Park, and took the other one into his hands, “Thank you, Jongin.”
The omega was first to leave the room, and Jongin didn’t miss the way Mr. Park’s hand settled on the small on his back.
*
During the next two weeks, nothing happened.
Jongin did whatever duties Seungjae gave him without much complaint: cutting wood, fixing furniture, painting, maintaining the garden, stables, gates, doors, windows and such. It wasn’t exciting, but it wasn’t tiring either–it just, sort of, was.
The days passed quickly when you were busy, and he didn’t even get to enjoy his favorite duty–that is, carrying the wood and coal to the master bedroom–because the temperature was getting higher and there was no need to have the fire burning up the entire night.
That evening, Mr. and Mrs. Park were out because of a party that was being hosted by Mr. Park’s elder sister. They left in the early afternoon, and were not expected to return until tomorrow.
Since the couple was absent, Seungjae ordered him to clean up the chimney from the leftover ash and dirt. The task was annoying, but Jongin had his very first free day tomorrow so he could just take a bath and sleep till the afternoon.
Maybe I could go to the local pub later, he wondered as he deposited the ash from the chimney into the buckets, since I got here, I left the house twice. He sighed, “Maybe I could ask Sung-ki and Yul to come with me.”
He was about to put another shovel of ash away when the door banged open: it was Mrs. Park, still fully dressed in his fur coat and elegant suit, with a face shiny from what Jongin assumed was a crying fit.
Mrs. Park was immediately followed by his husband. The alpha was fully dressed as well, and had a very uncharacteristic scowl on his face; the man walked closer to the omega, who, with a very biting expression, stepped away and hissed, “Don’t you dare touch me.”
Neither of them noticed Jongin kneeling by the chimney.
“Love,” Mr. Park whispered–no, pleaded , more like, “Please–calm down.”
“You calm down.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
The omega visibly swallowed, “That’s exactly your problem,” Mrs. Park said, “You never do anything. You just–you just let them talk about me like that. To me, like that,” he continued, “Like I’m less for–”
“You know that’s not true,” the alpha interrupted, “Nobody thinks like that. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Oh,” the omega huffed, “So it’s all in my head now?” He took another step back, and when it became obvious that Mr. Park had no intention of keeping distance, he raised his voice, “I said do not touch me. Leave. I don’t want to see your face right now.”
The alpha shook his head, “I–”
Mrs. Park turned around and stepped closer towards the desk, “I said,” he blinked the tears away, “Leave.”
“Darling,” the alpha sighed and moved his eyes around the room, as if pleading for the space to give him answers. Unfortunately–or, rather, fortunately–the only thing he noticed was Jongin, “Now,” he crossed his arms on his chest, “What are you doing here–eavesdropping like that?”
Mrs. Park snorted once he noticed what Mr. Park was looking at, “Doing what you are paying him for, I suppose. Now, leave.”
“No.”
“I won’t repeat myself,” Mrs. Park licked his already wet lips, “I don’t want to see your face right now. Leave .”
Mr. Park looked like he wanted to argue further, but he also looked like he knew that he absolutely shouldn’t, so, in the end, he scowled, “If that’s what you want,” he replied, “What about him?”
“What about him?” Mrs. Park raised an eyebrow, “He is doing his bloody job, Chanyeol. Get out.”
The alpha uncrossed his arms and pointed at Jongin, “You can’t stay with him alone–at this hour, no less.”
Mrs. Park laughed; or, more like, let out a sound that resembled a bitter mockery of a laugh, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” Mr. Park snapped and stepped closer to Mrs. Park. Jongin didn’t know whether they were going to throw fists or fuck, “It’s improper.”
He didn’t know how to describe the stare Mrs. Park gave Mr. Park. The omega’s big eyes were still shiny and swollen from crying, but the way they gleamed with anger and love and lust–Jongin was so jealous that his own skin itched .
Mr. Park must’ve seen whatever he wanted to see because he backed off, took one last look at Jongin, and left the room.
Mrs. Park was breathing heavily as he threw off the coat and settled on the bed, “I’m sorry you had to witness this.”
Jongin scrambled to his feet, buckets of ash long forgotten, “I haven’t seen nor heard anything, Mrs. Park.”
The omega snorted, “Thank you,” he grimaced, “Can you–” he paused, “Can you please leave? And, if it’s not a problem, call Baekhyun? He’s probably not sleeping yet.”
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but Jongin swallowed down his disappointment and nodded, “Of course.”
Jongin picked up the buckets and looked down at the floor. Mrs. Park must’ve noticed it, because he just waved a hand and said, “Don’t worry about it.”
He left the room in haste and went downstairs to look for Baekhyun. Jongin found him in his room, as Mrs. Park predicted, not asleep.
“Uh,” Jongin started, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Mrs. Park wants you to attend to him in the master bedroom.”
“Master bedroom?” Baekhyun raised an eyebrow, “Did they come back early, then?”
“Yes.”
Beakhyun sighed, “Not in a good mood, I assume,” at Jongin’s shake of head he screwed his eyes shut, “Shit. Do you know how bad it is?”
Jongin scratched the back of his head, “I was in the room with them–I uh, you know, Seungjae sent me to clean up the chimney, and they barged in so quickly they didn’t even notice I was there at first,” he recalled, “It was pretty bad. Mr. Park is now banished from the bedroom.”
The beta stood up from the bed and went to retrieve his work clothes, “You haven’t seen or heard anything, do you understand?”
“I already assured Mrs. Park of that.”
“Good,” Beakhyun gave him a nod of approval and made a shooing gesture, “What are you still doing here? I need to redress.”
Jongin looked away but didn’t move an inch, “It’s just,” he mumbled, “What was it about? Do you know?”
Baekhyun crossed his arms on his chest, “How is this any business of yours?”
“It’s not,” Jongin rushed to explain, “I just wondered,” he paused, “Is Mr. Park– unkind ?” he started to gesture with his arms in order to illustrate his point, but how exactly can he illustrate the question: does Mr. Park beat his omega up? Does he scream? Does he cheat? What was it about?
The beta laughed, “Unkind ?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Beakhyun replied, “But no, he is not unkind,” he sighed, “It’s just.. things are rather difficult for them right now.”
“Why?”
The other man shook his head, “It’s not my place to tell, Jongin,” he said with an air of finality, “Now, go to sleep–I will handle Mrs. Park.”
Jongin, more than dissatisfied with this answer, bid his goodbyes and went back to his room.
He didn’t dare to spy through the window.
*
The next day, the air in the house was, predictably, awful.
Even though it was his free day, the meals were handed out only at six, two, and seven, so, if he wanted to eat something, he still had to hang around the manor.
At breakfast, Baekhyun looked like he hadn’t slept at all, and the rest of the servants didn’t fare any better–especially Seungjae who, as Mr. Park’s personal butler, must’ve been the first to bear his bad mood. Everyone was tense, as if sensing the storm to come, and nobody dared to breathe, much less speak or joke around.
Jongin quickly escaped back to his room and busied himself with staring at the wall and overthinking the situation from yesterday: what could be wedge between the seemingly perfect marriage between Mr. and Mrs. Park?
Baekhyun said that Mr. Park was not prone to anger–he didn’t seem so, anyway–so could the fault be at Mrs. Park's side? Jongin couldn’t imagine the omega to be the source of the argument, though. He seemed way too heartbroken for that.
He stood up from the bed and looked at the clock. Jongin already wasted most of the day hiding in his room, so he could as well go to the village and waste the rest of it there.
The alpha walked towards his wardrobe and picked out his best clothes: woolen pants, a nice, crispy white shirt and a suit jacket that matched the pants. His coat was a little worse for wear, but you couldn’t notice it from afar, anyway.
Jongin dressed himself and then walked towards the small, round mirror that hung on the wall. He picked up the jar with the pomade he usually used on his hair, applied some to look a little more decent, and looked at himself in the mirror.
Even though he recently developed prominent eye bags from having to wake up at 5AM every morning, he still considered himself to be relatively good-looking. Jongin wondered–
–no, that wouldn’t do. He closed his eyes and walked away from the mirror.
Jongin looked around the room and picked up the necessities–his hat, gloves, as well as his wallet with what little money he owned.
He stepped out of the room and headed outside. Since it was the middle of April, the sun had already begun its slow trip down the horizon–it didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it made him even more motivated to make the most of the rest of the day.
As Jongin was about to walk around the hunting house to the gate at the front of the property, he stumbled into, out of all people, Mrs. Park.
“Jongin,” the omega began, sounding a little like he had been expecting Jongin to show up. Shit, maybe he had, “Are you heading off somewhere?”
The alpha looked down at himself, “Yes,” he said, “Yes,” he repeated, nervous, as always, in the presence of Mrs. Park, “It’s my full day, so I wanted to make the most out of it. Or what is left of it, anyway.”
Mrs. Park hummed and looked towards the gate, “Let us head out together, then.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
The omega raised an eyebrow, “Why?”
Jongin looked straight into Mrs. Park’s eyes, then, and that was possibly the worst thing he could’ve done, “You know why, Mrs. Park.”
"We will be just walking towards the gate," Mrs. Park said in turn, "It's going to be quick–Minho is already waiting for me in the car. Don’t worry too much.”
Jongin bit his lips, but it wasn’t as if he could say no.
They began walking, shoulder to shoulder, and it was Mrs. Park, who broke the silence first, “I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday.”
“I’ve already said that I haven’t seen nor heard anything.”
“And I appreciate it,” Mrs. Park assured, “But I still wanted to apologize. You shouldn’t have,” he paused, “You shouldn’t have witnessed your employers in such a compromising situation. We should’ve been more careful, more–attentive, to our surroundings.”
Jongin licked his lips, “Thank you for your consideration.”
He couldn’t see Mrs. Park’s expression very well, but he could feel the displeasure radiate off of the omega. After a few more steps, he began anew, “Baekhyun told me that you,” he took a deep breath in, “Were concerned about Chanyeol being–”
“–unkind.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Park turned his head to look at Jongin, but the alpha didn’t dare meet his eyes, “Unkind.”
He considered what lie to make up this time, but, at the end of the day and perhaps for once in his life, he opted for the truth, “I,” he started, “I’ve grown up in an area that had a lot of violent alphas strutting around, and their omegas were–well. You can only imagine, Mrs. Park.”
Jongin finally moved his head to look at Mrs. Park, and found the omega still looking at him, “You do not have to worry. Chanyeol is many things, but violent is not one of them.” His gaze was soft, yet conflicted, “Thank you for your consideration,” he echoed the alpha’s previous words.
They finally reached the gate where, true to Mrs. Park’s words, one of the family’s cars was waiting. Jongin bowed his goodbyes, but Mrs. Park stopped him with a wave of a hand, "Do you need a ride, Jongin?”
He hesitated: did he want to? Yes. Was it a good idea for them to be together in one car? No, definitely not. “I will be alright, Mrs. Park. Thank you.”
The omega raised an eyebrow, “It’s going to be dark in perhaps half an hour,” he said, “Are you sure? We will be driving through the village anyway.”
Jongin bit down a sigh, “There’s truly no need.”
Mrs. Park settled into the car, “Alright,” he gave Jongin a smile, “Take care.”
He returned the smile and started walking only when the car left his vision.
*
That night, he looked right into the windows opposite his room.
The lights were on, and the curtains were open. Mrs. Park was, once again, sitting by the desk, probably writing something–a letter, Jongin imagined. Maybe to his brother. Maybe to his other family or friends.
His hair was put into a neat braid and thrown over one shoulder, and he was wearing, what Jongin assumed, a white nightgown and a robe. He couldn’t see very well, but he thought it had lace on it: delicately woven patterns around the neckline and shoulders.
Mrs. Park put down the pen he was using, and picked up the piece of paper he was reading on. The omega gave it a look–probably reread whatever he had written–and then folded it and put it into a nice-looking envelope.
Then, he stood up. As the omega put his hands on the edge of the chair to push it back towards the desk, he absent-mindedly looked up and right into Jongin’s eyes.
This time, the alpha didn’t avert his gaze. Jongin blinked–once, twice, but the omega didn’t look away either. Instead, they just stared at each other.
Jongin wondered what the omega was thinking: did he feel it, too? Did he feel the pull, the electricity, the tension, whenever they were in the same vicinity?
Mrs. Park took his hands away from where they were resting on the chair and brought them towards the knot on his robe. He slowly undid one side, and then the other. Jongin could do nothing but watch, transfixed.
He slipped the robe from one shoulder, and, just as he was about to take it off from the other, Jongin caught a glimpse of his bond mark. The thick scar tissue glared at him from afar, as if mocking him and saying: look here, there’s no place left for you.
The omega took the robe off entirely and then hung it on the back of the chair. Jongin swallowed, but then Mrs. Park leaned against the desk and, without breaking eye-contact, turned the light off.
*
The next evening, even when the lights were on and the curtains were open, Jongin didn’t dare look inside.
*
Three days after the argument, Jongin was sent to collect the animals that got caught in the traps scattered around the property. It was one of the least pleasant duties, but it wasn’t hard or tiresome and it did take half of a day so he didn’t have to bother with anything else. At least the weather is nice , he thought, spring is coming along nicely.
He took the longer route, right around the edge of the land where the woods end and the meadows begin. Jongin didn’t know how many acres the Park family owned, but it ought to be a lot since there were no houses or farms in the estate’s proximity. In fact, there was nothing except for land until you reached the village.
Come to think of it, he never did ask where the Park’s money came from: they did not have a title, that much was clear, but they did not carry themselves with the air of a newly-established gentry, either. No, both Mr. and Mrs. Park had the air of people whose families had been comfortable for decades, if not centuries.
His sister, back when she had first informed him of his new employment, told him something about banking, but Jongin couldn’t care less at the time. Now, he wished he did ask or, at the very least, listen.
Jongin bent down to pick up the unlucky rabbit that did manage to get caught within the trap. As he unlocked the metal latch, he heard the loud echo of hooves somewhere on the opposite side of the meadow.
It was Mrs. Park. Of course it was Mrs. Park.
The omega hit the rains and the horse–Carmela, if Jongin remembered correctly–broke into a gallop. It was a sight to behold: Mrs. Park cut through the meadows with an ease characteristic only to a very seasoned rider, and Carmela looked less like a horse and more like a mythical creature straight out from a painting. They both did, if Jongin ought to be honest.
Possessed by something–curiosity, maybe; desire, more like–he stepped out from the woods and walked towards a spot where he would be more visible. Jongin waited for a minute or two before the horse began slowing down and then came to a halt once Mrs. Park noticed him standing there.
Mrs. Park led the horse towards him, “Jongin?” he questioned, and then gave him a smile, “What are you doing so far from the property?”
He pointed at the trap where the rabbit was still stuck, “I have to collect the animals that got caught in the traps around the property.”
The omega’s face turned sour, and, much to Jongin’s surprise, he got off the horse, “Nothing pleasant, I gather?”
“No,” Jongin agreed, “But it’s alright,” he said, and then, as an afterthought, added, “As long as you somehow detach yourself from what you are doing.”
Mrs. Park beckoned Carmela towards a more grassy patch, and then he walked back towards Jongin. The omega gave him a look that made him want to squirm, but, instead, he just swallowed and asked, “What are you doing here, Mrs. Park?”
“Needed to clear my head,” Mrs. Park replied, “And the weather is so nice, too. It’d be a waste to just spend another day stuck inside.”
Jongin nodded, “I think so, too.”
It was… awkward. Or maybe not exactly awkward–tense, more like. They stood there, face to face, for a beat or two, before Mrs. Park lifted his chin up and asked–no, exclaimed , “I didn’t see you yesterday,” he looked Jongin straight in the eye, “At the window.”
Even if he wanted to, Jongin couldn’t bring himself to look away–in those few seconds, he contemplated: should he, or should he not? In the end, his heart, as it was bound to, won, “Were you waiting, Mrs. Park?”
It must’ve been the correct response, because something lit up and shifted in Mrs. Park’s eyes. The omega stepped closer, his mouth-watering scent all around Jongin, and smiled, “Jongin,” he said, “When we are alone, please do call me Kyungsoo.”