As If Transmigrating Wasn’t Enough, I’m Pregnant?!

First, money. Money was the problem. To escape this situation, a bare minimum of funds was needed. And he had to extract that price from the very person who made him end up like this. There was no need to act abjectly. He was just a one-night partner anyway; once they cut ties, that would be the end of it.

The plot of the novel? To hell with it. That was a story that only applied to the original Ryu Hae-sol. He, Moon Seong-yoon, was different. He was not Ryu Hae-sol. He would never walk down that path. He resolved firmly within himself.

At that moment, the sound of the shower stopped. His heart plummeted. Soon, Do Won-hyung would come out of the bathroom. Swallowing hard, Ryu Hae-sol began searching among the clothes scattered messily on the floor to find his old jeans and T-shirt. At the very least, he didn’t want to face him again in this humiliating, naked state.

Old, worn-out jeans and a stretched-out T-shirt. Ryu Hae-sol managed to find and put on the clothes that had been crumpled and discarded on the floor. The moment the rough, cheap cotton fabric touched his bare skin, he once again engraved his reality into his mind—a reality that stood in stark contrast to the luxurious atmosphere of this hotel suite.

His fingertips trembled slightly, but he clenched his fists tightly to forcibly stop the shaking. Now was not the time to fear anything. This was a transaction, so he had to demand his rightful compensation. It was the only survival rule that thirty-two years of life as Moon Seonyun had taught him.

Don’t run up debts, and collect what you’re owed.

Just as he barely managed to straighten his clothes, the bathroom door opened silently. Amidst the swirling, hot steam rushing out, Do Won-hyung’s signature bergamot-scented pheromones mixed into the air. Ryu Hae-sol swallowed hard and turned his head toward the sound. Standing there was Do Won-hyung, with a white towel draped precariously low around his waist.

His pitch-black hair retained moisture, taking on a deeper shade than usual, and droplets of water slowly traced down his broad shoulders and solid chest. It was literally the physique of a perfect dominant alpha, described time and time again in the novel. However, the oppressive pressure that bore down on Ryu Hae-sol’s entire body was on a completely different dimension from seeing it in pictures or printed text. It was almost suffocating.

On the other hand, Do Won-hyung treated Ryu Hae-sol like a piece of furniture in the room, as if he didn’t even exist. Without sparing him a single glance, he walked with long, confident strides toward the closet and opened the door. Inside hung expensive-looking shirts and suit trousers neatly in a row.

Faced with the stark difference in wealth, Ryu Hae-sol closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. If he missed this very moment, an opportunity like this might never come again. He steadied his trembling voice and spoke as boldly as possible. Yet, a voice that cringed inward slipped out before he could stop it.

“U-Um.”

Do Won-hyung’s movements paused for a split second. But he still didn’t turn back. Only his hand picking out a silk shirt clearly revealed how bothered he was by Ryu Hae-sol’s presence.

Feeling ruthlessly ignored, Ryu Hae-sol instead felt a surge of stubborn defiance. Ryu Hae-sol—no, Moon Seong-yoon—poured strength into his voice and spoke once more. This time, his tone was much clearer and firmer.

“About last night, I’d like you to pay for it.”

Only then did Do Won-hyung slowly turn his head. His expressionless face, with gray eyes holding not a shred of emotion, turned toward Ryu Hae-sol. That gaze was filled with contempt and insignificance, as if looking at a bug.

He scanned Ryu Hae-sol from head to toe, as if appraising him. The shabby clothes, the tense and stiff posture, and the desperate attempt to conceal his fear. Feeling a chill run down his spine at a gaze that seemed to pierce right through all of that, Ryu Hae-sol froze.

“Ha.”

Immediately following, the corners of Do Won-hyung’s mouth curled up slightly, crookedly, in mockery. It was a clear sneer. He tossed the shirt he was holding carelessly onto the bed and slowly walked toward Ryu Hae-sol.

With every single step he took, the thick alpha pheromones pressed down on Ryu Hae-sol’s airway. The original Ryu Hae-sol before the possession would have dropped to his knees right in front of this coercive pheromone pressure, but Moon Seong-yoon’s rationality—where pride was everything—was fighting desperately to hold out.

Finally stopping right in front of Ryu Hae-sol, Do Won-hyung whispered in a languid yet ruthless voice. Not a single trace of warmth could be found in any of the words he spat out.