*if you read this chapter and it ends off with Of course, Mr. Yoo, that one is the incomplete version! the chapter has been updated

Oasis

“As I said, I got The Happy Prince from my butler then,” Daehyun shares. Rain bleeds down the windows, worsening the visibility in the nightfall.

“He worked at many big houses.” Daehyun exhales, nostalgia smearing over his dark irises. “He said sometimes the rich weren’t bad people—some were just ignorant, especially the children of these houses. They live a sheltered life and grow up blind to many things. Just like the Happy Prince.”

“You mean that’s why they don’t do things to help people in need?” Youngjae cuts in, brows furrowed.

“That, and how thy don’t do much about all the corruption and other terrible things that go on in the corporate world. Things like avoiding insurance payouts, bad working conditions, keeping the other ranks quiet… My butler said that lots of these wealthy children grow up used to it, not knowing how bad the consequences are on others.”

“So what?” Youngjae retorts. “Are you saying that it’s okay, then? They live in ignorance and stay quiet, not doing anything while benefitting from a system that screws over the poor, and they have no wrong in perpetuating it?”

The creases cut down beneath his tear duct as Youngjae grinds his teeth. His mind flings back twenty years ago to his mother and the hundreds of other workers slogging away their bones and skin in a chemical factory that couldn’t guarantee their safety. Within his mother who just wanted to make a living to get by, their negligence and willingness to exploit people allowed a malignant tumour to grow within him. If it weren’t for that explosion, Jaejoong would have died in a few years anyway.

And what will that company get? Fines that go up to at most thousands of dollars, amounts that mean nothing to an Alpha sitting in a cozy armchair far, far away. He never got to see the bodies charred on the ground or how none of them got to say their last words to their loved ones. These were Betas and Omegas, not Alphas—the lower ranks that are eternally taken advantage of thanks to their inability to speak up. They were treated as machines, not people. The higher-ups never cared because the death count was just a number, but not to some poor Omega son wondering why his mother hadn’t come home yet.

Youngjae’s jaw locks. “They’re still in the wrong.”

“Explaining it doesn’t mean I’m justifying it, Mr. Yoo,” Daehyun wheezes. “It’s wrong, of course—to live off a system that banks on exploitation and not do anything about it.”

“I just sometimes wonder where to draw the line.” He meets Youngjae’s eyes. “For those suffering in other countries, is it alright for you to continue living so comfortably without helping them? How many people’s suffering in the world have you neglected because of ignorance—knowing that our countries take advantage of them and don’t help?”

“Well…” Youngjae flutters his lashes. “It’s hard because you can’t see it and you’re not there, so you can’t do anything about it.”

“I wouldn’t say you can’t do anything about it. Does it not matter then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know. I’m only asking, Mr. Yoo,” Daehyun returns, brooding deeply. “It’s just something I think about sometimes. I’ve read that by right, all of us are morally obliged to give to the poor until we’re at least of the same suffering level as them. After all, the reason why we live well is largely due to the circumstances we’re born in—whether we lucked out with a good country.”

Youngjae halts to genuinely deliberate over Daehyun’s words. He hadn’t expected Daehyun to think about such things. While he does acknowledge Daehyun’s intellectual prowess, he never pinned Daehyun to think beyond business and the office.

“Anyway, you’re right, Mr. Yoo. Even if you’re not the one doing it, staying quiet is just as wrong. People do that because they fear sacrificing their own comfort for the rights of others.”

Thunder reverberates outside, crashing down along with the heavy downpour. Youngjae jolts at the sudden noise and Daehyun presses a hand to his mouth, clearly trying to muffle a laugh. He fortunately manages to swallow it down and covers it up with a cough.

Drip, drip, drip. Every streak down distorts the scenery outside, midnight blue cracking away further at the blurred view. The two men dwell in a silence that even Youngjae can tell differs from all their previous wordlessness. Youngjae used to be sensitive to every movement, every step of Jung Daehyun. Suffocating, bare, tense. Now, he sits too at ease with the Alpha. It’s not incredibly cozy as though they’re bossom buddies, more of mutual understanding and acceptance.

Daehyun is a good person, Youngjae supposes—not considering whatever is happening behind-the-scenes in the Jung household. But what does it matter? Daehyun can be a Samaritan all he wants; it’s not Youngjae’s problem.

“I’ll go clean up the kitchen.” Daehyun rises abruptly. “Excuse me, Mr. Yoo.”

After Daehyun washes up the dishes, he returns to the dining table where Youngjae sits staring aimlessly into space. Youngjae considers messaging Minki, telling him he’ll be back home late, but his pettiness ultimately wins over him. Minki would probably ignore him anyway.

Daehyun and Youngjae lock gazes in the awkward silence. Daehyun oddly averts his stare first, instead standing once more.

“Let me get you a warm drink,” Daehyun offers. Youngjae knits his brows together but dismisses Daehyun’s behaviour, picking at his fingernails absentmindedly.

In a few, Daehyun brings them two mugs of hot chocolate. They submerge back into a stillness that’s now too long, Youngjae having the sensitivity to feel awkward even if Daehyun is a person he would gladly ignore. He continues playing with his fingers and winces when he pulls skin.

“Mr. Yoo, I don’t mean to pry but your neck seems to be injured.” Daehyun inches forward to examine the scratches, going closer when Youngjae does not swat him away.

“Your mother scratched me,” Youngjae answers, touching the wounds gently. They aren’t too deep but quite some skin had been torn off, which was why it took a while to stop the bleeding.

“I’m very sorry,” Daehyun immediately responds, consternation suffusing his tone. He briskly crosses the room to the cupboard. “I shouldn’t have sent you in. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

“It’s fine. The scratches aren’t that deep,” Youngjae assures, wincing when he touches the exposed flesh. Daehyun takes out the antiseptic cream and crouches over Youngjae, the Omega instinctively shifting aside. In any case, Youngjae begrudgingly keeps still, allowing Daehyun to tend to his injuries. He doesn’t flinch at Daehyun’s rough fingers running over his skin—and over his bared rank symbol.

Youngjae looks up to find Daehyun frowning at him. “Why didn’t you call for me, Mr. Yoo?”

“Why would I?” Youngjae retorts. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need you running to my side over something so small.”

“It isn’t a small matter if you get hurt,” his usually monotone voice drips of irritation. “My mother can be dangerous to handle alone when he’s in a frenzy. Next time, please call for me if you think my mother’s unstable or if you think you may get hurt.” He uses the same voice as he does in his meetings, commanding with no space for bargaining.

Youngjae sullenly purses his lips. “Fine.” He hates how he sounds like a disciplined child.

The crease over Daehyun’s forehead dissipates. He caps back the cream and puts away the box.

“What would you like to do, Mr. Yoo?” Daehyun questions. He picks up his self-help book from the coffee table and browses through it intently. Youngjae casts him a demeaning glare.

“I told you to stop reading those books,” Youngjae nearly groans. “What part of ’they don’t work’ do you not understand? No Omega is going to talk to you because of whatever you learn from that junk.”

“I think it does work, a little,” Daehyun says.

Youngjae scoffs. “Oh? And what Omega have you been using your book’s great tips on?”

Daehyun’s lips quirk as amusement tints his murky eyes. He flips a page and traces down the lines. “Shall we play some board games to pass the time?”

Youngjae pulls his lips to the side. Daehyun adds, “We can play card games too, Mr. Yoo.”

“Don’t you have anything you need to do?” Youngjae rests his face in his propped-up arm. “You’re the boss of a company.”

“I’ve done what I set out to do today. Do you have some unfinished work you need to do right now, Mr. Yoo?” Daehyun a brow.

“No,” Youngjae mumbles. At the end of it all, Daehyun is still his boss—he should take care not to forget that just because Daehyun acts like an idiot outside of the office.

“Fine, let’s play a card game,” Youngjae surrenders with a wheeze. Daehyun’s eyes light up with a low glint and he strides away to the cabinet, rummaging through it.

He grabs a deck of poker cards and questions, “Mr. Yoo, what game would you like to play?”

Youngjae sniffs. “I don’t know.” He lightly bites on the walls of his cheeks. “If you’re asking me to play stuff like Poker or Goldfish—I don’t know how to play it.”

Daehyun seems to swallow, trying hard not to let a smile slip from his lips. “Go Fish?”

“Yes, I meant Go Fish,” Youngjae clarifies with some embarrassment.

“You’ve never played these games before, Mr. Yoo?” Daehyun shuffles the cards. “Shall I teach you?”

“Can’t we just play something I know?”

“What do you know?”

Youngjae stops to contemplate. He doesn’t play games often, owing it to his lack of acquaintances. Minki sometimes tries to drag him to his gatherings with his multitude of friends from both the hair salon and outside, but Youngjae never lets him.

Beyond his lack of friends, he’s never had an interest in games. At least, he’s always been too occupied with paving a good future for himself to even care about such trivialities. When he was younger, he didn’t play much with Jaejoong either since his mother was always working. He did play a few online games though when Yoochun gave a secondhand computer to their family.

There is one he remembers, though. Minki had taught him how to play it once and they actually had quite a bit of fun after Youngjae got the hang of it.

“Uh, Snap, I guess. I played the easy version though.”

“What rules did yours have?”

“My roommate made it easier for me. Both of us draw a card from the deck and show it at the same time. Then you slap them once you see the suits of the cards are the same and your opponent gets all the cards that’s been put out. The player with no more cards wins.” Youngjae fiddles with the poker cards box, leaving out the part that they’d revised it since he had complained it was unfair.

“That’s quite different from the normal snap, but it’s interesting.” Daehyun splits the deck into half and hands one pile over to Youngjae.

Youngjae mumbles, “Let’s start.”

They toss out a few cards, eventually finding a pattern without one revealing their card late. Daehyun glances at Youngjae every once in a while with a minuscule smile ensconced beneath his thinned lips.

They flip over their cards and Youngjae barely notices until Daehyun firmly taps the cards. Youngjae looks up with large eyes.

“Snap,” Daehyun hums. “You have to take the cards now, according to what you said.”

Youngjae shuts his mouth. He takes the cards, pouting at his thick deck. They continue, flipping over card after card till they both reveal a spades card. Youngjae slams his hand onto the cards and Daehyun flinches back in surprise.

“Snap,” Youngjae blurts. Daehyun stares at him momentarily before stifling a quiet laugh, taking the pile of cards and shuffling his deck.

Youngjae sits up straighter, now a little more motivated. He peers intently at the cards as they turn them over one by one.

Finally, their cards match with hearts. Youngjae slaps his hand down—unfortunately, onto Daehyun’s poor hand. Youngjae pulls back, curling his fingers against his chest. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Once again, another chuckle falls from Daehyun’s lips. He taps on the cards. “You have to take them.”

Youngjae visibly deflates as he grabs the pile. Resuming, they hit another match and Youngjae slams his hand down unnecessarily hard. Thankfully, Daehyun’s late, hand tapping Youngjae’s knuckle.

“Snap,” they say in unison. Youngjae breaks out into a simper and swats the cards towards Daehyun. Daehyun heaves, dropping his head slightly.

They draw their cards. Again. Both their hands shoot out over the cards and Youngjae squints at Daehyun.

“I put my hand down first.”

Daehyun raises a brow, one side of his lips quirking. “I don’t think so, Mr. Yoo.”

“I put it down first,” Youngjae insists with a light frown.

“Let’s just continue instead,” Daehyun suggests. Youngjae discreetly puffs up his cheeks, conceding with a nod.

Again. Youngjae bangs his hand down and the cards nearly fly off the table, Daehyun tapping Youngjae’s hand instead. Youngjae exclaims much too loud, “Aha! I slapped first!”

“Seems like you did.” Daehyun takes the cards back while Youngjae huffs.

“I did. Your hand was above mine.” Youngjae tosses his card out too early in his excitement as they continue.

Again. Daehyun swiftly taps the cards and Youngjae violently slams down his hand again. Daehyun pulls back with a grunt, eyes crinkling at the sides as he nurses his fingers.

“You’re quite strong, Mr. Yoo. I almost thought you were planning on breaking my hand.”

Youngjae bites the insides of his cheeks, mumbling out another apology. This was why Minki had quit the game early, too afraid to go on with his fingers at stake.

“Are you the competitive type?” Daehyun smiles, brushing the cards over to Youngjae. “You must be fun to play games with.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Youngjae mutters. “I’m sorry, alright? I can’t help it.”

“I’m not. I’m having a lot of fun; that’s why I said that.”

Youngjae ends up winning the game, Daehyun missing the rest of the matches. The Omega bubbles with triumph while Daehyun shuffles the cards again.

“Would you like to play a second time?” Daehyun suggests.

“No, thanks,” Youngjae answers. “It gets boring fast.”

“Shall we play something else then?” Daehyun twines his fingers and expectantly gazes at Youngjae. “I can teach your more games. I know quite a few.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t have many friends. Why do you seem to know so many games when you have no one to play with?” Youngjae remarks, scrutinising Daehyun beneath his long lashes.

Daehyun sighs. “Well, I have siblings. Moreover, I used to play games with my mother when I was young. Did you not, Mr. Yoo?”

Youngjae presses his lips together.