Dirty Switch

‘You did so well, our baby. It must’ve been so boring being alone, right?’
‘Mmhmm, it’s okay.’
The day Joo Taehyun finally stepped out of the isolation room—the day he reunited with his family and returned home.

His family wrapped their arms around the young Taehyun and showered him with endless praise. And for good reason: the medical staff had been full of compliments about how bravely their precious little one had endured treatment.
‘What about the fishies? The turtle?’
‘All your fish and turtles are waiting for you at home. When we get back, do you want to feed them yourself?’

‘Mmhmm…’
‘Of course, of course. Look at this—your favorite outfit, isn’t it? Your big brother brought it just for you.’
Joo Kyunghan, the third brother, smiled brightly, exaggerating how they’d even held a vicious rock-paper-scissors battle on the way over to decide who got to help their baby brother change.

‘…Taehyun-ah.’
But the moment the third brother unbuttoned the top of Taehyun’s hospital gown—not even fully taking it off, just parting it in front—the family froze, falling silent as they stared at the youngest in stunned silence.
More precisely, they stared blankly, for a long time, at the countless needle marks and bruises all over his small body, left behind from all the suppressants that had been administered.

‘Hyung…?’
‘What is this? He’s only three. He’s only three years old, how could this be…’
‘…It must’ve hurt so much, our little baby.’

‘Mmhmm? Noona, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt too?’
‘No, no. I’m okay. I’m not hurt. It’s just… it makes me so sad thinking our baby must have been hurting all alone…’
‘Mmhmm, I’m okay too. The doctor said if I waited just a little, I’d get to go home… And now I really get to go home, so I’m okay. Noona, don’t cry. Hyung, don’t cry either.’

At that, even Chairman Joo Ilwook, famous for his stoic demeanor, broke down completely.
‘Dad…?’
‘My baby, my sweet baby…’
I didn’t know anything, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Chairman Joo knelt at the foot of the hospital bed, shoulders trembling as he wept uncontrollably. The rest of the family wasn’t any different. Only young Taehyun, thrilled at the thought of feeding the fish and turtles in the backyard pond, playing clay crafts with his siblings, and going out with Mom and Dad, tilted his head in confusion, unsure why everyone was so upset.

‘Honestly, it would’ve been easier if he’d screamed or cried while getting the suppressants. But no. The hospital kept saying how quiet and well-behaved he was, every time.’
Even now, whenever he drinks, Chairman Joo recalls those days with a voice full of guilt and grief.
‘His mother and I, we didn’t even go into the room. We just paced outside the isolation hallway every single day, afraid of stressing him out more… But he had no idea what was going on. Didn’t see a single family member for three whole months. And all he did was quietly hang in there, waiting to come home.’

A good child, who stayed still even when strange adults hurt him, because they told him he could go home once it was over.
A precious child who had to endure pain he never should’ve faced—pain that felt like even a breath of wind would tear his skin apart. A child so fragile, so loved, like everyone’s most treasured fingertip.
Thankfully, the manifestation fever that struck him so hard only happened once. After that, he grew up without serious health issues. At age twelve, he was already taller than most his age, but to his family, he was still “our baby,” “our little one,” or “our maknae.” And they would probably still call him that even when he became an old man or a grandfather. Because to them, Joo Taehyun was forever the three-year-old who collapsed from manifestation fever, who suffered quietly in an isolation room, counting the days until he could see his family again.

‘Our baby, is there anything you want to do with noona this weekend?’
‘What? I’m taking him out for good food. We’re going to Gangneung to see the sea.’
‘Don’t you have work? This weekend is Taehyun’s day with me, you know?’

‘Maknae. Come with hyung and let’s look at the ocean together.’
‘Baby, let’s go skiing with noona. There’s a villa near the Gaema Plateau—we can sleep over for a night.’
‘Oh? That sounds fun.’

‘Ugh! Why are you butting in again, oppa! Go back to work!’
One way or another, Joo Taehyun grew up surrounded by love.
‘Taehyun-ah!’

‘Huh? What’s wrong? Why’s everyone here? What happened?’
‘Where the hell have you been all this time— No, are you hurt? Are you okay?’
‘Huh? Uh… I was just over there in the storage room looking at some of the books the hyungs kept…’

‘Baby. Even if you just need to go to the bathroom, tell someone. Especially if you’re going to the storage room, take a sitter with you if you can. Got it?’
‘…Okay.’
There were times when the love pooled around his chin, threatening to drown him, but Joo Taehyun had no complaints. He knew better than anyone just how deeply his family loved him.

Even when they decided on homeschooling out of fear he might suffer pheromone shock if exposed to strangers, well… it didn’t feel like a loss.
He couldn’t attend the many social events his family usually went to, but that was fine too.
One of his family members always stayed behind to be with him. And as he grew older, he began to understand his own place in society.

The first word he learned outside of everyday language was “chaebol.”
And he quickly learned it didn’t just mean “rich person.”
Now he knew very well: when a family member of his got an IV drip due to overwork, stock prices in the subsidiaries could rise or fall, and the fate of entire businesses could shift.
He also knew about the worldwide surge in cases where trait holder children of celebrities were kidnapped or drugged to death. He knew that’s why his family guarded him so fiercely, almost obsessively.

‘Dad, how do you do this?’
‘The violin? Oh, my baby wants to try the violin now?’
‘Yeah… I was just curious what it feels like.’

‘Wait right here. I’ll find you the best teacher.’
He knew that other people didn’t live like him. That most people didn’t hire the top expert in a field just because their kid was “curious.” That no one bought an expensive, professional-grade instrument knowing their child would lose interest in a few days. That families didn’t plan national villa trips just because their child was bored at home.
‘Master Taehyun is about the age to start middle school next year—’

‘Dr. Woo, I told you I don’t like that topic.’
‘Still, I do think it’s time he started school.’
Though their parents had scoffed at the idea—saying they’d keep their baby in their arms forever, and if he had to go to school, they’d send him to somewhere remote like Switzerland—eventually, they relented at the advice that social exposure was important for a child’s immune system.

‘Security comes first. The facility needs to be so secure people call it excessive. Where did the Crown Prince graduate from?’
‘Wouldn’t Prince Yi Hwang’s alma mater be better? He was an Alpha too, so the place is probably well-equipped.’
‘That’s on Jeju Island. Too far.’

‘I still think Taehyun’s opinion matters most. Maybe he wants to go to an international school, or maybe abroad—’
‘You want to send our baby alone to another country?’
‘Are you crazy? We’re not sending him alone. If he goes, we’ll assign a couple envoys to accompany him.’

‘Anyway, let’s first pick where we’ll debut Taehyun in public. I’ve shortlisted a few options…’
His parents, brothers, and sister all put their heads together to carefully choose the first event to present Joo Taehyun to society. There was still time before enrollment, so their plan was to slowly ease him into public interactions.
After much debate, the chosen event was a summer concert hosted by the Empress.

Because it was a royal event, the guest list would be vetted. It would be held at the palace—security was a given. The scale wasn’t overwhelming either, so they figured it wouldn’t put too much pressure on their baby’s first public appearance.
“Still… this outfit is a bit much, don’t you think?”
Joo Taehyun muttered, his lips sticking out petulantly. He hoped if anyone nearby overheard, they’d know this flamboyant tailcoat wasn’t his choice.

He was always dressed in expensive, high-end clothes, but the outfit his parents gave him today… really crossed the line. Even Taehyun, who didn’t know much about tailoring, could tell this was extremely high-quality.
He looked so flashy that passing palace staff mistook his brothers for his nanny or secretary. Even the Empress, upon meeting him for the first time, had commented on how beautiful his outfit was…
To normal people, he probably looked so overdressed they wouldn’t dare approach him.

His brothers, who had stood by him like bodyguards, had stepped away. And no one came up to him. That confirmed his suspicions.
Taehyun stood off to the side, quietly observing the faces around him.
That person—the grandson of the N Museum’s director.
That one—the lead dancer of the National Dance Company.
That girl—the granddaughter of the head of the National Gugak Association…

He had memorized the names and faces of the attendees for a month leading up to this event. Taehyun was confident he could recognize anyone just from their silhouette.
But the adults were busy talking among themselves, and the kids his age already seemed to have their own friend groups. Well—if you could even call them “kids,” they all looked way older than him…
He’d never had to approach someone first before. His siblings always made the first move. So Taehyun didn’t know how.

He thought about going over and saying hello. Then gave up quickly.
It was a shame he couldn’t put all that memorization to use… But today’s purpose was simple: to quietly announce that DH Group’s youngest was now showing his face in public. Even if he # Nоvеlight # just went home now, he’d met the goal. Above all, this was a royal event—he absolutely did not want to mess anything up.
“Wow. That expression of yours is something else.”

As he fiddled with the tail of his coat, a long shadow suddenly fell over his head.
“Joo Taehyun, right?”