Dopamine Addiction - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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15.
“Am I wrong? You’d rather hold me right now?”
Liam stirred, moving to sit up. Hee-joo tightened her grip on the blanket.
It galled her, but he was right. After acting so unlike herself, regret would surely follow.
“Turn off the light, Sherlock Holmes.”
She felt him smile faintly. He rose and switched off the lamp.
Click. Even with her eyes closed, the sudden darkness pressed against her lids.
The night fell silent. Occasionally a car passed outside; somewhere nearby, a cat wailed. Once, someone drunk hollered in the distance.
People are the same everywhere. For a moment, she couldn’t fathom that she wasn’t in Korea anymore.
Meeting her dying father felt like a dream from another life—as did fleeing from those faceless thugs, stealing that laundry van and running. All of it seemed impossibly distant.
What if Liam hadn’t been there? What if he’d never walked into that house?
She didn’t know. But odds were, by now she’d be lying at the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge. Or abandoned in some derelict factory.
The thought brought Hee-joo up short. Only then did the true danger of it sink in.
And with it came a wave of terror that crashed over her like a tidal surge. She clutched at the sheets, forcing herself to breathe deeply, slowly, until her racing pulse steadied.
It’s fine. It’s all over now. It’s nothing.
“Thank you, Liam. Without you, I…”
He turned toward her. In the darkness, she made out his hunched silhouette.
A violent surge of desire seized him. The urge to leap into bed, to taste her lips—
To slip his hands under her clothes, to touch soft skin, to push deeper all at once.
But he held back. It would be far more satisfying to watch her unlock the door herself than to break it down with his own hands.
For the sake of greater pleasure, he barely managed to restrain himself.
“You’re welcome.”
The belated reply drifted down to her ear, but she was already asleep.
Liam closed his eyes. Her steady breathing became sharper, clearer to him. It was oddly soothing.
Then his mobile phone vibrated softly in his pocket. He glanced toward the bed, but sensed no sign of her waking.
Philip.
Seeing the name on the screen, he frowned slightly. He rose and quietly left the room.
“Hello.”
—Why are you so slow to answer?
“Don’t assume the world revolves around you. It’s the middle of the night here.”
—Where?
“The United States. San Francisco, specifically.”
A soft sigh crossed the line. It carried multiple emotions—irritation, disappointment, disdain.
Liam descended the stairs quietly and pushed through the motel door. The night wind was bitterly cold.
—San Francisco? What trouble are you mixed up in this time?
“My brother, who is so busy with charitable work and environmental causes, hardly needs to know. What is it? Just tell me the main point.”
—Grandfather’s birthday is next weekend. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?
“Maybe.”
Liam tilted his head back, scanning the dark sky. A few faint stars were visible.
“I don’t know how long things here will take.”
—When are you going to stop? You know Grandfather is worried sick about you. It’s time you got your head on straight.
Liam let out a short, bitter laugh. He was always thinking straight. In a world where one moment’s carelessness could cost you your life, you had no choice.
—He’ll be lonely without you.
“He won’t even know I’m gone. I’m just a Spare anyway.”
—You’re still saying that?
“Everyone in the family knows it. Why feign surprise now?”
With each word, Liam’s heart grew colder. The night wind had nothing to do with it.
“Grandfather only needs me if you die. With an Heir, there’s no use for a Spare. Call me when you’re dead.”
—Liam Kloof.
Philip’s voice turned sharp and cutting. But Liam didn’t so much as flinch.
“Give Grandfather my regards on his birthday.”
With that, Liam ended the call. He looked up at the sky for a moment.
The starlight was still dim, the wind still cold.
“Foul mood.”
He muttered under his breath and turned back. Calls with his brother always left a sour taste.
As far as Liam was concerned, there was no avoiding it. The eldest son of a prestigious noble house was born holding everything. Money, prestige, and even his family’s love.
The second son had nothing. No inheritance waiting for him, no honors. What stung most was the family’s contempt.
As a child, he’d thought it was his own shortcoming. So he’d done everything in his power to be like his brother—not just his studies, but music, riding, sports, everything.
Fortunately, he had talent. He’d caught up to Philip quickly enough.
And yet the family’s affection belonged entirely to Philip. Because Philip was the one destined to carry on the house, not Liam.
He’d been fifteen, maybe fourteen—he couldn’t recall exactly. But he’d overheard a conversation between his grandfather and Philip.
‘You are the Kloof family’s next heir. Never forget that.’
‘But Grandfather, Liam excels in every way. Wouldn’t the succession suit him better than me?’
‘Second son or not, that boy can only ever be a Spare. A backup plan, nothing more.’
‘But—’
‘Your father disappointed me by marrying a commoner, a Korean no less. You won’t disappoint me further, will you?’
‘No, Grandfather.’
‘Good. The next Duke will be you, not your father. Remember that, and dedicate yourself to it.’
That was when Liam understood. No matter how hard he struggled, it was pointless. He was merely Philip’s replacement—expendable, unwanted.
To his grandfather, he was not Liam Kloof. He was Philip Kloof’s Spare.
……
He opened the door and looked down at Hee-joo sleeping. Still and silent.
The heavy curtains plunged the room into deep shadow. He could only make out vague shapes and contours.
And her quiet breathing.
Matching his breath to hers, inhale and exhale, Liam felt warmth gradually return to his fingertips.
He returned to the chair and sank into it, eyes closed, as if nothing had happened.
Gradually, Philip’s voice faded from his mind, replaced entirely by the sound of Hee-joo’s steady breath.
***
The bell chimed as the door swung open.
“Welcome.”
The waitress didn’t look up from pouring coffee. Hee-joo and Liam, seated at an empty table, exchanged a brief glance.
Hee-joo checked the time on her mobile phone, then flipped through the menu.
“They said visiting hours start at nine, so if we eat breakfast here and take our time, that should work fine.”
The waitress, having delivered coffee to a bearded man, walked over to their table. She pulled a notepad and pen from her apron.
“What can I get for you?”
“One omelet, bacon, potatoes, and a cup of coffee, please.”
Hee-joo finished ordering and glanced at Liam. He answered without hesitation.
“Same.”
The waitress nodded and returned to the counter. Hee-joo gazed blankly out through the large window.
A taxi pulled into the parking lot. A stocky man got out, entered the café, and struck up a friendly conversation with the waitress before ordering.
The waitress brought their coffee. Hee-joo touched her cup and spoke softly.
“When we meet him, will we finally get answers?”
“If anyone holds the answers, it’s him. Everything started there.”
Shortly after, the waitress set down plates of omelet. “Thank you,” Hee-joo said, picking up her fork and eating with sudden appetite.
Liam watched with keen interest. Moments ago she’d seemed listless, but now she ate with purpose, energy flickering back into her face. He found that remarkable.
He hadn’t expected her to stop eating altogether, but this turnaround was genuinely surprising.
He couldn’t look away. Each time she defied his expectations, he found himself more absorbed.
The coffee, though, was dreadful.
As Liam frowned at his cup, Hee-joo exhaled a long sigh. A half-whispered murmur reached his ears.
“After all this American food, I’m craving spicy kimchi stew.”
Liam raised an eyebrow, amused.
“Didn’t you arrive in the United States yesterday?”
“That’s how it works. A kind of nostalgia only Koreans understand.”
“I’m half-Korean myself.”
“So what do you miss most right now?”
“Good coffee, properly brewed.”
“An iced Americano?”
“Hand-poured. Hot.”
“…That’s hopeless.”
Hee-joo shook her head with a wry smile, thinking to herself that any true Korean would drink iced Americano even if it meant freezing to death.
As Liam’s eyes narrowed in amusement, Hee-joo’s mobile phone vibrated.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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