One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 11.2

Wooyoon squinted at Pilsung’s lower body, his brow furrowed. Had the Betas he’d seen in the bathhouse before his designation manifested looked like this? He couldn’t remember, having never paid much attention to other people’s bodies. But the lack of memory suggested that a Beta like Baek Pilsung was an anomaly. Surely he would have remembered if they were this big. Something this intimidating and monstrous would be hard to erase from memory.

“Haa, Nam Wooyoon…”

“…Huh…?”

“Put some spit on your hand. Actually, never mind. Give me your hand.”

Pilsung, who had been lying with his head propped up, sat up slightly and pulled Wooyoon’s hand, which was gripping his cock, towards his mouth. He licked Wooyoon’s palm, his tongue tracing the lines on his skin and wetting the spaces between his fingers. Wooyoon stared blankly as Pilsung sucked on his fingers, coating them with saliva.

He scanned Pilsung’s face – his furrowed brows, the sharp angle of his eyes intensified by his lowered gaze, his flushed cheeks, the slight twitch of his nose – and then his gaze landed on Pilsung’s red tongue, expertly swirling around his index and middle fingers. Wooyoon instinctively recoiled as his fingers brushed against Pilsung’s teeth.

“Do it again.”

Wooyoon gripped Pilsung’s cock again, his hand now slick with saliva. Pilsung’s breathing grew heavier, apparently pleased with the slippery sensation. He cursed more frequently.

“Fuck… ah… don’t just pump it… touch the tip too…”

“L-Like this…?”

He caressed the red glans, and Pilsung, who had been muttering curses with his chin raised, suddenly grabbed the back of Wooyoon’s head and kissed him forcefully. Wooyoon’s lips were crushed against Pilsung’s, and before he could react, Pilsung’s thick tongue invaded his mouth.

“Mm…”

His stifled breath escaped as a soft moan. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss, Wooyoon pushed against Pilsung’s tongue, trying to catch his breath. It was his way of asking for a break, but Pilsung didn’t seem to get the message. He sucked on Wooyoon’s retreating tongue, making a wet, smacking sound.

“Wait…”

Pilsung tilted his head, effectively silencing Wooyoon with his mouth. The forceful kiss, which nearly turned Wooyoon’s lower lip inside out, made his hand still on Pilsung’s cock. The hand gripping the back of Wooyoon’s head tightened, his fingers digging into his scalp. Wooyoon realized, for the first time, that even having his hair ruffled could be arousing. A shiver ran down his spine, a tingling sensation in his lower abdomen.

I’ve already come twice, and now this…

He’d cried because he was surprised and scared by his multiple orgasms, but maybe it wasn’t Baek Pilsung’s fault. Maybe he was just a pervert. The thought made his heart pound with a mixture of worry and excitement.

Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped Pilsung earlier. If he was going to get hard again this easily, he should have just let Pilsung have his way. It was even more embarrassing now…

He’d cried, even though it wasn’t really something to cry about. It wasn’t intentional; the tears had just come.

Pilsung broke the kiss, saliva dripping down Wooyoon’s chin, and whispered, “Touch my pisshole.”

Wooyoon, his eyes half-closed, found the opening with his thumb and rubbed it. Pilsung, his forehead pressed against Wooyoon’s, groaned.

“Ah… fuck… rub it… just shove it in…”

He circled the small opening with his index finger. Pilsung, who had been peppering Wooyoon’s face with light kisses, tilted his head back. Wooyoon stared at his exposed Adam’s apple and pressed a kiss against the vertical scar.

“Fuck!”

Wooyoon was suddenly lifted into the air and placed on top of Pilsung, straddling him. Pilsung grabbed his hips, his loose t-shirt riding up, and started rocking him back and forth. Wooyoon frowned, struggling to maintain his balance as his body moved involuntarily against Pilsung’s pelvis.

He should have protested that Pilsung wasn’t supposed to touch him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He was a pervert too. He was already aroused by the scratchy feel of Pilsung’s pubic hair against his testicles and perineum, the hard length of his cock pressed against his own.

He placed his hands on Pilsung’s broad chest and met his gaze. The intensity of Pilsung’s stare was hotter than the friction between their cocks.

“Ha! Fuck, Nam Wooyoon, ah!”

The wet, slapping sounds grew louder. Pilsung’s hands tightened around Wooyoon’s hips, but he was already moving on his own.

“Pilsung… ah…”

Pilsung panted, watching Wooyoon’s messy hair, which he’d apparently styled incorrectly, swaying with each thrust.

“Fuck, Nam Wooyoon, you’re so fucking pretty! You know I fucking love you, right?”

“I… I know… but… Pilsung… I’m going to… cum…”

“Wait.”

Pilsung flipped them over, pinning Wooyoon beneath him. He spread Wooyoon’s legs wide and took his leaking cock into his mouth.

The thin cock, which had been dripping pre-come, spurted the moment it entered Pilsung’s hot mouth. He buried his face between Wooyoon’s legs, his hand stroking his own cock as he swallowed every drop of Wooyoon’s salty cum. Disappointed that he hadn’t had a chance to properly suck Wooyoon, he tried to tighten his throat around him, but Wooyoon’s cock was too short to reach.

“Ha…”

While Wooyoon trembled, still reeling from his orgasm, Pilsung continued to suck on his now spent cock, stroking himself. Then he cried out,

“Ha! Fuck! Nam Wooyoon! You son of a bitch!”

He lifted his head from Wooyoon’s groin, aiming his cock at Wooyoon’s exposed perineum.

“Ah!”

He came hard, his semen splattering Wooyoon’s stomach and groin. He pressed his cock against Wooyoon, milking out the last drops, then smeared the white streaks across his skin before collapsing on top of him. Wooyoon yelped as Pilsung’s large body landed on his chest.

“Ugh!”

“Ha…”

“I… I can’t breathe…!”

Pilsung held him tight, his cock, still hard, trapped between their bodies. He buried Wooyoon’s thrashing head in his chest, feeling him tremble against him like he was suffocating.

He chuckled and slipped his hand under Wooyoon’s shirt, his palm stroking his sweaty back.

“We’re family now, living under the same roof.”

“Mm…!”

“We’ll see each other’s faces every day, eat together, and sleep tangled up like this. Got it?”

“Mm!”

“Cute thing,” Pilsung whispered, pressing his lips against the top of Wooyoon’s head. He couldn’t resist nuzzling the warm head nestled against his chest.

“Pretty thing…”

He was proud of Wooyoon for following him, despite his earlier tears. It applied to everything they’d shared, physically and emotionally, from their first meeting to this moment. He knew how much courage it had taken for Wooyoon, who had been so wary and afraid of him, to finally surrender to his embrace. He couldn’t resist the endearing struggle of the fragile creature.

He lifted Wooyoon’s chin, forcing him to look up.

“Ha… ha…”

He was turned on by the sight of Wooyoon’s flushed face, his eyes unfocused, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again. Keep looking at me.”

“I… I can’t…”

“Just keep your eyes open.”

He held Wooyoon’s head still with one hand, grinding his cock against his stomach.

Wooyoon, too exhausted to resist, obeyed Pilsung, offering his hand or spreading his legs for Pilsung to rub against. Perhaps because they’d already done it three times, or because he was simply too tired, he felt no shame. He was just amazed by Baek Pilsung’s stamina, his ability to stay aroused even though he wasn’t an Alpha.

Alphas and Omegas had pheromones to fuel their desire, but what was keeping Pilsung, a Beta, so turned on? Wooyoon absently wondered about this as he watched Pilsung rub his cock against his inner thigh, sucking on his own toe.

* * *

“Haa…”

“Sleepy?”

Wooyoon found Pilsung’s smug grin irritating, and yet, endearing. He leaned his head against Pilsung’s broad shoulder in the backseat of the car driven by Gidong and rubbed his eyes.

“Poor Nam Wooyoon, so tired. Damn, this country makes you jump through hoops just to get some paperwork done.”

Wooyoon yawned again, listening to Pilsung’s grumbling. He’d barely slept after their night of sex, and then he’d been dragged around all morning to report his unregistered status and officially register his designation. It was no wonder he was exhausted.

Due to the absence of his legal guardian, his brother, Wooyoon had to deal with even more paperwork than usual. Some of it was expedited thanks to Pilsung’s connections. Pilsung had also paid off his overdue fines and designation taxes, and signed as his guarantor.

Wooyoon munched on the churro Pilsung offered, dipped in whipped cream, and thought about how he would still be nobody, just Nam Wooyoon, if it weren’t for Baek Pilsung.

He suddenly sat up, a thought striking him. Pilsung, watching him, offered him the takeaway cup he was holding.

“Want some juice?”

“Um… can I ask you something?”

Pilsung, who had been frowning because they’d had no time for a proper meal and Wooyoon had to settle for snacks in the car, grinned at the sight of Wooyoon’s whipped cream-covered lips.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a really bad gangster?”

Gidong burst out laughing, slapping the steering wheel. Before Pilsung could answer, he yelled at Gidong, “You son of a bitch!” and kicked the back of his seat.

“Ahem, sorry.”

Gidong stifled his laughter as Pilsung’s foot shook the car. He nodded apologetically through the rearview mirror. Pilsung ran a hand through his hair and turned to Wooyoon, his expression surprisingly gentle despite his harsh features.

“Why do you ask?”

Wooyoon didn’t answer. Pilsung racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d done anything today that Wooyoon might have found objectionable. He tried to recall any particularly egregious gangster behavior, but gave up. A gangster was a gangster; today was probably no different from any other day.

He frowned and scratched his eyebrow, then turned Wooyoon’s face towards him and licked his lips clean of whipped cream and sugar.

“There’s no such thing as a good gangster. Don’t you think?”

“I guess…”

“Even if I’m a fucking bad guy, even if I’m a piece of shit, what we did yesterday is still valid. Got it?”

He waved his left hand, the thick gold ring on his pinky finger glinting. It was a gesture that warned Wooyoon not to have any second thoughts.

“I know. I won’t…”

“The fact that you rode my dick like a merry-go-round, and that I sucked your ass—”

Wooyoon quickly clapped a hand over Pilsung’s mouth, mindful of Gidong’s presence. His attempt to cover Pilsung’s lips was half-hearted, but Pilsung obediently shut up and looked at him.

His flushed face was adorable. Even his frowning expression was cute. Pilsung remembered Wooyoon whimpering in his arms all night, never once refusing him.

Fuck, I fought hard for this boyfriend title. I wouldn’t give it up even if I lost a limb.

He pulled Wooyoon’s hand away from his mouth and turned his head towards the driver’s seat, his gaze still fixed on Wooyoon.

“Gidong.”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Pull over.”

Fifteen minutes had passed since Gidong tactfully excused himself after parking the car in a secluded corner of the department store’s underground parking lot. It had taken Pilsung less than a minute to convince Wooyoon, who whined about being scared because they were in public, that the tinted windows offered enough privacy, to kiss him, and to strip him naked.

Pilsung leaned his face against Wooyoon’s cheek, his arms wrapped around his neck. Wooyoon’s hips bucked against his with each stroke of their intertwined cocks.

“Pilsung… sniff… Pilsung…”

His voice, a mix of whimpers and husky moans, was incredibly arousing. Pilsung had heard it all night, but he couldn’t get enough.

“Sit… fuck… closer.”

He pulled Wooyoon closer, their naked bodies pressed flush against each other. Their wet cocks rubbed against Pilsung’s bare abdomen, his shirt unbuttoned. He wrapped his arms around Wooyoon’s waist, leaned back against the seat, and started thrusting his hips. The buckle of his loosened trousers clinked against the car seat with each movement.

Despite clinging to Pilsung, Wooyoon struggled to maintain his balance as his body bounced against him. He braced himself against the car roof, then against the seat behind Pilsung, but he was no match for the pleasure radiating from his cock pressed against Pilsung’s hard stomach. He eventually gave up, wrapping his arms around Pilsung’s neck and head, surrendering to the waves of pleasure.

“Ah! Mm! Pilsung! Ah!”

“Ha… Nam Wooyoon… fuck… good…!”

Pilsung groaned, his face contorted in a grimace, and came hard, his arms tightening around Wooyoon. He nuzzled his face against Wooyoon’s sweaty neck, peppering it with kisses, then rubbed his nose against the sensitive skin below his ear.

Even though he couldn’t smell Wooyoon’s pheromones, his instincts guided him. He nuzzled and licked the skin below Wooyoon’s ear like a dog, his cock, still unsatisfied, twitching for more. His body craved more of Nam Wooyoon.

He tilted Wooyoon’s head back, his hand still on the nape of his neck, and kissed him deeply, biting his panting lips, their tongues tangling. He was charmed by Wooyoon’s newfound enthusiasm for kissing.

He pecked Wooyoon’s lips, chuckled, and released his neck.

“Ha…”

Wooyoon stared at Pilsung’s profile, then glanced around, uncomfortable with the feeling of their mixed semen dripping down his stomach. Pilsung pulled out a pack of wet wipes from the storage compartment below the car door and handed him one.

“Here, give me that.”

He watched Wooyoon trying to clean himself, then snatched the wipe away. But after a few half-hearted swipes, he started playing with Wooyoon’s nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as he stroked himself.

Wooyoon watched him silently, then mumbled, “I wasn’t asking… to take back what happened yesterday…”

“Ha… what?”

“You helped me so much today… and not just today, always… but I don’t know much about you… that’s why I asked.”

“Ha… what the fuck… are you babbling about… while I’m jerking off…?”

“I just thought I should prepare myself… if you were worse than I thought… I mean, I’ll still like you, even if you’re a really bad gangster…”

“Ha!”

Wooyoon watched, incredulous, as Pilsung came again, a thick stream of semen shooting out and splattering the back of the front seat. He couldn’t believe Pilsung had come so many times during the night, and then again just now.

He glanced at the mess and reached for another wet wipe. Pilsung, startled by the loss of contact with his nipple, watched him clean up the spilled semen.

He’d been close to climaxing, but Wooyoon’s words—that he would like him no matter what—had pushed him over the edge. The words, coming from the fragile kid who struggled to survive, meant the world to him, the gangster who lived a life of selfish indulgence.

He stared at Wooyoon, his lips parted slightly, then chuckled and adjusted his pants. His gaze returned to Wooyoon, his expression softening as he stared at him, his shirt still unbuttoned.

While Pilsung gazed at him with a mixture of emotions, Wooyoon fiddled with the loose waistband of Pilsung’s drawers, which he’d put on after his own had been ripped to shreds.

“Nam Wooyoon.”

Wooyoon looked up at Pilsung’s soft call, his gaze unusually gentle.

“It’s true that I make a living doing bad things…”

“…”

“But I won’t be bad to you.”

His rough hand, calloused even between the knuckles, gently cupped Wooyoon’s cheek.

“I’ll never be a bad guy to you. So you don’t need to know everything.”

“…”

“You don’t have to know what you don’t have to know.”

“…Okay.”

Pilsung rubbed his thumb against Wooyoon’s cheek and picked up his discarded shirt from the floor, helping him put it on. He felt Wooyoon’s gaze on him but focused on buttoning his shirt.

There were more things he couldn’t tell Wooyoon about his work than things he could. That included what he was about to do tonight.

The things Baek Pilsung did, the things he was about to do, and the things he’d already done. Everything about him, including his past and the very essence of his being, was dirty and shameful. Nam Wooyoon didn’t need to know, and it wouldn’t do him any good.

He smoothed Wooyoon’s hair, which had been ruffled while he was getting dressed, and opened the car door. The air in the parking garage was humid. He brushed off the wrinkles on his still unbuttoned shirt and took Wooyoon’s hand as he stepped out of the car.

Wooyoon immediately pulled out a bottle of pheromone-masking spray and started spraying himself liberally. Pilsung watched him, hands in his pockets, as he meticulously covered himself from head to toe, apparently emitting a strong scent that Pilsung couldn’t detect.

He watched Wooyoon sniff his shirt, then self-consciously rubbed his own nose.

Wooyoon sprayed the top of his head one last time and looked up at Pilsung.

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah…”

Pilsung rubbed his nose, then Wooyoon’s down-turned eyes with his thumb, and chuckled.

The two men, standing with their legs apart and arms crossed, their faces set in menacing scowls, erupted in applause as Wooyoon emerged from the fitting room. The loud clapping drew curious glances from other shoppers. Oblivious to the stares, Pilsung gave a thumbs-up and shouted, “Wow! Nam Wooyoon, you look ready to get married!”

“You could walk down the aisle right now!” Gidong chimed in, echoing Pilsung’s pre-arranged words. Embarrassed by the sudden praise, Wooyoon glanced at the full-length mirror. He felt like he was wearing someone else’s clothes, but with such enthusiastic compliments, maybe it did suit him. He wasn’t sure why they kept comparing a well-fitting suit to marriage though.

Wooyoon spread his arms, the oversized black jacket hanging loosely on his frame. Pilsung and Gidong had said it looked good, but he felt like a scarecrow. This was the result of being dragged to the menswear section and pushed into a fitting room with a suit Pilsung had chosen without hesitation.

…Too black.

He touched the long sleeves of the jacket and looked at Pilsung and Gidong in the mirror. The two men, who had been momentarily distracted, immediately gave him a thumbs-up and nodded in unison.

Wooyoon frowned, then hesitantly approached Pilsung. “Can I choose something myself?”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“I just want to choose. I’ve never chosen my own clothes before…”

“Heejae Nam, that son of a bitch! Fine, pick whatever you want!”

Pilsung was furious that Wooyoon, at twenty years old, had never chosen his own clothes. He put his hands on his hips and fumed, contemplating calling Heejae in Incheon and ordering him to be starved for a few days. Meanwhile, Wooyoon, granted the freedom of choice, happily left the menswear section.

He rarely had the opportunity to buy things for himself. There were no choices at the orphanage, and after leaving, he simply wore, used, and ate whatever his brother gave him.

Excited, he wandered through the various brand stores, his eyes wide with wonder. But his excitement was short-lived. By the time he reached the elevator to the parking garage, his arms loaded with shopping bags, his face was glum. Pilsung had rejected everything he’d chosen, paying only for the plain, single-colored items.

Pilsung glanced at Wooyoon, clutching the bags with a sullen expression, and scolded him, “What good is a pretty face if you have no taste? Why would you spend money on such crap?”

Wooyoon, his lips pursed in a sulk, muttered, “What’s wrong with them…? If they’re the same price, isn’t it better if they have pictures and colors… and… more variety?”

“No, it’s not, damn it.”

Pilsung hadn’t realized department stores even sold such clothes. He’d been appalled by Wooyoon’s choices, each item looking like it had been pulled from a clothing donation bin. They were all brightly colored or emblazoned with ridiculous graphics, either on the chest or the back.

Pilsung, who had always assumed Heejae was responsible for Wooyoon’s terrible fashion sense, now wondered if he’d been wrong. Or maybe Wooyoon’s taste had been permanently damaged by wearing such clothes for so long.

He was certain his choices were better than Wooyoon’s, but Gidong, standing behind them with his arms crossed, wasn’t so sure. His boss’s insistence on buying an ill-fitting suit hadn’t been a stroke of genius either. He’d dutifully applauded and agreed that it looked good, but he thought it made Wooyoon look like a frail assassin from some second-rate gang.

“You can’t just rely on your pretty face to get you through life,” Pilsung said seriously as they walked to the car, clicking his tongue. But when Wooyoon turned sharply and glared at him, he grinned, wrapping an arm around his narrow shoulders and nuzzling him. Wooyoon continued to grumble under his breath, just loud enough for Pilsung to hear, but he didn’t push him away.

Gidong followed them, pondering the sudden change in their dynamic since the tofu restaurant, wondering when he would have a chance at a relationship and what had caused this shift. He decided to postpone the debate on who had worse fashion sense.

They reached the car. Gidong took the bags, loaded them into the trunk, and opened the driver’s side door.

“Ugh!”

He quickly covered his nose and stepped back. Pilsung, confused, looked at Gidong, then noticed Wooyoon’s flushed face. As Wooyoon buried his face in the car roof, Pilsung reached for him, but Gidong grabbed his arm.

“Sorry, Boss, I think you should drive.”

Pilsung looked at the car keys Gidong offered him and finally understood.

“Right. See you at the office.”

“Have a safe trip. See you later, Wooyoon.”

Gidong bowed politely to both of them and hurried away. The car, with its windows closed, must have been filled with Wooyoon’s pheromones.

Pilsung looked at Wooyoon, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and tapped the car roof. “Get in the front. Let’s go home.”

“Did… Gidong smell it?”

Wooyoon, embarrassed, slid into the passenger seat, his face still flushed. Pilsung started the car and buckled his seatbelt. “He just gave us some privacy to fuck. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“But the pheromones… you can’t smell them, so you don’t know…”

Pilsung stared at him, his mouth slightly agape, then said in a low voice, “…Right. I can’t smell them. I wouldn’t know…”

Wooyoon fidgeted, glancing nervously around the parking lot even though Gidong was long gone. “What if Gidong was offended…?”

He was probably uncomfortable. Even if he knew, as Pilsung said, it couldn’t have been pleasant to witness their private moment.

And the scent was so…

He pulled out his pheromone-masking spray and sprayed the air. While Wooyoon fretted over the lingering scent, Pilsung grumbled about something else.

“Stop calling him ‘Gidong’ and call him ‘Gigong’.”

Wooyoon frowned and looked at Pilsung. “He looks older than you.”

“Fuck, age doesn’t matter in the hierarchy. If you’re my man, you’re above Gigong too.”

Pilsung spoke as if stating the obvious, then added, “Put your seatbelt on,” and grabbed the steering wheel.

They pulled out of the parking garage and onto the busy six-lane road in front of the department store. Glancing at the now quiet Wooyoon, Pilsung rolled down the window, letting the wind rush through the car. It would clear out the pheromone scent, even if he couldn’t smell it.

He was lost in thought as he drove. If he still had any Alpha traits, would he have been able to smell Wooyoon’s pheromones during their intimacy? He tried to recall the scent he’d caught in the emergency room, but it was faint. If he’d retained even a trace of his Alpha senses, he wouldn’t have let Gidong be subjected to Wooyoon’s sexually charged scent.

He clicked his tongue, his arm resting on the window frame. For the first time in all the years he’d spent suppressing his Alpha side, he felt a pang of regret.

“Baek Pilsung…”

“Yeah?”

Wooyoon spoke hesitantly as Pilsung glanced at the side mirror. “Should… I call you ‘hyung’?”

“Ew, no. That’s creepy. Are you my underling? Just call me by my name.”

Pilsung grimaced. “Hyung” was a title reserved for his crew. He didn’t want to hear it from his cute boyfriend. It would feel like he was dating one of his men.

“Hey, Nam Wooyoon, listen.”

He spoke seriously, explaining that age didn’t matter, that seniority dictated titles, and that lovers called each other by their names. As Wooyoon listened to Pilsung’s explanation, which seemed both logical and illogical, he concluded that the gangster world had surprisingly complex rules. They arrived back at the apartment building.

Pilsung carried the bags inside and saw Wooyoon to the door, his shoes still on. “I’m going to work. Take care of dinner yourself tonight; the guys are busy.”

“Where are you going? Another business trip? For how long?”

Wooyoon remembered the times Pilsung had suddenly left on business, leaving him with no way to contact him. His eyes widened with concern. Pilsung, his large frame blocking the doorway, chuckled.

“Going cleaning.”

“Oh…”

Wooyoon’s face fell. He remembered the “cleaning” Pilsung had promised the police in exchange for his release. How much did they intend to exploit him if they were making him clean a police station all night? Even for a gangster, this seemed like unfair labor exploitation. A spark of defiance flickered in his usually downcast eyes.

Pilsung, noticing the shift in Wooyoon’s expression, beckoned him closer.

“Lock the door properly.”

He bent down and pulled Wooyoon into a tight embrace. “Call the police if anything happens.”

“What about you…?”

“I won’t be able to answer.”

Wooyoon pouted, pulling away from Pilsung’s embrace. The gangster who had lectured him about the duties and responsibilities of a boyfriend seemed to have forgotten everything he’d said now that they were actually together.

Pilsung, oblivious to Wooyoon’s feelings, ruffled his hair and turned to leave.

“Pilsung…”

Pilsung paused at the door and looked back.

“Come back soon.”

He chuckled, reached out to pat Wooyoon’s cheek, and disappeared out the door. Wooyoon watched the door close slowly, then ran to Pilsung’s bed and flopped down, burying his face in Pilsung’s pillow. He felt a mix of conflicting emotions about having someone to wait for again.

I already miss him…

He knew how dull, insignificant, and lonely his life was without Pilsung. He couldn’t wait for morning to come.

Chungman Oh was an army veteran, a man who claimed to have chased away even ghosts. In his youth, he had wielded authority in various groups and organizations, wearing an armband and barking orders. Even now, well into his older years, he took pride in his life, believing he’d contributed to the foundation of South Korea.

For such a man, the police releasing the gold-digging Omega who had assaulted him without punishment, without even demanding an apology, was unforgivable.

“I accuse Chief Goseok of the Gomun Police Station of violating victims’ rights!”

Chungman shouted into a megaphone, holding up a sketchbook hanging from his neck. Passersby on their way home from work paid no attention to his one-man protest in his hospital gown, hurrying past the police station.

He raised the sketchbook higher, his face red with indignation. “South Korea, rotten with mutants! Guarantee the safety of Betas! Guarantee it!”

His protest, which had started with his outrage over the Omega’s unfair return home, as relayed to him at the hospital last night, had morphed into a demand for the expulsion of all designated individuals. He chanted the slogans he usually shouted at the weekly anti-designation protests.

“Recognize the uniqueness of Betas! Recognize…!”

A screech of tires pierced the air. A black van screeched to a halt in front of the police station. The doors flew open, and several large Alphas jumped out, dragging Chungman into the van in less than ten seconds. They slammed the doors shut and sped away.

Officer Han, stepping out of the station with a cup of coffee, clicked his tongue at the sight of the abandoned sketchbook, megaphone, and one of Chungman’s slippers lying on the ground.

“So… this is why the Chief and Captain use those Alpha gangster bastards…”

He shook his head and went back inside.

The van, having quickly left the narrow street where the police station was located, swerved onto the main road. Chungman, his arms held by the burly Alphas, thrashed his legs.

“Let me go! Do you know who I am? You Alpha scum! How dare you lay your hands on a Beta!”

He was breathing heavily like an enraged bull, but he flinched when he recognized the face sitting across from him. He quickly recovered and sneered, trying to hide his fear.

“You! You’re that Omega gold digger’s pimp, aren’t y—!”

Pilsung slapped him across the face, his body leaning forward, his brow furrowed.

“You knew he was mine, and you still touched him?”

“Ow… ow…”

Chungman whimpered, his lip bleeding. Pilsung stared at him, then slapped him again, on the other cheek. This time, Chungman’s head snapped back.

“I was going to visit you at the hospital, but they said you were at the station?”

“Ow… I’m dying…”

“We’re a bit busy today. Let’s make this quick.”

“You shouldn’t have let those Omega siblings into your house! That little Omega gold digger devoured m—!”

Pilsung’s fist shot out, connecting with Chungman’s jaw before he could finish his sentence. Unlike the slaps, this blow silenced him completely. Blood gushed from his mouth and nose, broken teeth and bloody saliva spilling down his chin.

Pilsung wiped his bloody fist on the van seat and turned to Gidong, sitting beside him. “When we get there, cut his vocal cords so he can’t make a sound. Then his fingers… ah, did you get the wife’s consent form?”

“Yes, the guys took care of it this morning.”

Pilsung looked at Chungman, who was still dazed, and explained the situation. “Your wife seemed like a nice lady. She said you beat her regularly, you bastard.”

“Ugh…”

“She only asked us to spare your life because you’re her husband, so be grateful. Your disability benefits and insurance money will go to her account. You’ll eat when she feeds you, and you’ll take your beatings.”

He slapped Chungman one more time and checked the time on his phone. According to the information he’d received from the police chief, the rising gang was holding a business presentation at a hotel in Yongsan. The unusually late hour suggested it was a front for a financial investment scam. Baek Pilsung’s crew had been tasked with disrupting the event and making sure the gang couldn’t recover.

He was on a tight schedule. He needed to deal with this old bastard and get to the hotel on time. He looked out the window, listening to Chungman’s groans. The long summer days were over; darkness had already fallen.