One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 13.2

Tossing and turning in bed, Wooyoon woke up to a nagging ache in his lower back. Opening his eyes alone in the vast bed, he let out a groan, “Ouch,” as he sat up. The house was devoid of any signs of another presence. Without even checking the bathroom or the closet, he knew Pilsung wasn’t there.

“…”

Pressing his lips tightly together, Wooyoon turned his head to glance at the wide-open windows. Despite the air conditioner humming, not only the living room window but also the small kitchen window were flung open. As he ran his hands over his body, clad in fresh new clothes, Wooyoon pushed aside the blanket draped over his legs and tried to recall the events before his memory had slipped away.

He had slept with Baek Pilsung. They’d had sex. All the way.

His cheeks puffed up slightly, flushing a soft red. An irrepressible smile spread across his face. Though he felt embarrassed thinking about it again, he couldn’t hide how good it made him feel.

He had wanted to grow close enough to Pilsung that he wouldn’t have to feel anxious anymore, and now, he really had. Even though his memories were fragmented and incomplete, he felt undeniably connected to Pilsung. Wooyoon thought he understood why so many people said penetrative sex was important to lovers. No, he understood it completely.

If only he could remember it in a bit more detail…

His fragmented memories were mostly vague sensations rather than precise scenes—pleasant feelings Pilsung had stirred in him and the warm embrace of his body. Still, Wooyoon vividly recalled Pilsung’s low voice endlessly calling his name and the excited expression on his face as he filled him entirely.

A tough-looking guy, but surprisingly full of good qualities—a thug with a heart. Wooyoon’s impression of Baek Pilsung, which had lingered at that point, deepened and grew richer within him.

Rummaging through his memories, Wooyoon touched his swollen eyelids and slid off the bed. He felt shy and awkward at the thought of facing Pilsung, yet he couldn’t wait to see him again.

“Ugh.”

His legs wobbled pitifully as they hit the floor. Supporting his stiff lower back with one hand, he crouched awkwardly. Like a newborn animal taking its first steps, Wooyoon stumbled away from the bed with unsteady strides, looking around for his phone to contact the absent Pilsung.

“…”

As he searched for his phone, Wooyoon’s gaze landed on the half-open front door. Why would someone leave every door and window open like that and then disappear? Before he could dwell on the question, he spotted a slipper-clad foot through the gap in the door.

“Pilsung.”

Calling out to him, Wooyoon pushed the half-open door with his shoulder and stepped outside. Pilsung was sitting on the steps leading to the rooftop. Dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs, a cigarette dangling from one hand, Pilsung turned to look at Wooyoon.

“Pilsung…? Your face…”

The capillaries under his eyes had burst, and a flush extended down to his cheeks. His face, with delicate veins standing out like spider webs, looked like something out of a zombie movie.

“Ah… it’s just…”

Scratching his forehead with the hand holding the cigarette, Pilsung averted his gaze from Wooyoon. Overnight, Pilsung had cleaned Wooyoon, who had fallen asleep soaked in his semen, and scrubbed every corner of the house. He’d opened all the doors to air out the pheromone scent and doused himself with deodorizing perfume from Wooyoon’s bag. He wanted to appear as normal as possible when Wooyoon woke up, planning to calmly explain the circumstances that forced him to hide his traits.

With a tense expression, Pilsung bit his lip bitterly, took a long drag on his cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of smoke before looking back at Wooyoon.

“Nam Wooyoon, I…”

“Pilsung.”

“…”

“I… I’ll meet Hyung.”

Fidgeting with his hands clasped in front of him, Wooyoon’s cheeks reddened. Truthfully, he’d made up his mind the moment he opened his eyes in bed. He was ready to meet his brother now.

In a small voice, Wooyoon confessed the fears he’d harbored in secret.

“I was scared that if I met Hyung, I’d have to leave you.”

He hadn’t had the courage to face his brother before, afraid that meeting him would mean the end of his relationship with Pilsung. But now, Wooyoon felt a solid bond with Pilsung. Even if his memories were hazy, his body and heart knew it clearly. The strong connection with Baek Pilsung wouldn’t break. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

“Actually… every time you left for work, I got a little anxious. I was scared you wouldn’t come back, like Hyung…”

“…”

“But when I woke up today, that fear was gone.”

Realizing how his words might sound, Wooyoon quickly added, worried he’d come across as someone obsessed with physical intimacy.

“No, it’s not like… it’s only because we had sex or anything. Really. I don’t even remember it that well…”

Pilsung, who had been silently watching Wooyoon mention the previous night, stubbed out his cigarette on the step and stood up.

“You… don’t remember?”

Glancing up at Pilsung’s expressionless question, Wooyoon scratched the back of his head.

“I do, but…”

“How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much do you remember, and how much don’t you?”

At the somewhat curt tone, Wooyoon shrank slightly, blinking his swollen eyes as he answered.

“Just… you holding me…?”

“…”

Rubbing his bloodshot eyes with the palm of his hand, Pilsung let out a long, “Hoo,” sigh. He glanced at Wooyoon, who stood there cluelessly, and lowered his head.

It seemed that whatever Pilsung was worried about from last night wasn’t part of what Wooyoon remembered. The fact that Wooyoon didn’t immediately question him about pheromones or traits upon seeing his face was proof enough.

Was it a relief? Or a test?

As Pilsung wrestled with what to do next—how to even face Wooyoon—a pale hand suddenly reached toward his face. Startled by the unexpected touch, Pilsung reflexively swatted Wooyoon’s hand away.

“…”

“…Go inside. I’ll make you breakfast.”

Leaving Wooyoon staring up at him with wide eyes, Pilsung trudged back through the front door. For now, physical contact with Wooyoon was out of the question. He didn’t know when his pheromones might flare up again, spreading their scent. No, more than that, he was terrified of when those damn pheromones might drive him to lose control and hurt Nam Wooyoon like some feral beast.

“…”

Left alone by the stairs, Wooyoon silently watched Pilsung’s retreating back through the open door. Pilsung, slouching his broad shoulders, rubbed his cheek where Wooyoon’s hand had touched and disappeared into the closet.

“What the…”

Muttering quietly, Wooyoon clenched his hand tightly. The sting of being brushed off by Pilsung for the first time lingered.

While eating the breakfast Pilsung had ordered, Wooyoon stole glances at Park Cheolhee sitting across from him.

Perhaps it had been arranged beforehand, but Park Cheolhee arrived before Pilsung even emerged from the closet. Wooyoon wondered why Park Cheolhee, someone he only occasionally spoke to at the office, had come to the house. But Pilsung, dressed in his usual suit with a couple of shirt buttons undone, left the house in a hurry without giving Wooyoon a chance to say anything.

For the past two weeks, they’d gone to the office together, but today, Pilsung had fled without even looking at him properly, his back unfamiliar. Even before, Pilsung hadn’t taken him to places like Incheon or the workshop, but on those occasions, he’d never hidden his reluctance to part, spending at least ten minutes holding him close and kissing him.

He wouldn’t even say how he got hurt…

Stirring the soup Pilsung had ordered for him, Wooyoon spoke up.

“Is Pilsung… busy with something again?”

“I don’t know much about Boss’s schedule.”

“Oh…”

Letting out a small sigh, Wooyoon nodded listlessly. Park Cheolhee stared at Wooyoon’s bowl, as if following orders to ensure he finished it. Wooyoon’s ears reddened as he resumed spooning the soup.

I feel awful…

Worried that something might have happened to Pilsung, he also felt embarrassed. In the fragmented memories of last night with Pilsung, had he been the only one who felt so good? The thought kept circling in his mind.

He’d expected to talk with Pilsung today in a warm, closer atmosphere, but they hadn’t even made eye contact, let alone had a conversation. He didn’t know how other couples acted after going “all the way,” but… it shouldn’t be like this, right?

“…”

Pilsung’s back as he brusquely brushed off his hand kept flashing before his eyes. What had happened last night that he couldn’t remember? Had he, being inexperienced, made a mistake? Staring intently at the soup, Wooyoon pursed his lips slightly.

Slipping on a shirt he’d taken off, Pilsung buttoned it quickly, grabbed his jacket with one arm, and checked his phone before pulling back the dressing room curtain. A gruff, “Shit,” slipped from his lips. It was a photo of a soup bowl, more than half full.

“Ha, damn it… Why’s he not eating again…?”

Knowing it’d upset him to death.

He should’ve stayed to watch him eat every bite, but he hadn’t. Finding out the cause of his body’s issue and whether his existence posed a threat to Nam Wooyoon was more pressing.

Tapping his forehead with the phone, Pilsung stepped out of the dressing room. Dr. Kim Cheonse, seated at his desk, clicked his tongue. Expecting a lecture, Pilsung wasn’t surprised when it came.

“I told you it’d cause trouble someday, didn’t I? I warned you countless times not to take or sell that weird drug you made, tch! Are you satisfied now that you’ve caused a mess?”

“Ugh, don’t nag. My head’s already about to explode.”

Pilsung flopped into a round swivel chair, legs spread.

“When’ll the test results come back? Tomorrow?”

“Don’t rush. Wait a week.”

“Fuck! A whole week?”

Pilsung slammed his fist on the doctor’s desk.

“I couldn’t even go near Nam Wooyoon last night in case I lost it again, and you’re telling me to live like this for a week?”

“It takes a week just to check pheromone abnormalities. Finding the cause will take longer. University hospitals with trait research centers in Korea? You can’t even count them on one hand.”

“Fuck, this sucks…”

Raking his hair back, Pilsung rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm.

“Then give me a suppressant.”

“…”

“You gave me that booster last time, the one that worked right away. There’s gotta be a suppressant too. Hook me up with that. The ones from the pharmacy won’t cut it, so give me an IV.”

The doctor looked at Pilsung’s outstretched arm with disdain.

“You said even the drug you made didn’t work. How am I supposed to prescribe a suppressant without knowing the cause or severity? If it’s resistance, a suppressant could make your pheromones explode. It could be worse than yesterday.”

“…”

“I’ll prescribe an ointment for the burst veins. Slather it on your face and neck.”

“Ugh, screw it.”

Biting his lower lip irritably, Pilsung shot up from the chair. The doctor, glancing up at Pilsung’s grim expression, adjusted his glasses and said softly.

“While you’re at it, tell him everything.”

Ignoring the doctor’s last words, Pilsung grabbed his jacket and left the clinic. Stepping into the empty hallway lined with “for lease” signs, he pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it.

Taking a long drag and exhaling smoke, Pilsung boarded an old elevator that opened just then. The other passengers seemed displeased with him smoking indoors but said nothing.

Because they saw him as an Alpha.

Pilsung smirked, brow furrowed.

His traits had manifested at eleven. Early. Of course, his bastard father’s abuse had started long before. The night he realized he was an Alpha, Pilsung ran away to survive. Just the suspicion of being an Alpha had gotten him beaten to a pulp; if his father had known for sure, he’d have been killed.

On the streets at eleven, Pilsung quickly learned there were countless people like his father. As a teenager, he hated the fearful or disgusted looks people gave him for being an Alpha, and he hated his own nature, which he couldn’t defy. Not all Alphas were cruel or rotten, but he resented society’s prejudice against innocent Alphas while struggling with his own duality—defending Alphas like himself yet acting out in anger. He refused to embrace being an Alpha, unwilling to justify the reasons his father had used to beat him.

Stubbing out his cigarette on the elevator door, Pilsung turned and nodded.

“Sorry.”

His apology made the elevator even quieter. Normally, he’d have cursed out the Betas for acting high and mighty, but today, he stepped off silently.

At the parking lot, Gidong looked at Pilsung with concern. Ignoring him, Pilsung climbed into the passenger seat. Gidong scratched his head and opened the driver’s door.

Worried Pilsung might lash out over yesterday, Gidong realized he was dealing with something else. Having heard a brief explanation on the way to the clinic, Gidong was concerned about the “sister-in-law” left at home.

“Any test results yet?”

Leaning an arm on the window frame, idly touching his hair, Pilsung replied, “A week.”

Pulling out of the parking lot, Gidong asked, “Being in the same space as her… it’s risky, right?”

“Gotta stay away from home as much as possible…”

“You’re not gonna tell her, are you?”

Glancing at Gidong, who, like the doctor, brought up Wooyoon, Pilsung closed his eyes.

“Fix her brother’s issue first.”

“She decided to meet Nam Heejae?”

“Yeah.”

Pilsung answered shortly, eyes still closed. Gidong, driving, glanced between the road and Pilsung. After hesitating, he spoke cautiously.

“I know it’s not my place, but… I think she’d understand…”

“The guy who swore to protect her saying he’s an Alpha who might flip and pounce any moment? Scaredy-cat Nam Wooyoon would handle that well?”

Gidong fell silent, focusing on driving. As an Alpha himself, he knew. When pheromones took over, control was impossible.

Maybe gentle Nam Wooyoon would understand everything. But understanding wasn’t the issue. Last night, by some miracle, he’d avoided knotting, but he’d ravaged an unconscious Nam Wooyoon like a beast for minutes. At this rate, he might end up raping him. That was Pilsung’s biggest fear.

Eyes closed, muttering, “Fuck,” Pilsung rubbed his bloodshot face roughly.

Back at the villa, Pilsung sprayed deodorizer before opening the door. The doctor’s talk of resistance lingered, so he avoided pheromone suppressants or non-pheromone pills. He’d had Gidong check his scent multiple times and still stationed him downstairs for good measure.

With a hardened expression, Pilsung opened the door as if nothing had happened.

“…”

Wooyoon was curled up on the bed, holding his phone. A faint voice from a video played. Noticing Pilsung’s arrival but not looking up, he seemed hurt from the morning. Pilsung felt sorry and guilty, but maybe it was for the best.

A cold war until the test results came wasn’t a bad idea. He could beg for forgiveness later, but for now, until he found a solution…

“Baek Pilsung.”

“Huh…?”

Startled by Wooyoon’s sudden call, Pilsung turned his head reflexively.

Damn it, he should’ve been colder.

Too late, Pilsung furrowed his brow.

“…”

“…”

It was cold. Wooyoon’s gaze was icy. He recalled a time on vacation when Pilsung had been upset with him. But this was beyond that—his expression was chillingly detached. Pausing the video, Wooyoon buried his face in his knees.

While Pilsung was out since early morning, Wooyoon had searched on his phone for reasons behind Pilsung’s changed attitude. The internet and videos all pointed to one thing about a partner’s behavior changing after sex.

Lifting his face from his knees, Wooyoon looked at Pilsung, still standing with that cold expression. Swallowing hard against the tightening in his throat, he said, “Was I… not good?”

Caught off guard by the question, Pilsung’s cool facade cracked, his jaw dropping. The question was so absurd that even Park Cheolhee, standing guard in the corner, tilted his head.

Barely closing his mouth, Pilsung stammered, “Hey… what kind of crude talk is that from a kid like you…?”

Forgetting his thug persona, he scolded Wooyoon’s improper speech. He could spout all sorts of vulgarities, but Nam Wooyoon shouldn’t. It didn’t suit him.

But Wooyoon’s small lips didn’t stop spewing shocking words.

“You tried me and realized we’re not compatible… that’s it, right? I know everything!”

Every time Wooyoon said he “knew,” Pilsung’s stomach twisted. Hands on his hips, he frowned.

“Where’d you hear that? YouTube, huh? Phones ruin people, you know? Turn it off, now!”

Striding to the bed, Pilsung snatched Wooyoon’s phone.

“What were you watching? Shit, what’s this? ‘How to Score Your Partner’s Reaction After Sex’… what the hell! Damn it!”

He didn’t know what search led Nam Wooyoon to this nonsense, but it was even more useless than the relationship lectures that had him writing apology letters.

“Damn it, why are you watching this crap…?”

About to turn off the paused video, a pale hand grabbed his wrist. Startled by Wooyoon’s sudden touch, Pilsung swatted it away and stepped back.

“Fuck, you scared me!”

“Look at this…!”

Jumping off the bed, Wooyoon approached. Pilsung, still holding the phone, retreated a couple more steps. Chasing Pilsung, who kept backing away, Wooyoon’s face reddened, his voice trembling with tears.

“You’re acting like this because we didn’t match, because I wasn’t anything special after going all the way…!”

“Hey, come on! It’s not like that, so stay back! Talk from there!”

“Then why do you keep running? Why are you suddenly acting like a stranger?”

A game of tag broke out in the living room. Wooyoon, teary-eyed, chased Pilsung’s retreating figure. Park Cheolhee, hands clasped, watched the boss and his partner circle the room with a blank expression.

“Why are you avoiding me? Why?”

“I said stay there and don’t come closer!”

Park Cheolhee wasn’t much interested in worldly affairs. He had no curiosities or ambitions. His quiet nature, due to his complex about his voice, made him a loner, easily cut off wherever he went. He’d become a thug because it required doing as told without making a fuss. But recently, Park Cheolhee had made a friend…

“Don’t you run away, ugh, stay there!”

His gaze fixed on the small figure. He wasn’t curious why Pilsung was dodging so frantically; he just felt sorry for his little friend being ignored.

“Damn it, I’m not running, you’re just coming at me…!”

Park Cheolhee’s eyes widened when Wooyoon’s body lifted into the air after Pilsung’s flailing hand struck his shoulder. Standing rigidly, only moving his eyes, Park Cheolhee instinctively lunged forward, arms outstretched, catching Wooyoon in a cinematic slow-motion moment.

Rolling across the floor with Wooyoon in his arms, Park Cheolhee got up, checking on him before looking at Pilsung, who stood frozen in shock.

“Nam… Nam Wooyoon…”

It was just a graze, but he’d nearly hurt Wooyoon. Snapping out of his daze, Pilsung reached for Wooyoon, now sitting on the floor with Park Cheolhee.

“Hey, Nam Wooyoon… are you okay…?”

“You… you hit me.”

Pilsung’s eyes widened at Wooyoon’s words.

“Hey, no, no, no!! It wasn’t a hit! I mean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I didn’t hit you, damn it, you came at me and bumped…”

“…”

“No! I’m sorry, Nam Wooyoon, are you hurt? I’m sorry, okay?”

His droopy, pitiful eyes darted nervously as they met Wooyoon’s. Tears welled up in Wooyoon’s large eyes instantly.

“…Sob!”

“Hey…”

“Sob, ugh…!”

The hurt he’d been holding back burst out. Pilsung leaving with that cold face felt like it was really because of him, and it stung. Only now, with Pilsung’s coldness, did he realize how kind and affectionate Pilsung had been, making himself feel foolish. Ironically, alongside self-blame, resentment toward Pilsung grew. He hated Pilsung for turning cold over his lack of skill in bed.

It was his first time, so of course he wasn’t good… Forgetting wasn’t on purpose…

“Nam Wooyoon, I’m sorr—ugh.”

Stepping closer to comfort Wooyoon’s trembling shoulders, Pilsung froze, retracting his hand. A faint pheromone scent wafted from Wooyoon, heavy with sadness and hurt. Feeling Wooyoon’s pheromones meant his own, quiet since last night, were stirring again.

Clenching his fist, adorned with a chunky gold ring, to cover his nose and mouth, Pilsung turned to Park Cheolhee.

“Calm him down… stay with Nam Wooyoon until I call.”

Nodding, Park Cheolhee watched as Pilsung, meeting Wooyoon’s resentful glare, turned away silently.

“Sob, ugh… don’t go…”

Pretending not to hear the choked sob, Pilsung shoved his feet into his shoes and left. He didn’t trust himself to resist the thickening pheromone scent. Rubbing his racing heart, he descended the stairs, where Gidong waited, asking worriedly, certain they’d fought.

“She’s upset because you’re going away for a week?”

“Fuck…”

Pilsung muttered a curse instead of answering. He couldn’t even use the lie he’d prepared. The image of Wooyoon, startled and crying after his hand grazed him, kept flashing before his eyes. Why had his swinging hand been at Wooyoon’s height? He wanted to hold the sobbing Nam Wooyoon, tell him not to cry, but he couldn’t.

Can’t do a damn thing, fuck.

Slapping his sweat-dampened neck, Pilsung said, “Day after tomorrow… take Nam Wooyoon to Incheon to meet his brother.”

“What? Just me? You should be there when he meets Nam Heejae!”

Glancing at Gidong, startled as they descended, Pilsung frowned.

“It’ll take more than a week to get test results and find a solution. Damn it, how can I make a kid who’s finally resolved to face his brother wait without a promise? Just take him.”

“But Boss…”

Gidong pouted, upset. Pilsung had gone to great lengths to ensure no hurtful words reached Wooyoon, even staying in Incheon for days to personally interrogate Nam Heejae. Having seen how hard Pilsung worked for their reunion, Gidong felt Pilsung’s absence from it as his own loss.

“If Nam Heejae deviates from the script and spouts nonsense, knock him out with a kick or whatever. Make sure he doesn’t say anything weird to Nam Wooyoon. Got it?”

“Yes…”

Answering glumly, Gidong followed Pilsung out of the villa to the parking lot and asked, “Where’ll you be for the week?”

“Workshop. I’ll go alone, you head to the office.”

Walking ahead, Pilsung half-turned, gesturing. Understanding, Gidong tossed the car keys. Catching them, Pilsung strode to the parked car, his expression hardening.

If he couldn’t find a way to suppress his pheromone secretion, what then? He couldn’t keep running from a crying Nam Wooyoon without comforting him. Would he have to accept life as an Alpha?

“…Shit!”

His hand, about to open the driver’s door, slammed the car roof. Unable to contain the rage boiling like lava, he hit it a few more times, then turned, exhaling sharply. He’d fought against his Alpha life, denying it. The thought of living fully as an Alpha, exuding pheromones, made his blood boil.

Because of that bastard father!

Thinking of his father, sleeping under Incheon’s sea, made the long scar from his jaw to his throat itch. Scratching it roughly, Pilsung yanked the car door open.

Two days after Pilsung left, Wooyoon prepared to head to Incheon as Gidong instructed, dressing as told. He wanted to insist on going with Pilsung, but considering Gidong’s position, he followed quietly. He was upset and angry with Pilsung, but that wasn’t Gidong’s fault.

Still, he couldn’t hide the gloom clouding his face. At the villa’s ground floor, Wooyoon chewed his protruding lower lip, waiting for Gidong, who’d rushed to the bathroom five minutes ago with a stomachache. He worried if Gidong could drive to Incheon.

Kicking the ground with his sneaker, Wooyoon glanced at Park Cheolhee, who’d spent the past two days with him at the villa, now seeing him off. Fiddling with the messenger bag Pilsung had fixed up like new, Wooyoon nodded at him.

“I’m off… If Pilsung calls, you have to let me know.”

“…He’ll contact you directly.”

“I don’t think he will…”

Dropping his head uncertainly, Wooyoon’s small friend got a blank-faced cheer from Park Cheolhee. Just then, a black van screeched up to the villa. The rough movement, loud with tire friction, made Wooyoon, who’d been staring at his feet, look up.

At the unfamiliar vehicle, Park Cheolhee stepped in front of Wooyoon, hands behind his back. But Wooyoon’s face lit up at the sight of the nine-seater van.

It’s Pilsung…

His lips curled into a grin. Baek Pilsung, who’d once forcibly dragged him into a van to “celebrate” his supermarket job, leaving him in tears, used the same surprise tactic then and now. Even after getting slapped.

It had to be Baek Pilsung’s surprise. He must’ve planned an event to apologize for being cold.

Beaming excitedly, Wooyoon shoved Park Cheolhee aside. Park Cheolhee resisted.

“It’s an unknown car. I should report to Boss first…”

“I know it! It’s fine!”

Squeezing past Park Cheolhee’s iron defense, Wooyoon stepped forward. As if on cue, the van screeched to a halt in front of him. The door slid open, and men in black suits poured out.

They grabbed Wooyoon’s arms without hesitation. Their grip was rough, brutal. Wincing at the tight hold, Wooyoon scanned their faces. None were familiar.

Over the past two weeks at the office with Pilsung, he’d met many people, if not all. But the men dragging him to the van, and those inside, were all strangers. Only then did Wooyoon sense something was wrong, turning to Park Cheolhee.

“…!”

His mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. Park Cheolhee, who’d been guarding him moments ago, was now kneeling, clutching a screwdriver stabbed into his side.

“Ugh, uh…”

As Wooyoon let out a strained sound, the men hoisted him up and threw him into the van. Flying lightly, Wooyoon hit his head on the opposite door but trembled too much to feel the pain. The image of blood soaking Park Cheolhee’s shirt wouldn’t leave his mind.

Huddled under a seat, shaking, Wooyoon couldn’t even think about who these people were or their purpose. A hard shoe tapped his shoulder.

“Let’s see your face.”

Not Baek Pilsung. Not the office guys.

“Head up.”

“…”

Trembling with wide eyes, Wooyoon cautiously raised his head. The man on the van’s seat wore an obviously expensive suit. Smaller than Pilsung, he had a sharp demeanor, with a snake tattoo on his neck that screamed “thug.” Above all, the threatening, intense pheromone scent of an Alpha confirmed he wasn’t a good person.

Too scared to beg for his life, Wooyoon only rolled his large eyes. The man, noting Wooyoon’s quivering lips, ready to cry, inhaled sharply and sneered.

“As expected, not my type. Even our taste in picking dogs is so opposite? Fascinating.”

Shaking his head, the man pulled a phone from his jacket pocket and crossed his legs. As soon as he pressed the phone to his ear, he spoke in a smug, swaggering tone.

“Baby, if you want to keep your little bastard alive, tell Baek Pilsung—no, Director Baek—to bring me my dog.”

[Who’s the punk throwing around Boss’s name like it’s a joke?!]

The man listened quietly to the shouting from the other end of the line, then let out a scoffing chuckle.

“Ha, doesn’t Director Baek even train his boys? How pathetic. Joo Taesung ought to at least teach them to recognize my voice.”

Grinning, he lowered his gaze to meet Wooyoon’s eyes. The moment their eyes locked, Wooyoon let the tears he’d been holding back spill over.

“Sob… ugh…”

His trembling chin caused his teeth to chatter softly, and the sobs he couldn’t swallow leaked out. Joo Taesung stared silently into Wooyoon’s terrified eyes, then handed the phone to the man sitting beside him, ending the call as he spoke.

“With just this level of pheromones, you’re already this intimidated?”

“Ugh, sob…”

Another tear fell from Wooyoon’s anguished eyes. Wiping his tear-streaked cheek with the back of his hand, Wooyoon wanted to say it wasn’t the pheromones making him cry, but his lips wouldn’t move.

It wasn’t because of the pheromones. Sure, the pheromones emanating from Joo Taesung were oppressive enough to make his body tremble, but even if Joo Taesung had been a Beta, Wooyoon would still be crying.

How could he stay sane after watching someone get stabbed right in front of him? Never mind that he didn’t know the reason or purpose behind being forcibly dragged along—the man’s face was just too terrifying.

Wooyoon’s mind drifted to the morgue where he first met Pilsung. Baek Pilsung’s first impression had been so frightening it took his breath away, but even then, he’d thought there was something handsome about him. This man, though… he was just scary.

“Don’t cry, kid. I don’t like crying. Not my taste. It’s annoying.”

Hearing the eerie voice, Wooyoon, who had been sobbing quietly, clamped his mouth shut. He squeezed his eyes closed and swallowed his tears with all his might. Trapped with nowhere to run and no one to call for help, the last thing he wanted was to anger this unfamiliar Alpha.

Joo Taesung watched a single tear roll down Wooyoon’s cheek, murmuring as if lost in memory.

“Our Heejae was pretty because he didn’t cry…”

The sound of his brother’s name in that unfamiliar voice made Wooyoon’s body react. Roughly wiping his runny nose with his sleeve, Wooyoon blinked his wet eyelids and looked up at Joo Taesung. As if Wooyoon had suddenly found some courage, Joo Taesung met his wide-eyed stare, his lips parting slightly as he muttered, “What?”

“Sob, H-Hyung… Do you, sob, know my brother…?”

Joo Taesung burst into a low, guttural laugh at the tearful question. Then, as if finding it amusing, he poked Wooyoon’s forehead, partially covered by his hair, with a thick index finger. The hand pushing his head gave off a harsh cigarette stench. Wooyoon couldn’t help but wrinkle his brow. Pilsung smoked too, but the cigarette smell from Joo Taesung felt purely repulsive.

“Baek Pilsung’s always had a thing for defective goods, and sure enough, he’s picked a real halfwit for his little bastard.”

Wooyoon tried to glare as fiercely as he could at Joo Taesung, who was insulting both him and Pilsung, but his swollen eyelids wouldn’t cooperate.

“Kid.”

Joo Taesung’s voice dropped low as he addressed Wooyoon’s gentle, downturned eyes.

“Curious about what kind of relationship I had with your brother? Want me to tell you what he did under me?”

“…”

Wooyoon’s tightly pressed lips trembled faintly. His tearful face slowly shook side to side. He figured it was enough to know that this man, who seemed to know Pilsung, had forcibly dragged him into a car because of the brother Pilsung was keeping. He didn’t want to know any more.

The humiliating words from the landlord, the stories about his brother from the thugs who came to their one-room apartment, and whatever this man knew about his brother’s life.

When he met his brother, he’d hear it directly from him—what his brother was really like, why he’d treated him so cruelly.

…Though, at this rate, he couldn’t even be sure he’d make it to have that conversation, let alone see Pilsung again safely.

Stealing a glance at Joo Taesung, Wooyoon lowered his head. His heart pounded with fear, his breathing quickening. Wiping his sweat-soaked neck with his sleeve, Wooyoon worried about Park Cheolhee, who’d been injured while with him.

Did he collapse? Did someone find him? Is he at a hospital?

His unconscious worries about Park Cheolhee chained together until the old van jolted heavily, snapping him back to reality. Realizing he wasn’t in a position to worry about anyone else, he prayed desperately for Pilsung to come quickly. To chase away his fear, he focused on picturing the face he longed to see, but then anxiety crept in—what if Pilsung coming to save him put him in danger?

No… Would Baek Pilsung even come for me…?

The cold gaze that had brushed off his hand flickered in his mind.

He won’t come…

His fear of Pilsung’s change of heart tangled with his other worries, overwhelming him. As his tense, darting eyes reached their limit and grew dazed, Joo Taesung, who’d been watching him silently, let out an, “Ah,” of realization.

“So that’s why Baek Pilsung keeps you around? Your scent’s delicious.”

Leaning forward, Joo Taesung sniffed loudly, bringing his face close to Wooyoon’s. Letting out a stifled, “Ugh,” Wooyoon shrank back, trembling, trying to avoid him, but crouched under the seat, he had nowhere to hide. He curled up, shielding his face with his arms. Finding the feeble resistance amusing, Joo Taesung let out a short, “Heh,” before muttering.

“Baek Pilsung didn’t mark you with his pheromones? Why didn’t he claim his territory…?”

Pheromones…

Peeking through the gap between his arms, Wooyoon glanced at Joo Taesung. Meeting his eyes through the sliver, Joo Taesung mumbled to himself again.

“Still the same freak, pretending to be a Beta…”

Hearing Joo Taesung’s words, clearly about Pilsung, Wooyoon’s swollen eyes widened. Though too scared to lower his arms, he mustered enough courage to shout through the small gap that revealed only his eyes.

“Don’t… don’t talk about him like that…!”

“What?”

Joo Taesung’s terrifying face twisted further, as if annoyed by Wooyoon’s barely audible voice muffled by his arms. Glancing at him between his arms, Wooyoon muttered in an even smaller voice.

“You… you don’t even know him…”

If he was blabbing about Baek Pilsung pretending to be a Beta, he clearly didn’t know Pilsung well and was just badmouthing him. He might not even be that close to his brother. Maybe he was just using his brother as an excuse to mess with Pilsung because they didn’t get along. Stories of gangsters fighting over turf were common in movies and books, after all…

Catching his ragged breath, Wooyoon just wished Pilsung would come, smiling at him like he used to.