One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 5.1

Pilsung, who had told Wooyoon to get ready to go out, appeared the next morning at daybreak with a large box tucked under his arm. Wooyoon frowned at the word “dehumidifier” printed on the cardboard box that Pilsung confidently set down. News about exploding electricity bills was all over the TV these days, and Wooyoon had no intention of indulging in the luxury of running a dehumidifier in their tiny, semi-basement studio apartment.

While the dehumidifier was a decidedly unwelcome gift, Wooyoon was very pleased with the new door Pilsung had his men install. It was a thick steel door with a double lock, providing a sense of security.

“We’ve met a few times, right? I’m Choi Gidong .”

Gidong, introduced by Pilsung, bowed his head to Wooyoon and scratched the back of his head. Having been formally introduced to Wooyoon by Pilsung, he felt awkward about his previous reservations about accepting him as his brother-in-law.

“I’m… Nam Wooyoon…”

Though significantly shorter than Pilsung, Gidong was also broad-shouldered with a thick neck, suggesting a formidable physique. Wooyoon, his voice barely above a whisper, bowed his head. Gidong, in turn, bowed again, resulting in a flurry of bows between the two. Pilsung, watching them alternate bows, frowned behind his sunglasses.

“What the hell are you two doing? Are you on a blind date?”

The sight of Wooyoon, who usually glared at him and talked back defiantly, acting meek in front of Gidong irritated him. Pilsung roughly separated Wooyoon from Gidong and took the car keys.

“See you at the workshop this afternoon.”

“Yes, I’ll see you later.”

Leaving Gidong, who bowed respectfully, Pilsung took Wooyoon’s hand. He held his small, soft hand as they climbed the worn stairs leading up to ground level. With each step, Pilsung’s whistle grew louder and higher. He was in such a good mood that he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up. If it weren’t for Wooyoon’s crappy t-shirt with “Hanmaeum Summer Retreat” plastered across the back, he would have been singing instead of whistling.

Pilsung, leading Wooyoon by the hand, reached the top of the stairs and turned around.

“Let’s grab breakfast and then make a round of the businesses… What’s wrong?”

Wooyoon was clutching his stomach. Pilsung released his hand and crouched down in front of him.

“Stomach ache again? You haven’t even eaten anything yet today. What a strange stomach.”

Pilsung lifted the hem of his t-shirt and casually stroked his flat stomach. The moment his fingers brushed below his navel, a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. Wooyoon swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Subdued by his fierce reaction, Pilsung raised his hands in surrender. He stared at Wooyoon, who was pressing his lips together, and then asked cautiously,

“Hey, you… you know about your… uh… cycle, right?” (This needs more context to translate smoothly. Is Pilsung referring to a medical condition, or is he hinting at something else related to omegaverse tropes, even though Wooyoon is male?)

Wooyoon glanced down at Pilsung, who was looking up at him with his hands raised, narrowed his eyes, and retorted,

“Are you looking down on me?”

“No, I was just wondering…”

“I may have only finished middle school, but I learned enough back then to know what I need to know.”

“…Know what you need to know? What do you know?”

Pilsung’s lips twitched. Wooyoon brushed past him, clearly annoyed. He knew exactly what the gangster meant, especially after he’d laughed crudely and asked if he was pregnant when he was just sick from drinking.

Angrily, Wooyoon reached the parked car and rubbed his lower abdomen. Oddly, the pain that had been stabbing him while climbing the stairs had subsided.

Could it really be his heat…?

“…….”

Wooyoon quickly shook his head. That was impossible. His heat cycle, the omega’s estrus period, wasn’t due for another eight days. While not always precise, it was only ever off by three days at most. It couldn’t be his heat almost ten days early.

Pilsung, unlocking the car, stood by the back door and told Wooyoon, who was waiting, “You’re supposed to sit in the front.” Wooyoon, retracting the hand he’d been worriedly rubbing his stomach with, pretended nothing was wrong and opened the passenger door.

Wooyoon stared down at the steaming, milky-white broth, a strange choice for the humid, sweltering weather. Pilsung, who had been tediously lecturing about his philosophy on breakfast food, insisting that a warm broth was essential in the morning, had dived headfirst into the seolleongtang (beef bone soup) the moment it arrived and hadn’t come up for air until he’d drained the bowl. It seemed the real reason he needed a warm broth wasn’t because it was morning, but because of a hangover.

Glancing at Pilsung wiping the sweat from his temples with a tissue, Wooyoon replayed the memory of him drunkenly grinning and holding his hand last night.

-Don’t think twice, just fucking hit first to win. Don’t hesitate, don’t hold back, just throw the first punch. Got it?

Who was he to tell him that, something his own brother never did…?

Wooyoon stirred the seolleongtang with his spoon, a frown creasing his brow. He’d already decided to do that, even without the gangster’s advice. No, he’d been living that way ever since he’d opened his eyes in the emergency room.

I was already doing it…

“Why aren’t you eating? Still hurting?”

“I am eating…”

Wooyoon’s voice lacked energy as he continued to stir the soup, barely touching the noodles. Pilsung glanced at the lid of Wooyoon’s rice bowl and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. It was piled with the beef Wooyoon had picked out from the soup.

“The hell you are. Why’d you take all the meat out? Actually, don’t eat the meat if your stomach’s upset.”

Pilsung grabbed the pile of beef with his chopsticks. Before Wooyoon could protest, he shoved it all in his mouth. Wooyoon’s eyes widened, watching his carefully saved meat disappear into the gangster’s mouth. A bewildered sigh escaped his lips.

“Ah…”

“Huh? Wha?”

Pilsung looked at Wooyoon, chewing with his mouth full. His small face crumpled before hardening with clear anger. Pilsung couldn’t contain his laughter at the sight of Wooyoon’s hand trembling around his spoon. He turned away, covering his mouth with his hand as he chuckled, his face flushing red.

Stupid bastard, so cute.

Stifling a cough, Pilsung rinsed his mouth with water and raised his hand.

“Boss! One plate of boiled beef here!”

“I’m not eating.”

“Two plates, please.”

“I said I’m not eating. Don’t order it.”

“It’s for me.”

“…….”

Wooyoon clamped his mouth shut and glared daggers at Pilsung. Even he knew his reflection in Pilsung’s sunglasses looked menacing, but Pilsung, unfazed, chuckled again, his broad shoulders shaking.

Breathing shallow, angry breaths at the smirking Pilsung, Wooyoon clutched his stomach under the table. The gangster’s annoying face seemed to have triggered his stomach pain again.

Maybe it wasn’t his heat starting ten days early, but a burning anger brought on by the gangster’s irritating face.

While he groaned, clutching his aching stomach, two plates of boiled beef arrived. Wooyoon glanced at the glistening slices of meat, a perfect mix of fat and juice, and swallowed hard.

He’d skipped even his usual one meal a day yesterday, having run low on the living expenses his brother left him, resorting to convenience store kimbap and instant meals. After a night of fasting, his stomach betrayed his pride at the sight of the boiled beef. He couldn’t stop salivating.

Pilsung, watching Wooyoon’s bobbing Adam’s apple as he swallowed, picked up a slice of beef, dipped it in salted shrimp, and held it out.

“Open your mouth.”

His eyes, downcast and almost teary, looked pitiful and…delicious. Pilsung instinctively licked his lips and wiggled the chopsticks.

“Open your mouth. One, tw…”

Before he could finish counting, rosy lips snatched the beef. He thought Wooyoon might refuse out of spite, but he accepted it readily, suggesting he was indeed hungry. The sight of him chewing with puffed cheeks warmed Pilsung’s heart. It was the same feeling he got watching stray cats and squirrels scavenging for food around his office.

As Wooyoon began eating in earnest, Pilsung propped his chin on his hand and asked in a low voice,

“Why do you hate me?”

Wooyoon stopped chewing mid-bite. Pilsung averted his gaze, continuing,

“You said you used to be scared and hate me, but now you’re just not scared and still hate me.”

“…….”

“If the ‘not scared’ part goes away… will you like me?”

“…….”

“…Ah, fuck. This is making me crave a cigarette…”

Pilsung glanced nervously behind his sunglasses at Wooyoon, pushed back his chair, and stood up. He mimed smoking with his fingers and then walked out of the restaurant.

Left alone at the table, Wooyoon chewed the remaining beef and stared coldly at the door Pilsung had exited. It was a cruel world where he was betrayed and abandoned by the only family he’d trusted. The gangster, who had manhandled and dragged him around since their first encounter, thought he could buy his affection with favors and food. Wooyoon found him utterly ridiculous.

It wasn’t just regret and fear that had vanished from Nam Wooyoon’s hardened world. He no longer trusted anything or anyone. Especially not a rough, intimidating gangster.

After his satisfying breakfast, Wooyoon accompanied Pilsung on his rounds of the businesses he controlled. From the karaoke bar they’d visited before to billiard halls, pubs, arcades, restaurants, and motels – the businesses varied, but one thing remained constant: a dark bruise on the right cheek of every male owner. A strange feeling washed over Wooyoon, and he instinctively covered his own bruised cheek, the one he’d received from his landlord, every time he saw another man with a similar mark.

“One last stop here, and then we’ll head to the office.”

Pilsung pulled open the glass door of “Haesal Real Estate” and glanced back at Wooyoon, who was still covering his cheek.

“Gidong will drive you back. Go home and wait. I’ll come by later tonight.”

Pilsung pulled Wooyoon’s hand and led him into the real estate office. Despite the signage, the office wasn’t actually for real estate but served as a front for brokering deals between property owners and adult entertainment establishments.

The man behind the desk, busy writing in a ledger with a line of omegas and alphas waiting, gave Pilsung a cursory nod and pressed a bell attached to the side of his desk. The atmosphere was markedly different from the tense respect Pilsung had received from the employees at the other businesses.

Unbothered by the hostility, Pilsung led Wooyoon to a sofa in the middle of the office and plopped down, pulling Wooyoon down beside him. He started whistling. Wooyoon frowned, the sound grating against his ear. His hand, which Pilsung had been kneading all morning, was now aching.

As Wooyoon tried to pull his sweaty hand free, Pilsung abruptly stopped whistling and hissed. Wooyoon glared back, trying to show he wasn’t intimidated.

“Look at his eyes…”

Pilsung muttered, pushing his sunglasses up with a smirk. He intertwined his thick index finger with Wooyoon’s, rubbing insistently. Just as Wooyoon flinched in defiance, a door in the corner of the office burst open, revealing an unexpected face.

“It hasn’t been long since you messed with my guys, and you’re back already? What is it this time?”

The owner of the brokerage, in loose shorts and slippers, sauntered out, his swagger alone conveying his displeasure at Pilsung’s presence. His sharp gaze declared him an alpha, but it was the heavyset face behind him that truly startled Wooyoon. It was the gangster with the buzz cut who had tried to assault him. He, too, seemed to recognize Wooyoon, his narrow eyes twitching in surprise.

The owner grinned as he saw Wooyoon sitting next to Pilsung. His hostile tone instantly shifted to a sleazy one.

“Oh, Mr. Baek. You should have told me you were bringing a new recruit. Hey, someone get us some coffee!”

The owner sat down opposite Pilsung and Wooyoon and shouted towards the back. The buzz-cut gangster, after glancing at Wooyoon, hurried inside. Wooyoon’s eyes twitched as he watched him through the open door, preparing instant coffee.

“He’s cute. But these days, the crackdowns are so strict, it’s hard to take minors…”

“Hello? Hello?”

Before the owner could finish, Pilsung started rapping his knuckles loudly on the table. The owner finally shut up, and Pilsung, stopping his drumming, spoke in a sharp tone.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Do you think I’m in the business of selling people?”

“…I thought maybe you were, today.”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Pilsung raised their clasped hands.

“I look out for you. I turn a blind eye and let you operate even when you borrow money from others. But you’re upset that I roughed up your guys?”

The owner fell silent. Pilsung glanced at the buzz-cut gangster approaching with a tray of coffee. He looked familiar, a higher-ranking thug, but strangely, his right cheek was unblemished. Pilsung had made a point of slapping every significant gangster in his territory who had been with Nam Heejae. This was odd.

Why didn’t I hit him? Pilsung frowned, racking his brain. He remembered the real estate office being empty that day. Something about the owner’s mother’s 80th birthday party…

“There weren’t many guys here that day, so they didn’t get hit much…anyway…”

Pilsung, reaching for a coffee cup, trailed off and looked at Wooyoon. His hand, clasped in Pilsung’s, was trembling violently. He stared at Wooyoon’s downcast face, then turned back to the buzz-cut gangster.

“…….”

Seeing the gangster’s anxious glances flitting towards Wooyoon, Pilsung let go of his hand and stood up. He backhanded the man across the face. It wasn’t even a punch, but the sound suggested a broken jaw. Wooyoon, head bowed, watched from the corner of his eye as the man staggered.

His heart began to race as he watched the man cowering, clutching his reddening cheek, fear in his eyes. It was a mirror image of his own terror that day, only reversed.

That day, I was under him, with that same expression… and today, he’s the one under Baek Pilsung…

Pilsung rounded the table and grabbed the retreating gangster by his ear. He yanked him closer, positioning his face for a better angle, and then unleashed a barrage of blows to his right cheek. The force behind his large frame was explosive. The man’s pleas for mercy were swallowed by the sickening thud of flesh against flesh.

“…….”

A wave of heat coursed through Wooyoon as he watched Pilsung’s merciless assault, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t dare breathe, his eyes fixated on the brutal display of violence.

His insides burned, his breath hitched, his heart hammered. He felt flushed, his back slick with sweat.

The heavy atmosphere created by Pilsung’s unrestrained rage, as if he had nothing left to lose, was both terrifying and strangely calming. As he projected his own face onto Pilsung, the chaos within him, ever since his brother left, began to settle.

Wooyoon covered his nose, oblivious to Pilsung’s lost sunglasses, unable to tear his gaze away from the man lying unconscious on the floor. The air in the office was thick with the stench of pheromones released by the terrified alpha. Covering his nose did little to block out the pungent smell of fear. Wooyoon turned away, gagging.

“Ugh…”

Pilsung, who had been hitting the man mechanically, finally stopped and looked at Wooyoon. Seeing him hunched over the back of the sofa, retching, snapped him back to reality.

“Ha… Fuck…”

He knew without having to see Wooyoon’s face how terrified he must be. He raked his hand through his hair, retrieved his sunglasses from the floor, and quickly put them on. He stepped over the unconscious man and cautiously approached Wooyoon.

“Hey, Nam Wooyoon…”

“Ugh…”

Retracting the hand he’d extended towards Wooyoon’s shoulder, Pilsung looked around. He spotted his sunglasses on the floor, picked them up, quickly put them on, and sat down next to Wooyoon.

“Are you okay…? Did I scare you…?”

“The smell… My stomach hurts…”

“Smell?”

Pilsung looked around, confused, and noticed the other omegas in the office also looked nauseated. Even the alphas appeared uncomfortable. The office was filled with a pheromone scent he couldn’t detect himself.

He wiped his bloody hand on his jacket and pulled Wooyoon to his feet. As soon as they were outside, Wooyoon rushed to a nearby tree and vomited up everything he’d eaten that morning.

Pilsung wanted to go to him and rub his back, but Wooyoon yelled at him to stay back. He stood at a distance, watching Wooyoon’s “Hanmaeum Summer Retreat” t-shirt ripple as he coughed and heaved. Pilsung took two purple pills from his pocket and chewed them.

Damn his temper.

He’d been so excited to see Wooyoon this morning that he’d forgotten his medication. He took it regularly to control his explosive anger, but it seemed he’d developed a tolerance. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and shoved his bloodied hand into his pocket. His hand and wrist throbbed, but his only concern was Nam Wooyoon.

Shit, is he going to refuse to even hold my hand now?

He wondered if there was any affection between them. He certainly felt it, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d been wrong before about the signals he thought they were exchanging.

“Hey, you alright? Need me to get you some medicine?”

He called out. Wooyoon, leaning heavily against the tree, coughed and finally spoke.

“I want to go home.”

“What? I can’t hear you!”

Wooyoon didn’t repeat himself and started walking. The sound of Pilsung’s shoes following close behind bothered him more than usual.

“Shouldn’t you stay with him? He must be scared…”

Gidong glanced at Pilsung’s swollen left hand as he turned the steering wheel. He’d sent Wooyoon home in a taxi after Pilsung, having witnessed his outburst, spent the afternoon going through the motions. It was only natural for Pilsung to rush to Wooyoon’s side as soon as he was done with work. But after seeing Baek Pilsung in a rage, Gidong imagined Wooyoon would want to avoid him for at least 24 hours.

Pilsung tapped his index finger against the car window, lost in thought, then spoke with unexpected seriousness.

“Maybe he didn’t see.”

“I doubt that…”

“No, you see, whenever he’s scared, he pretends to be asleep. He closes his eyes just a tiny bit, and seriously zones out. He might’ve been too scared and closed his eyes for a second, you know, lost in his own world.”

Hope morphed into conviction. Seeing the certainty blooming in Pilsung’s eyes, Gidong thought it might be better if he went back to the church and prayed, however futile it seemed.

Normally, as a loyal underling, he would have risked a beating and told Pilsung to stop deluding himself. However, since the root cause of his boss’s explosion was, one way or another, love, Gidong chose appeasement over honesty.

“Still, I think it’s best to give him some space…”

“Fuck, you don’t know shit about relationships because you’ve never been in one. You gotta resolve these things right away.”

“…….”

Gidong closed his mouth and drove to Wooyoon’s. Whether his boss was pathetically dumped or not was no longer his concern.

Arriving at Wooyoon’s place in silence, Pilsung leaned into the side mirror and tidied his appearance. He smoothed back his hair, put on his sunglasses, twitched his thick eyebrows a few times while looking in the mirror, and then headed down to the semi-basement apartment.

Unlike his usual hurried descent, he carefully took each step down, calling Wooyoon in a gentle voice that didn’t match his large frame.

“Nam Wooyoon. Are you sleeping? Naaam Wooyoon.”

No response. He stood in front of the steel door he’d had installed that morning and cleared his throat.

“Your boyfriend’s here.”

He knocked lightly.

“Delivery!”

Still silence. He cursed under his breath. Should’ve installed the door tomorrow. He banged on the door with his fist.

“Open the door. That bastard hit you. I paid him back, so why are you mad at me? Hey, are you even listening? This is so fucking unfair…”

The door suddenly swung open. Pilsung stared blankly at Wooyoon, who emerged from the darkness.

“Hey… you…”

Wooyoon’s face was flushed, his hair damp with sweat. He always had a somewhat vacant look, but his half-lidded eyes were unusually seductive. Wooyoon stepped towards a speechless Pilsung and mumbled, his voice thick with breathlessness,

“My stomach… hurts…”

The hand that had been clutching the hem of his t-shirt moved towards his groin. Pilsung’s eyes followed the movement, and he ripped off his sunglasses. His sharp gaze raked over Wooyoon.

“He knows what, exactly…?”

Remembering Wooyoon’s claim about knowing what he needed to know, Pilsung scoffed at the sight of him clutching his groin and groaning. Nam Wooyoon’s middle school sex education probably consisted of the bare minimum about secondary gender differentiation. Others had parents to teach them what came after, but Wooyoon’s only brother was a beta, a good-for-nothing who badmouthed him to everyone. Who would have bothered to teach Nam Wooyoon anything in detail?

Pilsung wiped the smirk off his face and twitched his nose. He couldn’t smell anything other than the musty scent of mildew, but he knew the air must be thick with Wooyoon’s pheromones. He tucked his sunglasses into his jacket pocket and grabbed the back of Wooyoon’s neck, pulling him inside. He took out his phone and called Gidong, who answered immediately from outside.

[Didn’t go well? I told you. He needs time. I knew something would go wrong. Should I come down?]

Pilsung hadn’t even said a word, but Gidong was already convinced he’d been rejected. He tightened his grip on Wooyoon’s neck, forcing a twisted smile to his lips.

“Come down for what? Leave the keys in the car and go home.”

[What? You’re not going to drown your sorrows in alcohol again, are you?]

“It’s not that…”

Pilsung trailed off, glancing down at Wooyoon. The heat radiating from his rapid breaths traveled through Pilsung’s hand. If Gidong, an alpha, came down and caught a whiff of Wooyoon in this state, things would truly go sideways.

He sighed and spoke quietly.

“I’m taking Nam Wooyoon to the clinic. Do as I say. Don’t ask questions.”

[Don’t ask questions…? Oh. Yes, sir.]

Thankfully, Gidong understood and hung up without further argument. Pilsung put his phone away and started rummaging through a chest of drawers, still holding Wooyoon by the scruff of his neck.

“Judging by what you’re doing, I doubt you have any, but do you have suppressants?”

“My stomach… hurts…”

“So, do you have any emergency medication? And it’s not your stomach that hurts, it’s your dick.”

Pilsung paused mid-search, blinking.

“Wait. Do omegas get stomach aches?”

“Ugh, it hurts…”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Do you have any leftovers from before? You can’t go to the clinic like this. Do you understand? Are you listening to me?”

He continued rummaging through the drawers filled with old underwear and turned sharply to Wooyoon, who had gone quiet.

“…….”

“…….”

Wooyoon’s eyes, gleaming in the dim light filtering through the small window, were fixed on him. Pilsung felt his throat tighten.

The tear-filled corners of his eyes, the long, dark eyelashes casting shadows, the unfocused pupils – it was intensely arousing. He’d heard of alphas who preyed on omegas in heat, and for a moment, he almost understood their twisted desires.

“Ah… It’s so hot…”

Wooyoon clutched his lower abdomen, his eyes hazy as he looked up at Pilsung. Pilsung slowly backed away. With each step he took, Wooyoon followed.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

“Can’t you… touch me…?”

“Fuck… Don’t… don’t just… touch…!”

Wooyoon’s bare feet quickly closed the distance. They circled each other like they were playing tag until they reached an open closet. Backing away from Wooyoon, Pilsung grabbed the closet door, glancing behind him. He was trapped.

“This is driving me crazy… Hey, I, uh…”

Wooyoon lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Pilsung’s waist. Pilsung, despite his size, flinched. Startled by the unexpected embrace, he covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes narrowing.

“Haa…”

“It hurts, it hurts…”

Wooyoon nuzzled his sweaty head against Pilsung’s chest like a child seeking comfort. The weak pressure of his arms around his waist and the heat radiating through his thin shirt sent shivers down Pilsung’s spine. He clenched his jaw, but gasps escaped his lips.

Nam Wooyoon was the type to deny kissing him even after he’d done it, and if he found out Pilsung had held him during his heat, he would be mortified and probably call off their agreement to even hold hands.

“Ugh… Fuck…”

Desperate for his pills, Pilsung fumbled in his jacket pocket. Just as he began searching, Wooyoon started moving against him. Pilsung roared.

“Hey!! Hey!!”

“Ah… Haa, aaah…”

“Hey, you…! You… little…!”

Pilsung’s shout died in his throat. Instead of pushing Wooyoon away, he listened to his husky breaths as he ground against his thigh. He’d thought Wooyoon’s whimpers and choked sobs were sexy, but this panting was something else entirely.

“Aah, ha, huu…”

Wooyoon’s groin, the same spot he’d been clutching in pain moments earlier, rubbed against Pilsung’s thigh. Intellectually, Pilsung knew Wooyoon was instinctively mimicking a sexual act he’d likely never experienced, but a heat began to build in his lower body.

He looked down at Wooyoon, still clinging to him, grinding against his chest, and turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

“This is insane…”

He could feel the hardness through Wooyoon’s pants. He was fully in heat. Even if he managed to find the suppressants, they wouldn’t be much use now.

Fuck it, should I just take him?

The temptation gnawed at the last threads of his restraint. Oblivious to Pilsung’s internal struggle, Wooyoon continued grinding against his thigh, moaning.

“Ah… huu… I want to smell it… Haa… but why isn’t there a scent…?”

“…….”

Pilsung lifted Wooyoon’s chin. His sweaty, messy hair fell away, revealing his hazy eyes. He stared at Wooyoon, his eyelids heavy, and said in a low voice,

“Because I’m not an alpha.”

“…….”

“I’m not an alpha.”

Wooyoon’s movements stopped. Watching him quiet down, Pilsung muttered to himself,

“You won’t smell any alpha scent from me, no matter how crazy you are…”

“…….”

“Haa… Sex with a non-alpha won’t help end your heat. Fuck, I know this, but what if I just pretend I can’t resist and take him…? But that wouldn’t be very Baek Pilsung-like, would it? Ugh, shit…!”

A small hand suddenly reached for his groin, fumbling with his pants. Pilsung jumped, grabbing the closet door so hard that the wood creaked.

He gritted his teeth and glared down at Wooyoon.

“What are you looking for? Do you even know what to do with it if you find it? Ha, you know nothing…”

Wooyoon mumbled, his words even more slurred.

“I learned it at school…”

“Bullshit! You know nothing!”

“Ah! Found it…!”

The hand closed around his engorged penis, and Pilsung chopped the side of Wooyoon’s neck. His head snapped to the side and then fell limp against Pilsung’s chest.

He caught the unconscious Wooyoon and held him close.

“Fuck…”

Pilsung slid down the closet door, pulling Wooyoon’s hand away from his groin.

He usually looked so innocent, but with that hazy, seductive look in his eyes, he was completely disarming. He almost lost control and took Nam Wooyoon, who was clearly not in his right mind. He’d seen omegas in heat countless times, but he was both amused and frustrated by how flustered he’d been.

If he could smell Nam Wooyoon’s pheromones, he would have… raped him. Years of medication wouldn’t have made a difference.

“…….”

He stared at Wooyoon’s unconscious face and then hoisted him over his shoulder. He hated it – how despite spending twenty-five years rejecting and loathing his “nature,” in the end, he was still a slave to it.

He carried Wooyoon out of the apartment, his face expressionless. Outside, the last drops of a long rainy season were falling.

Pilsung stood by the bed where Wooyoon lay, gently touching his thin arm. He poked his fingers, then uncurled his fist and stroked his soft palm. The smooth, supple skin, unlike his own calloused hands, felt like it belonged to a different creature.

He traced the lines on Wooyoon’s palm with his index finger and stared at his delicate fingers.

“…….”

Wooyoon’s fingernails were all broken. He’d been sure they’d been fine this morning.

Pilsung’s gaze followed the IV line connected to Wooyoon’s bony wrist. Sensing the director approaching, he sat down in the chair provided for visitors. The director, glancing at the large man hunched over the bed, staring intently at the pale face, smiled and asked,

“Is this what you were bragging about all over town today?”

Pilsung remained silent. He’d known the director, with his cantankerous personality, for over ten years. Any response would only give him an opening to lecture.

The director, seeing his silence, put his hands in his pockets and stood opposite him, the bed between them. He continued in a teasing tone,

“I thought you were picking up another stray, but you’re actually dating someone?”

“It’s not like that. We’re in a proper relationship.”

Pilsung bristled, cursing under his breath.

“Picking up? I tried. He wouldn’t let me. I wanted to pick him up, feed him, let him sleep, and spoil him, but he absolutely refused. Are you mocking me?”

“You remind me of your younger self.”

The director chuckled, watching Pilsung stroke Wooyoon’s cheek. Pilsung glared at him, annoyed by the phlegmy sound of his laughter.

“Just take care of him until I get back. And don’t bring up the past.”

As Pilsung withdrew his hand, as if to leave, the director said casually,

“He’s severely malnourished. I’ll have to ask him when he wakes up, but that’s probably why his heat is irregular.”

Pilsung’s gaze shifted back to Wooyoon’s face. His damp hair had mostly dried, but his cheeks were still flushed with fever. The faint, lingering bruises stood out against his pale skin.

“At this rate, he’ll be suffering day and night for a week. He won’t be able to handle it. The injection I gave him will only alleviate the symptoms, but his body won’t last a week like this…”

Pilsung frowned, listening to the director’s probing tone. They’d told him the same thing at the emergency room. Wooyoon, with his malnutrition and severe anemia, wouldn’t be able to endure a heat cycle that even healthy individuals struggled with, especially with just palliatives.

Fuck… I should’ve given him suppressants this morning…

Pilsung ran a hand through his hair and stood up. The director, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes, asked,

“How long does it take for the suppressed pheromones to be re-released when you stop taking the medication? Half a day? A day?”

“…….”

“Those strangely colored pills you make, take, and sell.”

Pilsung froze, staring intently at the director. The hostility in his eyes was palpable, but the director continued, unfazed.

“You managed to bring an omega in heat all the way here, so I assume you’re still taking them. How long do they last?”

“Why the hell are you asking?”

Pilsung’s tone was defiant, unlike before. But the director, a glint in his eye, remained impassive.

“Suppressants are useless once the heat cycle begins, and palliatives won’t be enough for him. The only thing left is an alpha’s pheromones. And who else is an alpha here besides you?”

“I’m not an alpha.”

Pilsung’s immediate rebuttal finally made the director’s smile falter. He frowned and snapped,

“Does blocking pheromone production erase your secondary gender? No matter what you do, your death certificate will list you as an alpha. Why do you keep denying it? Aren’t you tired?”

“…….”

“I’ll give you a pheromone booster. Lie down next to him. He’ll recover in a day or two…”

“Fuck!”

Pilsung kicked the chair across the room. The director glanced at the overturned chair, sighed, and looked back at Pilsung. Pilsung, meeting his challenging gaze, smirked and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you senile? Who do you think you’re calling an alpha? Are you losing it?”

“If you don’t want to, don’t do it. I’ll call another alpha.”

“Do whatever the hell you want!”

Pilsung stormed out, his neck flushed. The director watched him go, shrugging.

“His temper gets worse every day. He’s clearly an alpha, but he insists on poisoning himself with those pills and pretending he’s not. Why bother?”

Despite his disapproval, the director didn’t contact another alpha. He knew the brute would be back. He’d known Baek Pilsung for years, and he wasn’t the type to abandon someone like himself, someone vulnerable.

As he’d predicted, Pilsung returned exactly five minutes later, reeking of cigarettes. His resolve had lasted only as long as it took him to smoke one.

He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and strode towards Wooyoon’s bed.

“Hurry up. I have to go to Incheon tomorrow evening for business.”

“Business? You’re a gangster.”

Pilsung, now meek, placed the chair he’d kicked earlier back beside the bed and sat down, offering his thick arm to the director.

“Don’t tell Nam Wooyoon. He doesn’t know I’m an alpha. He won’t date me if he finds out…”

His voice lacked confidence. He claimed they were officially dating, but he clearly wasn’t in charge. The director chuckled, remembering their first meeting. The stray animal, covered in dirt and blood, had grown up and was now looking for a companion. It was almost touching.

He tied the tourniquet around Pilsung’s arm and swabbed the area with alcohol.

“Pilsung, living your own way is the best way to live.”

“…….”

“You said you wanted to live well. The best life possible. Money isn’t everything…”

“Yaaawn!”

Pilsung faked a yawn, his mouth wide open. The director, used to his childish attempts at distraction, gave up and inserted the needle, making it a point to jab it hard into his thick skin. Pilsung didn’t flinch. He took deep breaths, his eyes flitting to Wooyoon’s neck and collarbone, licking his lips.

He stole glances at Wooyoon, his eyes darting back and forth.

Once the booster kicks in, I’ll be able to smell him. Will I be okay? Just the thought of lying next to him is making me hard…

“He even sleeps like an idiot.”

Pilsung touched his aching groin and then poked Wooyoon’s slightly parted lips with his pinky finger, grinning.