13. The Moonlight Still Lingers
The last day of the festival, a bomb planted by an unknown assailant destroyed the power generator, and the moonlight vanished. District 1 quickly attempted to recover from the chaos, but the darkness lingered for a full week.
Part of the mansion had collapsed, but official casualties were few. Unfortunately, among them was the one and only lover of Vincent Shining.
The man who was said to be devoid of emotions was seen desperately clawing through the rubble, his anguished cries seared into the memories of all who witnessed it.
His fingernails cracked and bled as he dug into the earth, yet he did not stop. He searched tirelessly, knowing that somewhere beneath the layers of fallen stone lay his beloved.
It wasn’t until the attendants, acting under the district leader’s command, forcibly intervened that he ceased his maddened cries. Vincent Shining, the next heir to District 1, had gone mad.
The one responsible for this act of terror was, as expected, Night. In order to root out the infiltrators who had slipped into the mansion, both attendants and guests were detained for over a week after the Day of the District had ended.
After relentless interrogation, the district leader uncovered the hidden Night followers and executed those who had stolen the moonlight from District 1. The grand banquet hall, once filled with sweet melodies, was now drenched in the stench of blood.
Thus, the unprecedented terror attack on the Day of the District came to an end. The moonlight returned, and the district’s ruler declared war against Night.
It seemed that everything was returning to normal—except for a few.
***
Descending the spiral staircase led to the mansion’s underground, the only place untouched by light. The air was stagnant, thick with the foul stench of blackened mold. The oppressive atmosphere was suffocating.
Lifting a hand to pinch her nose, Ina Shining made no effort to hide her disgust. She had never imagined she would have any reason to come here, but thanks to a certain someone, she had become a frequent visitor.
“The young master of the district has arrived.”
The guard stationed before the underground prison bowed deeply upon seeing her approach. Instead of responding, she held out her hand, and a small flashlight was promptly placed in her palm—the only source of light in this cavernous space.
“How is he?”
Her question lacked a subject, but the guard understood immediately and shook his head.
Letting out a long sigh, Ina stepped through the door he had opened. The darkness was absolute, swallowing everything whole.
She switched on the flashlight and stepped forward. Even with the beam cutting through the void, her vision remained incomplete, causing her to stumble more than once.
Following the uneven path, Ina finally stopped at the very end of the prison.
“What a sight.”
At the sound of Ina’s voice, the man lifted his head. Heavy chains bound him, restraints far harsher than those used for a raging beast. But given how many times he had tried to kill himself, there was no other choice.
At least this way, he was still alive.
Crouching in front of the bars, Ina shone the flashlight into the cell. The sudden brightness made him scowl, and after a long silence, he finally spoke.
“…Turn it off.”
His voice, cracked and hoarse, was even lower than usual. It suited this dark, hollow place. With a fleeting, idle thought, Ina lowered the beam as he requested.
“You seem sane today.”
Every time she came, all she saw was a lunatic thrashing around. But today, he was lucid enough for a conversation—a rare occurrence.
Letting out a deep sigh, he tried to move his bound arms. The only response was the clanking of metal; not even a twitch of movement. He attempted again, and again, but the result remained unchanged.
“Undo these.”
“And if I do? What new method will you try to off yourself this time?”
At her mocking remark, his brow furrowed sharply. He looked like he was biting back words, his gaunt cheeks hollowed from starvation or grief. A sharp, pressing pheromone spread into the damp air, filling the prison.
“Do me a favor. If an Alpha starts releasing pheromones at another Alpha, it just makes things worse for both of us.”
“…Then unlock me.”
His scent was overwhelming, laced with raw aggression, but unfortunately for him, he posed no threat in his current state. No matter how strong he was, there was no way he could break free from the chains binding him.
“It’s already been a month.”
The week of darkness had long since passed, becoming a memory from over a month ago. Time had moved forward mercilessly for everyone—except him. He was still trapped in that day.
“When do you plan on coming to your senses?”
“…….”
He said nothing. But silence was an answer in itself—one of denial. He had no intention of waking up from this. No, more accurately, he couldn’t.
His beloved Omega had died, and with his shattered mind, the position of the next district leader remained vacant. But for some reason, the district ruler—who had never hesitated to discard useless offspring—was still waiting for him.
Joshua and the elders who supported him were growing more vocal in their opposition, but the district ruler ignored them. How long that would last, no one could say. The Shining family was nothing if not fickle.
“Seems like I backed the wrong horse after all.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Ina reached into her coat and tossed something toward him. It landed just in front of him, but with his body restrained, he couldn’t even pick it up.
Ina held the flashlight steady so he could read it. He squinted against the unfamiliar light and slowly scanned the paper filled with densely written text.
“…What is this?”
It was impossible to believe.
Seo-yul was dead.
Of course, having been locked underground since that day, he had never seen the body being retrieved. But the scent of Seo-yul’s pheromones, deeply embedded in the rubble, had told him everything he needed to know.
That Seo-yul had been there. That Seo-yul had died there.
Yet the news Ina had just delivered was completely different from what he knew.
Two people from District 5 had suddenly appeared near the borders. One of them was an Omega.
The detailed witness reports written below left no doubt in his mind—the Omega from District 5 was Seo-yul.
Could Seo-yul really be alive? Had someone helped him escape the mansion that day?
“Where is this place?”
***
“There’s less than yesterday.”
After checking the pouch containing his wages, Yeo-min questioned the shop owner. But the man, unfazed, insisted it was the same as before. Frustrated, Yeo-min held the pouch open and pointed out the obvious.
“Yesterday, there were ten. Today, there are only eight.”
“You must be mistaken. Nothing’s changed from yesterday.”
“Mister!”
“Ugh, whatever. If you don’t want it, just leave it.”
The owner waved his hands dismissively, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation. Yeo-min wanted nothing more than to grab him by the collar and demand the full payment, but this was the only place willing to hire him.
“Take it or leave it. Plenty of others would kill for your job.”
The owner’s shameless threat left Yeo-min no choice but to pocket his reduced wages and turn away. Pleased with his victory, the man cheerfully called out, “See you tomorrow!”
“Fucking bastard.”
The moment he stepped outside, Yeo-min finally let loose the curses he had held back. With a deep sigh, he gripped his now-lighter pouch and made his way to the market.
He bought enough food to last a few days, but with his wages cut, the amount was less than usual. Maybe he should take on more work.
But this village, cold and unwelcoming to outsiders, wasn’t eager to offer him anything.
He could just leave. That would be the simple solution.
But he couldn’t. There was a reason he had to stay.
It wasn’t something that would be resolved anytime soon, which meant he might have to settle down here.
The thought alone was miserable.
‘Let’s just get home.’
Yeo-min’s house sat atop a hill, far from the rest of the village. Until a month ago, it had been nothing more than an abandoned ruin—making it the perfect place for him to stay.
Crossing the field of dried grass and climbing the hill, Yeo-min spotted someone outside.
Seo-yul stood there, awkwardly holding a tool as he worked on repairing the crumbling walls.
“I told you to leave it alone. You never listen.”
At Yeo-min’s grumbling, Seo-yul turned around. Grinning brightly, hammer in hand, he looked so effortlessly happy that Yeo-min felt his bad mood melt away.
The shrinking wages, the villagers’ cold indifference—none of it mattered when Seo-yul smiled.
Crossing the barren field, Yeo-min reached their makeshift home.
Seo-yul climbed down the ladder and stepped in front of him. Whatever work he had been doing, his clothes were covered in dust.
“I’m back.”
“Welcome home.”
Exchanging gentle greetings, the two stepped into their fragile little haven.
