“Squeak, skrrrk.”
I’d like to start over from the beginning.
“Please prepare for another blood draw.”
Da In-ho, who had followed them into the examination room, translated Haram’s words to the nurse. The nurse, a little confused but going along with In-ho’s instructions, began setting up for the blood draw while giving Haram—still in his Sky Squirrel form and perched on the desk—a puzzled look.
When the nurse approached, Haram extended one of his delicate forepaws. Seeing her hesitate with the needle in hand, he looked up at her and slowly lowered his paw.
“Chirp, chiiirp…?”
Can’t we do it like this…?
He had made up his mind to stay in his animal form for a while, and having to revert back into his human form so soon was… unwelcome. In-ho, who had been listening to Haram’s deflated voice, finally crouched down to meet the Sky Squirrel’s eyes on the desk.
“You can’t get tested in your animalized state.”
“Squeak.”
…Okay.
With no other choice, Haram climbed down from the desk and shuffled off to the changing room on the side of the lab. A few minutes later, he returned, now dressed in a hospital gown.
After the blood draw, he watched the nurse walk away, leaving a parting instruction to wait for a moment. Haram turned to Da In-ho, who stood like a statue beside him, and asked:
“I have a question… Would it be okay to ask?”
Being a Sky Squirrel Beastfolk himself, Da In-ho also had large eyes, but Haram’s were… different. Da Haram had eyes you couldn’t say no to, no matter what he asked.
More precisely, the moment you looked into them, it felt like his emotions flowed directly into you. Even now, Da In-ho found himself unable to ignore the silent plea in those earnest eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded slowly.
“What… would happen to me if I turn out to be an Omega?”
The question, steeped in quiet tension, made In-ho pause for a long moment before carefully replying.
“I don’t know exactly what part you’re worried about, but… I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
He answered cautiously, but kept glancing nervously at the lab door. He was clearly conscious of Kang Tae-yi, who was waiting just outside.
Disappointed by the vague reply, Haram pressed further, this time with a more specific example.
“Would I… be sent to a lab or used for experiments, maybe…?”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Even the thought made his skin crawl. The very idea etched deep creases into both Haram’s brow and In-ho’s.
“That’ll never happen…!”
In-ho’s round eyes narrowed sharply, his expression turning serious as he answered with conviction. It was the 21st century—no one would carry out such brutal experiments on civilians.
And above all, there was Kang Tae-yi standing right outside. He would never allow anything like that to happen to Da Haram. In-ho didn’t know the exact relationship between the two, but one thing was clear: Kang Tae-yi cared deeply for Haram.
With that firm answer, the tension drained from Haram’s shoulders.
“That’s a relief… I’ll trust you, since you’re a doctor.”
Sky Squirrels were the smallest Beastfolk by population, and yet here was one working as a doctor at a university hospital in Seoul. Without question, Da In-ho had to be the most impressive Sky Squirrel out there.
And with someone like that giving such a confident assurance, Haram couldn’t help but believe him. He looked up at In-ho with a gaze full of admiration.
Receiving that emotion-laden look, In-ho averted his eyes in embarrassment.
One of the professors he personally respected—Professor Yoon—had once received a rock to the face and been called a quack by Da Haram. And yet here was Haram, looking at him with trust and belief.
Clearly, Da Haram’s standards were a little… skewed.
“What do you do when you want to fly?” Haram asked. “It doesn’t seem like there’s anywhere to glide in Seoul.”
The city was all towering buildings and tangled power lines. The air wasn’t exactly clean, either. Caught off guard by the unusual question, In-ho responded promptly.
“Sometimes I just go to the mountains… Ah, Seoul actually has a lot of mountains, surprisingly.”
Seeing Haram nod with a small noise of wonder, In-ho ventured a question of his own.
“Would it be okay to ask what you do for a living?”
Haram, who had been fiddling with the loose sleeves of his hospital gown while staring at In-ho’s pristine white doctor’s coat, replied in a soft voice.
“I’m a farmer. I grow peanuts.”
In-ho let out a small sound of surprise.
He’d imagined Haram growing up fluttering through greenhouses like a sheltered flower, but it turned out he was a farmer—one who grew and harvested a rare crop, no less. As expected, he wasn’t ordinary.
“Peanut farming… I knew it. I knew I was right.”
In-ho mumbled, nodding like he was under some sort of spell. Haram tilted his head, puzzled.
“Right about what?”
“It’s nothing.”
Yeah—Da Haram really was the greatest Sky Squirrel ever.
***
“I’ll let you know the results as soon as they’re out.”
As soon as Da In-ho stepped out of the exam room, he approached Kang Tae-yi, who was leaning silently against the wall, and spoke with a polite tone.
Tae-yi responded with a slight nod, his eyes shifting to Haram, who came trotting out on all fours without a sound. He immediately bent down, scooping up the tiny Sky Squirrel in his palm and preparing to leave.
“Squeak, squeak!”
Wait a second!
Haram squirmed frantically in his grip, making Tae-yi stop mid-step. Haram’s gaze stayed fixed on Da In-ho, still standing in front of the exam room. He turned back toward him.
Looking straight at In-ho, Haram lifted the corners of his mouth in a wide smile.
“Chirp, chirp.”
In-ho, who had been watching the little Sky Squirrel cradled in Tae-yi’s hand, smiled warmly at what Haram had said and turned to Tae-yi.
“He says he’s really thankful.”
“…”
Tae-yi fell silent, momentarily speechless at In-ho’s totally unnecessary translation.
The awkward silence settled over the quiet hallway—until In-ho, realizing what he’d just done, panicked and scrambled to correct himself.
“Ah…! Sorry, it’s a habit… I’ll get going now!”
With a sheepish smile, In-ho turned and bolted, white coat fluttering as he made his escape.
Watching him run off like he was being chased, Haram let out a soft chirp.
“Squeak, skrrrk.”
He’s such a fun person.
***
The car swayed gently, but Haram didn’t feel even the slightest jolt. That was all thanks to Tae-yi, who was holding him carefully with both hands, not wanting to risk hurting him by using just one.
“Chirp, skrrrk…”
You can just put me in your pocket, you know…
He had decided to stay in his animal form for now, but making Tae-yi completely unable to use his hands like this felt a bit much. Haram curled his body up tightly, making himself smaller, then looked up at Tae-yi.
“What is it?”
Tae-yi met his gaze immediately, lifting him up to eye level as he asked calmly. Haram, in response, wrapped his tiny paws around Tae-yi’s thumb and replied:
“Chirp.”
Thank you.
There were too many things to be grateful for—he couldn’t even count them all.
They had agreed to stay with each other for a week, but all Haram had done for Tae-yi was cook him homemade meals in the countryside. He hadn’t taken him to the movies, or even to the local five-day market with the famous stuffed hotteok stand.
Of course, Tae-yi had said he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but still…
“What’s wrong?”
Haram let out a small sigh, ears flattened, and Tae-yi’s brows furrowed.
He liked the faint warmth from Haram’s paws wrapped around his thumb—but he didn’t like the sound of that sigh.
As he watched the tiny head slowly shake back and forth, Tae-yi reached out and gently stroked his soft fur with his index finger.
When they arrived back at the estate, Tae-yi placed Haram down gently on the bed and crouched to meet his eyes.
“Are you hungry?”
“Chirp.”
Haram, still in his Sky Squirrel form, shook his head vigorously. Despite the communication barrier, Tae-yi—as always—let him do things his own way.
“Then rest up. I’m going out for a bit.”
Haram, half-buried in the soft bedding, wiggled himself upright and nodded again. Tae-yi stroked his soft head one more time before quietly leaving the room.
As the door shut with a quiet thunk, Haram stared blankly at it for a moment—then buried his weary body into the fluffy blankets.
Stretching out, he glanced again toward the door Tae-yi had just exited.
Maybe this whole staying-in-Sky-Squirrel-form idea wasn’t going to last much longer.
***
“Nothing on your body’s damaged, right?”
The first words out of Kang Tae-jin’s mouth—uttered between sips of alcohol—were exactly what Tae-yi had expected.
Instead of answering, Tae-yi just stared at him, then shifted his gaze to the slowly opening door behind Tae-jin.
His secretary stepped in, head bowed, and handed Tae-jin a manila envelope before quietly leaving.
“Father always said it. Pick the right people to keep close.”
Tae-jin said as he passed the envelope to Tae-yi.
Considering he’d tried to have him killed through Manager Kim, his continued brazenness made Tae-yi feel sick. But outwardly, he smiled as if nothing was wrong.
“Guess you’re finally getting old, huh? Rambling on like that.”
The cocky tone wiped the smug smile right off Tae-jin’s face—though only for a moment. He soon chuckled with that same fake ease.
“Yeah, maybe. Guess I’m taking after Father.”
Tae-yi pulled out the documents from the envelope, his expression calm but unreadable.
Even as an adult, Tae-jin hadn’t changed. He’d smile sweetly to your face like he didn’t know a thing—then turn around and do the most disgusting shit imaginable behind your back.
That was exactly why Kang Tae-jin was so fucking vile.
