Goblin House 10-4

“I honestly don’t understand why you’re acting like this, hyung.”

He didn’t want to lose to Seok-ho. He didn’t want to obediently go along with someone who only treated him like a naive younger brother. Even the feelings he had painfully confessed had been dismissed simply because he was “too young.”

No.

Maybe that was just an excuse. From the very beginning, Seok-ho probably hadn’t felt anything for him at all. Kang-woo’s youth had merely been a convenient justification.

Which meant Kang-woo couldn’t stay in this ambiguous relationship any longer. If he kept remaining by Seok-ho’s side, he would never be able to let go of his feelings. He would keep clinging to futile hope.

They said that when bodies grow distant, hearts naturally follow.

So for now, this was the best option. He had to find somewhere else to stay and leave Seok-ho’s side. Without lingering attachment. Without hesitation.

“I’ll handle things myself. Hyung, just… stop worrying about me.”

Building a wall between himself and Seok-ho wasn’t easy for Kang-woo either. But if he didn’t do this, he knew he would only keep weakening in front of him. They would continue clashing like this.

So Kang-woo couldn’t remain here. This living arrangement wasn’t doing either of them any good.

“Please step outside for a moment, hyung. I need to change.”

Kang-woo swallowed down his surging emotions and asked in a smaller voice. Ignoring Seok-ho, he began rummaging through the dresser drawer—

But Seok-ho rose from the bed and strode over, grabbing his arm.

“Ugh…!”

The grip around his wrist was so strong that a pained sound slipped out of him. His body was forcibly turned, and Kang-woo’s breath caught.

Those pitch-black eyes stared at him suffocatingly. Something dangerous flickered within them—like he might pounce at any moment and sink his teeth into Kang-woo’s throat.

“…Hyung.”

They were incredibly close now.

Kang-woo instinctively took a step back. Seok-ho immediately closed the distance, stepping forward again.

Those dark eyes, like the abyss of the sea, filled Kang-woo’s entire field of vision. And with their closeness, the violent emotions raging inside Seok-ho became even clearer.

But Kang-woo still couldn’t identify what those emotions were.

Their unsteady breaths filled the narrow space between them. The hand gripping Kang-woo’s arm tightened further.

“…Ah—”

A faint cry slipped from Kang-woo’s lips.

At the same moment, the strength suddenly vanished from Seok-ho’s hand.

He stepped two paces back from Kang-woo, clenching his fist tightly. Then he exhaled deeply, as if trying to suppress something inside himself.

Kang-woo rubbed his tingling arm. When he rolled up his sleeve, white and red finger marks had already appeared on his skin.

For some reason, those vivid marks felt like they were tightening around both his body and his heart.

“This is the last warning I’ll give you, so listen carefully.”

Seok-ho’s voice was low as he delivered the warning.

“Don’t take that part-time job.”

With that, he left the room. Crossing the living room, he headed straight for the bedroom—

Bang!

The door slammed shut with a violent crash.

Kang-woo slid down against the wardrobe and sank to the floor.

Only after a long time passed did he finally notice it. The bag of fish-shaped pastries on the desk—now damp and soggy.

***

The previous night, Kang-woo had tossed and turned for a long time. Unable to fall asleep, he stayed awake until dawn before finally drifting off.

In fact, it hadn’t been just yesterday. For the past few days, Kang-woo couldn’t remember having a proper night’s sleep.

Maybe that was why.

The moment he opened his eyes that morning, he sensed something wrong with his body. His head felt heavy and throbbing.

With great effort, he moved his weak hand and placed it against his cheek. His face felt unusually warm, as if he had a fever. And his stomach churned uneasily too.

“Mmm…”

A quiet groan slipped from his lips.

He was fully awake now, but he couldn’t move his body at all. Kang-woo lay there for a long time with his eyes tightly closed.

But he couldn’t keep lying there forever.

Today was his first day at the café. On such an important day—the one that determined a person’s first impression—he couldn’t possibly call in absent.

Kang-woo carefully pushed his upper body upright.

When he had been lying still, it hadn’t been too bad. But the moment he sat up, his vision swayed and blurred.

He squeezed his eyes shut again and stayed frozen like that for a long time.

Only after quite a while did his stomach settle enough for his vision to clear.

I should wash up.

With a small groan, Kang-woo climbed out of bed. Maybe splashing some cold water on his face would clear his foggy head.

He stepped out of the room.

The living room clock showed it was already close to ten. He had overslept—something that rarely happened to him.

He glanced around the quiet apartment before walking toward the open master bedroom. As expected, the room was empty. It seemed Seok-ho had already left for work early again today.

“Listen carefully. This is the last warning. Don’t take that part-time job.”

The events from the previous evening replayed endlessly in his mind. Seok-ho’s chilling warning echoed in his ears.

After their argument, Kang-woo had quickly regretted it. He felt like he had been too disrespectful toward him.

Especially after discovering the fish-shaped pastries on the desk, the guilt doubled.

The pastries had gone completely cold and hard. After hesitating about what to do with them, Kang-woo eventually forced himself to eat every last one before going to sleep.

Going against Seok-ho’s warning didn’t sit comfortably with him either.

Normally, Kang-woo would have tried to listen to what Seok-ho said. But this time was an exception.

He had already committed to doing this. And he couldn’t stop thinking about the café owner either, who had said she was in trouble because another part-timer had suddenly quit.

Still, when hyung came home, I should apologize.

He planned to say he was sorry for the harsh things he had said, and this time talk calmly without letting his emotions take over—to try persuading Seok-ho.

He didn’t want to fight with him. So why did it feel like things kept going wrong between them?

With a heavy sigh, Kang-woo entered the bathroom.

He checked his reflection in the mirror.

He definitely didn’t look well. Both cheeks were flushed red, and dark circles had formed beneath his eyes.

Anyone looking at him would think he was sick.

“I look terrible. Seriously.”

Shaking his head, Kang-woo turned on the faucet.

As he splashed cold water onto his face, he suddenly began counting the dates in his head.

Kang-woo’s heat cycle didn’t follow the typical pattern of most Omegas, who experienced it once every four months. His cycle was about two months longer.

When his trait manifestation first occurred, his body had been unstable and the cycle irregular. But at some point, it had settled into a steady six-month pattern.

Having a longer cycle than others didn’t make things easier. Instead of experiencing heat twice a year, his cycles lasted much longer—and the pain was more intense. Even when he took suppressants, his mind stayed foggy all day.

It hadn’t even been four months since his last heat cycle. Which meant this wasn’t a time when he should be suspecting heat at all.

It’s probably just a cold.

Kang-woo came to that conclusion with resignation.

Just my luck. Why does this have to happen today—on my first day at work?

He was already troubled by the argument with Seok-ho, and now his body wasn’t cooperating either. His mood sank even lower.

He turned off the faucet and spun around, but suddenly his head spun violently, and dizziness overtook him.

Kang-woo barely managed to grab the sink with one hand. He stood there with his eyes tightly shut until the dizziness subsided.

His body felt unbearably heavy. It was like weights had been tied to every part of him.

Maybe I should go to the pharmacy and buy some medicine.

He considered it briefly, but decided to take a nap first. There was still some time before his shift started. If he rested, he might feel better by then.

Unable to fight the overwhelming fatigue, Kang-woo gave in to the somewhat irresponsible thought and returned to bed, closing his eyes.

He didn’t know how many hours passed.

Kang-woo suddenly regained consciousness.

It wasn’t an external disturbance that woke him. An explosive change happening inside his body violently dragged his awareness back.

“Hah…!”

His mouth opened as heated breaths spilled out.

His body felt like it was on fire.

Ragged breathing burst from his chest, and every sensation in his body was amplified. Kang-woo rolled onto his side, curling into himself. His overheated body responded to only one desire.

Sexual craving.

His body trembled like a quaking aspen tree. Clutching the blanket tightly, Kang-woo realized the truth.

The situation he had feared had finally become reality. His heat cycle had begun.

Had he been too careless? Trusting his cycle so completely had made him let his guard down. But this was definitely strange. It hadn’t even been six months since his last heat.

Why had it come this early? This had never happened before. His cycles had always been consistent. Which meant something was clearly wrong.

This was the worst possible situation. He didn’t have any suppressants on hand. He should have prepared some in advance—but regretting it now was pointless.

The thought of going to the pharmacy immediately flashed through his mind, but his body, already beyond his control, refused to cooperate.

“Hah… ha…”

I have to go to work…

His mind kept thinking of the things he needed to do, but his body refused to obey. It was as if his physical instincts had completely escaped the control of his reason. Even tightening his fingers required immense effort.

All Kang-woo could do was gasp for breath. His hands and feet burned like they were about to burst. Perhaps because the heat had risen so high, his limbs trembled as if he were freezing. It felt like his brain was melting sluggishly from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Hah… Seok… Seok-ho hyung…”

After curling up like that for a long time, Kang-woo suddenly thought of Seok-ho.

Hyung would come home tonight.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, his body moved instinctively.

The room was completely dark now. It seemed the sun had set while he slept. With his trembling body, Kang-woo barely managed to climb out of bed.

The distance from the bed to the door wasn’t even ten steps. But those few steps felt impossibly far. 

Every step felt like his body was screaming in pain. His body sagged downward with each movement. Dragging himself forward, Kang-woo reached the door and locked it.

It was the only thing he could do right now. Seok-ho must not see him like this. He didn’t know that Kang-woo was an Omega. If he just stayed hidden here… maybe if he endured it alone for a few days, it would somehow pass.

It was a ridiculous idea. But Kang-woo couldn’t think of any better option. His mind, softened and muddled by the intense heat, couldn’t form proper thoughts.

“I’m sick and tired of all that Omega and Alpha nonsense.”

A cold voice pierced through his hazy consciousness and lodged in his mind.

Everything else was fine. But please… please… He didn’t want Seok-ho to see him like this—like some kind of animal ruled by instinct.

***

He had another dream again. A dream where he was having sex with Kim Kang-woo.

With each passing day, the contents of the dream grew clearer and more vivid. And the Kang-woo in those dreams became more provocative day by day.

Once he woke up, it was difficult to fall asleep again. Every time he closed his eyes, the same dream repeated itself.

On the surface, he claimed it was for Kang-woo’s sake. Yet every night, he dragged the boy into his dreams to satisfy his own lust. He was starting to feel sick of his own hypocrisy.

In the end, Seok-ho got up early and left the house.

Standing in front of the officetel building, he inhaled the cold dawn air and lit a cigarette. After finishing it, he went straight down to the parking lot and got into his car.

Recently, whenever he left home, he had made it a routine to stop by the gym first. But today he skipped even that and headed straight to the shop. He simply wasn’t in the condition to work out.

Author: Levia