“Drink this.”
Haram, still sniffling, looked up at Kang Tae-yi, who had placed a paper cup in front of him.
“…Squeak.”
“He says thank you.”
Kang Tae-yi turned to the man who had suddenly spoken in such a cheerful tone, interpreting Haram’s squeak, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“…And you are?”
Only then, locking eyes with Tae-yi’s piercing stare, did Da In-ho realize—this man was an Alpha. He flinched, immediately distancing himself and stammered badly as he answered.
“Ah, I’m… the interpreter… no, uh, I mean, a doctor… I’m also a Sky Squirrel Beastfolk.”
“I called him,” the professor interjected. “Since Da Haram didn’t seem inclined to de-transform.”
Kang Tae-yi nodded slightly, his gaze drifting down to Haram, who was noisily lapping up the water from the paper cup. Professor Yoon, who had been watching Tae-yi watching Haram, finally broke the silence.
“Patient Da Haram has requested a retest. What do you think?”
“I’ll let him do it,” Tae-yi replied.
Even if it had to be done over and over again, he didn’t care. Even if it proved nothing—if it helped Haram come to terms with being an Omega on his own, he’d let him do it a hundred more times.
Haram had been quietly listening to the exchange while drinking his water, and at Tae-yi’s answer, he walked right up to him and stretched out a tiny paw. Tae-yi reached out a hand in return. Haram clutched Tae-yi’s finger in his little paw and spoke in a heartfelt tone.
“Squeak, squeak.”
“…He says thank you so much.”
Da In-ho hesitated, unsure whether to interpret or not, carefully watching Tae-yi’s expression. Finally, he translated, and Tae-yi let out a soft chuckle and nodded.
Professor Yoon, observing the touching moment between the two, turned his gaze from Haram’s fluffy backside to Da In-ho.
“When did he start being unable to retract his ears and tail?”
Haram trotted across the table and approached the professor, then squeaked a response.
“Squeak, squeak.”
“He says he hasn’t been able to fully de-transform since he was a child.”
In-ho translated with pride, clearly pleased with their seamless tag-team rhythm. Professor Yoon stroked his chin thoughtfully, then looked back at Haram, who stood alert with his tail bristling in tension.
“I don’t know much about Beastfolk, but based on what I see, I wonder if he wasn’t a Beta to begin with.”
Wasn’t a Beta… from the start? Me?
Professor Yoon, now visibly excited—as if a new research thesis had just presented itself—continued with growing enthusiasm as Haram sat glued to the spot, ears perked.
“In other words, perhaps he was never a Beta at all. Maybe he was always an Omega, and the Omega traits only fully manifested after spending time with an Alpha.”
Haram tilted his head—not at the word “Omega,” but at something even more absurd: “Alpha.” He waved his tiny front paws side to side in protest.
“Squeak, squeak?”
“…He says he’s never even met an Alpha in his life?”
Both In-ho and Professor Yoon tilted their heads at the same time. Everyone, except for Kang Tae-yi, looked puzzled.
At that moment, Tae-yi—still turned away from Haram—looked over his shoulder and flashed a silent, mischievous grin at the two men. They quickly cleared their throats and averted their gazes, pretending to focus elsewhere.
They then glanced back at Haram, who sat atop the table looking adorably confused.
A Sky Squirrel Beastfolk who couldn’t recognize an Alpha even when one was right in front of him—and a Dominant Alpha who had no problem deceiving a creature barely the size of his palm. None of this was normal.
Then Haram clapped his front paws together with a crisp smack and asked another question.
“Squeeeeeak, squeak, squeak?”
Both men turned to the interpreter.
“Ah… he’s asking—if he changed from Beta to Omega, then is it possible to go from Omega back to Beta?”
Haram’s hopeful gaze made it difficult to meet his eyes. Professor Yoon stared into the air for a moment before replying, resolute.
“Secondary genders don’t flip back and forth like tossing a coin. So no, it’s not possible. Like I said, you were probably an Omega all along.”
“…!”
Haram trembled, shoulders quaking at the professor’s firm tone.
His late grandmother. The parents he couldn’t even remember. The village elders. Every single one of them had been Betas.
In the lonely reality where no one stood by his side, that Beta designation had been his only remaining connection to those people.
He had been the only Beastfolk in the village—and the one thing he had always been sure of was that he was a Beta.
And now?
You’re not a Beta. There’s no chance. You were an Omega from the beginning. You manifested because of an Alpha… even though you’ve never met one?!
Feeling betrayed by the very doctor he’d thought was reliable, Haram’s eyes welled with tears. He stood up abruptly, climbed onto the flowerpot at the center of the table, and snatched one of the white decorative pebbles nestled among the plants.
Then he marched up to Professor Yoon and offered it.
“Squeak, squeak…!”
Leaving the stone in the professor’s hands, Haram turned on his heel and jumped into Kang Tae-yi’s lap, where he collapsed and began to weep again.
Staring down at the white pebble in his hand, Professor Yoon asked Da In-ho—
“What did he say?”
In-ho hesitated, his voice small and tentative.
“…He called you a quack.”
Professor Yoon had been in medicine for forty-six years. That was the first time anyone had called him that.
As he sat there, stunned and speechless, Kang Tae-yi was already busy consoling the distraught Sky Squirrel curled on his thigh.
Most people would frown at their clothes being soaked with someone else’s tears and snot—but Kang Tae-yi, as always, smiled.
“Let’s go.”
He carefully lifted Haram, who was sobbing wretchedly against his thigh, and collected the little bundle of clothes left on the sofa. Turning to the still shell-shocked professor, he said—
“Haram’s a little overwhelmed right now, so I’m sure you’ll understand.”
He gave a polite bow, then exited the room with Haram still sniffling in his arms.
Click. The door closed behind them.
Left alone, Da In-ho looked around awkwardly. Then, seeing the white pebble still in the professor’s hand, he gently took it and placed it back in the flowerpot.
“Professor… I’ll be heading out, too.”
Still dazed and staring into space, Professor Yoon didn’t respond.
In-ho walked out and, once safely out of earshot, let out a breath of awe.
A Sky Squirrel who cried all over a Dominant Alpha’s pants and called an elite Alpha doctor a quack.
He was witnessing the greatest drama the Sky Squirrel Beastfolk had to offer.
***
“Stop crying already.”
The sound of sniffling hadn’t ceased, even back in the hospital room.
Worried that Haram might cry himself to exhaustion, Kang Tae-yi gently stroked the little squirrel’s body as he lay face down on a pillow—but it didn’t help.
Understandably so. Da Haram hated standing out and had always said he was more comfortable buried in the countryside, living a quiet farming life. To have something so rare and attention-grabbing happen to him—of course he was crying like this.
Watching Haram’s small pink paws clutching at the pillowcase, Tae-yi spoke.
“There’s a university hospital on the outskirts of Gyeonggi-do that does designation testing too. Wanna try going there?”
Haram wiped his face on the pillow and lifted his head, looking at Tae-yi sitting at the edge of the bed.
“Squeak, squeak…?”
Aren’t you busy…?
He’d started work in Seoul as soon as he arrived, and yet he’d spent the last two days trailing after Haram through hospital after hospital. It was starting to weigh on him.
“Should I call the interpreter?”
Tae-yi offered with a sheepish smile as Haram, without even thinking to shift back into human form, squeaked like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Only then did Haram realize he was still animalized. Shaking his head quickly, he grabbed his neatly folded clothes from the bed and looked up at Tae-yi.
“I’ll step outside.”
Tae-yi ran a finger under Haram’s damp eyes, then left the room.
Haram watched his retreating figure with a sniffle, then murmured—
“Squeak, squeak…”
He’s too kind…
Thinking he ought to learn from Tae-yi’s example, Haram finally returned to human form and got dressed. He even pulled his tail properly through his pants, then belatedly looked around the spacious hospital room.
Are all university hospitals this big? It’s so nice… but it must cost a fortune.
Sliding his feet into the slippers beneath the bed, Haram made his way to the door, thinking back on the money he’d spent at other clinics.
“I’m dressed…”
He peeked his head out the door and called to Tae-yi, who was leaning against the wall fiddling with his phone.
With a faint smile, Tae-yi followed him back into the room.
“What were you saying earlier?”
“Oh… I was asking if you didn’t have work. If you weren’t busy.”
Was it really okay for a corporate worker to skip work for two days straight?
Tae-yi, as always, brushed it off casually.
“I’m not going in for a while.”
“…Why not?”
“Do you want me to?”
Haram’s expression instantly darkened. He shook his head slowly.
“…I don’t want you to.”
His voice was thick with leftover tears as he murmured the words.
He glanced up at Tae-yi cautiously, waiting for a reply—but none came. Tae-yi wouldn’t even meet his gaze.
Following his line of sight, Haram reached up to touch his chin—and realized Tae-yi wasn’t looking at his face.
His eyes were fixed on Haram’s lips.
Assuming something must’ve been stuck there, Haram rubbed them roughly with his sleeve, then hurried to speak.
“I-I mean… if you’re busy, you can go. Really, if you need to—”
He felt like a brat, being so clingy to someone who obviously had work to do. He tried to backpedal, but Tae-yi didn’t answer.
He just kept staring. At Haram’s lips.
