Seo-yul felt like he was suffering from a relentless fever. Drenched in the merciless downpour of his pheromones, his consciousness wavered between losing and regaining itself so many times that reality and dreams blurred into one.
Every time he sank into the abyss of darkness and opened his eyes again, his vision remained unsteady. And always, without fail, his gaze would land on that tormented face—twisted in agony as he moved.
“Seo-yul hyung, Seo-yul hyung.”
He kept calling his name over and over. Seo-yul had no idea whether he had responded or not. He thought he might have parted his lips, but before he could be sure, his breath was stolen away as a heated tongue slipped through the gap.
They remained trapped in that stagnant time, tangled together endlessly. By the time Seo-yul barely regained his senses, the bedding had been changed to fresh sheets, and his clothes had been replaced.
The space beside him was cold, showing no sign that anyone had lain there. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft blanket. He wasn’t there, yet the thick scent of pheromones filling the room made it feel like he should have been.
“It hurts…”
A dull ache tugged at his lower abdomen. It was probably from the countless times they had joined together. Nothing else could explain the pain—he hadn’t even eaten anything that might have upset his stomach.
Clutching his increasingly sore abdomen, he tried to get out of bed, only for his legs to give out, sending him collapsing to the floor. The sudden impact made him realize just how damp his underwear had become.
‘Why the hell did he leave it like this?’
If he was going to wash him, he should have done it properly. Leaving him in this half-cleaned state made Seo-yul want to curse. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up, peeled off his soaked pants and underwear, and headed to the bathroom.
When he finally emerged from a long shower, he found himself locking eyes with Choi Yeo-min, who had been tidying up the bedding.
Yeo-min’s gaze, filled with confusion, flickered downward before snapping back up in a panic.
Seo-yul hadn’t expected anyone to be there, so he hadn’t even bothered to grab a towel. If he had known, he would have put on a robe. His body was in no state to be seen by anyone.
“Uh, um, I brought some clothes for you…”
Yeo-min’s voice cracked slightly as he awkwardly made his way to the wardrobe. Seo-yul considered going back to the bathroom to grab a robe but instead walked naked to the bed. As he sank into the mattress, the freshly changed sheets carried the warm scent of sunlight.
“I’ll just leave them here.”
Keeping his gaze fixed far away, Yeo-min placed the clean clothes beside him. Seo-yul didn’t even have the energy to say thank you, so he simply gave a small nod of acknowledgment before reaching for the clothes.
“Ah…”
Had the shower drained the last of his strength? His hands trembled violently as he struggled to button up his shirt. Frustrated by his clumsy fingers, he nearly ripped the buttons off in irritation but forced himself to stop. Instead, he turned to Yeo-min, who was still stubbornly avoiding eye contact.
“Choi Yeo-min.”
“Yes?”
“Can you help me with my clothes?”
“C-Clothes?”
Choi Yeo-min, clearly startled, finally turned to face Seo-yul. When Seo-yul gestured toward the unbuttoned shirt, Yeo-min’s face turned bright red as he cautiously reached out.
“Ah, um, hold on. My hands…”
His trembling hands struggled to fasten even a single button. After fumbling with the first one for an embarrassingly long time, Yeo-min exhaled deeply, forcing himself to steady his hands.
What should have taken mere seconds dragged on for minutes, and beads of sweat formed on Yeo-min’s forehead. Seo-yul instinctively reached out to wipe them away, but Yeo-min flinched violently and recoiled.
“A-Ah, it’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, I just got startled—”
“You don’t have to explain. I won’t misunderstand.”
Seo-yul didn’t have the energy to listen to Yeo-min’s excuses. He simply pulled the blanket over himself and lay back down. As his body settled into the sheets, the dull ache in his lower abdomen, which he had been trying to ignore, crept back in.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Yeo-min caught the slight furrow in his brow and immediately asked. Seo-yul brushed it off with a simple “I’m fine,” but Yeo-min still insisted that he shouldn’t hesitate to say something if he was in pain before returning to his seat.
The room fell into a deep silence.
Seo-yul tossed and turned, unable to sleep. His body felt strangely awake, yet the lingering pain in his stomach had finally faded. He pulled his face out from under the covers and glanced toward Yeo-min, who was seated in the corner.
When others were around, Yeo-min would leave the bedroom. But when they were alone, he always sat there, either reading a book or writing something down.
— I’ll get you out of here.
There was no way a mere attendant like Yeo-min could actually help him escape. He must have said it out of pity. Seo-yul should have dismissed it as meaningless, yet the words kept replaying in his mind—probably because he was more desperate than ever.
— I’ll never let you go, so don’t even think about leaving me.
Seo-yul knew he had to leave. No matter what happened, the other man would never let him go willingly. Their time together had to remain nothing more than a memory of the past. They both needed to move forward in their own separate lives.
For that to happen, they couldn’t be in each other’s orbit anymore. They were like poison to one another, only growing more destructive the closer they became. Staying together would only lead to misery.
So if Seo-yul left, wouldn’t the other man find happiness? If he disappeared to a place where he could never be found, time would eventually wear down his presence in the other’s heart. He would forget, move on, and perhaps even find joy with someone else.
That was all Seo-yul could wish for.
“I want to go outside.”
The turning pages froze. Yeo-min’s gaze lifted to meet his.
Seo-yul sat up, smiling at the bewildered look in Yeo-min’s eyes. The book slipped from Yeo-min’s grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. Slowly, he got up and approached.
“Are you… serious?”
His voice trembled, as if questioning whether Seo-yul’s decision was truly final. Without hesitation, Seo-yul nodded.
Yeo-min perched on the edge of the bed, took Seo-yul’s hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.
“Come with me. Let’s escape this wretched hell together.”
***
The aftermath was worse than expected. Then again, he had been shot twice—perhaps he should consider himself lucky that it wasn’t any worse. Se-yul stared at his right arm, now sluggish in movement, something it hadn’t been before.
His doctor, who had been closely observing the way he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hand, finally allowed his previously grave expression to lighten. He assured Se-yul that his condition had improved significantly. Se-yul curled his trembling fingers into a fist and returned a faint smile.
“Are you experiencing any other discomfort?”
“Aside from this, I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry.”
Only then did the doctor relax, though he still left him with a warning not to overdo it before stepping out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the warmth disappeared from Se-yul’s face, replaced by an icy expression. He tossed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed.
He had been bedridden for two months. Two whole months of doing nothing but focusing on recovery. Seo-yul had always been physically weak since childhood, spending much of his time confined to his room—how had he endured it back then?
I was going insane from how suffocating it was.
His gaze shifted beyond the window, where the human world’s moon shone brilliantly against the darkened sky. His fingers, which had subconsciously clenched, slowly relaxed.
Yet even from merely gripping his fist too tightly, his entire arm ached, and a dull soreness spread across his shoulder. He might have looked fine on the outside, but nothing had truly healed. He had to admit it—his body was no longer the same as before.
But there’s no time left.
A fair amount of time had passed since that disastrous day. The once-destroyed estate was steadily being rebuilt, and the power output from District 1 had remained consistent, keeping the economy stable.
Everything seemed to be returning to normal—except for the most important thing. Seo-yul was missing.
His father, whom he had expected to storm District 1 the moment he was able, had instead been preoccupied with restoring order. Meanwhile, Se-yul had been too weak to even step outside his room.
That didn’t mean he had sat idly by. Following the District Integration Act, he had officially demanded the return of the hostage. Naturally, the response had been predictable—they shamelessly insisted that Seo-yul was not in their possession.
I can’t afford to wait any longer.
Just recalling the moment Seo-yul had been ripped away from him made his teeth grind. That bastard, Vincent Shining. A filthy traitor who repaid kindness with betrayal. No amount of curses could quench his fury.
The Day of the District was approaching soon. It was the only time when the otherwise secluded mansion of District 1 would open its doors. If he used that moment wisely, he might be able to retrieve Seo-yul.
But first, he needed to get himself inside District 1.
By now, the invitation should have arrived.
There was no way the master of District 1 hadn’t sent one. For reasons unknown, Luis Shining had always shown an excessive interest in his father. This time wouldn’t be any different.
The letters were usually sent out within a week, meaning either it hadn’t arrived yet, or his father had already decided not to attend.
Either way, Se-yul had to persuade him.
This Day of the District, they would reclaim Seo-yul.
