The body was exhausted and aching, yet sleep refused to come. Tossing and turning, Yeo-min eventually opened his eyes in the darkness and saw Seo-yul lying with his back turned.
Without a sound, Yeo-min sat up and approached Seo-yul. His gaze traveled over the softly resting eyelashes, the delicate yet defined nose, and the lips that remained gently closed. Reaching out, he pressed his palm lightly against Seo-yul’s forehead.
‘He still has a fever.’
Seo-yul’s already fragile condition had worsened ever since they left the mansion. Fever of unknown origin had pushed him to the brink of life and death more times than Yeo-min cared to count. Even now, just thinking about it sent a cold shiver down his spine.
The only thing he could do was wipe Seo-yul’s body down with cool water, trying to bring the fever down. And even now, when he seemed better, the fear hadn’t left him.
‘We need to move…’
Just as Seo-yul had said, this place wasn’t safe to stay in for long. On top of that, they hadn’t completely escaped District 1 yet. Even if they were hiding under the shadow of the lantern, that didn’t change the fact that they were in danger.
But if they forced themselves to move too soon and Seo-yul fell ill again, Yeo-min wasn’t sure he could handle it. No, rather than take that risk, it was better to endure here a little longer, even if it was difficult.
‘I can hold on.’
The villagers were harsh toward outsiders. Work was becoming scarcer by the day, and there would be more nights spent starving than eating their fill. But as long as he was with Seo-yul, he could endure it.
Seo-yul still pushed him away whenever he tried to cross even the smallest boundary, but with time, he would have no choice but to accept him.
‘We’ll stay together no matter what. That’s all that matters.’
Letting out a long sigh, Yeo-min climbed off the bed completely. Careful not to wake Seo-yul, he tiptoed out of the house.
A gust of wind rushed in, unexpectedly chilly. The farther they got from the heart of District 1, the less constant warmth they had. Now, the seasons were shifting unpredictably.
The thin clothes did little to block the cold, and Yeo-min shivered, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He hunched his shoulders, looking for a place to sit. He wanted to get some air before going back inside.
A flat stone lay at the entrance to the field. Whether someone had placed it there or if it had always been there, he wasn’t sure, but it looked like the perfect spot to sit.
The sky was drenched in darkness, making the moon shine even more vividly. Seeing its cold light, Yeo-min’s expression twisted. His wavering eyes filled with unmistakable disgust.
‘In the end, I failed again.’
This time, he had been certain he could completely bring down the moon. But the perfect night had lasted only a week. After that, as if nothing had happened, the moon began shining again.
He reached his hand toward the sky, but there was no way he could grasp the distant moon. If he could, he would have crushed it without hesitation.
‘That person was right.’
Emotions were nothing but a burden when it came to the cause. But human hearts never flowed the way one willed them to. This was beyond his control.
He had to be honest—right now, his mind was filled with nothing but Seo-yul. The failed cause, the moon that had started shining again after just a week, and even ‘Night’—none of it mattered.
Once Seo-yul’s condition improved, he planned to leave this place and head toward District 2 or District 3. Someday, he would take Seo-yul to the place he had once stayed, where fields were covered in violet flowers.
Rather than this dead, barren land, they would build a home together in a place filled with living blooms. It would also be easier to find work there. Feeding just one person, Seo-yul, wouldn’t be difficult at all.
‘Just hold on a little longer.’
He only needed to endure until Seo-yul’s fever was completely gone. He didn’t know when that would be, but surely, things would get better. Right now, all he could do was hope.
‘Let’s go back.’
The creeping cold told him that if he stayed out any longer, he’d end up catching a cold himself. Tearing his gaze away from the moon, Yeo-min stood up and dusted off his clothes.
Just as he was about to head back home, something felt off. The air, which had been filled only with the scent of dried grass, was now heavy with a thick, sweet aroma—cocoa.
He had smelled it somewhere before…
‘No way.’
A sinking sense of dread shot through him, and Yeo-min sprinted toward the house. The rich scent of cocoa was seeping through the slight gap in the door.
He shoved the door open, and the moment he did, the overwhelming aroma flooded out like a crashing wave.
“Hyung?”
His voice trembled with unease as he called Seo-yul. But there was no answer.
The scent thickened as he stepped inside, nearly choking him. Raising a hand to cover his nose and mouth, Yeo-min pressed forward toward Seo-yul.
The moment he grasped Seo-yul’s delicate shoulders, his body slumped limply. Even in the darkness, Yeo-min could see how flushed Seo-yul was—his skin burned a deep, feverish red, and even his breathing was dangerously weak.
“Hyung!”
He called out louder this time, but there was still no response.
Placing a hand on Seo-yul’s forehead, he felt the searing heat radiating off him. Without hesitation, Yeo-min hoisted him onto his back.
He had to get to the village and find a doctor immediately. The terror that Seo-yul might die like this made his vision blur.
Through fields drenched in death, he ran, heading straight for the darkened village.
It was the dead of night, and the only places still lit were the taverns that stayed open until dawn.
Standing in the middle of the square, Yeo-min frantically searched for a hospital. No, a full hospital wouldn’t exist in a place like this—just a small clinic, anything. And if not that, at least a place where he could get medicine.
“Hyung, please, please.”
Seo-yul’s body against his back was growing hotter by the second. His fever was burning so fiercely, Yeo-min feared he might melt away entirely.
Finally, he remembered where the clinic was.
Reaching the tightly shut door, he banged on it with all his might. Bang! Bang!
The loud, urgent pounding shattered the silence of the sleeping village. A moment later, the irritated owner of the clinic emerged, looking thoroughly displeased at being woken in the middle of the night.
“This late at night, what the—urk.”
The clinic owner had been about to unleash a string of curses, but the moment he opened the door, the thick scent that spilled out stopped him cold. A sudden unease flickered across his face, and he instinctively moved to slam the door shut—only to fail as Yeo-min wedged his foot inside.
“Please don’t close it.”
“Then come back later—”
“Please….”
Yeo-min’s wavering voice made the owner’s grip on the doorknob falter. Seizing the moment, Yeo-min kicked the door open wider and rushed inside.
It wouldn’t have been difficult to throw out the unwelcome intruder, but the moment the owner caught sight of the unconscious figure on Yeo-min’s back, he hesitated. In a small village like this, his clinic was the only place one could go for medical help. There was no other choice.
“Lay him down here.”
Following the owner’s instructions, Yeo-min carefully lowered Seo-yul onto a cot. His condition had worsened—he looked like he was on the verge of death.
“His fever won’t go down. It just keeps getting higher—”
The owner silenced Yeo-min with a steadying gesture before pressing a hand to Seo-yul’s forehead. The boy’s body burned so fiercely that it sent a jolt of shock up his arm. That was all the confirmation he needed.
“This kid’s an Omega, isn’t he?”
Yeo-min couldn’t mask his reaction. He quickly denied it, but the owner had already seen enough. Panic surged in Yeo-min’s chest—what if the man reported them?
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of turning you in.”
“…Really?”
“So just sit down and stay quiet. You’re making a mess of things.”
Only after hearing that did Yeo-min manage to settle into the chair beside the bed. With the boy finally still, the owner was able to examine Seo-yul’s condition properly.
Ever since the district leader had ordered all Omegas to be expelled from District 1, they had become a rare sight. Before that, they had lived among the townspeople like anyone else.
His memory was hazy, but after running this clinic for so many years, he had treated quite a few Omegas before. Diagnosing them shouldn’t have been difficult. And yet, something about this boy seemed off.
‘This isn’t a normal heat cycle.’
The thought lingered in his mind—until he turned Seo-yul over to check. A typical heat would have left the lower body damp with slick, but Seo-yul’s pants were completely dry. Not a single trace.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can do for him.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
Yeo-min’s heart plummeted. He shot to his feet, grabbing the owner’s arm in desperation. He begged—at least give him some medicine for the fever. But the owner only shook his head. Even if Seo-yul took it, it wouldn’t help.
“Still… at least let me try—please…”
Overwhelmed by despair, Yeo-min collapsed to his knees. Was he supposed to just sit here and watch Seo-yul die? The helplessness clawed at his insides. He couldn’t even protect the one person who mattered most.
“When the sun rises, head west of the village.”
At the owner’s cautious words, Yeo-min lifted his tear-streaked face. The man hesitated, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers, before leaning down and whispering,
“If you keep going west, you’ll come across an old mansion. Find the woman named ‘Helen’ there. She’ll know what’s happening to this kid better than I do.”
