As soon as I widened my eyes at the unfamiliar words, she shrugged as if she had expected my reaction. However, unlike me, Choi Yeo-min, who seemed to understand what she had said, had an expression twisted in sheer disbelief.
“That’s just a rumor. No matter how advanced the New Humans are—”
“Of course it is. Even the Shining barely know about it, so how could you, who aren’t even one of them?”
She cut Choi Yeo-min off firmly and walked around the room, throwing the window wide open. The fresh air quickly dispersed her pheromones, which had been filling the room. Finally, I could breathe more easily.
“The simplest way to tell if you’ve been imprinted is through pheromones. You’ll feel an intense aversion to the pheromones of anyone other than your partner.”
“What exactly is this imprinting?”
“…A mark left on one’s mate.”
The answer came from an unexpected source. Letting out a deep sigh, Choi Yeo-min got off the bed. With his back to me, he ran both hands down his face as if trying to collect himself.
“Would you step out for a moment?”
She approached him, patting his shoulder as she spoke. Choi Yeo-min, who had seemed on the verge of saying something else, swallowed his words and obediently left. Once the door closed, only Helen and I remained in the room.
She waited until the sound of footsteps faded before turning back to me. There was a faint yet unmistakable fire flickering in her eyes as they met mine.
“You look like you have a lot of questions.”
I nodded honestly, and she stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. The distance between us was closer than I had expected, but thanks to the open windows, I couldn’t feel her pheromones anymore.
“A mark left on one’s mate… What exactly does that mean?”
“It’s exactly as it sounds. Not only do you develop an aversion to others’ pheromones, but you also become far more sensitive to your partner’s.”
She paused for a moment, gazing out past the wide-open window. Before I knew it, the day had faded, and cold moonlight was spilling into the room.
“But I’ve never done anything like that.”
“You probably didn’t even realize it happened.”
What the hell was she saying? That I’d been imprinted without even knowing? I wanted to argue how ridiculous that was, but the sheer despair settling in my chest rendered me speechless.
“Come here for a moment?”
“…What?”
Without warning, she reached out and placed her hand on my forehead. My body tensed instinctively, but she reassured me with a gentle touch, telling me there was nothing to be startled about. Her hand against my skin was warm—just the right amount of warmth.
“You mentioned you’ve been experiencing an unexplained fever lately, didn’t you? You must be feeling weak, too.”
I nodded honestly. She stared at me intently, as if deep in thought. After lingering there for a while, her hand finally withdrew.
“People call this phenomenon ‘imprint sickness.'”
“Imprint sickness?”
“It happens when someone moves too far away from their imprinted mate.”
Just as she said, my illness had started the moment I left the mansion in District 1. But I had assumed it was simply because I had been overexerting myself without proper rest.
“This is just because my body is weak—”
“You already know that’s not true.”
Deep down, I had a vague suspicion that this fever wasn’t ordinary. If it had been a heat cycle, my body should have reacted differently, but there were no such symptoms—only the relentless burning fever.
In fact, I would have preferred suffering through a heat cycle instead. That, at least, was something I knew would eventually pass. It was agonizing, yes, but it had an end. Imprint sickness, on the other hand, was far worse.
“The longer you stay away from your mate, the weaker you’ll become. You’ll have more days of suffering, far worse than now. Eventually, you’ll start to break down—both your body and your mind.”
“But I—”
“Enduring it won’t do either of you any good. Judging by your condition, I’d say your mate is also going through a severe case of imprint sickness right now.”
If what she was saying was true, then the only way to recover from this fever was to return to him.
I had only just managed to leave him, and now I had to go back?
How did this make any sense? It felt like someone was playing a cruel joke, deliberately trying to force me back to him. Otherwise, there was no way something like this could happen.
“Is there… a way to break the imprint?”
If I had unknowingly been imprinted, then there had to be a way to sever it. Clinging to that sliver of hope, I looked at her desperately. She hesitated briefly before giving her answer.
“It’s simple. One of you has to die.”
***
After running nonstop for three days, he began searching every village along the border. Officially, his mission was to hunt down the remnants of “Night,” but his true objective was singular—confirming Han Seo-yul’s survival.
The villages, home to those cast out from the central districts, were small and insular. An outsider’s sudden appearance was bound to attract attention.
Because of that, tracking down the fleeing cultists of “Night” was an easy task. However, not a single one of them had seen Seo-yul.
‘So, this isn’t the place.’
He refused to entertain the possibility that Ina’s information had been false. No—he simply hadn’t reached the right place yet. He held onto that belief with unwavering certainty.
But with each village he passed on the outskirts, hope slowly turned into despair. Now, only three villages remained.
Please, please, please—
“Sir Vincent, are you all right?”
At his aide’s cautious question, Vincent lifted his gaze. As he straightened from where he had been leaning against the car, he felt something hot trickling down. He raised a hand to wipe his mouth, and when he pulled it away, his fingers were stained with red.
“S-Someone, bring something to wipe—”
“Stop making a fuss. It’s just exhaustion.”
Calming his aide, who had turned pale as a sheet, he pulled his sleeve down and wiped the blood from his nose. He had been pushing himself hard for days, yes—but he was a Shining.
With a body far stronger than an ordinary human’s, he should have been able to handle this schedule with ease. Yet, for some reason, fatigue clung to him more stubbornly than ever before.
It wasn’t just that. He had been burning with fever for days now. He had taken suppressants just in case, but they didn’t work. This wasn’t a rut fever.
‘Something’s wrong.’
When was the last time he had been this sick? He searched his memories but couldn’t recall a single instance. Ah… perhaps that time in the warehouse. He had been too young then, nearly beaten to death.
—Hello.
A young Seo-yul had smiled as he greeted him.
The memory of their first meeting remained vivid, even after all these years. Seo-yul, who had saved him from the brink of death.
How could he ever forget the moment he first saw the light?
‘If Seo-yul hyung is really dead—’
Seo-yul had been the lone beam of light in his pitch-black world. If that light was gone, then all that would be left for him was an endless abyss.
What would be the point of living, then?
“It’s over.”
Right on cue, his men returned, dragging the surviving cultists of “Night” with them. Judging by their battered faces, there had been quite a struggle.
With a deep sigh, Vincent reached for his belt. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and pointed it at the approaching cultists.
Bang!
A sharp gunshot rang out, and one of them collapsed lifelessly. Blood gushed from the gaping wound in their head, their body twitching weakly.
“Ahhh!”
One of the remaining cultists panicked, shoving Vincent’s men aside as they tried to flee. Vincent aimed at the retreating figure without a moment’s hesitation.
And pulled the trigger.
Again and again, he executed them without mercy.
The district leader’s orders had been to capture them alive, but he had never intended to obey. Trash was meant to be disposed of immediately.
“Sir Vincent…”
His aide grabbed his arm. It was only then, as he came back to his senses, that he realized he had been repeatedly shooting an already-dead body.
He hadn’t been angry. So why had he kept firing?
Lowering the smoking gun, he let it drop onto the corpse at his feet.
As he reached up to wipe the blood splattered on his cheek, he noticed his hands were trembling. Had he really overexerted himself just from pulling the trigger a few times? His body was weakening at an alarming rate.
“For now, let’s move out.”
Issuing the order to his shaken subordinates, he turned back toward the car. But the moment he took a step, his vision wavered violently, and his legs buckled beneath him.
“Sir Vincent!”
If his aide hadn’t rushed to support him, he would have collapsed pathetically in front of everyone.
Breathing heavily, he tried to push the man away, insisting he was fine.
But before he could even get the words out, his entire body lost strength.
The sound of his name being called, the hurried footsteps rushing toward him—they all grew distant.
For the first time in his life, Vincent Shining lost consciousness.
