Han Seo-yul had already left, but he remained standing alone in the forest for a long time. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t bring himself to move. It felt as if all the blood in his body had sunk to the ground—a boundless, unbearable sense of misery.
—I’ve never once wanted to see you. So stop deluding yourself and go back to your sector once you’re done here.
He knew it was a lie. Seo-yul might not realize it, but the twisted agony on his face as he spoke completely denied the very words he was uttering. He knew everything. And yet, he couldn’t help but be shaken.
Should he have gone to Seo-yul first instead of waiting? He had thought about waiting until Seo-yul came to him, but that patience had turned out to be a poison. Seo-yul was only looking for ways to push him away.
Letting out a long sigh, he raised both hands and dragged them down his face. It was pathetic. So utterly pathetic that he felt like destroying everything in sight. Everything—except Seo-yul.
Seo-yul must have known too. That no matter what, he couldn’t lay a finger on him. That knowledge was what gave him the confidence to act this way. If it had been anyone else, he would have snapped their neck without hesitation. He wasn’t a merciful man.
Miserable.
The leader of Sector 1 had demanded he bring what he wanted in exchange for electricity. At first, he had considered it. But after receiving the letter from the Sector 1 leader on his first day here, he changed his plan—he would achieve his goal while securing something else in the process.
His original intent had been to persuade Seo-yul to go with him to Sector 1. There, he had planned to propose to him. As for the issue of an heir, Seo-yul was an Omega, so that wouldn’t be a problem. The rest—he would take care of it himself.
If it had been eight years ago, things would have been different, but now, he had enough power to make everything happen. He was the next leader of Sector 1. After that damned Luis Shining, he was the one who would take control.
“I can barely hold back.”
His cold eyes lifted to the sky, where dense leaves choked out the light. Every time the wind blew, his vividly fiery hair fluttered wildly. He brushed back the strands that obscured his vision.
After somewhat collecting himself, he returned to the mansion. As soon as he entered through the side door, the servants who spotted him flinched in alarm and quickly disappeared from sight. Without acknowledging them, he passed through the main building and headed straight for the annex.
The moment he entered his room, he stripped off the suffocating uniform and changed into something more comfortable. Dinner time was approaching, but he had no appetite. He didn’t see the point in attending a meal that Seo-yul wouldn’t be at.
“Young Master, it’s time for dinner.”
“Tell them I’m skipping it tonight.”
He gave the order to the aide who had arrived just in time, then threw himself onto the bed. The aide acknowledged his command and quietly left the room.
A long time passed before he finally turned over from his facedown position and stared at the dark ceiling. He wondered if sleep might ease his tangled thoughts, but he knew better. He didn’t even bother trying.
As he emptied his chaotic mind bit by bit, night fell over the mansion, bringing a silence in which everyone else had already succumbed to sleep. Rising in the darkness, he relied on his vision—unaffected by the lack of light—to quietly leave the room.
Like a thief, he moved through the hallway without making a sound, slipping from the annex into the main building. Stopping in front of a firmly shut door, he carefully grasped the doorknob and turned it.
Creak—. The quiet hinge noise broke the silence, but he wasn’t worried about waking the person inside. It was an unnecessary concern. Closing the door behind him, he locked it before silently approaching the sleeping Seo-yul.
Perched on the edge of the bed, he gazed at Seo-yul, who was soundly asleep. Thanks to the cold moonlight pouring through the large window, the room was bathed in brightness, making Seo-yul’s face clearly visible.
Reaching out, he gently caressed that small, pale face. He had wanted to touch him so badly, but he couldn’t when Seo-yul was awake. So he had no choice but to take advantage of moments like this, even if it made him a coward.
If he didn’t, he felt like he would go insane.
“…Seo-yul hyung.”
He called his name in a whisper, softer than his breath. Seo-yul had always been a deep sleeper since childhood—once he fell asleep, he wouldn’t wake unless something truly extreme happened. Whether it was because he was a heavy sleeper or simply due to his frail body, he didn’t know, but it allowed him to watch Seo-yul like this without worry.
As his hand, which had been stroking Seo-yul’s cheek, instinctively moved toward his closed lips, he unconsciously swallowed. Pressing his thumb lightly against the lower lip, he slowly traced over the even line of his teeth. Like magic, the lips parted slightly, as if inviting him in.
As if granting him permission.
A faint scent of pheromones began to seep out, soon filling the room with the rich fragrance of flowers. Maybe because of that, Seo-yul, who had been still, began to shift in his sleep. He pulled his hand back for a moment and exhaled the breath he had been holding.
Gazing at the thumb that had nearly entered Seo-yul’s mouth, he then brought it to his own lips. Even without direct contact, he felt an immense satisfaction. Which only made him crave Seo-yul’s touch even more.
Creak.
The soft groan of the bed springs echoed through the quiet room as he leaned further forward, completely positioning himself over Seo-yul. Pulling back the covers, he slipped his hand beneath the loose fabric of the sleepwear.
He traced his fingers along the flat stomach, moving upward, feeling each slight dip and curve of his ribs. When his hand finally reached the pounding heart beneath his palm, his vision blurred for a moment before coming back into focus. He wanted to push up the pajama top right then and there, to press his lips against that spot.
“…Haa.”
A heated sigh left his lips as he lowered his face toward Seo-yul’s exposed neck. From there, a deep cocoa scent emanated—so intoxicating that just breathing it in made his mouth dry with thirst.
And so, he sank his teeth into Seo-yul’s nape to quench it.
The taste that filled his mouth was sweeter than any cocoa, a flavor so dizzyingly rich that it made his head spin.
His hand, which had been resting against Seo-yul’s chest, began sliding downward again. Spreading apart the legs that had been closed together, his fingers delved deeper, exploring—until they touched something.
That was when his entire body stiffened, as if paralyzed.
This is dangerous.
A sliver of reason whispered its warning. Don’t cross this line. A genuine fear—one that Seo-yul might truly come to despise him—was the only thing barely suppressing the primal instincts threatening to consume him.
Even when he saw the dark bruises forming on Seo-yul’s neck, evidence of his touch, his instincts nearly won again. But he forced himself to stop.
Instead, he carefully pulled the blanket over Seo-yul, tucking it in tightly. Then, he deliberately put distance between them. If he didn’t, even he couldn’t predict what he might do next.
Leaving the room was the logical choice, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Just sharing the same space with Seo-yul, feeling his presence, was enough to fill him with a quiet satisfaction.
The night belonged to him alone.
As he moved toward the moonlit window, his eyes landed on the disorderly items scattered atop a nearby table. Among the matches and cigarette packs, one particular object stood out.
The moment he saw it, a flame roared to life inside him.
No way….
He cautiously picked it up from the table. Time had left its mark on it—the colors had faded significantly. The frayed edges had been mended over and over again, proof of just how precious this was to Seo-yul.
It was something deeply familiar to him as well.
The day they parted eight years ago, they had exchanged portraits of each other. His own had long since disappeared without a trace, but Seo-yul… Seo-yul had kept his all this time.
“…Unbelievable.”
The portrait, worn from constant handling, was drenched in longing. It spoke volumes about how much Seo-yul had missed him over the past eight years. And yet, what had he said?
“I’ve never once wanted to see you.”
He had suspected it was a blatant lie, but now, holding irrefutable proof of the truth in his hands, he could barely contain his joy. He wanted to jump like a child on the spot, but he held himself back, instead leaning against the window frame to gaze at the sleeping Seo-yul.
Just in the span of today, Seo-yul had dragged his emotions from the depths of despair to the highest peaks of euphoria. No one else in the world could shake him like this. Then again, no one but Seo-yul ever would.
Pressing his knuckles against his lips, he stifled the urge to call out to him. If he didn’t, he’d end up waking Seo-yul just to ask, If you didn’t miss me, why were you holding onto this?
Seo-yul would undoubtedly insist that it meant nothing. But he wouldn’t listen. Not anymore. The portrait, despite its faded colors and frayed edges, had been carefully preserved—it had already told him the truth.
Now that he had confirmed Seo-yul’s heart, nothing was holding him back. All he had to do was move forward with his plan.
Taking a deep breath, he tucked the portrait into his coat. Then, he stepped closer to the sleeping Seo-yul to bid him goodnight.
Brushing back the jet-black hair that was as dark as the night sky, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his small, delicate forehead.
“Sleep well, Seo-yul hyung.”
