Lee Tae-rim, who had managed to get a bit of sleep after Seon Juho left, felt genuinely relieved. At first, he’d been caught up in an embarrassing dilemma—what was he supposed to do about the erection Seon Juho had left him with? He’d debated it endlessly, but with cameras monitoring every corner of the room, pleasuring himself wasn’t even an option.
Thankfully, the issue had resolved itself. He’d fallen asleep while wondering if playing the national anthem in his head might help kill the mood. In the end, sleep had won over desire. He was lucky—unbelievably lucky.
While Tae-rim had managed to suppress his arousal by sleeping, Seon Juho was another story. Tae-rim might’ve liked to pretend he didn’t notice, but it was impossible to ignore. That scent Seon Juho always came back wearing—how could anyone not recognize it?
Sure, the pheromonal scent of semen could be strong. But it faded after a wash. It didn’t cling to the skin or sink in, so a quick rinse with soap usually took care of it.
Tae-rim’s own scent was the same. A couple of washes and it would be gone. That was how it was supposed to be. If the smell lingered more than that, people would be too terrified to even masturbate.
But Seon Juho was different. His scent was unnaturally strong. Judging by how faint it was, he’d definitely washed—but even then, a trace of it remained. Like pure, undiluted pheromones had been poured over him. When Tae-rim was close to him, that raw, musky scent would seep into his senses, faint but impossible to ignore.
And it was—undeniably—an arousing scent. If it hadn’t been washed away and dulled, Tae-rim might’ve been the one who ended up jumping Seon Juho. If he’d had an Omega’s body, he would’ve been soaked through, his underwear a ruined mess. Seon Juho really was a rare kind of Alpha—special in more ways than one.
So it was no surprise that watching such a rare Alpha moaning, clinging to him alone, sent chills down Tae-rim’s spine. The lingering memory of that scent still teased at his nose, making his cheeks flush all over again. If Seon Juho ever decided to seriously seduce him, Tae-rim wouldn’t stand a chance.
It was a blessing this world was filled with Betas. If that hadn’t been the case, Seon Juho would’ve been endlessly hounded by Omegas and stuck living an exhausting life. He was that kind of Alpha—so superior, the word “dominant” barely did him justice. The kind of man who lacked absolutely nothing.
When they’d first brought him in, he’d been this small, adorable puppy. When had he grown so much? No—he was still adorable, and that was the problem. Tae-rim closed his eyes. It was impossible not to recall Yoon Ye-rin’s words in a moment like this. He felt like he was losing his mind.
What the hell was he supposed to do with that puppy? He’d already caved to its charms, and now they were kissing like it was second nature. Tae-rim felt so pathetic. This time, he couldn’t deny it. What they were doing—it wasn’t mucosal Guiding. It was just a kiss. A real, plain kiss.
To a Tae-rim who couldn’t even think straight anymore, Seon Juho’s pheromones had become a drug. He welcomed Seon Juho’s kiss without a second thought. Guiding wasn’t even on his mind. Their mucous membranes were just barely touching, and that was the only reason any Guiding was happening at all.
Losing control like this—forgetting his own responsibilities—it made him feel both ashamed and pathetic. What scared him most was the thought that maybe Seon Juho had noticed. Guiding Seon Juho, who always arrived in such a dangerously unstable state, was supposed to be his number one priority. But here he was, failing at it. Tae-rim let out a long, heavy sigh.
That’s why he needed to get out of here. The sooner, the better. But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t come up with a plan. He raised his hand and felt around the bomb collar wrapped around his neck. No matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find a seam, a latch, anything. Without a mirror, he couldn’t even properly inspect it.
He wanted to take a look at Seon Juho’s collar, at the very least. But the moment he saw him, it wasn’t just the ever-watchful woman hovering nearby that made it difficult—it was his own damn brain. All he could think about was kissing Seon Juho again, drunk on pheromones. It made him feel like some kind of beast driven purely by instinct. Tae-rim wanted to bury his head in his hands. He was already on edge—this was pushing him over into full-blown madness.
Honestly… if it weren’t for him, Seon Juho would never have ended up back here. Even if he had been caught, he wouldn’t have been so helpless, trapped without even a chance to try and escape—just a test subject all over again.
Why did Guides have to be powerless? They were Awakened, just like Espers, but the difference between them was too stark. Aside from their ability to Guide, they were basically ordinary people. If Guides were supposed to be special, then shouldn’t they at least have some ability to protect themselves? Something to keep them from becoming a weakness?
But when he thought about it calmly, the real fault didn’t lie with the Guides being vulnerable—it lay with those who exploited that vulnerability. Guides were meant to carry some of the burden Espers bore. It was the people who turned them into liabilities who were the problem.
Still, the dark thoughts kept creeping in. If only it weren’t for me, Juho wouldn’t be a lab rat again. It’s my fault. This is all my fault. That relentless voice in his head, denying himself, tearing himself down—it wouldn’t leave him alone.
Were they really supposed to just wait and hope Central came to find them? Finding someone who’d already disappeared for this long was nearly impossible. The idea that he might be trapped here forever made Tae-rim feel like he couldn’t breathe. Sleep was out of the question.
Right now, they were leaving him alone. But who knew how long that would last? Tae-rim’s thoughts turned to Choi Jiwoon. That experiment—so brutal it had broken a man’s soul. Could he really endure something like that?
He was suffocating in his own helplessness. Furious at how powerless he was. And the worst part was—there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.
***
Dr. Kwak chewed at her fingernails as she stared at Subject K, who was—as always—silently neutralizing yet another Gate with that same blank expression. That damned monster got to rest at night, but Dr. Kwak didn’t have that luxury.
Even after dark, she remained buried in her research. The current methods weren’t cutting it. Sye needed a new way to analyze the wavelengths—something capable of detecting and distinguishing special abilities. She was getting desperate.
No matter how she looked at it, Subject K had to be the key to the erasure phenomenon. There was no concrete evidence yet, but her instincts screamed it. That test subject—Subject K—had to be an Esper with an Erasure-type ability.
If she had her way, she’d have dissected the bastard already. But she couldn’t even sedate the damn thing. Sleep aids didn’t work. Anesthetics didn’t work. Ability suppressants were useless. Physical restraints? Completely ineffective.
She’d already tried once. She’d ordered Espers to restrain Subject K and strap him to the lab table, but the moment they touched him, he shook them off like dust. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed those S-rank Espers and hurled them into the section filled with delicate, high-spec equipment.
Of course, the machines were no match for the sheer weight and power of S-rank Espers slamming into them. Everything was destroyed. Dr. Kwak had stood there stunned. Subject K wasn’t just powerful—he was a monster in every sense of the word.
Still chewing her nails, Kwak cast a glance at the Gate Generator. She wanted—more than anything—to activate ten of them at once. To do it just out of spite. Just to push back somehow. But she couldn’t bring herself to destroy everything they’d built here. Every single piece of equipment, every result—they were all the product of painstaking work.
So once again, Dr. Kwak barely managed to hold herself back. That blank face pissed her off to no end, but she kept it together. What made it even worse was knowing that Subject K didn’t give a damn how furious she was. The indifference was infuriating—but still, she had no choice but to endure it.
And what was with that Esper’s absurd change in demeanor whenever he stood in front of a Guide? The way he suddenly showed emotion—smiling, softening—it was ridiculous. If the Guide knew what kind of monster he was dealing with, he’d be horrified. It was almost pitiful how clueless the Guide was.
Dr. Kwak clenched her jaw as she looked at the tablet, eyes fixed on Subject K’s danger level: 75%. It had stopped there, as if by design—like the bastard had calculated it perfectly and shut down the last Gate just in time. Smug little shit.
Do I really have to watch this circus again today? The thought alone made her sick. No matter how much she tried to convince herself it was all part of the experiment, it still pissed her off. Forcing down her irritation, Kwak took a deep breath and led Subject K to the Guide.
Lately, she’d been wondering if maybe it was time to try persuading the Guide directly. Subject K was too violent to touch before—but brainwashing a Guide wouldn’t be difficult. After all, Guides were just civilians.
She hadn’t acted on the idea yet because of the potential fallout. The more he witnessed of Subject K’s monstrous behavior, the more cautious she became. And truthfully, the more afraid she felt. The Guide had remained untouched so far not out of mercy, but because of fear. Still, even Dr. Kwak was starting to crack under the pressure.
Ever since Subject K had been brought in, Kwak had been running on scraps of sleep, barely functioning as she worked around the clock. More and more often, she found herself wanting to just throw caution to the wind and do it. Get it over with.
But even the smallest harm to the Guide triggered Subject K’s rampage. Even brainwashing might be enough to set him off. It was a real risk, and one that had to be considered seriously.
As usual, the moment Subject K saw the Guide, he pushed him down on the bed, kissing, licking, sucking—completely unhinged. The look in his eyes was terrifying, almost predatory. It was hard not to wonder if he was going to devour the Guide right then and there. Yes, Espers naturally grew attached to their Guides—but Subject K’s obsession was in a league of its own.
Lost in thought, watching the two of them, Dr. Kwak glanced down at her tablet and checked the time. Ever since they’d started using mucosal Guiding, the actual duration had significantly shortened. But today, for some reason, it was taking much longer than usual.
Is the Guide in worse condition than we thought? Maybe he should be sedated and examined. Making a mental note not to forget, Kwak opened the schedule and added a reminder to the tablet.
