If his theory was right, then Choi Jiwoon hadn’t chased after Lee Tae-rim out of concern—he’d gone after him to kill him. And when he almost got caught up in the mess and nearly died to the monsters himself, it was Kwon Hae-beom who had saved him.
Otherwise, no matter how much Kwon Hae-beom hated someone, he wouldn’t have just walked away and left a Guide to die like that.
Back then, the situation was overwhelming. Monsters were pouring in from all sides, and Tae-rim’s survival was already uncertain. Hae-beom couldn’t afford to risk Jiwoon’s life too. So he’d brought him inside the barrier first. Realizing that was likely the truth made Tae-rim break out in goosebumps.
He knew Choi Jiwoon wasn’t someone who could come up with a plan like that. Which meant the order to kill him must have come from Molt. Tae-rim also knew Jiwoon wasn’t in a position to defy them. Jiwoon probably didn’t have a choice.
But even with all that in mind, the chill wouldn’t leave him. No matter the reason, it was still murder. Had Jiwoon really never considered doing anything else? Did he hate Tae-rim so much that killing him felt justified? Or was Tae-rim’s life just so meaningless to him that it didn’t matter whether he lived or died?
Tae-rim had always known Jiwoon was selfish and irresponsible, but somehow, this still hit differently. Any lingering sympathy he might’ve had completely vanished. No matter how much you hated someone, if they hadn’t even tried to kill you, how could you kill them so easily? Tae-rim couldn’t understand that.
Seon Juho had been a test subject too, but at least he understood the weight of taking a life. The members of Molt had already crossed a point of no return—they didn’t feel guilt when killing anymore. But even they hadn’t wanted innocent civilians to suffer because of the Gates they triggered. That’s why they’d tried their best to shut them down.
Seon Juho had erased four Gates, even while coughing up blood. And when Tae-rim heard that, he’d been incredibly proud. Of course, they’d decided to keep the fact that Gates could be erased a secret.
Even though Seon Juho and Choi Jiwoon had shared the same fate as test subjects, they were nothing alike. Jiwoon was so selfish, it wasn’t surprising he’d gone as far as forming an Imprint with Kwon Hae-beom. If he’d felt even a sliver of guilt toward Hae-beom, there’s no way he could’ve gone through with it.
Tae-rim felt more than ever that saving Seon Juho had been the right thing to do. Molt had manipulated Espers with subliminal suggestions, using them however they pleased. K had likely been used in the same way.
Thinking that sweet, kind boy might’ve been turned into one of their tools—Tae-rim couldn’t help but feel it had been fate that he discovered Seon Juho’s rampage when he did.
Thanks to Seon Juho, they had been able to bring Molt down and close those countless Gates. Without him, it would’ve been impossible.
“But still… the living have to keep living, right? What else can we do? Everyone just finds a way through it.”
“Yeah…”
“I was so happy when you came back safe. I didn’t make a big deal about it since things were already chaotic and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but honestly? I wanted to throw a party. Just the four of us, something small—like buying a cake or something.”
“Wow… we could still do that now, you know.”
“Should we? Want me to tell the others to pick one up on the way?”
“Yes!”
Kim Hyo-il sent a message to Yoon Ye-rin. When he turned and asked Tae-rim what kind of cake he wanted, Tae-rim lit up with a smile and said fig cake. Ye-rin replied right away, scolding them—figs, in this season?
Talking with Kim Hyo-il helped settle his nerves more than he expected. Realizing how quickly he’d started feeling okay made Tae-rim deeply grateful to the people who had supported him.
Honestly, after the kidnapping, he’d been so terrified that he was fully prepared to rely on medication for at least a few days. He’d steeled himself for the worst—told himself that if it got bad, that was okay. But if he ended up doing better than expected, then all the better. Still, he hadn’t imagined he’d feel this much better this fast.
Of course, things might still take a turn tomorrow. But even if that happened, he wouldn’t be alone. There’d be people ready to help him again. That thought gave him peace. Unlike the beginning—when he had no one—he now had people he could lean on. That alone lifted a huge weight from his heart.
When he finally returned to the dorm to end the day, Seon Juho welcomed him back by releasing his pheromones generously. From the entryway to the living room, the scent filled the air so thickly it practically hung like fog—yet somehow, it wasn’t cloying or heavy at all.
Tae-rim had heard that if pheromones were truly compatible, no matter how strong they were, they’d feel pleasant. But hearing about it and experiencing it were two different things. He was honestly amazed.
“I mean, I’ve heard pheromones are basically a cure-all, but still…”
“Hmm?”
Seon Juho blinked, wide-eyed, at Tae-rim’s absentminded mumbling as they ate. God, he really was like a soft, glutinous little rice cake of a puppy. Tae-rim was completely head-over-heels.
“Alphas and Omegas are heavily influenced by pheromones. Especially Omegas—if they don’t have Alpha pheromones during pregnancy, some can’t even eat.”
“…Hyung.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you… ever have a kid?”
“Pfft!”
Tae-rim choked and burst into a coughing fit. Seon Juho hurriedly passed him a glass of water. Even with the cup in hand, Tae-rim couldn’t stop coughing for a while.
“I’m not even married! Where would a kid come from?!”
Hearing that, Seon Juho visibly relaxed. That’s when Tae-rim realized—he’d gone to great lengths to explain secondary genders to Seon Juho, but hadn’t said a word about anything else.
He drank deeply from the water and let out a long sigh.
“It’s sad, but this hyung died in a car accident when I was twenty-eight.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
Seon Juho’s expression wilted, his face falling into a quiet pout. Tae-rim gently comforted him.
“But I’m living a second life now, so I don’t really have any regrets. It’s not something I dwell on anymore.”
Seon Juho gave a small nod and went back to eating. But this time, something else seemed to be on his mind. He kept sneaking glances at Tae-rim while absentmindedly poking at his food. Tae-rim immediately caught on to what he was curious about—but watching him fidget and hesitate like that was so endearing, he decided to play dumb.
After a long moment of deliberation, Seon Juho finally seemed to make up his mind. He pursed his lips in determination, then cautiously spoke up.
“Um… hyung…”
“Yeah?”
“So… uh…”
“Mhm?”
“…Did you ever date anyone?”
If Tae-rim admitted to having someone he was seeing—or even talking to—Seon Juho would probably sulk like there was no tomorrow. Better to keep that part to himself. He smiled and replied simply.
“Nope. I was too busy with work.”
“So you never dated anyone at all?”
“Well, I did date someone back in college. For about two years.”
“……!”
Seon Juho’s face froze in pure shock. Then, just as quickly, his expression twisted into jealous dismay. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out, just staring at Tae-rim with twitching lips. Tae-rim let out a soft chuckle.
“We only hugged, though. They were really shy.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah. Really.”
“Then… your first kiss was?!”
“With you, obviously.”
Seon Juho’s entire face lit up like a lightbulb. He was so excited he started squirming in place, practically bouncing on the spot.
“You’re serious? You’re not lying?”
“Dead serious.”
There had been that one drunken night when things got a little out of hand, but he couldn’t remember anything about it—so he was choosing to conveniently ignore it. As far as he was concerned, hugging was as far as it went.
“You’re really that happy?”
“Yeah!”
Seon Juho looked like a puppy who’d just been handed his favorite treat in the whole world. Tae-rim couldn’t stop smiling. That only made Seon Juho more suspicious—he kept asking again and again if it was really true. But somehow, it wasn’t annoying. In fact, Tae-rim just found it even more adorable.
Whether it was eating, brushing his teeth, or watching a drama, Seon Juho wore a permanent grin. Was it really that big a deal to him? Tae-rim decided, then and there, that the guy he’d once flirted with would stay buried in the past. Forever.
“I love this. I love it so much, hyung.”
Even after they got into bed, Seon Juho’s excitement still hadn’t worn off. He clung to Tae-rim, pressing kisses to the back of his neck as they lay together.
“Hyuuung…”
He was so worked up, his entire body radiated heat. Tae-rim kept his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Something thick and heavy was now unmistakably pressing against his body.
“Hyuuuuung…”
“….”
Seon Juho’s voice sounded both desperate and sweet. Tae-rim stayed silent.
“I’ll just rub. Just a little, okay? That’s all. Please?”
“….”
“Hyuuung…”
His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. Tae-rim could no longer ignore him—not when Seon Juho’s hard cock was rubbing insistently against his backside.
“Ha… seriously.”
“Hyuuung…”
“I’m not moving an inch. Not one.”
“Huh…?”
“And you better keep your word.”
“…?”
Tae-rim shut his eyes even tighter. A moment later, he felt Seon Juho wrap his arms around him, his breath hot against his skin.
“Okay, hyung. I promise. I won’t do anything you don’t like.”
Wet kisses echoed softly in the room.
“Haa… hyung…”
Seon Juho’s moans were low and intoxicating. Tae-rim had to keep his eyes squeezed shut with everything he had.
