Chapter 137
That was the last time.
As his body became able to accept suppressants, he no longer needed to crave an alpha. It was thanks to Tae-geon’s favor. Even in such a humiliating situation, he once again confirmed that it was a thoroughly dependent relationship where he could never escape from him without Tae-geon’s charity.
To think that Tae-geon, who treated him like that until the very end, would be imprinted on him.
A sneer appeared on Hyeon-woo’s face.
He didn’t think everything Ju-on said was a lie, but it was also hard to accept it at face value. He had no idea. Even while being confined in a space without a single ray of light, treated like a prostitute, and mixing bodies countless times, he didn’t discover any peculiarities. Moreover, how could one explain the pheromones of numerous omegas that emanated from Tae-geon when he returned from his outings during that time?
If the imprinting was real, he shouldn’t have been able to have relations with anyone other than himself, but that scent was clearly one of intercourse. The pungent smell that used to emanate from Tae-geon when he returned home in a suit. He violated him and battered his soul while covered in the pheromones of a heat-stricken omega. His persistent kisses, which didn’t stop even while vomiting, were closer to torture.
Although the frequency of the doctor’s visits to the mansion exactly matched his heat cycles, he wasn’t foolish enough to be certain that he was Tae-geon’s imprinted partner based on that alone.
He couldn’t believe anything until he verified it with his own eyes. Whether the person said to be in the east wing was really Tae-geon, and whether he was truly imprinted and if he was indeed the target of that imprint.
Hyeon-woo got up from the bed and picked up the desk calendar on the bedside table. Just ten days left until the date marked with a red circle.
On that night, the doctor would visit the mansion again. It was an opportunity to verify if Ju-on’s words were true. He planned to see with his own eyes if Tae-geon, who would be suffering from rut, would react to his pheromones.
Hyeon-woo’s hand gripped the calendar tightly.
*
In the dead of night, after witnessing the doctor enter the east wing, Hyeon-woo left his room in the predawn hours when everyone was asleep.
Hiding his body in the darkness untouched by moonlight, he made his way to the east wing. Among the windows covered with thick curtains, one room on the third floor corner showed a faint light. Hyeon-woo’s gaze lingered there for a long time.
That must be the place. The room where Tae-geon was said to be.
Carefully moving forward, he approached the window where he had unlocked the latch the night before. After removing the small pinecone he had left as a marker on the windowsill, he checked the surroundings once more. Cautiously opening the window and confirming the empty interior, Hyeon-woo took a deep breath and threw himself through the window frame in one swift motion.
Thud-.
Unlike the main building, the old, neglected wooden floor created a dull sound along with a small dust cloud. Just as he was grasping the doorknob to check for any signs of movement outside before entering the hallway:
“…Grrraaaargh-!”
A suppressed roar, like that of a beast, echoed through the empty mansion. Bang! Crash! Following that, a loud shattering sound reverberated dully through the walls.
Startled, Hyeon-woo’s shoulders tensed, and goosebumps spread across his entire body.
He thought he heard the hurried footsteps of people running above, and then once again, an agonized howl filled the air.
Hyeon-woo’s face turned pale. The roar that penetrated his eardrums was not unfamiliar at all. No, it was more than just familiar.
It felt as if time had rewound to that night when he was seven years old, sneaking into Tae-geon’s room guided by moonlight in the darkness of the mansion, following those terrible screams. His heart was pounding furiously.
His palm, gripping the doorknob, was covered in cold sweat. A warning alarm blared in his ears, telling him that once he opened this door, there would be no turning back. His mind was screaming at him to stop right here, but…
Click-.
Hyeon-woo finally opened the door.
The horrifying sounds that had been echoing through the mansion had already quieted down. There were no more loud crashes either. After confirming that the corridor was silent with no signs of movement, he took careful steps forward.
The structure of the east wing was a mirror image of the west wing. Unlike the main building, which was impeccably maintained, the interior of the east wing retained traces of damage and breakage everywhere, presenting a miserable sight.
Shrugging his shoulders against the eerie atmosphere, he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Hiding his body at the corner, he carefully peeked out, staring at the room at the far end of the corridor where light was seeping through the door crack.
All the truth lay there.
After holding his breath for a long while, the door finally opened, and people came out. Behind Kwon Hak-gyu, who looked visibly exhausted and drenched in sweat, two large-bodied men followed. Soon after, the light illuminating the room went out, and the door closed.
Only after the three exchanged brief nods and dispersed to their respective rooms did Hyeon-woo slowly approach the door.
Grasping the gold-plated doorknobs that protruded like wings on both sides, he swallowed dryly. As he slowly turned the doorknob, the heavy wooden doors parted, revealing the interior. However, it was pitch black, and nothing could be seen. Fearing detection by others, he quickly entered the room and hastily closed the door.
As the space became sealed, a certain smell that filled the interior sharply assaulted Hyeon-woo’s sense of smell. The intense odor made it difficult to think clearly. A burning smell was making his head feel hazy. It was an unpleasantly familiar scent that he had definitely encountered somewhere before.
As he searched his memory, Hyeon-woo recalled that this was similar to the drug smell that emanated from Kevin when he had pounced on him at Blue Door before. Quickly covering his mouth with his sleeve, he minimized his breathing. He needed to deal with this terrible smell first.
He remained alert to any sounds in the room. Fortunately, all he could hear was someone’s soft, sleeping breaths. Feeling somewhat relieved, he fumbled along the wall to the window and pulled back one side of the curtain. Pale moonlight poured in through the gap. Now that it was bright enough to discern things, Hyeon-woo surveyed the interior.
In the center of one wall of the spacious room, Hyeon-woo’s eyes fell on a bed draped with a translucent curtain and a large glass cylinder nearby. Inside the cylinder, unidentified leaves and drugs were melting together with cloudy paraffin, crackling without a visible flame. This was the source of the intense smell.
He placed a silver tray from the bedside table on top of the glass cylinder, cutting off the oxygen supply. The previously transparent paraffin began to solidify into a white substance. Only then did Hyeon-woo lower the sleeve that had been covering his nose. He then took a step towards the curtained bed.
The moonlight cast a dark shadow of his figure on the translucent curtain. Hyeon-woo’s hand, gripping the curtain, trembled slightly.
It felt as if this thin piece of fabric weighed a ton, rendering him immobile. His heart shrank, and his throat burned as if swallowing razor blades as he gulped.
He had denied it every day, saying it couldn’t be Tae-geon, that Tae-geon, who was guaranteed the most brilliant future, couldn’t be in this mansion, that Tae-geon, who had trampled and mocked him, couldn’t possibly be imprinted on him.
He felt pathetic, trembling and unable to pull back this thin curtain after coming all this way, insisting he wouldn’t believe anything until he saw it with his own eyes.
After being frozen for a long while, Hyeon-woo seemed to steel his resolve and pulled back the curtain in one swift motion.
“……!!”
Hyeon-woo’s face turned deathly pale with shock as he covered his mouth with both hands and stumbled backward.
Even in the pitch-black darkness, with only a sliver of moonlight outlining a faint silhouette, Hyeon-woo instantly recognized the figure before him as Tae-geon, as if the six-year gap had never existed.
However, more than the shock of confirming his identity, Hyeon-woo pressed his hands more firmly against his mouth, feeling like he might scream at the horrific scene before his eyes.
Tae-geon’s limbs were each shackled to four thick, dented iron posts. The straps restraining his wrists were stained red with blood from the skin rubbed raw by his violent struggles, and his exposed forearms were a mess of bruises from needle marks.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
