Later, Kiyonari's heavy arm draped over Seong-jun's shoulders, his weight dragging with every step as they made their way up the dimly lit stairwell to his apartment door. His breath came uneven, hot and trembling against Seong-jun's ear, yet his grip was still firm, almost clawing at the younger man's jacket for support.
He barely even remembered how they got to the apartment building at all. His arms ached from holding Kiyonari up, his legs feel like jelly from the effort.
[A few minutes ago]
It had been a blur for Seong-jun. The frantic struggle of hauling a man nearly twice as strong as him into a taxi, the driver's suspicious stares, and his own shaky voice trying to convince the man behind the wheel, "My friend's just sick, we need to get to the hospital."
But then Kiyonari's fingers suddenly clenched hard around his shoulder.
"—Ow! Dude...!" Seong-jun winced, half turning his head.
Kiyonari's head hung low, his bangs shadowing his eyes as a guttural grunt escaped him before he forced a ragged words. "... Not... the hospital..."
Seong-jun blinked. "What?"
"... H-Home... take me home..."
Seong-jun shot up in disbelief, nearly losing his grip on him. "What?! Are you crazy?!"
Kiyonari's eyes flickered up at him, wild and almost feral for a second.
"No, we're going to see Dr. Lee." Seong-jun's tone hardened, a tremor in his voice. "What you need is hospital treatment, not some home remedy, you big idiot!"
Kiyonari's lips peeled back slightly in a low, involuntary growl.
"Oh yeah? Go ahead, growl at me—you think I'm scared? I've seen enough of your freaky beast side already!"
"Seong-jun..." Kiyonari's voice came deep, cold, and sharp as ice, cutting through the narrow space of the cab. "Take me home."
The younger man froze at the sound of it, every nerve in his body screaming. He raised his hands slightly in surrender. "—Okay fine! Fuck! Don't even blame me if you die at this rate, ya hear me?!"
Kiyonari's head dipped back down, his grip loosening, but his body still burned hot like a furnace against Seong-jun's side.
[Present time]
The apartment door creaked open under Seong-jun's foot as he nudged it, half-dragging, half-carrying Kiyonari inside. As soon as the door shut behind them, Kiyonari stumbled forward, nearly collapsing. His knees wavered, and he pressed his palm hard to the wall to keep himself upright, his breathing ragged and uneven.
Seong-jun's eyes went wide. "Wha—?! Kiyo?! What's going on with you?!"
Kiyonari didn't answer. He pushed himself off the wall and lurched forward, moving with unsteady urgency. He headed straight for the bathroom, the sound of his uneven steps echoing on the hardwood floor.
"Hey! Where are you going?!" Seong-jun called, following quickly.
He stopped at the bathroom doorway. Inside, Kiyonari's hands trembled as he yanked open drawer after drawer, scattering the contents across the tile floor. The mirror cabinet swung open, its contents rattling, until his fingers found what he was looking for.
Seong-jun's eyes widened at the sight. "What the hell...?"
Syringes. Several of them, some still in their sterile wrappings, others already discarded onto the floor. The faint metallic scent of antiseptic and Kiyonari's pheromones hung heavy in the small space.
Kiyonari tied a strip of cloth tightly around his own arm with his teeth, his muscles flexing under the strain. A syringe was clenched between his canines, glinting in the light. Without hesitation, he drew it up and drove the sharp needle into his skin.
[!!]
A low grunt of pain escaped him as he pressed the plunger down, the liquid disappearing into his veins. His lips curled and his sharp Alpha fangs grazed his lower lip as he bit down to endure it—blood trickled down from the corner to his mouth, staining his skin.
"Kiyo! Your lip's bleeding, man!" Seong-jun stepped forward, his voice wavering between panic and frustation.
"No..." Kiyonari's voice was low but firm, almost pleading. He raised a trembling hand, palm out. "Stay where you are, Seong-jun."
Seong-jun hesitated. "What?"
"Stay there..." Kiyonari's chest rose and fell with deep, uneven breaths. His eyes flickered up—dark, wild, and glinting with restrained instinct. "... Please. I don't want to hurt you."
The words hit Seong-jun like a splash of cold water. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he froze in the doorway, torn between running in to help and obeying his friend's warning.
*****
Not long after, Seong-jun stepped cautiously inside the bathroom, the small med kit clutched tight in his hand. The air was heavy—thick with the lingering scent of pheromones and the metallic tang of blood. He had to steady his breath as he took in the sight before him.
Kiyonari sat slumped against the tiled wall, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths. The harsh bathroom light cast pale shadows across his face, beads of sweat glistening along his jaw. The empty syringe rolled near his feet.
Kiyonari's head tilted slightly at the sound of footsteps, his dull but alert eyes meeting Seong-jun's.
"I already told you..." His voice came low, gravelly, "stay where—"
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you," Seong-jun cut him off, stepping forward despite the warning. "But we have to do something about that arm of yours."
Kiyonari glanced down at his own forearm—and froze. The sight made him flinch. His own bite marks were deep and ugly, the edges of the wound smeared with drying blood. For the first time, he seemed to realize what he had done to himself. His fingers twitched beside his knee.
Seong-jun let out a long, frustrated sigh and crouched down. "Seriously, dude," he muttered, pulling a clean cloth from the kit, "what are you? A beast or something?"
Kiyonari's eyes narrowed, expression unreadable, his voice quiet but firm. "... All Alphas are beasts, Seong-jun."
The younger man froze mid-motion, eyes flicking up to him. There was something chilling yet heartbreakingly honest in those words.
"... Do you consider yourself one of them, then?" He asked softly.
For a moment, silence filled the bathroom, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the faint drip of water from the faucet. Kiyonari didn't answer—didn't even move.
His gaze drifted away, shadowed and distant, as if there were something inside him too monstrous to admit out loud.
Seong-jun sighed again, shaking his head. "Thought so."
He reached out carefully, taking Kiyonari's arm. The Alpha didn't resist—he just watched, quietly, his breathing steadying as Seong-jun began to work.
The sting of antiseptic filled the air as Seong-jun cleaned the wound, his hands steady but his brows furrowed. The cloth turned red almost immediately. Kiyonari winced but said nothing, his jaw tight, eyes unfocused on the tiled floor.
"Hold still," Seong-jun muttered, wrapping the bandage around the injured arm. "You're lucky I've had first aid training, or else you'd be losing more than just blood right now."
"... Sorry," Kiyonari murmured, his voice a rasp, almost lost between his breaths.
"Yeah, well, sorry doesn't stop the bleeding."
After he tried off the bandage, Seong-jun straightened up, exhaling sharply. He placed his hands on his hips, shifting his weight and glaring down at his friend. "Dr. Lee said he'll be here any minute now."
Kiyonari's head snapped up. "You called him?" His brows furrowed deeply, a flicker of irritation—or maybe fear—crossing his features.
Seong-jun crossed his arms, firm. "I had to, man. You can't just handle your rut alone. I get it—you think you've got this under control, but look at yourself." He gestured to the bloodied floor and the half-crushed syringe. "You need real help. Professional help."
He leaned in slightly, his tone softening but still firm. "So, no more of your self-remedy crap, you hear me?"
Kiyonari closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening. The sound that came from him wasn't quite a sigh—it was something between a growl and a weary exhale, like surrender and defiance tangled together.
"Fine," he muttered finally, his voice low. "But just this once."
Seong-jun gave a short, slight laugh. "Yeah, you always say that."
Kiyonari didn't reply. He only leaned his head back against the cold tile, eyes drifting shut, as if the exhaustion was finally catching up to him. The bathroom fell quiet again, save slow, and the steady rhythm of Kiyonari's breathing.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway—quick, sharp taps against the floor that grew louder by the second. Then, the front door swung open with a loud click!
"Where is he?"
Dr. Lee's voice carried the weight of alarm and authority, his medical bag hanging heavily at his side. His eyes darted across the small apartment before landing on the bathroom door—half-open, light spilling from within.
"In here!" Seong-jun called out.
Dr. Lee entered, his breath catching the moment he saw the scene inside. Kiyonari sat slumped against the tiled wall, his shirt clinging to his sweat-damp skin, the faint marks of strain visible along his neck. His arm was tightly bandaged—red still seeping faintly through the cloth. The discarded syringe and the sharp chemical scent told the rest of the story.
"Good grief..." Dr. Lee muttered under his breath, rushing over. "You used the inhibitor again?"
Kiyonari's gaze flicked up lazily, his voice rough and hoarse. "I had to... couldn't stop it."
"You shouldn't have done this, Mr. Soo!" Dr. Lee barked, kneeling beside him. His eyes flicked briefly toward Seong-jun, who stood frozen by the door, guilt and worry etched on his face.
"I tried to stop him," Seong-jun said quickly, "but you know how stubborn he is—"
"Yeah, I do," Dr. Lee muttered, already checking Kiyonari's pulse and pupils. His movements were swift, practiced. "You're lucky you didn't go into cardiac distress. Do you even understand how much of this stuff you injected?"
Kiyonari didn't answer. He just turned his head aside, eyes shadowed.
Dr. Lee exhaled through his nose sharply. "Alright, up. You're going to your room. I need a proper space to assess you."
He looped an arm under Kiyonari's shoulder, supporting his weight as the Alpha tried to stand. His knees wobbled at first, but Seong-jun quickly came to the other side, draping Kiyonari's arms over his shoulder.
Together, they led him to his bedroom.
The room was dim and quiet, curtains half-drawn, the faint orange light of the city seeping in through the window. It was clean but lived-in—the faint scent of coffee and faint traces of pheromone still clinging to the air.
Dr. Lee motioned for Seong-jun to lower Kiyonari onto the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as Kiyonari sank down, one arm still pressed against his chest, his breathing uneven.
"Stay still," Dr. Lee said firmly, opening his kit. He took out a small scanner and a few vials. "It was a good idea you called me just in time, Mr. Nam. If that inhibitor dosage was even a little higher, his system would've shut down entirely."
"I told him to go to the hospital," Seong-jun muttered, crossing his arms with visible frustation. "But nooo, someone wanted to play hero at home."
"Enough," Kiyonari said, his tone sharp but not unkind. "I don't... need a lecture right now."
"Hmp!"
Dr. Lee began checking Kiyonari's vitals—placing the scanner against his neck and wrist. The device emitted faint beeps. After a moment, he frowned.
"Your body's still burning through the inhibitor. It's suppressing your pheromone, but your endocrine system's going into shock trying to balance itself."
Kiyonari's eyes half-opened. "... How long before it stabilizes?"
"If you rest—maybe two days. But only if you rest," Dr. Lee emphasized. "And absolutely no exposure to Omegas during that period. You understand me?"
Kiyonari's lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze lowered. "Understood."
Seong-jun, still standing at the foot of the bed, rubbed the back of his neck. "So what caused this, Doc? He's usually fine. It's not even the season for a rut, right?"
Dr. Lee paused mid-motion, his expression turning serious. He slowly looked over to Kiyonari. "That's what I'd like to know."
The silence stretched.
Kiyonari's jaw tensed. "It was... and accident. I was with someone—and then it just... happened."
Dr. Lee narrowed his eyes slightly. "Someone?"
Kiyonari didn't respond. His gaze drifted toward the window, his expression tightening—haunted by the image of Soo-hyun trembling in his arms, the sound of his breath, the sweetness of his scent. His hand clenched unconsciously around the bedsheet.
Dr. Lee let out a slow exhale. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"
Kiyonari remained silent.
"Fine," Dr. Lee said, standing and closing his bag. "But whoever that person is, you need to stay far away until your pheromones stabilize. Understood, Mr. Soo?"
Kiyonari nodded faintly, though his eyes were distant.
Seong-jun glanced between the two, biting his lip. "Doc, you think he'll be okay?"
"He will," Dr. Lee replied, adjusting his glasses. "But only if he listens. No exertion, no stress. And especially..." He paused, giving Kiyonari a sharp look, "no emotional triggers. That also means no chasing after whatever caused this."
Kiyonari's fingers tightened around the sheets, his voice coming barely above a whisper. "... Right."
Dr. Lee gave a final nod before packing up his things. "I'll check on you tomorrow. If your condition spikes again, call me immediately."
When the door clicked shut behind him, the apartment fell silent again.
Seong-jun sighed and rubbed his face. "Man... this night's been a nightmare."
Kiyonari leaned back against the pillow, his head tilted toward the ceiling. His eyes were half-lidded, expression unreadable.
But deep down, his thoughts swirled—restless, burning, heavy.
That scent... that feeling...
"Mr. Je..." He muttered under his breath.
Kiyonari realized something. A memory from back then at the restroom, he smelled that same scent. And now, when Soo-hyun came into heat, the sweet scent became more unmistaken and potent.
So, it was him from that day...
He remembered a few memories where the same fragrance swift through his nostrils.
I feel so stupid to not even realize. A deep sigh escaped his lips.
Director Je was an Omega after all. And here I thought he was a Beta all this time.