L*st and Death

"Follow the chief? ...Why?"

"Because it’s the fastest way to find Isaac Bazelli."

Anna wrinkled her nose and folded her arms.

"There’s something we need to focus on right now. Why divert to that?"

"Because... I don’t want to stay an omega. If we find Isaac... since he turned me into one, maybe he also knows how to reverse it."

Seeing Anna’s cold, stony expression, Siron realized it too late—whether or not he stayed an omega had nothing to do with her priorities. In growing desperation, he turned to Lewis as if seeking an ally. But Lewis still looked dazed, lost in some deep thought. Siron, clinging to his last hope, asked anxiously.

"Then... what are you trying to do, Anna?"

Anna let out a slow, deep breath and responded in a measured, deliberate voice.

"I don’t want to catch a small fry like the chief. I want the queen bee above him."

"Huh?"

Siron still couldn’t grasp her metaphor. Just as he was on the verge of panic, Anna continued calmly.

"And to do that, there’s only one way: trace every clue, one by one, up the chain."

The queen bee—was she referring to the one running Hybris? Or someone even higher? Siron was about to ask when Lewis finally spoke, his face hard as stone.

"Anna. I need to know something. The reason you were investigating the chief—was it because he’s tied to the alphas?"

Anna fell silent, her face betraying discomfort. She looked like she didn’t want to go near that topic.

"Answer me, Anna. You knew what alphas were all along, didn’t you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and avoided Lewis’s eyes. Siron held his breath, unsure why Lewis had suddenly gotten so angry—he couldn’t make sense of this shift.

"...It’s about our parents, isn’t it?"

Watching Anna’s face twist so suddenly, Siron knew. That was the look of someone struck dead-center.

"It’s just that... ha."

Anna’s lips parted as if to speak but no words came. She let out a sigh deep enough to collapse the ground and closed her eyes. As if she no longer wanted to continue the conversation, she leaned back in her chair—then suddenly stood and walked out of the room.

But Lewis didn’t let her leave alone. He followed her into the living room and grabbed her arm.

"It’s about Mom and Dad’s deaths, isn’t it? Is that why you became a cop?"

"I don’t want to talk about this right now."

"If not now, when? Five years from now? Ten? Were you ever planning to tell me?"

Anna yanked her arm out of his grip with force. As she tried to turn away, Lewis stepped in front of her and shouted loud enough to shake the walls.

"What the hell happened?! What’s the truth?!"

"Dad was... ha."

She took a breath to collect herself, holding one hand out to keep Lewis back while covering her forehead with the other. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, then finally spoke.

"Dad was tracking men who suffered from something he called ‘unquenchable lust.’ He said they were part of a specific group... alphas."

But his investigation never reached its end. The car carrying both McCarthy parents was attacked. The ambulance arrived quickly, but they were declared dead on the scene. While Anna struggled to handle the aftermath alone, someone broke into their house. All of her father’s research—everything about alphas—was erased from his study. The police organization stonewalled her at every turn. Records were falsified. And Dad’s colleagues? They were all rapidly promoted, one after another. As Lewis pieced it together, he muttered, devastated.

"You always said it was just a random robbery."

Anna’s lips were tightly sealed. The look she gave Lewis was unshakable—unmoved by any accusation.

"There was no reason for you to know. You were only fifteen."

"Fifteen is only?"

"Yeah. Fifteen-year-old you was a dumb little shit who whined about not getting those limited edition sneakers for Christmas."

Lewis let out a hollow, bitter laugh.

"And after that? What about the next ten years? Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

"You have no idea... how horrific it is to watch your parents die in front of you. How powerless it makes you feel!"

"Even so. I didn’t even know what an alpha was until recently! Our parents died because of alphas, and you turned me into one—while keeping it a secret forever!"

"And what should I have done instead, huh? Signed you up as an organ donor and left you to die?"

The fight exploded. Anna and Lewis were yelling with such intensity it looked like they might come to blows. Watching the violent clash between the siblings, Siron felt tears well up inside. There was no way he could bring up Isaac Bazelli—even the letter ‘I’ was off-limits right now. Was this how it ended for him? Doomed to remain an omega, living a life forever controlled by some alpha?

Siron stood there like a ghost, watching them shout. He used to think no one could outmatch him when it came to tragic backstories, but lately it felt embarrassing to even compare. At least his parents hadn’t been murdered in a hail of bullets like Baekgyeong’s, Anna’s, and Lewis’s.

Quietly, trying not to draw attention, Siron picked up his laptop and slipped away. He went upstairs, entered his room, and set the laptop on the coffee table. Then, calmly, he began to think.

A disgraced actor. A curry delivery boy. That was the entire story of his life in two sentences. How the hell was he supposed to track the police chief and find Isaac? Even if he did find Isaac, the odds of that man returning him to normal were close to zero.

Isaac had slaughtered failed test subjects like they were nothing. He even kept photos of them—trophies. To him, an omega was a toy to break and discard once it stopped working.

Siron’s rational mind was screaming: don’t go near him. Run, and don’t look back. But his instincts howled the opposite: find Isaac. Finish what’s unresolved between you. He didn’t even know what that “unresolved thing” was. He couldn’t name the twisted feelings burning in his chest. But he couldn’t let go.

“That last kiss was... pretty electric.”

It had been the kind of kiss that belonged in the climax of a film. A secret no one would ever know, locked away in a part of his heart no one could enter. A memory that had already taken root inside him.

Why the hell was he still thinking about Isaac? What was so precious about that man? He was evil—a criminal who hurt not just Siron, but the entire world.

"Pull yourself together, Yoon Siron."

He slapped both cheeks, sharp and loud, then opened his laptop. Siron had no interest in playing hero, nor did he intend to. But he could prioritize. First, he needed to deal with the problem right in front of him.

“Let’s find Joan Welch.”

He pulled up Peoplebook and began searching for the name Joan Welch. He limited the scope to California and Helsota State. Luckily, the name wasn’t too common—there weren’t as many results as he’d feared. Most profiles didn’t have photos, or used landscapes or abstract images instead.

Driven by sheer obsession, Siron clicked through every post one by one, tracing every possible clue. His eyes were getting sore, his wrist stiff, when a photo arrived from Baekgyeong.

It was a picture of a plane connected to a jet bridge.

Almost immediately after Siron saw it, his phone rang. Baekgyeong. He said he’d flown economy from New York to L.A. and was now transferring to a flight to Incheon, South Korea.

"If there are any reporters at the airport, don’t say a word. Don’t even look at them, no matter what they say. Got it?"

Siron was quick to warn Baekgyeong—not wanting him to slip up and say something stupid that would drag Siron’s name into the media.

Can I go on national television and announce I’ll spend my life repenting to Yoon Siron?

Not worth a reply. Siron hung up immediately and glanced back at the plane photo. It looked tiny next to the jet bridge—almost comically small. What kind of life turned flying economy into a milestone? Now that he thought about it, he still didn’t know the full details of Baekgyeong’s inheritance.

"Not like it matters to me."

But Siron quickly pushed that thought aside. He couldn’t find Isaac. Even if he did, there was no plan—no solution. That meant he had to live in the real world.

He took stock of his situation calmly.

He had $2,190 in cash stolen from Baekgyeong’s wallet, and a bit of change left in his account. After paying rent, he’d barely have anything left. Omega or not, what he needed most right now... was money.

“I’ll go back to delivering for Fresh Eats. First thing tomorrow, I’ll get myself a bike.”

With his decision made, Siron felt a strange lightness. He returned to Peoplebook and resumed the hunt for Joan Welch.

How many hours had passed? He kept scrolling and clicking, almost on autopilot, when his hand suddenly froze.

He’d narrowed the search to Atlanta, Georgia—when a familiar face appeared.

It wasn’t exactly the same as the man in the motel CCTV footage. This version still had some baby fat, a healthy complexion. A younger Joan Welch smiled out from the screen.

Siron quickly opened Joan’s profile page. It listed his high school, hometown, and even relationship status.

But the account had been long abandoned. He’d posted sporadically up until 2010. After that, the only posts were to claim in-game rewards—until two years ago. That had been his final post.

But then Siron noticed something unexpected.

Callie Welch: Are you back in Atlanta? Or still in Buggus? Where are you? I’m worried. Please reach out.

The comment had been posted four months ago on Joan’s last public post. Siron clicked on Callie Welch’s name—then gasped at the profile photo.

A woman who looked just like the man in the CCTV was smiling brightly in the picture. It was a windswept selfie taken on a beach. Her droopy, gentle eyes mirrored Joan’s exactly. Her irises were a pale brown, her hair a deep chestnut.

And her listed location?

San Diego.

“...I think I found him.”

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