A gentle drizzle fell on a late afternoon. A flyer, slick with rain, clung to a utility pole. Siron stopped his motorcycle in front of the pole and stared at the flyer for a long time.
Missing Dog – Please Help Us Find Our Pet
Rookie. 8 years old. 11 kg.
Small-sized beagle. Loves people and is very active.
Last seen near the Oak Park fountain.
Please help us bring him home safely.
Reward: $2,000
Contact: XXX-......
Printed on the flyer was a photo of a beagle staring wide-eyed into the camera. It looked like a happy dog, clearly raised with lots of love.
Once upon a time, the reward money would’ve caught Siron’s eye more. But today, what lingered with him was the phrase, “Please help us bring him home safely.” This was already the second missing pet flyer he’d come across in the thirty minutes he’d been riding.
Am I being too sensitive? Why does it feel like every place I go is covered in missing people, missing animals?
There were simply too many disappearances. At this point, Siron had begun to see everyone who passed by him as a potential missing person.
Even after returning to the Linhart estate, the unease in his mind didn’t settle. Ever since he started consciously paying attention to the word “missing,” these kinds of incidents had been appearing in his field of view with alarming frequency. Even Ikbal, the owner of Curry King, and Ashimi had vanished. He didn’t truly believe they’d gone missing, but the fact that they had disappeared from right in front of him was enough to stoke his anxiety.
With a heavy heart, Siron logged into PeopleBook to check for any new messages. Thankfully, the reply he’d been waiting for had arrived—a message from the younger sister of the homeless man, Joan Welch.
[Kelly Welch]:
Hello, Ron. I was shocked to hear that my brother came to San Diego last week, especially since I hadn’t heard from him in three years.
Unfortunately, I haven’t met or been contacted by Joan recently, so I don’t know his current situation.
But thanks to you, I can at least confirm that he was alive as of last Friday, since you spoke with him then. Haha :D
I’d actually been thinking about trying to reconnect with Joan. If you have his cell phone number, please let me know. I’ll send him a message too.
“This is bad.”
In the end, the official at the homeless support center had lied. He hadn’t contacted Joan Welch’s sister about sending him to her city. Which meant he hadn’t sent Joan to San Diego or San Francisco at all. Another person had gone missing.
Maybe it was because he had seen Joan’s face on the CCTV footage, but Siron could no longer see him as a complete stranger. The man had fallen from a youthful dream into homelessness—now, even that wasn’t enough. He’d become a missing person.
Who lives their life expecting their own downfall? Siron couldn’t help but think that Joan must have once dreamed of a hopeful future, and the weight of that realization sank in his chest like a lead anchor.
Siron didn’t want to lie to Joan’s sister. But if he disappeared without replying, she’d be tormented by speculation and false hope. In the end, with a bitter feeling like chewing on a dung fly, he sent her a brief message.
[Me]:
Hello, Kelly. This is Ron.
I’m sorry to hear you haven’t been able to reach Joan.
As for his phone number—I’m afraid I don’t know it either. He lost his phone. :'(
If I manage to get in contact with him again, I’ll be sure to let you know.
Siron shared the message exchange with Kelly Welch in the group chat with Lewis and Anna. But neither of them responded, perhaps unable to reply at the moment. They didn’t arrive back home until well past dinner time.
“God, I feel alive again.”
As soon as he stepped inside, Lewis wrapped Siron tightly in his arms. Siron’s own pheromones, which he couldn’t detect himself, seemed to Lewis like the very air he breathed. Lewis buried his nose in the crook of Siron’s neck and inhaled so deeply it felt like his lungs would burst, then let out a long, steady breath.
“No matter how much I eat, I’ve felt starving and drained.”
“I’m your battery now?”
Siron chuckled softly, nestled in his arms.
“Yeah. Being with you just... feels right.”
They’d only been apart for a little over twenty hours. Siron thought Lewis was being dramatic, but still allowed himself to rest quietly in his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body.
Lewis looked massive even to the eye, but his physical presence was even more imposing when they touched. Being held by this muscular giant, Siron felt his nerves spike—there was something almost unfamiliar about the heat of his body and the solid strength of him, like thick oak. Still, Siron forced a casual tone and spoke up.
“So, you said you were going to see your parents. Did you have that much to talk about? You’re really late.”
“There wasn’t... much to say.”
Lewis hugged him tighter and added:
“The family cemetery’s near Sundel.”
Sundel was a port town on the far southern edge of Helsota state. A one-way drive alone would take over three hours.
“You buried them pretty far away, huh?”
“Both my parents were from Sundel. Hey, Bebe—did you eat dinner?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Let’s eat together, quickly.”
Lewis cupped Siron’s cheeks in both hands and smiled. Siron had only held off eating because it felt rude to rummage through someone else’s fridge without permission, but Lewis’s affectionate praise made him feel oddly awkward.
“Hey, lovebirds. Mind getting out of the doorway?”
Anna’s voice came from behind Lewis, who was blocking the entrance. Flustered, Siron stepped away from Lewis so she could come in. Seeing the heavy dark circles under Anna’s eyes, Siron turned to Lewis and asked,
“Did Anna drive?”
“No. Of course I did. Anna slept like a log in the car.”
Anna shot Lewis a brief glare through bloodshot eyes.
“I haven’t been able to sleep properly in days, running around trying to find you two. I’m seriously about to drop dead.”
Grumbling, she headed straight for the dining room. Siron helped Lewis unpack the Vietnamese takeout and set the table. Over a late dinner, he brought up the message from Joan Welch’s sister.
“I figured the part about contacting the sister was a lie. That bastard definitely smuggled Joan away.”
Anna stabbed her food with a fork and shoved it into her mouth, her face twisting with hatred toward the homeless relocation officer.
“So what’s the plan now?”
Lewis asked, and Anna replied bluntly.
“We find out where he hid Joan.”
“And how are you going to do that? What, threaten him?”
“...If we have to.”
In other words, she had no real plan yet. Siron, wondering how he’d gotten roped into this ragtag mess, offered a suggestion.
“If we’re out of options, what about tipping off an online journalist? Or posting it on social media?”
Anna shook her head.
“If we expose it without proof that someone higher up was involved, they’ll just pin it on a rogue public servant and cut him loose. Then it’ll be harder to follow the trail.”
Lewis asked calmly,
“So what do we do? Drop it here?”
“No. We need to crush that bastard.”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
Anna studied both Lewis and Siron carefully before hesitating, then speaking.
“We could stage a sting operation.”
“A sting? How?”
Lewis asked, and Anna, fixing her gaze on Siron, replied,
“Siron goes undercover as a homeless person. He’d be the bait—”
“No.”
Lewis cut her off firmly before she could even finish. Anna, startled, looked at him, then turned to Siron.
“What about you?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea either.”
Anna pursed her lips, clearly frustrated that things weren’t going her way. Then she smiled faintly, trying to soften the mood.
“I get it. It’s dangerous. But no one’s asking you to get kidnapped—just to see how that bastard reacts—”
“Speaking of danger—Bebe, did you buy a motorcycle?”
Cutting her off, Lewis interjected.
“You saw it? Is it okay to park it in the garage?”
“Why’d you buy it? Don’t tell me you’re working again?”
“I can’t be unemployed forever.”
Lewis sighed deeply and crossed his arms, taking on a defensive posture.
“Don’t you think the world’s too dangerous right now? Honestly, you should be locked up in your room 24/7—”
“You could soak me in your pheromones.”
“...What?”
Lewis blushed for a moment but quickly regained his composure.
“Still, deliveries are risky. If you’re low on money, I can give you some. I saved up from filming Return to Bunker. Want me to give you that for now? You liked that drama, right?”
Siron caught the look on Anna’s face—disapproving, irritated. Anyone would want to sew shut the mouth of a blood relative who said stuff like that.
“I already registered as a delivery driver. Once the review clears, I’m starting work.”
“I’m not offering money because I expect something in return. I don’t want to burden you. I just want to help, because I’m scared.”
Siron felt it was time to pour cold water on this overly earnest younger man.
“Lewis. I’ve been burned badly before. I don’t like being controlled by other people’s money.”
“...I wasn’t trying to control you.”
“Still don’t want it.”
Lewis still didn’t seem to understand why Siron wouldn’t accept his offer. But in the end, he nodded as if to say he respected his decision.
Having listened to the entire exchange, Anna finally spoke in a detached tone.
“I think it’s too soon for Siron to go back to delivery work, but... everyone needs a job.”
Siron found it a little annoying to hear a silver-spoon type philosophizing about jobs, especially when for him, it was purely a matter of survival. Still, despite his irritation, Anna offered a surprisingly straightforward solution.
“Lewis, you follow Siron around and guard him. Problem solved.”
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