L*st and Death

There wasn’t a hint of a joke in Siron’s tone or expression. Baekgyeong looked at him like he was insane.

“You lost your mind? Why the hell would I hit you?”

“Don’t you see my face healing? It’s already dangerous enough as is—if the wounds finish healing and those bastards start noticing me again, wouldn’t that be even worse?”

Baekgyeong seemed to suddenly grasp the gravity of the situation. Siron had barely escaped being assaulted by Beardface earlier today. If Ian hadn’t fired that sedative dart midway, Siron would’ve been caught in a rut frenzy and brutally raped.

“You really want me to hit you?”

“Yeah. Just once. Like when you punched my manager.”

If Siron was serious, then so was Baekgyeong. He stepped back, tested the distance, and mimed a few jabs toward Siron’s face. He tilted his head, uncertain, trying several times—but in the end, gave up.

“Hah. I can’t fucking do it.”

“What! Why not!”

Baekgyeong couldn’t bring himself to punch that face—one barely the size of his own fist.

“Can’t do it. Do you know how many times I had to hold myself back from decking you every time you pulled some pathetic stunt? Do you know how hard it was to stop myself?”

They’d been through countless crises together, but even when Baekgyeong had beaten up everyone else, he’d never laid a single finger on Siron. For someone to whom violence came as easily as spending money, restraint was almost an alien concept—but he’d held back. That was Baekgyeong’s only point of pride. And now, he made a difficult decision.

“Screw it. Let’s just escape quickly. I’ll do it. I’ll jerk off. I’ll whip it out in front of that bastard, whatever.”

Seeing Siron’s face light up at his answer gave Baekgyeong a strange feeling. Siron practically bounced with excitement, breathing heavily.

“I was thinking... just jerking off might not be enough.”

Baekgyeong nearly fainted, thinking What, you want me to put on a whole show?, but Siron continued.

“Tell him you want to do it outside. Can’t jerk off underground—it’s too awkward with the CCTV.”

Just as Baekgyeong’s face was about to turn ugly, Siron quickly added:

“This isn’t about pride. We need to figure out where the boat is.”

“So if I jerk off outdoors, that magically gives me all that info?”

“Just trust me. You’ve heard of The Secret, right? That book says, ‘Your thoughts become reality.’”

Baekgyeong gave him a long, pitiful stare, then looked at the far wall with a sigh. Siron flared up instantly.

“It’s real! If you want it badly enough, your subconscious will make it happen!”

“Sure, sure. The Secret. That’s the only self-help book you’ve ever read. You’ve been quoting it at me for eight years.”

“It’s not the only book I’ve read, okay?!”

“Right. So if you jerk off with sincere passion out in the open, that guy’ll tell you where the boat is, unstrap your bomb collar, fly you home, and grab you a star from the fucking sky.”

Siron glared at Baekgyeong, clearly angry he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“Just find the boat’s location, whatever it takes. I need to run a proper simulation in my head. The plan is to escape right after the hurricane passes—use the chaos.”

Siron began listing what he’d picked up that day: the mysterious white crystalline powder found in the food storage, and the walkie-talkie Beardface had carelessly dropped.

“The white powder—it's a drug? What does it do?”

“Don’t know yet... but I think I’ll find out soon.”

Siron looked straight at Baekgyeong, watching his reaction closely while wiping the sweat pooled in his palm on his pants.

“And the walkie-talkie? You try using it?”

“That’s the problem. The battery popped out when I dropped it, and I think the mount’s broken.”

“But if you fix it, we can use it to escape, right?”

“Yeah. Now all we need is a real plan.”

Siron and Baekgyeong looked at each other in rare, mutual calm—each waiting for the other to speak the plan out loud. After a while, Siron broke the silence with an awkward smile.

“Well, they say starting is half the battle.”

Baekgyeong nodded, unusually optimistic.

“Yeah. We’ve already made it halfway.”

This miraculous logic—that half the escape plan was complete just because they started—created a warm little moment. But it didn’t last long. Siron suddenly sprang up and began pacing, clawing at his hair in frustration.

Baekgyeong, too, was trying to figure out how they could escape. But he wasn’t a trained operative, nor had he ever served in the military. His mind, as cluttered as a lanced tumor, simply wasn’t built to devise operations.

Just then, a faint noise came from the next cell. A vibration through the bed frame’s concrete structure—too subtle to notice unless one already knew someone was in the next room. Siron still believed that cell was empty. Coincidentally, whenever the prisoner next door had been moved in or out, Siron had either been sleeping or in the shower.

Weird. There’s not even ambient noise.

It was a creepy kind of silence. Like a crocodile lurking in the shallows, waiting patiently for prey to pass by. Baekgyeong thought the one in the next cell—likely Isaac Bazelli—was silently waiting, eavesdropping on their conversation.

The concrete wall was thick, but the prison door easily transmitted sound and vibration, and the food slot was always open. If someone focused, they could easily overhear everything between Siron and Baekgyeong.

“Got any ideas for a plan?”

“Yoon Siron. Why throw away our beautiful Korean word ‘plan’ and say ‘plæn’ like that?”

Baekgyeong scolded him like a schoolteacher and pointed at the CCTV with his eyes. It meant be aware we’re being watched. But the idea that Isaac Bazelli couldn’t understand a single word of their Korean conversation was, in its own way, hilarious. Still, Baekgyeong felt a wave of unease. Him and Siron—this mismatched duo—they didn’t exactly inspire confidence as escape artists. Maybe it really would be better to bring Isaac into the plan after all.

Baekgyeong, overcome with fatigue, leaned against the wall. He had to think of a way to escape—but his brain just wouldn’t cooperate. His thoughts kept scattering and slipping through the cracks.

“You feeling okay?”

Siron looked him over, worry evident.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Then why do your eyes look all drowsy?”

“Just tired, all of a sudden.”

“Tired... and? Any other symptoms?”

Normally if someone said they were sleepy, you’d just tell them to rest. But Siron kept pressing for more. Confused, Baekgyeong still answered honestly.

“Dizzy.”

“And?”

“...How much more am I supposed to be feeling?”

“Huh?”

At Siron’s oddly startled reaction, Baekgyeong straightened up.

“You put something in the water, didn’t you.”

His voice dropped, dark and cold. Siron glanced around the room—though there was no one else there to help him—and scrambled to explain.

“It was a tiny amount. Less than the dirt under a fingernail!”

“What the fuck did you put in it?!”

“That white crystal. The stuff Sonia hid.”

“Dirt under my nails would’ve been better! Are you out of your fucking mind?! You gave me that crap without even knowing what it is?!”

“Just forgive me this once! I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry!”

Siron spewed a stream of apologies he didn’t mean, then paused. The way his voice rose afterward made it clear he felt deeply wronged for having to apologize at all.

“I only did it because we need to escape! We can’t use the drug unless we figure out what it does! I couldn’t test it on myself!”

“You selfish little shit, what did you say?!”

“You’re an alpha! You guys heal fast—it’s not a big deal!”

“Alpha doesn’t mean immortal, dumbass!”

Baekgyeong exploded—but even mid-outburst, he couldn’t stop yawning. The shock of realizing Siron had drugged him had jolted him awake for a second, but the drowsiness returned, creeping over him. Still, he wasn’t fully out yet, and he glared, forcing his eyes open.

“Yeah. Neither of us are immortal. Which is why we have to get off this island.”

Siron spoke with the utmost seriousness.

“There’s only one shot to get permission for outdoor jerking off.”

Siron shoved his face close to Baekgyeong’s, scrunching it in disgust—and then grabbed him by the collar.

This was it. Siron summoned all the charm honed through years of auditions, fan meetings, and romantic dramas. The distilled essence of his deadly appeal.

“Get your shit together and listen carefully. I’m gonna teach you the seduction technique that can bring even a eunuch to his knees.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!