L*st and Death

In the past, Baekgyeong used to be overwhelmed by an uncontrollable euphoria whenever he resorted to violence. Once his fists began to fly, it was as if fire seared through his brain, and he found himself flailing in a flood of adrenaline drawn up from the depths of his own brutality. Perhaps he was the kind of person who genuinely enjoyed the thrill that violence brought.

But that past version of Baekgyeong had clearly been left behind with the surgery.

He brought his hand up to Ian’s nose, but the storm was too fierce to detect any breath. He had beaten Ian unconscious, but he hadn’t meant to kill him.

He hadn’t even managed to kill the bastards he truly wanted to see dead—so to become a murderer just because of some annoying confession would’ve been too meaningless an ending. Of course, the bastard had threatened him with a bomb, but even that didn’t quite justify taking his life.

“I like you. Let me stay by your side!”

Even thinking back on the confession still made him nauseous, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to drag at least one pliable helper off the island with him.

If I’m going to dig into this Hybris crap or whatever it is, I’ll need someone on the inside. Taking him along might do.

Besides, leaving the bastard alive here was bound to become a headache sooner or later.

At the same time, there was an obvious reason he couldn’t bring Ian with him. Ian was an alpha, and alphas were drawn to omegas the way rivers sought the sea. Sure, Ian was interested in him now, but once Siron’s omega transformation was complete, Ian would become a rival trying to claim Siron for himself.

In the end, Baekgyeong deferred judgment. He took Ian’s phone from his bloodied body and bound him to a rock, completely immobilizing him.

Night was fast approaching. Soon, everything would be swallowed by darkness.

It was already past 6 p.m., and the sun had begun to set. The sky, smothered in storm clouds, cast a gray curtain over the world. Beneath it, the wind-lashed fields appeared even more vividly green in contrast to the raging tempest.

As Baekgyeong slowly guided the cart through the downpour and battering winds, one of the wheels hit a hollow carved by running water and lifted off the ground. Startled by the sensation of weightlessness, he slammed the brake, but the wind caught the cart, sending it into a spin—then suddenly launching it skyward. As the earth receded, the cart briefly floated before slamming back to the ground, and Baekgyeong, flung from the wreckage, lost consciousness from the impact.

He came to an hour later, around 7 p.m., the pounding rain striking his entire body like drumbeats and dragging him back to consciousness. Groaning, he pieced together what had happened. By now, thick darkness had enveloped everything around him.

The wind had only grown stronger—so much so that it felt like massive waves were trying to sweep him away. He tore off the now-useless raincoat, cradled the thermos tightly, and hunched forward, his battered, aching body inching north.

Having escaped the area around the satellite towers that governed the bomb collar, Baekgyeong made his way toward the island’s outer perimeter. When he drew within about a kilometer of his destination, a small diesel-powered thermal power station came into view.

Once he closed the distance to about 300 meters, he surveyed the area. Just as Isaac had said, there was a power distribution box nearby, rising to his waist just a few steps away. As expected, it was locked.

He gently pulled at the handle and eased open the waterproof cover. As soon as a gap the width of a fingertip opened, Baekgyeong jumped back to avoid electrocution. The wind whistled through the slit between the lid and the box, and a sudden gust flung the cover wide open.

A few seconds later, the sound of sparking erupted from the rain-soaked breakers—then silence. With that, the surrounding CCTV cameras and security lights were surely dead.

Baekgyeong pulled Ian’s phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight as he made his way toward the second target. From afar, the power station hadn’t looked that big—and up close, it turned out to be even smaller than expected. As Isaac had said, the main structure was accompanied by two auxiliary facilities: one to generate power from diesel, one to store the produced energy, and one to hold the diesel itself.

Calling the auxiliary facilities “buildings” was generous—they looked more like sheds with open sides. To keep the equipment dry, someone had rigged transparent plastic rain covers over them. Isaac had given specific instructions: plant the bomb in the energy storage system before 8 o’clock.

Finding the energy storage system wasn’t hard. The label on the surface read “Battery Energy Storage System.” Baekgyeong set down the thermos next to it, then painstakingly dug a hole up to his knees and buried the thermos.

Just like that, his mission was complete—at least, it would’ve been if he’d actually considered the diesel.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to set fire to the oil than to bury the thing for extra blast force?”

He quickly began rolling the massive oil drums—each easily over 100kg—into position around the generator and storage system. Then, to make ignition easier, he retrieved the thermos he’d just buried, shining the flashlight on it to inspect it once more.

In movies, bombs always reacted to even the slightest touch, triggering catastrophes. But the one he’d been lugging around all this time hadn’t done a damn thing. He’d even cracked Ian over the head with it, and it hadn’t so much as beeped.

“Don’t tell me this thing’s a dud...”

Baekgyeong checked the phone. Only nine minutes left until the scheduled detonation. Isaac had told him that the timer, connected to the detonator, used parts from an analog watch—so he should allow for up to ten minutes of error.

That meant the bomb could go off right now and it wouldn’t be a surprise. Baekgyeong hurriedly bent over to wedge the thermos between the drums and the generator.

WHACK—!

Suddenly, an immense force struck the back of his head, and a wave of nauseating vertigo swept over him.

“You rutting agent of evil! You dare try to annihilate humanity!”

“What the hell are you—ugh!”

Thud!

“You sniveling servant of the aliens! Hand over the bomb! Now!”

A high-pitched ringing filled his ears as though his skull had cracked open. Instinctively, Baekgyeong twisted his body to evade the next blow and swung the thermos with all his strength.

CLANG—!

It sounded like a solid baseball striking a metal bat. The lunatic who’d attacked him flew backward and landed somewhere in the unmarked grass.

Baekgyeong clenched his eyes shut, the fatigue washing over him all at once.

“Fuck. Not a single damn thing is ever easy.”

But there was no time for self-pity. He remembered—barely—that the bomb was about to explode. He quickly set it down and ran for it, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the blast radius.

“Enemy of humanity! You treacherous bastard! Give it back! I said give it back! Where is it?!”

Apparently unaware that the bomb had already been planted, the lunatic staggered after him like a zombie, still raving as if Baekgyeong had stolen it.

He wanted to knock the bastard out and shut him up—but there was no time. Once the bomb went off, the oil drums surrounding the energy system would amplify the explosion massively.

After sprinting for a while, Baekgyeong finally stopped, well clear of the power station. Now it was time to make that lunatic pay for daring to lay a hand on him.

“What the hell are you?”

“I am the savior of mankind—!”

But the bastard never got to finish his sentence.

With a thunderous boom, a massive explosion tore through the air, bathing the world in searing red.

Both Baekgyeong and the deranged man whipped their heads toward the blast. A pillar of flame rose into the sky, breaking through the storm like a mushroom cloud. Even from this distance, the heat was overwhelming.

Black smoke and fire writhed into the sky like a living serpent, slashing through the air in the rain and wind. Baekgyeong stared, stunned, then suddenly snapped out of it.

He reached up and touched the bomb collar on his neck. It felt unchanged. But if he lingered here, he’d either be killed by the alphas investigating the blast—or die when the collar exploded.

Sensing the danger, Baekgyeong acted without hesitation. From one disaster, he ran headlong toward the next.

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