L*st and Death

Reality vanished. Everything froze.

Siron stared blankly at Isaac’s face. The beam from the flashlight, reflected off the EMP device, briefly illuminated his features before swallowing them again in darkness. That twisted smile—impossible to read. Isaac was clearly enjoying himself. Siron’s mind shut down, like a drained battery.

“What the fuck did you just say? The battery’s dead?”

Baekgyeong lunged, grabbing for Isaac’s collar. Siron, snapping back to his senses, shoved himself between them before Baekgyeong could beat Isaac senseless. He snatched the EMP device from Baekgyeong’s hand and yanked his neck down.

“Shut up and bend over.”

Quickly, Siron checked the countdown on the bomb locked around Baekgyeong’s neck.

“Fuck. Seven minutes left.”

Panic rising, he turned to Isaac.

“What do we do? What the hell do I do?!”

“You’ll need to recharge the battery. It uses a 5-pin charger.”

There was no way they’d find a charging jack in just a few minutes. Even if they did, it’d be useless—Baekgyeong had just blown up the power plant and plunged the island into blackout.

Siron hastily inspected the device again. Though it had been repurposed, it still retained the overall shape of a walkie-talkie. And it had a removable back cover—meaning the battery could be swapped. A jolt of electricity shot through his spine.

“Yoon Siron. We were born at the same time. I wanted us to leave this world together too. It kills me that I have to go first. This pathetic me still has so much to—”

“Save that bullshit! Just shut up and follow me!”

Siron grabbed the plastic Isaac had left behind, wrapped the device in it, and bolted out of the lab at full speed. Baekgyeong quickly caught up, yelling behind him.

“Why?! Where are you going?!”

“We can replace the battery! There’s another walkie-talkie on the shelf in the cafeteria’s cold storage!”

“What?!”

Baekgyeong skidded to a stop like he’d hit an invisible wire. He took a deep breath, then surged forward again—snatching the device from Siron’s hand and sprinting ahead with a burst of speed that made Siron look like he was standing still. He flew down the stairs and was out of the building before Siron had even descended a single floor.

Relying purely on instinct, Siron ran into the darkness—so deep and suffocating it felt like a mine shaft. The rain pounded so hard it numbed his ears, and the storm howled around him like a wild beast.

What a grotesque night. Siron didn’t want to lose Baekgyeong to this nightmare.

Even in suffocating pain, he didn’t slow. Emotion swelled from deep within, burning his throat as he ran. When he finally reached the cafeteria, he tripped over fallen bodies in the pitch dark but managed to stumble into the storage room.

Baekgyeong was already on his knees, carefully removing the drained battery from the modified device. His hands trembled so badly he fumbled again and again. Calmly, Siron sat opposite him and pulled a charged battery from the other walkie-talkie.

“You do it.”

Baekgyeong, shaking like a leaf, handed him the device. His whole body was flushed with heat, and stress sweat poured from him. Holding his breath, Siron replaced the battery with steady, clammy hands. He quickly flipped the switch and brought the antenna to the bomb on Baekgyeong’s neck.

After a few tense seconds, the device emitted a faint, glitchy tone like a damaged synth, then fell silent.

The locking mechanism split open.

“It’s deactivated!”

Siron gently removed the bomb from Baekgyeong’s neck. He checked the LCD display by flashlight—and let out a long breath.

“There were only two seconds left. Can you believe that?”

Relieved to be alive, Siron laughed shakily—only for Baekgyeong to suddenly pull him into a tight, bone-crushing hug. Without hesitation, he dove into Siron’s arms, cupping the back of his head and dragging his face in close.

Something wet brushed Siron’s lips. He froze.

A slippery, unwanted sensation. He tried to push Baekgyeong away, feeling a faint repulsion—but Baekgyeong was too desperate, brushing past the weak resistance like it was nothing.

A hot tongue forced its way between his lips, teasing under his tongue and exploring his mouth with invasive, precise movements. Baekgyeong rubbed his tongue shamelessly against Siron’s, sucking loudly on his spit.

“Hh... ngh... s-stop—”

Everywhere Baekgyeong’s tongue touched burned like fire. Siron recoiled again, and Baekgyeong nibbled on his swollen lower lip before finally pulling back, panting heavily.

“Was that too sudden? Hm?”

He whispered softly, their mouths still touching. The whole thing felt like a twisted version of a first kiss—unfamiliar, uninvited. Siron turned his head away, the uncomfortable sensation lingering on his lips.

“Do that one more time and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out.”

“Cut me some slack, would you? It’s been that kind of day.”

“You almost died. Doesn’t mean you get to act like a creep.”

“I’m not joking. Your spit... kinda tastes sweet?”

Ignoring him, Siron stood and grabbed his phone. He passed Baekgyeong a rifle from the shelf and shoved a magazine into his back pocket.

“Let’s go. We need to regroup with Isaac.”

“You still trust that bastard after all this? He gives me the creeps.”

“I agree. But how the hell are we going to escape without him? Do you even know how to use that gun?”

“Of course I do. You just pull the trigger, right?”

“That’s... not what I meant. A toddler could pull a trigger.”

Siron raised his voice, openly treating Baekgyeong like an idiot. Frustrated, Baekgyeong punched the shelf.

“Shit. I should’ve done my military service.”

Siron bit his tongue, stopping himself from saying what he really wanted to: You weren’t eligible.

Because of his involuntary psychiatric confinement, Baekgyeong had lost his chance to enlist.

Siron thought of him enduring endless, lifeless hours surrounded by blank white walls—and with a shiver, found himself wondering about the man who’d sprung Baekgyeong from prison.

“Where’s the short guy?”

Baekgyeong looked uncomfortable and muttered,

“Knocked him out.”

“Knocked out? ...Isn’t he probably awake by now?”

“Doubt it. I hit him hard enough to keep him down till tomorrow. Tied him to a rock—he won’t be moving.”

“A rock?”

“There was a good one near the cliff.”

Siron could practically see the whole thing play out—like watching Baekgyeong and Ian Fitzner go on a date. Ian must’ve set him free expecting sex, only to get smashed in the back of the head the moment Baekgyeong turned on him.

“You really beat the shit out of the guy who helped you? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Siron shuddered and rubbed his arms. The air was cold and heavy, like it was thick with revenge.

“We’re done here. Let’s get out.”

He flashed the light toward the door and reached for the knob—only for Baekgyeong to grab it first and stop him.

“There’s a back door, right? Let’s go that way.”

“What?”

“Let’s not go out the front. The alphas’ pheromones in here are making me want to puke.”

Pheromones? Siron couldn’t recall sensing anything like that. His memory of the walk from the lab to the storage room was blurry—his whole awareness had been consumed by Baekgyeong’s impending death.

“Just deal with it a little longer. We need to check on their condition anyway.”

When Baekgyeong loosened his grip on the door, Siron stepped out and walked into the kitchen.

Suddenly, he felt an invisible pressure—pheromones thick in the air, crushing his entire body. It felt like being trapped in a collapsing airlock.

“Wh-What the hell...”

His heart pounded violently, painfully. It was hard to believe that the unconscious alphas were flooding the cafeteria and kitchen with pheromones this intense and savage.

Mixed with blood and the scent of gunpowder, it wrapped around him in a suffocating cloud. Then something tightened at the base of his °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° spine—a subtle tug.

“...Hhh?”

Even now—in this situation—Siron’s body responded sexually.

Something hot leaked between his legs, like he’d pissed himself. Reeling, he lost balance and dropped his phone.

“Nope. Fuck this. We’re using the back door.”

Baekgyeong picked the phone up from the floor. Something about the pheromones unsettled him. He walked toward the open door between the cafeteria and the kitchen.

Earlier, he must’ve been too preoccupied to notice—but now it was undeniable. The air was saturated with pheromones, blood, and cordite.

He shone his flashlight toward the cafeteria. The floor was smeared dark with blood. Bloody footprints. A corpse with half a face blown off lay flat, staring at the ceiling. And beyond that, more of the same.

“...Fuck.”

Every alpha who’d collapsed here had died like a dog.

Maybe some had stayed conscious just long enough to release those desperate pheromones, terrified of death.

Baekgyeong quickly returned to the storage room before Siron could follow.

As they exited through the back, freezing rain lashed at them like knives.

Everything outside was pitch black now—but the carnage Baekgyeong had seen in the cafeteria refused to leave his mind.

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