L*st and Death

Isaac reached out and touched the point where Siron and Baekgyeong were still joined. There wasn’t a millimeter of space—sealed together as if they’d fused into one.

“Uh, ah, it—it won’t, ha, ngh! It won’t go in.”

He pried at the tightly joined flesh, forcing a gap open. Siron trembled, carefully pushing at him in protest, but Isaac didn’t stop.

His fingers, forcing their way past Baekgyeong’s cock lodged in his rectum, pushed deeper into the inner passage. The inner wall, pressed flush around Baekgyeong’s shaft, clamped down hard around his fingers.

Isaac’s fingertips stroked the inside. He pulled upward slightly, stretching the passage where Baekgyeong was embedded deep, and from the forced opening a thick, milky mucus spilled endlessly, viscous like diluted glue.

Still watching Siron with those terrifying eyes, Isaac pushed his fingers in deeper. The inner lining tightened again, and he bent his firmly planted fingers inside.

“Hggh, hahh!”

Siron shuddered, curling in on himself under the sharp, slicing jolt.

Isaac slowly worked over the inner wall. The soft, elastic membrane tensed against his touch as if resisting him, then relaxed again, moistly following the motion of his fingers.

“Haa, uh, ahh, ngh!”

Leaning over him, Isaac inhaled slowly, like drawing in a scent. It felt like being in the middle of a threesome. The careless sharing of his most vulnerable place made tears prick at the corners of Siron’s eyes.

“Hhh, ahhh, ...hhup, mngh, hhh.”

Siron could feel his own pheromones thickening in the air. And from Isaac came something faint—an earthy dampness brushing his nose. Beneath it was the rich seep of fresh flesh and blood, the lingering mark of an animal’s last breath.

He tried to breathe it in more deeply, but the scent slipped away, scattering uselessly into the air. His throat dry, he swallowed, almost reaching toward him without thinking.

Are you insane? You trying to kiss him in this situation?

Frightened by his own impulse, Siron screwed his eyes shut.

Isaac kept moving for a long while before yanking his fingers out roughly and standing. And at last, Baekgyeong’s knot subsided. Siron forced himself to pull the deeply seated shaft from his body, then knelt on the floor, head bowed, panting. Sticky mucus streamed endlessly from his gaping hole. The sensation of expelling it was unbearably humiliating, but his body had already stepped fully into the beast’s domain.

Blood spreading from under Isaac’s feet left a red watercolor stain across the tiles. Siron lifted his head with effort—and saw Isaac’s groin hard and straining. It was his pheromones in the air that had done it.

Siron pretended he hadn’t seen. Lowering his gaze, he caught sight of Baekgyeong’s pale hand braced on the floor. The choking had driven up the pressure in his body enough to burst a wound—blood and pus ran freely from his side. Even so, he stubbornly tried to push himself upright.

“F...fuck, my body... won’t—”

Hearing him curse, Siron finally felt relief. The tension strung tight over the fear Baekgyeong might die loosened. As that tension drained, exhaustion crashed down on him. He let himself lower onto the blood-slick floor, uncaring about its filth.

He managed to grab Isaac’s ankle and murmured weakly:

“Don’t... kill Gyeong. If you do... I won’t let you.”

He couldn’t hold on any longer. With a small yawn, Siron’s eyes drifted shut. Even in such an uncomfortable place, lying awkwardly on his side, he was snoring softly in seconds.

Expressionless, Isaac looked down at him, then turned to Baekgyeong. Despite having been driven to the brink of death, Baekgyeong met his gaze with a victor’s eyes.

“You heard him. If you kill me, haah, you’ll end up dead by his hand.”

Even in pain, Baekgyeong’s spirit didn’t waver.

“I’d sooner... haah, borrow a cat’s paw. Like he’s gonna... kill you himself. Hah! Hahaha, so fucking, hh, cute. Ah, fuck, that hurts.”

He laughed through the pain, furrowing his brow and panting yet grinning brightly.

“You know that saying, about making porridge just to give it to a dog? Hh, hehe, bet you feel fucking sorry now. I went and Imprinted him first.”

His laughter was thick with happiness. Isaac had thought it came from the confidence of being first in a race to Imprint the world’s only omega. But then he realized Baekgyeong’s joy wasn’t born of such cheap superiority.

He wasn’t laughing because he’d won a fight. It was the feeling of finally becoming one with Siron—the absolute certainty of it—that made him smile.

“I’ve always believed... that without Yoon Siron, I—don’t exist. And without me, Yoon Siron doesn’t exist either. Haah... we’re parts of each other. We finally Imprinted.”

Pale and weak, Baekgyeong spoke haltingly.

“So I’m not gonna die. Not leaving Yoon Siron behind... can’t die.”

With needless dramatic flair, he pressed a hand to his bleeding side.

And as if by that resolve, Baekgyeong would not die. His body had surpassed human limits; with the right environment, even a punctured organ could heal without surgery.

On top of that, Baekgyeong was a strong-trait alpha. Isaac had long since learned, from dealing with many alphas, that even among the same type there was a hierarchy. Most alphas unconsciously shrank from his pheromones; it was rare for him to feel any tension facing another alpha. Baekgyeong was one who provoked his hostility.

“But... is that... what an Imprint... is supposed to feel like?”

Breathing raggedly, Baekgyeong asked. He bit and released his cracked lips, blinking slowly. Since the wound had burst, his energy had been draining away, his speech slowing.

“...Said it would... feel like... being one...”

The hand pressing his side slipped to the floor. Like Siron, Baekgyeong finally let go of consciousness.

Isaac looked down at the two of them—spent from their fevered coupling and naked—feeling a weight of exhaustion. But heavier still was the rage that hadn’t cooled.

The omega heat cycle he’d believed would be his chance to extend his life had been carelessly ended by another alpha. And his long-held belief—that when an alpha knotted an omega in heat, the Imprint would form—had been betrayed.

Baekgyeong and Siron had not Imprinted. That was a confirmed fact. The reason was simple: Isaac had smelled both Yoon Siron’s and Baekgyeong’s pheromones. What he’d inhaled wasn’t the faint residue drifting in the air, but the fresh pheromones blooming from their bodies.

An Imprinted pair’s pheromones can’t be perceived by a third party. They are an instinctive language expressed only to each other; others can’t even recognize the scent. The moment an Imprint forms, they can no longer provoke anyone else, nor even function to entice them.

Thus their world closes off from the outside, and their senses reorganize around one another. Without the other, neither the alpha nor the omega can sate their instincts or maintain physiological balance. Their world narrows, but they gain complete stability—biology’s most perfect monopoly. The most instinctive, absolute bond an Imprint could create.

Of course, Isaac wanted neither stability nor an absolute bond. He only wanted to live a few more years to finish what needed to be done.

He gazed down at Siron, sprawled on the bathroom floor like a corpse. In his blue eyes pooled a dangerous, near-shattering sheet of ice.

He had to admit it: he felt possessive of Yoon Siron. His desire went beyond biological need. He wanted to isolate him completely, to train him until every sense and instinct responded to Isaac alone.

“...Gezar Bazelli.”

He spoke the name of the man he hated to even say aloud—the only man in the world who had ever Imprinted with an omega, and who knew its secrets.

Isaac knew his next destination. Gamtiba Island, in the state of Helsota, where Gezar Bazelli was imprisoned in Somora Penitentiary.

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