L*st and Death

Baek Kyung was not some skilled tracker out of a detective novel.

Predicting Yoon Siron’s range of movement in unfamiliar territory was close to impossible, and finding a competent private investigator in a strange city was no easy feat either. On top of that, Baek Kyung’s attempts to secure local CCTV footage were repeatedly thwarted by uncooperative residents — they didn’t want to get on the bad side of the local gangs, and they refused to take bribes from some newly-arrived Asian gang member. That alone was enough to make Baek Kyung seethe.

To make matters worse, Baek Kyung wasn’t even the type to watch detective dramas or thrillers. And yet, he’d managed to come up with a bold plan to abduct Yoon Siron in Baggers City and then track Isaac Bazelli’s movements — all because he had one thing he could rely on.

—Sorry I couldn’t get in touch. But I had my reasons too. What was I supposed to do when the cops confiscated both my desktop and my laptop?

As Park Daniel’s nasally voice whined in his ear like an untuned violin, Baek Kyung thought bitterly:

Why is it that every single person I sponsor ends up screwing me over?

“Who the hell is this Matthew Rivett guy, and why did he report you?”

—Dude! Diggy hyung! You don’t know Matthew Rivett? He’s that super famous stand-up comic. White prick who throws out anti-Asian jokes like they’re candy.

“...So what if he’s a racist asshole? You hacked the guy’s cloud and blackmailed him?”

—That wasn’t blackmail! It was... encouragement. You know, telling him to live a better life.

Baek Kyung couldn’t take the bullshit anymore and snapped.

“‘Shut your mouth before I expose your affair with your wife’s friend. Otherwise I’ll shove a dildo bomb up your ass and set it off the next time you open your mouth.’ That’s not blackmail to you?”

—Everyone I’ve sent those “encouragement messages” to has lived quietly ever since. Well, except for you, hyung.

Which meant this wasn’t even Daniel’s first time. Illegal data theft, privacy invasion, cyber attacks — and now, bomb threats? In the US? This dumbass was a damn Korean-American kid! Baek Kyung felt like his head was going to explode.

Park Daniel, the one person Baek Kyung actually relied on, was a genius hacker, Baek Kyung’s long-time troll, and a former obsessive fan of Yoon Siron. Though his obsession had cooled off, he still clung to loyalty and was quietly waiting for Siron to make a comeback.

Back when Siron and Baek Kyung were duking it out in court, there’d been a teenage boy who kept hacking into Baek Kyung’s cloud and sending him constant threats. After Baek Kyung was sentenced to mandatory treatment, the kid disappeared like he’d fulfilled his mission — only to reestablish contact years later when Baek Kyung reached out.

Baek Kyung had thought Daniel would behave now that he’d had a taste of money — going to school, studying, staying quiet. But no, the kid was still flinging shit everywhere. And all this time, Baek Kyung had been sponsoring him for one reason: to find Yoon Siron. Now, in his most desperate hour, the kid was screwing him over.

“So, you’re telling me you couldn’t track Siron’s location from the number I gave you?”

—I couldn’t help it! I’m literally talking to you from the police station. My lawyer says I’ll probably be detained for a few days.

The police station? Baek Kyung’s temples throbbed with rage.

“What? You’re in police custody, and you’re calling me?!”

—I figured you’d worry if I didn’t respond. And besides, my lawyer’s the only one around. He doesn’t speak Korean.

“Are you brain-dead? Did it not occur to you the cops might get suspicious if someone calls a burner phone? And what the hell is with you calling me ‘Diggy hyung’? You wanna die?”

—What, it’s just Moby-Dick. What else am I supposed to call you?

Daniel laughed idiotically and quickly tried to soothe Baek Kyung.

—Anyway, no need to worry, hyung. It’s not like we’ve done anything illegal yet. We were only about to.

Whether it was Siron or Siron’s fans, they all had a talent for pissing Baek Kyung off.

—So, hyung, if I do get detained, can I take the bail money from the account?

Daniel’s account contained a million dollars he couldn’t touch without Baek Kyung’s explicit approval. If he did so without permission, he’d be kicked out of his luxury condo and lose the tuition support he got every semester.

“Fine, you can use it. But there’s a condition.”

—What condition?

“Deliver a message for me.”

—A message?

“I’ll send you an email. Before August is over, I need you to text my mom from an untraceable number. Just one message.”

—To the Chairwoman? Me?

“You heard me. Why do you keep repeating yourself? Want me to say it twice?”

—Jeez, temper much. Fine, whatever. But I don’t know when I’ll get out either. And since I’m taking a risk, I’ve got a condition too.

“What is it?”

—I’ll only take a hundred grand from the account.

“What for?”

—To buy crypto.

“Crypto?”

—Deepcoin. It’s a virtual currency mined through solving mathematical problems using computers. The investment potential is insane...

Baek Kyung half-listened to Daniel’s crypto rant while logging into their mail server. Last year, the two had created a ghost company in the Virgin Islands under someone else’s name to set up a cloud platform service. They connected a private email server to that cloud, only accessible to the two of them.

It was an untraceable, two-man-only server. They almost always communicated by mail rather than phone.

Baek Kyung now had to decide how to write a message to his mother — one that, despite coming from an unknown number, would clearly tell her it was from her son.

---

Mother. I’ll keep it short. There are parties opposing the development of the suppressant. They seem to profit from the spread of the disease. Just in case anything happens, please delay both public disclosure and clinical trial registration until you hear from me again.

I’ll return to New York soon with a lovely bride.

—Your bastard son♡

---

That should be enough for her to recognize who sent it.

His mother never believed anything he said — she wouldn’t trust him even if he claimed soybeans were fermented into paste. But even she couldn’t ignore something so pointed coming from her son. Baek Kyung himself didn’t trust Isaac Bazelli, and yet, he couldn’t not believe the man either.

While Baek Kyung was lost in thought, Daniel’s crypto monologue continued.

—Deepcoin isn’t like regular money where you can just print more. There’s a set issuance cap. It even hit $500 per coin recently, no joke! Though yeah, now it’s back under $100...

“Shut up. Do whatever you want. I sent the email — make sure to check it once you’re out.”

Baek Kyung hung up without waiting for a reply, resting his arms on the steering wheel and burying his face inside them.

“...I’m so fucking sick of this.”

He had been wandering around Baggers City for four days now. Maybe he’d been too giddy after meeting Isaac Bazelli in person, or maybe he’d never imagined that the overly cautious Siron — with all his fears and anxieties — would actually run away from a urologist.

He’d let his guard down like an idiot.

On that stormy night, Siron wasn’t the only one who vanished. Two others disappeared along with him: the rutting rapist who reacted violently to Siron’s pheromones, and the psychotic serial killer intent on turning Siron into his personal omega.

All three had vanished like ghosts. In other words, Baek Kyung had been left chasing chickens, only to end up the dog.

Baek Kyung couldn’t even stay at a hotel in peace, terrified that idiot Siron might get raped in an alley somewhere. Like a detective on stakeout, he drifted through the city on two or three hours of sleep, combing the streets in search of Siron.

And things were looking worse now. Word of Siron might have already reached his mother’s ears. It was entirely possible her agents were now following Baek Kyung’s trail through Baggers City.

He had been a bastard in every sense of the word — and he admitted it. Drugs, violence, sordid sponsorship scandals... and the ticking time bomb of his rut cycle. Even though he’d gotten used to it, the instincts of his heat remained uncontrollable. Without timely suppressants, he’d turn into an animal, prowling the streets.

And now, of all times, Park Daniel had gone and called his burner phone from a police station. If his mother had bribed the local cops, both Baek Kyung’s identity and Daniel’s could be exposed.

Logic screamed at him to toss the phone into the nearest trash bin. But tragically, it was the only thread still linking him to Siron. He couldn’t throw it away just because he was afraid of being dragged back to New York — not when Siron might call at any moment.

Lifting his sleep-heavy face, Baek Kyung glared across the road at Curry King with bloodshot eyes. The shattered glass and broken steel gate from the rape attempt had already been replaced. The new glass door had no tint, so the empty interior was plainly visible. They were apparently redoing the tile floors — the place looked gutted.

Baek Kyung had gone around asking questions and even managed to get the Curry King owner’s number. But after all that trouble, the man blocked him — dismissing him as just another celebrity stalker obsessed with Yoon Siron.

Siron’s social circle was pitifully small. Judging by online reviews, he’d worked at Curry King for at least a year, but none of the neighboring shop owners had any personal connection to him.

“At least he didn’t flirt with anyone. That’s one thing I like.”

Leaning his head back against the seat, Baek Kyung glared at the quiet street.

“How the fuck did I survive four years without seeing Yoon Siron?”

It had only been four days since they last met, and yet the suffocating weight on his chest felt unbearable. If he really never saw Siron again — if someone else took Siron as their omega — just imagining it made his entire body burn with furious, uncontrollable rage.

At this point, the only option left was to pressure the Curry King owner until he gave up Siron’s address. Though knowing Siron, he probably hadn’t used his real name on anything — even that was uncertain.

As Baek Kyung stared at Curry King, a white midsize SUV entered his line of sight. It slowed and carefully pulled into the narrow alley before stopping in the Curry King lot. The engine turned off.

A man and woman got out. The man was a middle-aged Aryan with darker-toned skin, and the woman was a tall blonde in her mid-thirties, easily over 180 centimeters tall.

The man pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the security gate before entering Curry King. No doubt — this was the same owner who’d blocked Baek Kyung, treating him like some stalker fan.

I’ll break him until he coughs up Siron’s address.

With grim resolve, Baek Kyung got out of the car and ran toward the man.

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