L*st and Death

The rapist had broken through the storefront’s steel security gate after closing hours, then busted the locked inner door and lunged at Siron inside. Just remembering that moment made Siron’s adrenaline spike and his vision blur—as if he were trapped back in that place all over again.

He tried to flush the memory from his head by downing half a bottle of water in frantic gulps. He wiped the water from his mouth with a tissue and tossed it to the floor, then gave a dry, bitter laugh.

“It was just... bad luck. That’s all.”

“Both of the men you brought to my clinic that day were alphas. The one who tried to rape you was a rutting alpha.”

Siron didn’t want to talk about that night. But Johnson’s words dragged him back into the downpour, back into that night again. Even after being chained down at Johnson’s urology clinic, the rapist’s erection hadn’t gone down for nearly an hour.

Siron had written it off as just some disturbing case of severe sexual frustration, but now Johnson was saying it had been an alpha in rut? That sent a chill up his spine. It felt like hearing the plot of a semi-true crime drama—just plausible enough to unsettle you.

And then there was Baek Kyung. According to Johnson, he was also an alpha. What stood out now was Baek Kyung’s behavior. That night, he had insisted on speaking alone with Johnson—a man he was supposedly meeting for the first time. It hadn’t seemed like a mere consultation. There had been something more. Some familiarity. Some prior understanding.

“What did you talk about with that Asian guy at the clinic?”

“He wanted to hear my thoughts on the alpha rut cycle.”

“Rut cycle?”

“The term for an alpha’s heat.”

The idea that Baek Kyung had talked with Johnson about the rut cycle—it was absurd. And yet Johnson had clearly put serious thought into his worldbuilding. Of course there would be a term for it, like something out of an official setting guide for a comic book.

“That’s insane. So these evolved humans—0.6% more advanced than the rest of us—can’t even control when they go into heat?”

“Hmm. Most of the time, alphas can engage in sex whenever they want, just like normal humans.”

Johnson let out a low chuckle and went on.

“But the rut cycle... is a different state. It’s when reason disappears completely and instinct takes over. It’s an aggressive, mindless state. A curse bought with a brief delay in death.”

The word death shifted the mood in the air. And that last line—a brief delay in death—lodged in Siron’s mind. It sounded like alphas lived longer than expected, but still died younger than most.

Come to think of it, Kyung said he was terminal. Said he had five to seven years, tops...

Suddenly Siron felt a flush of heat rise up through his body. He instinctively folded his arms, leaning back deep into the chair to put more distance between them.

“Do alphas not live long?”

“Death is inevitable for humans, but for alphas, it comes sooner than average.”

“You’re saying they’re more evolved than us, but they die early? What kind of setting is that?”

Siron sounded accusatory—like Johnson himself was responsible for it.

“The thing that makes a human into an alpha is the same thing that leaves them in their most vulnerable state. ...It’s all in the report.”

Johnson gestured toward the papers sitting in front of Siron. The fire in his voice dimmed, his tone cooled, and he folded his arms stubbornly as if he’d never raised it at all.

“When do you think I have time to read that? Give me the SparkNotes version.”

At Siron’s bluntness, Johnson rolled his tongue slowly along the inside of his cheek—then laughed quietly.

“In the lore of this ‘evolved human species’ created by God,”

Johnson mimicked Siron’s mocking tone as he continued,

“the process of dying is called Apollyon Syndrome. Around the age of thirty-four, alphas begin to experience molecular overexpression—molecules that regulate genetic expression begin acting out of control. Cells either proliferate abnormally or die off. Brain cells are especially vulnerable, since they don’t regenerate well as you age. New cells take longer to replace the damaged ones.”

As Johnson spoke, a memory stirred in Siron’s mind.

“Are you trying to kill this boy’s brain cells?! You want him to turn into an idiot?!”

Whenever his mom gave him a flick to the forehead, his grandma would get genuinely upset—worried that it would make her little grandson dumber.

“Ah... So it’s like killing off brain cells by flicking someone’s forehead too hard.”

Siron said it with all sincerity. Johnson’s expression turned solemn. He looked like he was genuinely trying to understand the logic behind Siron’s comparison. After a long pause to process it, he replied:

“The brain damage caused by Apollyon Syndrome is different from physical trauma. Physical trauma damages the brain through shock or compression—by disrupting calcium ion concentrations...”

As Johnson launched into a totally serious explanation, Siron instantly regretted pretending to know what he was talking about. This guy wasn’t like Baek Kyung. You couldn’t fake it with him. Those days of swapping smug facts and pointing out each other’s ignorance were long gone.

Feeling sheepish, Siron averted his gaze and muttered, red-faced,

“So... how long do they live, on average?”

“By thirty-five, most alphas are brain-dead.”

Siron looked up at Johnson’s face. Early to mid-thirties, at a glance—definitely not in his twenties. But sometimes, when he looked at Siron with that sharp, teasing smile, he seemed almost boyish—like a mischievous kid. It made Siron want to tease him right back.

He asked impulsively,

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

Johnson gave the answer with no emotion—clinical, detached. Not the tone of a man with death just around the corner.

The more Siron listened, the more he realized that Apollyon Syndrome sounded exactly like the hereditary brain disease Johnson claimed to have had as a child. If everything he said was true, then Baek Kyung, the rapist, and Dr. Johnson were all like milk or sausage with an expiration date—doomed to slowly decay into brain-dead patients.

Siron asked, a little grimly,

“So... is there no cure in your little setting guide?”

Johnson laughed softly. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was pain behind it, like a tremor.

He avoided Siron’s eyes as he replied,

“There’s a treatment, but the success rate is low.”

“Why?”

“Too many variables in the process of developing the cure.”

But still—not zero.

A treatment... Siron felt like he was missing something. But before he could dwell on it, Johnson asked,

“Nothing else you’re curious about?”

There was plenty. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe any of it.

“In heat—or, I mean, during the rut cycle... do all alphas go nuts with sex drive? That guy was like he was on drugs.”

“For most, normal life becomes impossible.”

“Then how do they deal with it?”

“There are various methods. Some choose confinement. Some choose sex. Believe it or not, there are even services that provide release for rutting alphas.”

Wait, what?!

Services to “satisfy” rutting alphas? The thought alone made Siron sick. And yet, the twisted logic behind it felt eerily plausible. Specialized prostitution services, catering to alpha sex drives?

“If that’s true, those sex workers must get torn apart.”

He suddenly remembered something he’d overheard at the motel a few days ago. A young male guest had been found covered in blood below the waist, high out of his mind on drugs. The guy had been seen on CCTV bringing giant men into his room, but the useless cops hadn’t done a thing.

Why did that story have to come to mind now?

“They were probably badly injured.”

“...What?”

“I mean the people who’ve serviced rutting alphas.”

Siron blinked like a mute child. Suddenly the shackle on his ankle felt icy cold. Like a giant block of ice had been chained to him. Heavy. Crushing.

So that was it. He brought me here to be a sex slave.

He felt certain now what his “purpose” was. Still, he asked carefully, not wanting to provoke the man.

“What happened to the people who, uh... did that for you?”

“Hm. Most of them became test subjects.”

That answer hit harder than expected. It wasn’t enough that they had to satisfy a rutting alpha—they were then used in experiments.

“All the test rats—except you, Mr. Yoon—ended up dead.”

At the time, Siron had taken it as a stupid joke and laughed it off. But now, after everything they’d discussed, it sounded a lot more like a confession.

Siron’s lips parted, dry.

“What exactly... were you testing on those rats? Haha... the new miracle drug Skone Pharmaceuticals is developing?”

He forced a laugh, his voice shaking. Hoping that if he smiled, Johnson would smile back. That if he acted kind, Johnson would return the favor. A stupid, desperate hope.

But Johnson didn’t smile. He looked at Siron with relish, as if savoring his discomfort. Then he said something entirely different.

“Since the emergence of the alpha species twenty-five years ago, not a single alpha has been able to escape their genetic time limit. Except for one.”

“So... it’s not completely incurable, then.”

“That’s right.”

When Siron turned away from his searching gaze, Johnson stood. The screech of the chair scraping the wood was unbearably loud.

He bent over the table and reached toward Siron. His hands were hot, rough, full of calluses—and he placed one squarely on Siron’s shoulder.

“He was cured through an omega.”

You know what?

I don’t care about your goddamn story anymore.

Siron forced himself to hold back that rising truth, swallowing it like poison. Instead, he put on a pathetic, groveling smile and tried to keep the conversation going.

“Omega-3s, huh? Thank God. At least it’s easy to find.”

“...Omegas aren’t a supplement.”

Johnson scolded him in a low voice, gripping his shoulder hard enough to hurt.

Siron flinched. His skin prickled like he was having an allergic reaction. The scent of Johnson’s sweat filled his nose—hot and oppressive.

“Omegas are a new branch of humanity. A separate species evolved from Homo sapiens—one that emits pheromones specifically designed to interact with alphas. Like Adam and Eve. A new kind of human has been born.”

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