L*st and Death

Of course there had to be a condition. Baekgyeong’s ulterior motive was crystal clear. Siron didn’t even reply. He just stuffed Baekgyeong’s salad and toast into his mouth with a blank expression. He’d thought fresh, warm food would help him feel recharged, but reality said otherwise.

“Whatever. What happens to Jiyeon’s life has nothing to do with me. I can’t even take care of myself.”

Siron devoured his food like a starving man. He crammed toast into his mouth until he could barely swallow and then chased it down with his drink, slamming the glass onto the table with a sharp clatter.

“You know what? I’m actually a pretty cheerful person, but when I’m around you, I turn into a fucking cynical asshole. That’s why I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“What are you talking about? You called me.”

“...”

Siron was ready to argue in earnest but found himself at a loss for words. Baekgyeong had struck a nerve. It was true—Siron was the one who had called him. At his most hopeless moment, the person who came to mind wasn’t family or a coworker—it was Baekgyeong. No matter how angry he got, he couldn’t deny the weight of the time they’d spent together.

“That’s... true. I did call you.”

That was the problem. The fact that Baekgyeong was still the only one he had in his life—that was the root of everything. Even after breaking free of Baekgyeong’s influence, if Baekgyeong was still the only one he had, then the last four years of his life had been completely meaningless. Siron tried to inflate the anger swelling in his chest and let it explode, but that realization slowly let all the air out, like a deflating balloon.

“I’ll pay the money back. And I’m only letting you sleep over for one night.”

Baekgyeong stared at Siron seriously, then let out a sigh and shook his head with a frown. Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he placed it in front of Siron and muttered irritably.

“Just write down the account number.”

“You heard me say it’s only one night, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me the account so I can transfer it.”

Baekgyeong was the type to blow up over small things, but today he was surprisingly calm. Siron felt something off about the way Baekgyeong was obediently going along with everything. With a wary glance, he carefully wrote down Jiyeon’s account number.

“You’re not receiving it yourself? Don’t you have your own account?”

“It’s the restaurant owner’s account. Can’t deposit big money into it.”

“Owner? Curry King?”

“Yeah.”

“God, you really borrowed everything under the sun.”

“Yeah. Did everything I could. I was too paranoid to open an account in my name, thought you might track it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you holed up in this shithole state, Helsota? No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

Baekgyeong, eyes still fixed on his phone screen, snorted. After texting Park Daniel, he immediately placed a call.

“Digi-hyung? I was just about to call you.”

“I sent you the info. Transfer twenty million dollars under Yoon Siron’s name.”

“Excuse me?”

“Send twenty million. Now.”

Siron’s eyes went wide, jaw dropping in shock.

“W-What?! Twenty million?!”

Baekgyeong raised his index finger to his lips, signaling Siron to stay quiet, then said,

“You’re just gonna keep paying Jiyeon’s tuition anyway, right? Think of it as advance payment.”

“How the hell is that ‘tuition’?! And why the fuck are you paying for it?!”

“Huh? Th-That voice! Did you find him? Did you find Siron-hyung?!”

Park Daniel’s voice rose on the other end, overlapping with Siron’s shouting. The brief joy of locating Siron was crushed under the weight of Baekgyeong’s fatigue. He’d already been feeling like shit, like he had lead weights strapped to his limbs.

“I asked to borrow ten thousand, not twenty million! Are you insane? Cancel it! Cancel the transfer!”

“How did you find him? A picture! Please, just one photo!”

“Forget it! I shouldn’t have said anything. You think I shit gold or something?! Cancel it, now!”

“How’s he been lately? Can I get a video call? Please?!”

Baekgyeong clutched his head, pain flaring like a tight clamp around his skull.

“Just—shut up. Both of you, just shut the fuck up for a second.”

Feeling something was off, Baekgyeong mentally calculated his rut cycle. Thankfully, he still had over ten days left—nothing imminent. His body still felt like it was dragging chains, but at least he could stop worrying about the cycle. He rubbed his forehead and asked,

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“Oh! Right, I sent a message to your mom.”

“A message?”

“Don’t you remember? You told me to ask her to delay the clinical release of the suppressant and postpone trial registration.”

Baekgyeong’s expression darkened. Park Daniel’s words triggered a forgotten memory. He had instructed him to pass on a message to his mother—warning that there were those profiting off the disease’s spread and that the rut suppressant trials and public release should be suspended. He’d completely forgotten while searching for Siron.

“Yeah... I did.”

“So are you coming to New York now? With Siron-hyung?”

Baekgyeong looked up and saw Siron glaring at him with utter resentment. With a sigh, he answered flatly.

“Yeah. I’m going. You just focus on the task I gave you. Don’t worry about the rest.”

He hung up curtly. Before Siron could unleash his fury, Baekgyeong quickly added,

“With this, I’m done with Kim CEO. You won’t have to think about her anymore either.”

Siron started to say something, eyes locked on Baekgyeong’s, but trailed off. His face, once burning with rage, began to shift into something more uncertain.

“If that’s the case, you should’ve sent it to my account first... I mean—no, that’s... that’s not the point...”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His tone had lost the sharpness it had at the start. Now it was slower, more measured. He looked at Baekgyeong like he was staring at a lunatic.

“Do you... have a lot of money?”

Baekgyeong met his eyes and replied without hesitation.

“I inherited it.”

“Inherited? ...Your parents died? I didn’t see anything like that in the news.”

“No. My primary physician.”

The look in Siron’s eyes grew tangled with emotion. Even if Baekgyeong’s parents were unfathomably wealthy, there was no way someone like him had free reign over hundreds of millions. Yet here he was, casually wiring twenty million, claiming he inherited it from a doctor?

Still, Siron couldn’t stop him. A lightning bolt like this wasn’t going to strike Kim CEO—buried under a mountain of debt and separated from her family—ever again.

Just then, the attempted rapist returned quietly to the restaurant. As he sat down, the heavy silence between Siron and Baekgyeong only deepened.

“Sorry I took so long. I was explaining things to my family.”

The man looked sincerely apologetic, but Siron simply gave a lukewarm nod. His mind was still preoccupied with the tense conversation with Baekgyeong. Some stranger’s family problems were just meaningless background noise.

After a short pause, the man spoke again.

“Um... hey. I really liked the movie you were in.”

Siron blinked, surprised.

“...Huh?”

“You acted really well.”

Siron nodded awkwardly. It felt weird—this tall blond white guy complimenting a film he’d been in.

Now that he thought about it, didn’t the guy say he was an actor once? Siron glanced at him and thought he looked a hell of a lot like the guy who played Private Norman Anderson in the Return to Bunker series.

“You said you’re an actor, right?”

“Me? Yeah.”

“Is your family in the industry too?”

“Anna? Haha, hell no. Definitely not.”

Siron narrowed his eyes slightly and asked cautiously,

“Were you in Return to Bunker?”

The man hesitated for a moment, then gave a playful smile.

“Why? You just now recognizing me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that was me. Private Norman Anderson. That was my role.”

“...Didn’t you die? I heard you were in a car accident.”

Without warning, Lewis reached across the table and placed his hand over Siron’s. Siron didn’t even try to pull away. He just stared down at the large hand covering his own, eyes full of confusion.

“Yeah. But when I came to, I was alive—and somehow I’d become an alpha.”

There was a smile at the corners of Lewis’s mouth, but his eyes held a faint sadness.

It didn’t feel like he was lying. A tragic star who’d once been plastered across the media didn’t seem like the type to fabricate something like this. Siron’s heart still wanted to reject everything about alphas and omegas, but his denial was starting to lose strength in the face of mounting evidence.

“My name’s Lewis McCarthy. Though I guess you’re more familiar with ‘Norman Anderson.’”

Siron still couldn’t quite believe the man in front of him—the attempted rapist who had attacked him on a stormy night—was this same person. Poor bastard. Feeling an odd kind of kinship, Siron admitted, half-reluctantly:

“I actually memorized your lines.”

“You memorized them?”

“‘Please survive. Until you’re an old man and the war is just a distant memory. And until then, don’t forget that I loved you.’ ...Something like that.”

Lewis’s face gradually lit up.

“...Yeah, that line got a good response. I’m happy you liked it enough to remember.”

For the first time, the tension and wariness faded from Siron’s face. A soft curiosity, even a hint of warmth, began to surface. The atmosphere between them was gradually growing more friendly.

Baekgyeong, watching this unfold, scowled.

“What the hell is this?”

Siron replied casually, glancing at him.

“What? We’re talking about dramas.”

Before hearing about the CEO’s daughter and her tuition, Baekgyeong hadn’t given a damn whether Siron’s old boss was drowning in debt or not. He’d thrown down a mountain of cash just to win Siron’s affection. And yet, Lewis was the one getting all the attention.

Unable to take it anymore, Baekgyeong slammed his fist on the table and shouted.

“Fuck! I’m the one who just spent millions—so why the hell are you two getting along?!”

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