L*st and Death

“Don’t make such a fuss just because two actors are talking about work.”

Having finished off his own portion of toast, Siron pulled the chicken nuggets from Baekgyeong’s side over to his own and said,

“And speak in English, will you? I haven’t used Korean in four years, so there’s a lag when I try to process it.”

It was a declaration: he was shutting down the secret channel that only he and Baekgyeong could understand. Baekgyeong, outraged by the absurdity of it, raised his voice.

“Yoon Siron. I didn’t spend two thousand won—I spent twenty million dollars.”

“And?”

Siron sucked at his drink through a straw and continued.

“President Kim will be very grateful.”

The reply was hollow, utterly devoid of soul—not even an attempt to fake one—and Baekgyeong felt his condition deteriorate even further. His head churned like a mud pool being stirred up by squirming eels.

“Baek, dial down your pheromones.”

Lewis, passing Siron the salad, warned him. It was ridiculous—this bastard who’d been leaking pheromones like a broken faucet not long ago was now the one telling Baekgyeong to control himself.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Baekgyeong snapped viciously, picking up his phone. He was about to call Park Daniel and cancel the transfer when the phone buzzed with a new message.

\[Park Daniel]:

Transfer complete lol Taking a little fee for the errand haha 09:50PM

Baekgyeong could have thrown his phone, punched Lewis, or flipped the table. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, staring at Yoon Siron, who was deliberately not looking his way. He was vaguely impressed by how many options there were for controlling anger.

“...Why the hell didn’t I know this before?”

At his muttered words, Siron scratched the back of his neck and glanced at him.

“Know what?”

“How to control my temper.”

“Congrats. You finally learned at twenty-seven.”

Even Siron’s sarcasm didn’t spark the usual urge to retaliate. The old Baekgyeong would’ve hurled insults or fists if things didn’t go his way. But now he could pause. Reflect.

Though maybe getting mad would’ve been better for his condition. Baekgyeong’s state was plummeting fast. He hadn’t even caught a cold since becoming an alpha, but this was something else. It felt like pheromones were spiraling out of his body like water draining down a sink.

Lewis, sharply observing him, said,

“Are you in rut?”

Siron, who had been scratching the tender inside of his arm, lifted his head.

“Rut? Are you in heat or whatever... is that what this is?”

Though he claimed not to believe in alphas and omegas, Siron had lived through the disaster Lewis had caused during rut, and now his gaze was tense with dread.

“Rut my ass. I’ve still got plenty of time.”

But no sooner had Baekgyeong denied it than something strange began to happen in his body. It was like being on LSD—his vision distorted in waves, and the surrounding noise gradually faded. He could almost see the pheromones—Lewis’s, and his own—dark and sticky currents moving through the air.

“You okay?”

“...What?”

Baekgyeong blinked slowly and answered.

“Your eyes are glazed over.”

“Mine?”

Something was off. Surrounded by warped sensations, only the space around Yoon Siron glowed bright. The air around him sparkled like shards of colored glass riding the breeze. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. The hallucination vanished. His heart pounded.

“You... what’s wrong with you?”

Siron’s face, wary of Baekgyeong, had flushed red like he’d had a drink. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Somehow that droplet pulled all of Baekgyeong’s focus. His heartbeat accelerated. A dreadful premonition—something big was coming. All signs pointed to the start of rut.

Without hesitation, Baekgyeong got up and left the diner. He popped the trunk of the car. Rifles, bullets, and bags of cash were piled inside, but his hands moved with purpose. He grabbed the briefcase containing his rut suppressants, pulled out sterile saline, a vial of white powder, and a syringe.

He diluted the powder in the saline and drew the mixture into the syringe. He was about to jam the needle into his upper arm—no disinfection, no hesitation—when—

“Baekgyeong!”

He turned his head. Siron was storming toward him, face contorted in shock. Before he could stop him, Siron snatched the syringe out of his hand. Baekgyeong reached for it, but Siron pressed the plunger, ejecting the entire dose into the air.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Baekgyeong yelled. Siron glared at him with cold disdain.

“You doing drugs now?”

“Drugs? What the fuck are you talking about—”

“You gonna throw your life away again?”

“It’s not drugs! It’s a suppressant—I didn’t want to hurt you—!”

“Like hell it isn’t! You’re not right. Is it heroin? Cocaine? What the fuck did you take?!”

Baekgyeong clutched his chest. He couldn’t tell if the pounding in his heart was panic or arousal. The rhythm overtook his thoughts, making every nerve hypersensitive.

“...Fuck.”

Baekgyeong blinked slowly. He couldn’t suppress it anymore.

He turned his gaze toward the diner window. Lewis was anxiously watching them while paying the bill. Baekgyeong’s hand fiddled with the car key in his pocket. Then, without even making a conscious decision, his body moved.

He grabbed Siron’s arm and yanked hard.

“Ah! That hurts!”

Baekgyeong shoved him into the back seat, jumped into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. As Lewis came rushing out of the diner, Baekgyeong slammed the gas, launching the car onto the road like a bullet.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I planned on being alone with you from the start.”

“Stop the car! Slow down, damn it!”

But Baekgyeong didn’t respond. Like a man possessed, he kept accelerating.

The numbers on the HUD climbed past 130 km/h. Then 140.

Siron was too afraid to speak again, worried any noise would break Baekgyeong’s focus. His entire body tingled like it was being zapped by fine electric currents. Whether it was the speed or something else entirely, the sensation grew so intense it was almost unbearable.

Just as Siron reached to lower the window, the car swerved in a dangerous arc. Baekgyeong cut across a dark, secluded field, smashing through barbed wire and wooden fencing as they tore across the grass. After a long sprint, the vehicle gradually slowed and finally came to a stop in the middle of the field.

Siron, gripping his seatbelt like a lifeline, glared daggers at Baekgyeong’s headrest. He had to be high. Nothing else explained this level of insanity.

Strangle Baekgyeong. Knock him out. Kick him out of the car. Drive away.

But the plan died before it began. He had no rope, no belt. Then—the rear door flung open. Through the darkness, Baekgyeong’s silhouette appeared, stepping inside. Siron’s heartbeat skyrocketed. Fear wrapped around him like a noose.

“Siron... haah, please.”

“W-What?!”

“I told myself I wouldn’t touch you... until you were ready... fuck, I really did.”

“I’m not ready! Hold it in! Just hold it in, please!”

Baekgyeong climbed into the back seat and pinned Siron beneath him. He groaned like he was begging for his life, burying his face into Siron’s scent. He bit, licked, breathed against his neck, his ears, his face—heat and hunger radiating off him in waves.

“Siron... please stop me...”

“Huh? Wh-What...?”

“Make me stop... don’t let me... fuck, don’t let me touch you...”

“Fucking get off me! I said fuck off!”

Even as he begged not to be allowed, Baekgyeong acted in direct opposition. His lips clung to Siron’s skin like glue, searing hot. Siron thrashed, trying to push him off, but Baekgyeong gripped both his wrists and pinned them down against the window.

Then Siron smelled something strange. The musky oil of sweat-damp hair, the humid earth of mossy soil—it was somewhere between. The scent hit him, and his heart bucked in a surge of excitement. The pulsing in his ears was like war drums—loud enough to give him a headache.

“Ron... Siron... ah, hnng...”

Baekgyeong whispered [N O V E L I G H T] his name against his ear, lips pressed close like a seal. That voice, so sticky and intimate, made Siron’s lower abdomen throb, his guts twist. It felt like whatever drug was in Baekgyeong’s veins was now flowing in his own.

Then Baekgyeong dipped down and kissed him. Hard. His tongue shoved deep, crushing Siron’s with blunt force. Lightning-hot pleasure zipped down Siron’s spine like a jolt. Time stopped. Baekgyeong’s desperate kiss pushed all of Siron’s senses past their limit.

Enchanted, Siron ran his fingers through Baekgyeong’s hair and pulled him closer. He wrapped his legs around his waist, digging his heels into the back of his thighs. Baekgyeong’s crotch pressed tight between his spread thighs. Through pants and underwear, that massive cock brushed dully against his hole. Siron jerked, hips twitching, a moan slipping out.

“Hhk—!”

Then came the sound—like an arrow slicing through wind and hitting its mark. Baekgyeong’s body stiffened. Between their lips, a strained groan slipped out.

“Khrrr... shii...fuck.”

Siron, confused by the sudden cursing, tightened his hold on him. But when he tried to suck more of that sweet tongue, there was no reaction. The pressure in Baekgyeong’s tongue had gone limp.

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