L*st and Death

Joan Welch’s home could be found anywhere in Baggers City. He built his shelter from a few old planks and a thick blue tarp, shielding himself from the rain and wind, carving out a small, private world for himself. He didn’t mind the homeless life. People pitied him, but he simply lived with a bit more freedom than the rest. He was content with a life untethered to place.

But a bath after so long—that was nice.

Joan awkwardly touched his freshly shaved face. He had been drifting through the streets when he settled in an open lot near an upscale boutique building. Unfortunately, a concerned local had reported him, and he’d been handed over to the police. But it hadn’t been all bad.

Thanks to the Homeless Support Center’s assistance, he’d been able to wash up for the first time in ages and get his hair and beard neatly trimmed. A volunteer even gave him a basic health check and a short psychological consult. It was only a blood test and twenty minutes of formality, but just having someone listen to him—someone who actually heard what he had to say—made Joan profoundly happy.

And the good news didn’t end there. For the first time in three years, he reconnected with his younger sister, who’d vanished after moving to San Diego.

> “Joan, we got in touch with your sister. She’s been very worried about you. She’ll be waiting at the bus terminal in San Diego.”

When he heard this, something warm spread through his chest. He hadn’t expected to reunite with his sister so suddenly, but deep down, he must’ve been yearning for that connection. He hadn’t spoken to her directly, but even just the caseworker mediating between them was enough to lift a weight off his heart.

The emotions of the day they last parted were still vivid. They’d hurled cruel words at each other, swearing they’d never meet again. But time had dulled the wounds, and knowing her heart had softened gave Joan immense comfort.

He felt genuine gratitude toward the caseworker who had delicately helped mend the siblings’ fractured bond.

That same caseworker carefully handed him the bus ticket to San Diego. His face radiated warmth, and his smile carried unspoken encouragement and understanding. It was thanks to his efforts that Joan now had a chance to see his sister again.

Blood is thicker than water.

No relationship in the world could rival the bond of family—Joan believed that now more than ever.

Seated on the Greyhound bus to San Diego, he felt a long-lost flutter of excitement rise in his chest. Though their last meeting had left an unpleasant memory, he was filled with hope that this time would be different. Imagining their tearful reunion, Joan closed his eyes. Leaning back into his seat, he slipped into the perfect posture for sleep. His thoughts slowly drifted away. Soothed by the gentle hum of the bus, he sank into a deep, faraway slumber.

From somewhere in the distance, the sound of waves called to him. Joan opened his eyes, dazed and groggy. He was leaning his head against the window.

The ride from Baggers City to San Diego took seventy-two hours by bus. He had no sense of how much time had passed or how much farther he had to go. It was unlike him—he’d always kept track of time, even while living on the street—but now everything felt hazy, likely due to the fatigue of travel.

The wheels turned with a rhythm of their own, as if the bus were gliding on water, not pavement. But even as the vehicle swayed unnaturally, Joan couldn’t bring himself to imagine it was driving across the ocean.

A faint sense of unease tingled in his chest, but a thick, sticky drowsiness dulled his senses. The cabin was quiet. The other passengers all appeared to be asleep. Slowly blinking, Joan closed his eyes once more and let sleep pull him under again.

---

Baekgyeong’s condition hadn’t improved much since the tranquilizer. His eyes were unfocused, his skin pale, and his lips cracked from dehydration. For nearly twelve hours, he’d shown no reaction to any outside stimulus. Only moments ago had he barely regained consciousness.

“Eat. You need to eat and snap out of it.”

Anna placed a warm bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Baekgyeong glanced around the ten-seater table with glassy eyes, then looked down at the bowl. Like a programmed machine, he picked up the spoon and began to eat.

“He really was in rut, wasn’t he?”

Anna eyed the subdued Baekgyeong with disbelief as she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

“Yeah,” Lewis replied.

“The suppressant seems to be working... but doesn’t he seem a little stupid now?”

Anna waved her hand in front of Baekgyeong’s face and called his name.

“Hey. Baekgyeong. Focus.”

His dull eyes followed her hand briefly, then shifted to Siron, who was listlessly poking at his salad with no appetite. Surprisingly, Baekgyeong seemed to gradually recognize him. He frowned, trying to bring clarity to his face.

“...Where... where is this? When did I get here?”

“You were in heat,” Siron replied. Lewis added,

“I shot you with a tranquilizer. And gave you a rut suppressant too.”

“Stronger effect than I expected. How’d the Vile Group develop rut cycle suppressants in the first place?”

At Anna’s question, Baekgyeong answered evenly.

“Because I’m the chairman’s son.”

The blunt response left Anna momentarily speechless. Her brain froze before it slowly creaked into motion. That insolent, foul-mouthed East Asian alpha had that kind of background? It was almost too much to process. And the surprises didn’t stop there.

Siron began recounting the story of his abduction and what Isaac had told him about omegas in detail.

Anna chewed her chicken breast until it turned to mush in her mouth. It wasn’t her usual eating habit, but she was deep in thought, struggling to digest Siron’s unbelievable story.

To Anna, talk of alphas and omegas didn’t feel real—it was like listening to stories of aliens on some distant star. Books& Literature

“Omegas as a cure for alphas... sounds like human sacrifice.”

She sighed and asked with clear distaste,

“So what’s the treatment? What, grind up their fingernails and drink it?”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm and disbelief. The three men grimaced as if smelling something foul, and Lewis was the first to object.

“Ugh, gross. No, obviously not.”

But his voice lacked conviction. He had only recently learned about omegas from Baekgyeong, and his knowledge was still limited.

“Actually, Anna’s not that far off. That’s basically how they treat it. The proteins in an omega’s nails are good for an alpha’s health,”

Baekgyeong replied smoothly, but there was a mocking edge in his tone.

“I’m being serious here,”

Lewis snapped. Baekgyeong retorted even sharper,

“Well, I’m not. None of this is new to me.”

“It is to me. So tell me everything you know. How exactly does an omega heal an alpha?”

Siron and Baekgyeong’s eyes met briefly. In that moment, they both realized: the other knew that the alpha’s genetic disease could be cured through a permanent contract formed during imprinting. And they were both hiding it, each for their own reasons.

But their understanding of the mechanics slightly differed.

Siron, having been misled by Isaac Bazelli, believed that imprinting happened when an alpha left a mark on the nape of an omega’s neck during heat.

Baekgyeong, on the other hand, believed imprinting occurred when an alpha knotted inside an omega during heat, damaging the omega’s pheromone gland.

Neither intended to share this knowledge. Siron couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the words “omega’s heat,” and Baekgyeong simply wanted to monopolize and savor Siron’s heat for himself.

Lewis turned to Siron.

“I think it’s sex. That’s the method.”

“Disgusting.”

Siron grimaced, like he’d just heard something filthy.

“Omega and alpha pheromones sexually stimulate each other, right? There must be a reason for this blind lust and attraction.”

“You guys will never understand how revolting it is to hear your own brother talk about sex,”

Anna cut in with a scowl. But then, with visible reluctance, she added,

“Unfortunately, I think Lewis might be right.”

“Seriously? Why the hell would you say that?”

Baekgyeong’s voice was sharp, offended like someone whose territory had been invaded. But Anna answered coolly.

“Alphas and humans—so, alphas and betas—can’t reproduce, right? But alphas and omegas have almost no genetic difference, like male and female. The fact that alphas are helplessly drawn to omega pheromones... maybe it means they’re driven by reproductive instincts. Like insects flying miles toward pheromones to mate. That same genetic interaction might have evolved into a healing mechanism.”

She looked each of them in the eye—Lewis, Baekgyeong, Siron—and continued,

“Alphas spread their genes at a relatively low biological cost. Omegas reproduce at a much higher cost. So the more we talk about it, the more I’m convinced.”

She paused, then met Baekgyeong and Lewis’s gazes with a hard glare.

“I think the right move is to just castrate and kill every last alpha. Disgusting, vile, selfish trash.”

Lewis and Baekgyeong looked at her like they’d just been slapped. Baekgyeong, coming to his senses, gave a bitter laugh as if he couldn’t even dignify the nonsense.

“Yeah, alphas are trash, I’ll give you that. But you’re dead wrong.”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s the cure?”

“I told you. Grind up their nails and drink it.”

Baekgyeong shot back, dripping with sarcasm.

At some point, Siron stopped hearing their conversation. Anna’s long argument had left him reeling, and his vision had gone black from the shock.

Struggling to keep a neutral expression, he stood up.

“I’ve been holding it in since morning. I’ll just run to the bathroom real quick.”

With a stiff smile, he bolted toward the nearest restroom by the foyer.

Closing the door behind him, he took a shaky breath and turned on the faucet. Staring into the mirror at his tense face, he turned the water full-blast. The sound of cold water pounding into the sink filled the small space—and only then could he finally let the words rise up his throat.

“Reproduction? Hah... that’s insane.”

The idea of reproduction between alphas and omegas—he had never even imagined such a thing.

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