· SEOUL ·

After finishing a light meal of roast beef sandwiches with whole-grain mustard sauce and sweet pumpkin, Liu stood up from the table, offering to brew drip coffee himself as a token of thanks for being treated to dinner.

"This is worse than I thought. Someone so meticulous about organizing materials."

He muttered to himself as he opened the cabinet above the sink to look for the dripper and filter, scanning the interior that looked as if it had been bombed.

A considerable amount of time had passed since Ihyeon left and could no longer help with household chores, and in the nearly two years since, Manager Han had yet to find a housekeeper that met her standards. With Phantom currently under construction, she was handling the household herself for the time being, but she knew she would need to hire someone new soon.

"As long as it's out of sight, I just shove things in wherever there's space. I've even been thinking about moving somewhere bigger."

He knew her tendencies well: she had no natural talent for organizing, yet grew anxious if her surroundings weren't neat. Fortunately, he had maintained a long-standing relationship with a reliable person introduced through a Phantom client, but he also knew that finding someone to trust with the management of a home wasn't simply a matter of money.

Being kind-natured didn't guarantee longevity either. In the end, finding someone to manage the household resembled dating—it came down to how well that person meshed with her.

After scanning the upper cabinets, Liu was working his way through the lower ones when he straightened and turned to Manager Han as she mentioned moving somewhere bigger as a final solution.

"I heard there are professional services that come to your home to organize and store things for you."

"Where on earth do you hear things like that?"

Manager Han tilted her head back, laughing, and finished the last bite of her sandwich.

Whether she realized it or not, Liu was also a resident of Korea who had grown accustomed to being constantly exposed to both high-quality and trivial information flooding his smartphone the moment he unlocked it. He used to use his phone as though it were a relic from the PDA era, but lately, he found himself picking it up far more often.

He recalled Ihyeon's studio, barely nine square meters, where books and art supplies were neatly stacked along the walls despite the limited storage space, and even the socks and underwear in the drawers were meticulously organized. He rubbed the ring on his left ring finger with his thumb and bent down again.

He found the dripper abandoned inside a large salad bowl alongside a trivet, a small steamer, and Christmas tree ornaments. He rescued the dripper and, holding it alongside one of the ornaments, shook it by the tip.

"Why is this in the kitchen cabinet?"

"Ah... just put it back where it was."

Following Manager Han's exasperated request as she slumped onto the dining table, Liu placed the cane-shaped decoration back in its "proper" spot. About ten minutes after standing up from the table, he began brewing the coffee.

As he poured water slowly in circular motions over the grounds in the filter, the aroma spread into every corner of the room. Unlike in the past, when he had felt uneasy with almost all scents due to his resistance to pheromones, he had recently begun to enjoy them little by little.

That change had started with Ihyeon's pheromones and his body scent, but if Ihyeon hadn't accepted him, he wouldn't have had the leisure to find comfort in something as simple as the smell of coffee. No—it wasn't just about the smell of coffee.

He would likely have denied his identity as an Alpha and a Ghost even more strongly than before. Almost to the point of hatred. He might have even tried to damage his sense of smell by ignoring warnings and taking excessive suppressants, just to escape the influence of pheromones. Without Ihyeon's forgiveness, neither his current self nor the hope he now held for the future would exist.

He had never imagined a life in which someone could accept his mistakes and his very existence, making it possible for him to accept himself. He had once considered it an act of dependency—handing the judgment of one's own worth over to someone else.

But now, Liu could no longer condemn lovers who strove to have their affection confirmed by the other. If anything, he empathized with their feelings more than anyone else.

He returned to the dining table with two cups of coffee and handed one to Manager Han, who was seated across from him.

Come to think of it, this very spot—right here at this dining table—was where he had first deliberately opened his pheromones to Ihyeon. Back then, Manager Han had been sitting where Liu was now, and Ihyeon had been sitting where Liu was now.

Recalling Ihyeon from that time, shortly after they first met, made the corners of his mouth tingle. Liu brought the mug to his lips, trying to hide the unstoppable smile spreading across his face.

He hadn't been generous about accepting new people into his routine and life. Perhaps because manipulative people, or those who presented a different face from their true selves, frequently appeared around him and his parents, it had taken him a long time to trust anyone. He used to think it was more efficient—both emotionally and in terms of time—to set standards from the beginning and only accept people who met them, rather than beginning with unconditional trust and then going through the exhausting process of filtering out those who caused repeated disappointments.

He had tried to approach Ihyeon with that hardened inertia, but it didn't take long before he had to admit that Ihyeon was harmless.

Though cautious with every stimulus around him, Ihyeon never hid his curiosity, which set him apart from people with passive personalities. He wasn't bold or sociable, but he wasn't closed off either. His quiet lips, which never seemed to complain, made Liu search with his eyes, wondering if Ihyeon was silently pushing himself too hard somewhere again.

It wasn't difficult to make a good impression early on. Most people could skillfully hide their flaws up to a certain point. Liu had tried to restrain himself from accepting Ihyeon so quickly, which was rare for him, but it yielded little result.

He had been almost starting to feel anxious that some romantic incident might intrude between Choi Inwu and Ihyeon. At the time, he certainly had no intention of admitting that, nor did he try to find out why.

Recalling how he had casually warned Ihyeon, sitting right there in that very spot, about Choi Inwu's flippancy and recklessness in romance—pretending it was offhand advice offered because he felt uneasy just watching—a hollow laugh escaped him, deflating him with disgust. He had been fortunate that Ihyeon at the time was too inexperienced in romantic matters to recognize it as the ugly defensiveness of a jealous man.

"Here."

"......"

Manager Han interrupted his recollection by handing him a file across the dining table.

"It's the report Kwon Juhan submitted."

"Why has he been writing so many unsolicited reports lately?"

Liu took the file, opened it, and smirked.

"It's the audience age distribution for the top ten major art museums and galleries in Korea for the first half of last year. Flip past that and there are graphs tracking age group changes over the past five years."

The report also included figures Juhan had gathered personally by leveraging his connections at several galleries surrounding Phantom, for which no official data had been released. The graphs, organized so that changes were immediately apparent, all indicated that people in their twenties were emerging as the primary exhibition visitors. While patrons over forty who held purchasing power were still the main art enthusiasts buying works, for mid-sized galleries of Phantom's scale, revenue generated from exhibitions—not just artwork sales—could not be ignored.

This was something Liu and Manager Han had experienced firsthand, having spent the morning touring seven or eight small galleries in search of new artists.

Simply holding an exhibition at a particular gallery did not confirm an artist's affiliation. Especially recently, there was a growing trend—primarily among younger artists—to prioritize independent work rather than signing exclusively with a gallery. Gaining recognition within the established art world and raising their value by traditional means was not their priority.

Experimental art collectives were not only pursuing diverse collaborations that transcended genres, but were also expanding their territory by producing small batches of items like posters, postcards, notebooks, bags, phone cases, and clothing featuring artists' work. For the younger generation consuming these goods, art was no longer something to be collected and displayed for appreciation—it was more like an accessory that revealed taste and individuality; selecting and attending exhibitions that aligned with one's interests was an extension of spending time authentically. This was not a phenomenon unique to Korea, but an inevitable global trend.

Just as with classical music, it was something to be welcomed: art shedding its image as a "niche, sophisticated hobby" and permeating the lives of the masses through diverse forms. However, at this juncture, each gallery needed to pause and examine its own identity.

When it first opened, Phantom was treated as an unconventional outlier with radical management principles, but the current Phantom existed on the boundary between the established industry that adhered to traditional gallery models and experimental projects.

Neither this nor that—an ambiguous identity that couldn't fully belong to either side. Thinking that Phantom had perfectly mirrored his own life, Liu swallowed his coffee with a bitter smile.

Juhan's ambition to steer Phantom in a more flexible direction was clearly evident in the report. Within the document, he stated plainly where he wanted to go.

"If I'd known Kwon Juhan would finally pull himself together like this, I would have sent Yuni abroad sooner."

"Unlike Yuni, he doesn't really believe in himself. When a situation he has to handle arises, he usually pulls it off—but before that point, he doesn't really want to step forward. I only realized this time that he performs better when given responsibility."

Manager Han smiled contentedly and took a sip of coffee, then her expression shifted. She lowered her gaze and added quietly,

"In a way, Juhan is the one most devotedly obsessed with Phantom. That's why I sometimes feel sorry for him, and even guilty..."

Liu agreed. Manager Han, who had been tracing the surface of her mug, lost in thought, suddenly looked up and met his gaze.

"What do you want to do about the gallery's social media?"

It was a question about Juhan's proposal to open and operate Phantom's official social media account after the reopening.

"He wants to do it. Let him go ahead."

After answering, Liu noticed her gaze lingering on him and raised his head.

"Why?"

"Because I think you've changed a lot."

"Kwon Juhan has been working hard lately. Not just working hard—doing it well. We're letting him handle it because we trust he's capable."

"No, that's not what I meant."

Manager Han pushed the empty plate forward, rested her elbows on the table, and examined his face.

"You're acting like someone who has no lingering attachment to Phantom."

"Me?"

"It's not that you've lost affection or anything, but you're stepping back—like your mind is somewhere else..."

As if struggling to find the right expression, she furrowed her brow and scratched her cheek with her index finger, then suddenly let her shoulders drop and let out a small laugh.

"Is this because Ihyeon isn't here?"

Liu brought the mug to his lips and smiled at the question, delivered with a teasing lilt. But he didn't deny it either.

It wasn't entirely wrong, but it wasn't the whole story either. Perhaps Liu had subconsciously begun creating emotional distance from Phantom ever since he approved Juhan's plan to open a café within the gallery—even before he had known that Ihyeon agreed to take him back.

"You two have things sorted out now."

"......"

"Right?"

Manager Han asked again, cautiously seeking confirmation, her gaze fixed on the ring on Liu's left hand. Liu nodded silently.

After returning from Paris late last year, there had been quite a stir among their acquaintances about the ring on his left ring finger. In Korea, it wasn't uncommon for even couples who hadn't formally promised marriage to exchange matching rings, so there had been plenty of speculation about whether Liu's ring was a simple couple's ring or something with a deeper meaning—but Liu had remained officially silent on the matter.

The ring carried a meaning complicated to explain, and the process by which it had come to hold that complex meaning was no simple matter either.

"I don't know about Director Liu, but I really want to work with Ihyeon after he leaves 'The Hands.' I don't want him to return out of a sense of obligation to repay a debt—I want to assure him that Phantom is the team that will best understand and take care of his art."

Liu pressed his lips together and slowly nodded. It wasn't so much agreement with the opinion itself, but a nod indicating that he fully understood Manager Han's feelings.

"So treat Ihyeon well. I don't want to lose him because of Director Liu's personal mistake."

Hearing those words, Liu relaxed and smiled. A joke delivered without knowing the full context, yet it was enough to make his legs tingle.

Feeling that quite some time had passed, Liu checked his watch, picked up his cup—still about half full—and his plate, and rose from his seat. Manager Han's gaze followed him.

"Stay a little longer. Inwu is supposed to come here too."

"......"

Liu paused briefly at the mention of Inwu's name, then turned toward the sink. A clear sign of refusal.

"It's a private meeting, but we'll probably talk about Inwu's solo exhibition too. Why don't you stay?"

"I have plans."

"At this hour?"

Manager Han looked doubtful but didn't push further. As Liu picked up the jacket draped over the adjacent seat and slipped his arms into it, heading toward the entryway, the doorbell rang.

Manager Han glanced at Liu, whose steps had slowed, then walked ahead and opened the front door. As expected, the visitor was Inwu.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah."

Standing awkwardly in the entryway, the two exchanged perfunctory greetings, barely acknowledging each other's presence. Manager Han, watching them with her arms crossed while leaning against the wall, clicked her tongue.

"What is this? Are you two still awkward around each other?"

"Awkward? Not at all."

Liu denied it with a laugh that suggested the idea was absurd, as if there were no lingering resentment between them—but by any measure, the atmosphere between the two was far from smooth.

More than a year had passed since Inwu had told him about kissing Ihyeon. Before he could even begin to feel jealous or confront Inwu about it, he'd had to focus entirely on Ihyeon, who had just learned about the Changing. After Ihyeon left for Paris, the emptiness and pain that followed had made jealousy over a kiss feel insignificant for a long time. Above all, considering what he himself had done, criticizing Inwu over a kiss felt utterly undeserved.

Sometimes they still went to a bar for drinks, just as they had before. Perhaps out of guilt, Inwu would occasionally bring good liquor or snacks to Liu's place. Yet there were still moments when seeing Inwu's face brought the kiss back to mind. The fierce rage that surged each time never seemed to fade, no matter how much time passed. Just as the fact that the man before him had kissed Ihyeon couldn't simply vanish, no matter how many months elapsed.

"I brought this on myself."

Even Liu's attitude of admitting his fault and backing down in front of Manager Han didn't sit well with him. Suppressing the urge to sneer—What, are you grandstanding about paying your penance?—Liu took a step toward the door.

Manager Han shook her head with a sigh, as if watching two stubborn people arguing over nothing and refusing to give ground, then gave Liu a brief farewell and turned back toward the dining room.

"I heard you're leaving for Paris in a few days?"

Liu, who had been reaching for the doorknob, turned around.

"I didn't hear that from Ihyeon."

Inwu pointed in the direction Manager Han had gone and added, as if making an excuse,

"We don't contact each other privately or anything."

"......"

Hearing that definitive statement, Liu felt something in his chest ease slightly and cleared his throat.

"You should go for it. He'd be glad to see you. He's more broad-minded than I am."

"Ihyeon is practically a married man now..."

Inwu's gaze slanted toward Liu's left hand. This time, Liu curled his fingers lightly, touching the ring as if to protect it. As he was considering how much he could explain—that Ihyeon bore no responsibility for this ring—while still standing at the entryway, Inwu hesitated before continuing.

"If a male Alpha... who has a history of ambush-kissing my former partner keeps bothering me, I'd feel pretty bad too. Just pass along my regards."

The eased feeling twisted more hideously than before, like a plastic bottle crushed firmly underfoot. Liu, who had been looking down at Inwu's shoes, swept his hair back and raised his head.

"Were you planning on calling Ihyeon and bothering him?"

"......"

Inwu's expression made it clear he realized his mistake too late. Liu knew that wasn't what he had meant to say. He couldn't help it—when it came to Ihyeon, he became pettier and more confrontational than usual.

"If that's the case, just stop contacting him altogether. I'll pass along your regards."

Once Liu stepped out the front door, he quickened his pace, making up for the time lost because of Choi Inwu.

· · · · ·

Liu had already been in the dressing room for thirty minutes. After piling clothes on the bench sofa and agonizing over the choice, he had finally settled on a white shirt and dark gray sweater. Having stripped his upper body to change, he paused with his hand on the shirt and hesitated. He wasn't feeling it.

He went back to the innermost closet, where shirts were neatly arranged by color and material, and selected a new one—a black shirt in a soft, supple fabric that draped well against the body, with a wide collar that offered a subtle touch of style.

Comfortable and warm was good, but he also wanted to look sexy. That wasn't something he could easily give up.

He laid both tops side-by-side on the sofa, crossed his arms, and gnawed on his lower lip. After a moment of thought, he checked his wristwatch—it was time to make a decision.

He quickly pulled the shirt over his bare torso. Liu hurried out of the dressing room through the hallway door rather than the bedroom, buttoning it up as he rushed down the stairs.

But as soon as he stepped into the living room, he had to stop—struck by the sight of blue and white.

Even though the painting had been hanging there for a month, every time he faced it, his breath caught as if he had been submerged in the sea. But the next moment, he realized he could breathe even underwater. It was a sea that accepted him, allowing him to move and float freely as he wished—just as he had imagined as a child, pretending to be a dolphin.

The tiny surfer in the painting was not Ihyeon, but Liu himself. The sea expanding infinitely beyond the canvas, enveloping the surfer, was Ihyeon. At least, that was how Liu perceived it.

Smiling, he crossed the living room, passed through the dining area, and entered the kitchen, having managed to fasten all but the top two buttons. He took a bottle of wine from the private refrigerator, which looked sparse with only a few bottles left. After a quick glance at the label, he grabbed the opener and a glass and set them next to the laptop already placed on the dining table.

He checked his appearance one more time in the large bronze-framed mirror leaning against the wall as a decorative piece. He tucked the shirt hem into his pants and rolled the sleeves up to just below the elbows. Feeling he looked a bit too neat, he ran his fingers through his hair to muss it slightly. He even undid the third button, then muttered to himself that the intent was too obvious, and fastened it back.

It was strange, but he always felt nervous when this time approached. Breathing felt strained, requiring a deliberate deep breath. Anyone who knew him would surely tease him, saying this look didn't suit him at all.

Sitting down at the laptop, Liu opened the sweet but potent red dessert wine, poured it halfway into a glass, and took a few sips to quench his thirst.

After clasping his hands together as if in prayer, covering his nose and mouth, and exhaling a long breath, he finally connected the call.

"..."

When the face he had been waiting for appeared on the black, still screen, his trembling stopped and his shoulders visibly relaxed. A smile bloomed before he could stop it. Liu covered the corner of his mouth with a loosely clenched fist and cleared his throat with a couple of dry coughs.

"Have you been well?"

The face on the screen, moving unnaturally as the connection lagged, smiled and replied.

[We just talked a few hours ago.]

"But I couldn't see your face then."

Unaware that the person on the other end was watching him through the camera at the top of the monitor, Liu kept leaning further forward, driven by the desire to see that face up close.

"Have you lost a little weight?"

[No, I haven't...]

"Show me a little closer."

Though they had a regular video call date every Friday night into Saturday midnight Seoul time—which was 5 p.m. in Paris—that didn't mean they never video called during the week. But due to their schedules and the time difference, long calls were usually difficult. Even sharing voice messages and photos throughout the day, the craving was rarely satisfied.

"Are you in 601 right now?"

[Yes. I came here so I wouldn't be disturbed and could focus.]

Remembering last week's date, which had to be cut short when Jun appeared from next door while they were deep in an intimate, heated conversation, the words made Liu smile silently as he reached beside the laptop for his wine glass.

The studio Liu had prepared, located less than five minutes from The Hands, was called 601 by both of them. It had started as a way to distinguish it from Ihyeon's own studio, but now it had become a fixed nickname. While it was literally Room 601, Liu also liked it because it felt like a secret code shared between lovers in a film—the ones who always rented the same room at a shabby hotel on the outskirts of the city for their clandestine meetings.

Ihyeon mostly lived in his own studio, but spent one or two days a week resting or sketching at 601.

"Aren't you cold?"

[I drew the curtains and turned on the radiator.]

"There are sweaters and sweatshirts in the wardrobe, so put one on if you feel chilly."

[Yes, I know.]

Liu couldn't take his eyes off Ihyeon's smile on the screen and pulled his chair a little closer.

"Tell me about the work with Ben. What's going on with that?"

[Well, I already told you everything over the phone....]

Ihyeon leaned back slightly, wrapping both hands around his mug.

Having just finished two new pieces to be displayed at The Hands in about ten days, Ihyeon had been collaborating with Ben for several days. The collaboration was Ben's idea, inspired by Ihyeon's new series, Journey of Clouds. It involved Ben's original photographs, overlaid with graphic design work, combined with Ihyeon's paintings on a single canvas. It wasn't something they had planned together from the start in terms of theme or composition; rather, it was an experimental, free-form process passed back and forth like a relay race.

The harmony and conflict that naturally and unexpectedly arose as people influenced each other—and the new energy and direction resulting from that—that itself was practically the theme.

Liu cleared his throat with a dry cough and deliberately shifted into a more relaxed posture before speaking.

"You must have been exhausted finishing those new pieces. Are you sure you're okay...?"

[You know I work regularly. My daily output is consistent regardless of the exhibition schedule, so I'm not overexerting myself. It's also fun because this is my first time doing a collaborative project...]

Hmm. Liu's hand instinctively moved toward his wine glass. The ring on his left hand scraped against the glass with a faint friction sound. Out of habit, he rubbed it with his thumb before gripping the glass again.

It was a relief that Ben, who had been suffering through a long slump and even considering leaving The Hands, had regained his creative drive—but it was also true that Liu had felt uneasy ever since Ihyeon mentioned this collaboration last Tuesday.

[You said to talk to you about it first.]

Though he had tried to be careful, perhaps his silence had lasted too long. Seeing Ihyeon's crestfallen expression and hearing his voice through the screen, Liu put down his glass and quickly forced a brighter expression.

"I didn't say anything, though?"

[...]

But Ihyeon didn't seem fooled. Liu ran a hand over his face and managed an awkward smile.

"Was it that obvious?"

[That's why I didn't want to bring it up.]

"No, I'm joking. I've been in the art world for years—you don't think I can't understand a collaborative project between people in a relationship?"

Still not entirely convinced, Ihyeon tilted his head and glanced sideways at the screen.

"It's certainly welcome that your creative output is so strong, but I worry about you wearing yourself out. That's all. Since I... can't be there to look after you...."

It wasn't entirely a lie. If he had been right there beside him, he wouldn't have worried this much.

[I'm young and healthy.]

"Right, Seo Ihyeon—your self-management is something I should be learning from... I do trust you. I can't help worrying unnecessarily. I'll cheer you on, Seo Ihyeon. I won't be jealous. Don't be upset, okay?"

When he spoke in that teasing, playful tone, Ihyeon finally let out a soft laugh.

[It's not that I dislike jealousy...]

"Yeah, I know."

Liu smiled at the interrupted, awkward grin that flickered across Ihyeon's face on the screen.

"I miss you."

The words slipped out before he realized it—closer to self-muttering than a confession to Ihyeon.

Sometimes the simple fact that Ihyeon wasn't beside him felt oddly unsettling, beyond mere emptiness. Even when accompanying Juhan and the younger staff for study sessions, or touring exhibitions with Manager Han, or socializing at tea parties and client dinners... he would suddenly feel anxious, as if he were wasting time and missing the most important thing.

[We'll see each other soon...]

Ihyeon rubbed his arm and lightly bit his lower lip. That characteristic expression of shyness only made Liu want to see him more.

"Yeah, I know that too... but I still miss you."

He didn't ask the nagging question—Don't you miss me?—because he knew that the desire to see him was certainly there within Ihyeon as well.

"Today, Manager Han and I briefly discussed you."

[About what?]

"She was wondering what plans artist Seo Ihyeon had for after leaving The Hands. Because right now, you're an artist any gallery would want to work with. Manager Han certainly feels that way too."

Ihyeon just smiled shyly, but neither Liu nor Manager Han thought he was obligated to return to Phantom after The Hands. Just as he had said when proposing, if Ihyeon wanted to gain more experience both personally and as an artist, Liu himself would not make any gesture that might shake his resolve. Since they couldn't keep living like this, keeping their distance forever, Liu was also prepared to reorganize his surroundings and start a new life depending on Ihyeon's next steps.

"She isn't asking outright, but... I can tell she's curious about what I did wrong to warrant such a gap. And about the ring, too."

Looking at Ihyeon's composed face as it nodded cautiously, Liu took another sip of wine to suppress the discomfort stirring in his chest.

"I can't keep hiding this forever, and I don't think I should—but since it's not just my mistake being revealed, it's not an easy decision to make."

[...]

"I know this is an uncomfortable topic, but... I didn't bring it up to weigh down your heart."

[I know.]

"Hiding things from you and making decisions alone. Even if the issue seems trivial now, or even if it might cause you trouble in the short term—I've decided that from now on, I will never keep any secrets from you."

To lighten the mood of a date he had been looking forward to all week, Liu deliberately added a joke with a straight face.

"Even down to how many times I masturbate thinking about you."

[You can keep that number to yourself.]

Fortunately, Ihyeon laughed.

"Will you let it go?"

[I will.]

If it were his former self, he wouldn't have even agonized over whether to tell others what had happened between them. He would have justified it by saying it was a debt he owed Ihyeon, and others had no business with it.

I have no intention of grabbing everyone I meet and telling them like some kind of confession. But there are definitely people who have the right to know my cowardly side. And to confess that, I'd also have to reveal the heavy secret of being a Ghost. Without admitting both, there's no way to explain even half the meaning of this ring.

[Let's save that conversation for when you get here. I'll think about it more too.]

Since revealing the Changing would inevitably involve disclosing Ihyeon's Omega transformation and its cause, his wishes had to take precedence over everything else. This wasn't something that could be resolved simply by faithfully playing the role of a repentant sinner—exposing his true self to those around him and accepting whatever judgment they passed.

[Um... but.]

Liu listened as Ihyeon made a rare attempt to change the subject and brought the wine glass to his lips.

[I am curious about the frequency of your masturbation, though.]

The wine Liu had just swallowed sent him urgently pushing the glass away. Thanks to his quick reflexes—pulling the chair back in time—he managed to avoid staining his jeans, though a few drops hit the floor.

Lately, Ihyeon had a habit of surprising Liu with unexpectedly bold statements. Ihyeon becoming this daring even outside the reach of pheromones felt new, but thinking about it, it had been nearly two years since they first met. Ihyeon had grown in that time, and couldn't be expected to forever be the type who blushed at his partner's lead. His original personality was reserved, but it wasn't dishonest or coy.

[I'd rather you not keep it a secret.]

When Liu returned to his seat after wiping up the spilled wine with a tissue, it was hard to find any standard expression of seduction on Ihyeon's face as he pressed the point once more—yet Liu could sense his shyness and his effort to be bold.

Perhaps Ihyeon was deliberately mustering courage because he didn't want to fill this moment with heavy topics. In moments like this, he was so endearing it left Liu completely speechless.

"Ah... if we go down that road, this call is going to run very long tonight."

Ihyeon's smile deepened slightly at Liu's exaggeration.

"I'll just say this much: lately, just looking at my left hand while masturbating makes me feel like I'm about to come."

Liu held Ihyeon's gaze on the screen and bit his lower lip. His rapidly beating pulse urged him to run.

Liu drank his wine, and Ihyeon drank from his mug—coffee, Liu guessed—and they simply stared at each other for a moment. Conscious of the tension and desire pooling between them across the distance, Liu refilled his now-empty glass.

His blood turned sweet as he tried to create an atmosphere for intimacy, as if Ihyeon were right there beside him, close enough to touch. He wanted to approach him, to stroke his cheek, to convey how much he wanted to kiss him.

He wasn't naive enough to misread what this moment of silence—right after managing to connect—truly meant.

Liu stared intently at Ihyeon, who was quietly but clearly conveying that he felt the same, and lightly bit his lip while stroking the ring.

"I want to smell your pheromones."

[Me too....]

Liu watched Ihyeon—who spoke honestly despite hesitating—with heat in his gaze, and leaned his elbow on the armrest, letting his posture relax further.

He calmly described exactly how he would kiss Ihyeon, how he would take him to bed, how he would undress him, and what kind of caresses he would give him if Ihyeon were here right now. He spoke in a low, even voice, fingertips brushing his own lips, as if discussing recent news.

Ihyeon listened, occasionally looking down, biting his lip, or nervously gripping and releasing his mug, his expression momentarily perplexed. It was clear that strong pheromones were emanating from him.

A Golden wasn't just superior in pheromone defense—they could also emit powerful pheromones capable of breaking down another's defenses. But Liu was certain that even the pheromones exchanged between the most exceptional Golden Alpha and Golden Omega would not match the attraction between Ihyeon and himself.

Whether that was the pull between Ghost and Didi, or grounded in love, or some combination of both, Liu could clearly feel his own pheromones breaking through his control and emitting irregularly even now, with Ihyeon far away. Ihyeon would be no different.

For two young bodies desperately craving each other, a distance of nearly 9,000 kilometers was nothing short of cruel. Even just exchanging a few suggestive words with Ihyeon—or simply recalling the scent of his pheromones—was enough to make his Alpha stir inside his jeans.

"Shall we go to the room?"

[...]

Feeling a sticky warmth gather in his own husky voice, Liu licked his lips.

"Should we lie down on the bed and call again on our phones?"

[......]

On the screen, Ihyeon slowly nodded while painfully twisting his lower lip with his finger.

Liu stood, leaving the laptop and wine where they were, and moved to the bedroom. Knowing from experience that the call would drag on, he moved everything he needed—bottled water, cigarettes, a portable charger—to the nightstand beside the bed. He dimmed the indirect lighting and took off his jeans, tossing them over the sofa. He put the same care into setting the mood as he would when preparing for an actual night with Ihyeon.

He let out a hollow laugh at himself for getting ready for what was essentially a video call session with a lover far away—but without this, he knew he would have been checking in for flights to Paris every weekend. Even if Ihyeon scolded him, even if an angry Ihyeon treated him coldly, he felt he wouldn't have been able to stand it otherwise. He couldn't imagine how people managed long-distance relationships back when video calls didn't even exist.

Stretching out his legs, he leaned back against the headboard, turned on the camera, and checked his appearance. At the same time, he initiated the call, imagining Ihyeon burrowing into his bed in Room 601, eagerly anticipating the secret date about to unfold.

After a brief wait, the screen showing his own face shrank and moved to the upper right corner, replaced by Ihyeon's face. In the meantime, Ihyeon had also moved from the table to the bed.

Liu rubbed his lips and chuckled—the background on both screens showed only a soft bedside lamp, as if they had arrived at the same decision without saying a word.

"Ah... our intentions are a little too obvious."

He couldn't take his eyes off Ihyeon, who was smiling silently with his lips pressed together. Just looking at that smile made his pheromones surge. With his knees bent, Liu rested his phone-holding arm over his loosely spread thighs.

"Hmm? What is it... did you change clothes?"

Ihyeon was wearing a striped long-sleeved T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up a couple of times, but a white shirt collar had momentarily flashed near his neck.

[I borrowed yours... for a moment.]

"Move the camera back a bit. Let me see properly."

Even while asking what it mattered, Ihyeon still couldn't quite look directly into the camera lens. Only after being badgered a few more times did he reluctantly reach out an arm to show his upper body.

Liu couldn't hide his smile, rubbing his whole lower face with his large hand. What Ihyeon was wearing was clearly his shirt—one of the spare clothes kept in Room 601's wardrobe.

[When I wear this... it feels a little like we're together...]

Ihyeon said it as if making an excuse, but there were sweaters and T-shirts in the wardrobe that would have been far more comfortable to wear in bed. If he wanted to feel like he was with Liu by wearing his clothes, there was no need for it to be an uncomfortable dress shirt. The impulse arose to ask a teasing question and see Ihyeon flustered, but Liu swallowed it down with a dry gulp.

Just like how Liu had spent over thirty minutes picking out clothes before their video call date, the fact that Ihyeon was conscious of how he appeared in Liu's eyes made him appear even more endearing.

Wearing the shirt with the top buttons undone, Ihyeon tugged at the loose collar and buried his nose and mouth in the fabric.

"It probably just smells like detergent and fabric softener."

Though he spoke as if he felt no arousal in the current situation, off-screen Liu slid his hand between his own legs. He gripped and squeezed his rapidly hardening erection a couple of times, as if to restrain it, while keeping his eyes on Ihyeon's image.

[It's just... everything about you smells good.]

Liu couldn't really empathize with the psychology of being enthralled by the sight of his lover wearing his loose-fitting shirt. He didn't understand how anyone could be turned on by such a classic, obvious form of seduction. But there was a reason classics remained classics.

He didn't feel a protective instinct toward Ihyeon wearing his oversized shirt—it was closer to the sense of intimacy and belonging that came from sharing something he owned with another person.

Seeing him relaxing in a space I use, wearing my clothes without hesitation—that's where the deep closeness came from. And there was a different kind of sexiness in that closeness than the tension or thrill of maintaining distance. I wanted him to belong to me a little more, to become mine more clearly. It felt like that had already been the case for a long time, even before I became conscious of it.

"Just looking at you wearing that shirt, Seo Ihyeon—I think I could come two or three times."

Ihyeon, perhaps taking it as an exaggerated joke, smiled with his eyes crinkling. Looking at Ihyeon smiling with a large white pillow behind him, wearing that white shirt, a sudden, playful yet intimate curiosity arose in Liu.

[So... how many times did you?]

"......"

Liu paused, searching his memory, before recalling their phone call from downstairs where they had discussed the number of times he masturbated—and he burst out laughing.

"If I tell you, you'll probably look at me like I'm some kind of animal."

[I won't.]

Ihyeon added softly that he knew Liu's libido well enough, his gaze subtly lowered as he fiddled with the hem of the shirt.

"Just to be clear—yes, Alphas have a strong sex drive, but the reason I've been masturbating more lately is because I'm away from you. It's not simply a matter of libido."

What he wanted was Seo Ihyeon, not to satisfy some general urge. Liu stated this almost indignantly, and Ihyeon smiled and nodded.

[Then... since we've settled the average, just tell me the highest number of times you've come in a single session.]

"Through masturbation?"

Ihyeon nodded.

"From when I got back from Paris until now?"

His partner on the screen nodded vigorously, clearly enjoying cornering him like this. Liu had been struggling to suppress his urge to tease back—but here Ihyeon was, putting him on the spot and finding it entertaining. It felt a little unfair, but honestly, he welcomed this kind of torment from Ihyeon if it led somewhere.

"Last week, after our date, I did it about six more times on my own."

[......]

Ihyeon's shocked expression moved further from the camera as the screen shook. Liu swept his falling hair back and pointed at the screen with his index finger.

"You think I'm an animal now, don't you?"

[......]

Ihyeon quickly denied it, but he couldn't erase that brief moment of hesitation and averted eyes. He muttered, sounding as if he couldn't quite believe it.

[But you came twice while we were on the phone too...]

At the same time last week, they had shared an intimate moment, drawing stimulation from looking at each other through the screen. As Ihyeon said, Liu had come twice during the call—but it was nowhere near enough.

It wasn't enough unless it was proper sex that lasted for hours—the kind involving caresses, foreplay, enduring the length and weight of Ihyeon's body, penetration, and knotting repeatedly. Just stroking himself to climax resolved nothing. And he couldn't ask Ihyeon to watch him masturbate until he was somewhat satisfied.

"I'm not usually like this. I can manage with a typical Beta male's libido. But lately..."

[I know. It's because of me. That's why I don't mind. Quite the opposite, actually...]

Now that Ihyeon possessed systematic, near-professional knowledge about Alphas and Omegas, he would understand that Liu's current state was one of heightened arousal triggered by a specific Omega he was interacting with.

Ihyeon's eyes, which had been cast downward as he trailed off, suddenly lit up with life as he met Liu's gaze again.

[There's something I've been curious about for a long time... please answer without laughing.]

"Yes."

Ihyeon chuckled at the meek reply, cleared his throat several times, and rolled his eyes—buying time as he prepared to ask what he wanted to know.

[Liu... have you ever had sex until you went completely soft on your own?]

"......"

An unexpected question. Liu, not the type to be easily flustered, couldn't help but flinch back when he heard it. Especially because Ihyeon's expression and tone made it clear this was genuine curiosity, not a sexual joke tossed out to heat things up.

[I'm not trying to dig into your past...]

"Of course I know that."

Liu rubbed his chin, frowning. It wasn't common for Ihyeon to ask about things like this first. He wanted to answer sincerely, but it required searching through a part of his life he had never been particularly conscious of.

"Never."

[Not once?]

"Not once."

Ihyeon, having heard it confirmed, let out a low hum and exhaled, sweeping his hair back with a thoughtful look. His hand paused behind his ear, and Liu could tell he was trying to suppress a spreading smile.

It seemed his lover just wanted to confirm some kind of first. Liu lightly pressed his forehead against the top of the phone resting on his knee.

"No one's pheromones have ever broken through my defenses."

[......]

"It was also the first time I didn't find someone else's pheromones unpleasant. The first time I couldn't control knotting or Changing at all."

Liu glanced past the screen at the painting hanging on the wall opposite the bed.

The painting that had comforted him when he was rigid with the alienation of being different from everyone else, and the owner of that painting—the one he had desperately wanted even at the cost of tearing down everything he had ever built about himself. And the one who had given him a second chance on those ruins by choosing a future with the broken version of himself.

That painting and its owner were now within his sight. It wasn't luck that he had ended up holding onto them. Liu didn't believe in fate or destiny, but tracing the journey of how he had met his Didi and arrived here—piercing through a probability so slim it couldn't be calculated—the being before him defied explanation in ordinary language.

The more they were together, the faster his pheromones grew potent. Not long after the first knotting, he reached a point where, once penetration occurred, he could no longer suppress the Changing by any means. That made it all the more necessary to tell him—because without doing so, there was no way to stop it.

A Beta who had so effortlessly breached the defenses that no Golden Omega had ever overcome.

At the time, he hadn't realized it, but when under the influence of Ihyeon's pheromones, he was a pure Alpha in rut. An Alpha stripped of reason and social graces, governed entirely by the instinct to mix pheromones with the Omega before him and fill his body again and again.

Even an Alpha who was ordinarily gentle, mild-mannered, and affectionate would prioritize instinct in rut. The same was true of an Omega in heat. It was the state that Betas found hardest to understand, and the form Liu himself had most wanted to avoid—the very thing he had never wanted to become.

Yet, how was it that the moment he was overcome by his pheromones, he couldn't feel even the slightest discomfort?

In a way that no words could adequately explain, his lover still didn't quite grasp the absolute significance, the absolute meaning and influence, of Seo Ihyeon—the first and the absolute. But what did it matter? He was prepared to repeat the story as many times as Ihyeon wanted to hear it, for the rest of their lives.

"You were always wondering about things like that, lying there as if you didn't have the strength to lift a finger. Seo Ihyeon."

Liu bent toward the image in his hand and offered a mischievous smile.

[It's just... even right after knotting, you're always hard, so I wondered if you weren't satisfied...]

Ihyeon, avoiding his gaze while rubbing the back of his neck, was deliberately teasing him.

"First things first—I'd like you to do something about the erection you've got going on. I don't know about you, Seo Ihyeon, but I've been..."

Liu paused and angled his phone downward. He showed Ihyeon the taut bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs—his erection fully engorged, the shape of the head clearly visible through the cloth.

"This is the state I'm in."

When he brought the screen back to his face, Ihyeon's expression had shifted—clearly on the same wavelength now.

Liu adjusted the phone's angle slightly, tilting his head, trying to find a view that made his face look a little better, even as he felt a flicker of self-disgust at his cheap tactic of using his looks to stoke the other man's desire.

"I want to put Seo Ihyeon in this state too. What should I do?"

Ihyeon burst out laughing at the passive statement—as if Liu were ready to move however Ihyeon wished. The vibration of that laugh seemed to resonate through Liu's own groin.

[Hmm... undo the buttons on your shirt, please.]

As soon as the command was given, Liu reached for his shirt buttons without hesitation. The top two hadn't been fastened in the first place. Holding the phone up toward the ceiling to capture a wider view of his torso, he quickly undid the remaining buttons. He slipped his hand through the opening and broadly swept it across his chest. Ihyeon let out a low chuckle at the provocative pose—but that laugh had long since moved beyond simple amusement.

Leaning back more loosely, almost half-reclining, he slowly stroked his entire upper body while whispering to Ihyeon on the screen.

"I wish... you were on top of me right now."

[......]

Liu's voice had already grown low and husky. He pushed the parted halves of his shirt further outward, increasing the exposure. He rubbed over the muscles of his abdomen—clearly defined with his slow, deep breaths—and confessed his desire to Ihyeon.

"I wish you would sit on my stomach... lean your upper body over my chest... and touch my face."

Ihyeon on the screen hesitated briefly, then bit his lip hard. He squeezed his thighs together as if fighting the urge to sink his teeth into that reddened flesh.

Listening to their gradually syncing breaths, they focused on each other's image. Unlike actual sex, they could now edit and reveal only the parts they wanted to show. What was visible within the six-inch frame was the image Ihyeon chose to show—which meant the Ihyeon outside the screen was the part he wanted to hide. A part he wanted to hide, but one that would soon be revealed.

Ihyeon's hand hesitated before moving toward his lips. Watching Ihyeon pinch and twist the flesh between his fingers—just as Liu used to do for him—Liu stroked himself over his briefs off-screen. Even just slowly tracing the outline of his erection, taut as if ready to burst forward, made his hips arch with the desire for penetration.

He held Ihyeon's gaze and asked,

"Does that feel like you're kissing me?"

Ihyeon shook his head.

[It's not enough.]

Hearing that petulant voice—a tone Ihyeon rarely showed outside of sex—Liu groaned low and slipped his hand inside the waistband of his underwear.

With Ihyeon's body not here to kiss, caress, tease, and explore, there was nothing to do but the tedious act of directly stimulating himself. To even get hard, he didn't need friction—Ihyeon saying a few words and smiling was more than enough. That was the real problem.

"Have you ever watched the video we made together back then while doing this?"

[......]

Ihyeon didn't answer, but his downcast eyes already confirmed it. Just picturing Ihyeon turning to that video they had filmed long ago—replaying it to comfort himself—made Liu's pre-cum surge, wetting his hand as it ran down his length. He tensed his hips as if ready to thrust, but there was nowhere to drive into.

"I want to kiss you... like last time."

[Mm, hngh...]

As if recalling the kiss scene in the video, Ihyeon let out a low moan and winced. Then he pushed a knuckle of the finger that had been at his lip deep into his mouth. He was slowly coming undone.

"Take your tongue out... and rub it."

After a brief hesitation, Ihyeon opened his mouth with his finger still inside. His wet, reddish tongue emerged, and his middle and index fingers rolled over it along with his quickened breath.

Liu focused on every movement with an intensity that made heat rise behind his eyes. Hah... ahh... hah... Adjusting his breathing like he was bracing under something heavy, he pushed down the waistband of his briefs and freed his cock. On screen, only up to his pelvis—just to the border where his hair was beginning to grow thick—was visible, but from the movement of his wrist and arm toward the center of his body, Ihyeon could easily guess everything.

Ihyeon's shoulders twitched intermittently as he worked his tongue. The sensation in his lower body was likely making his whole sensitive frame flinch.

Ihyeon's fingers, slick with saliva, disappeared from the screen. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something. Liu found himself licking his own lips with the urge to kiss those slowly blinking eyes. Driven by the same desire to suck each other's tongues, they kept wetting their lips, without either of them caring who started it first.

The cock in his hand was hard and straining. He wanted penetration. He wanted to reach climax through the friction of Ihyeon's inner walls pressing around him—not through this kind of pointless handwork.

Ihyeon was already having trouble holding the phone steady, letting his left arm hang down. He propped the phone on the mattress, angling it upward to capture himself. His upper body, clad in a white shirt that exposed the nape of his neck, filled half the screen. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at the lens, and whispered in a small voice.

[That sound...]

"Can you hear it?"

From below, where his hand rapidly stroked his cock, there was a wet, slick friction sound. It was obvious Ihyeon could hear it—and even though Liu was deliberately adjusting pressure to create that noise, he pretended not to know and insisted on hearing it confirmed.

Ihyeon glanced sideways at the screen and nodded.

[Show me. I want to see it...]

As requested, he turned the phone. His cock was hard enough to stand straight toward the ceiling without being held. He gripped the vein-raised base and slowly stroked upward toward the head. The sight of his hand pushing all the pre-cum that had been coating and running down his length back up toward the head was fully exposed on the screen.

Liu wanted to provoke Ihyeon more. He wanted Ihyeon to desire him more, to be captivated. It wasn't recklessness stemming from having nothing but his body—it was a desire to appeal through his sexual ability. Even while thinking it was a crude and vulgar approach, he couldn't stop. He wanted Ihyeon to judge him as more worth wanting than anyone else around him.

He knew Ihyeon always glanced whenever he moved. Liu pulled his cock down until it pressed flat against his lower abdomen, then let it snap back. Each time it sprang up in an arc, pre-cum spattered. He even gripped the base and shook it more overtly. The overly heavy, long shaft bobbed sluggishly, and the sight of it heaving on screen looked even more obscene.

Just the awareness that Ihyeon was watching made his entire cock throb.

He wondered what expression Ihyeon had while watching this grotesque display. He adjusted the phone's angle to show from his groin upward. His own face wasn't clearly visible on screen, but he could see Ihyeon's face—contorted, moaning. Ihyeon had slid further down than before and was panting heavily.

By that point, all the buttons on the shirt had come undone, and his pale chest occasionally flashed between the parted fabric. Around Ihyeon's nipples, there was a glistening slickness, as if they had been rubbed with saliva-coated fingers.

"Did you touch your nipples?"

[......]

Realizing Liu was watching, Ihyeon disappeared from view. The screen shook erratically. When Ihyeon reappeared, he was biting his lower lip so hard it looked like he might burst into tears. The screen, capturing him from a forty-five-degree side angle rather than straight on, still wobbled unstably up, down, left, and right. The twitch in his right shoulder—with his arm extended downward and not holding the phone—was pronounced.

"Seo Ihyeon, what are you doing right now?"

[Ngh, ah... hah...]

Ihyeon didn't answer, just shook his head. Even so, he kept glancing at the screen, unable to tear his eyes away from Liu's cock.

"Ihyeon-ah, show me."

[N-no... sob...]

As Ihyeon groaned and lifted his chin, the phone tilted—he disappeared from view, then reappeared. Liu grew impatient.

"We're having sex right now. I've shown you everything."

[......]

Ihyeon turned his head to look at the screen. It seemed the phone was resting on his left knee, and the face visible on screen was nearly a profile view. An angle only possible if his legs were spread quite wide.

Ihyeon's face, looking at him through the lens, was flushed deeply red. His cheeks, lips, even the tip of his tongue that peeked out—all of it looked hot and wet, making Liu want to throw himself through the screen.

"Show me."

[......]

A voice full of desperate pleading.

The screen shook violently, like a video shot by a complete amateur in a panic. And at the scene that filled the screen a moment later, Liu swore and had to grip the base of his cock. His upper body lurched upward involuntarily.

As if unable to fully expose himself, the camera—tilted diagonally from above—was trained on the space between Ihyeon's legs.

Knees spread wide and leaning his upper body against a large pillow with his hips lowered, Ihyeon had wrapped his arm around from the outside of his thigh and worked his middle finger inside his entrance.

A slick sheen glistened against the dark hair, stark against his pale skin. His smooth lower abdomen rose and fell, and his reddened, swollen cock peeked out from between the parted shirt, giving an even more intimate impression. Because of the half-reclining position against the pillow, his erection lay pressed against his lower abdomen. The screen showed only that—the spread of his legs, and everything between them.

[Hh... ahh, hah...]

Ihyeon's moans layered over the image on the screen, and Liu's pulse surged violently. His hand, gripping the base of his cock, made it throb and spill pre-cum.

"Can you show me... more closely?"

His dry, cracked voice trembled as he fought to hold himself back.

He knew the sensation Ihyeon's fingers were exploring—the winding slickness of those inner walls, coated and clinging tight. He was beginning to feel jealous of Ihyeon's fingers. He wanted to see more.

"Ihyeon..."

He brought the phone up to his face, urging and pleading. Ihyeon's face still wasn't visible, but his quickening moans only made Liu more desperate.

[Ngh, hah... Kun...]

"Ah, Ihyeon-ah."

At the sound of Ihyeon's strained voice calling out for him, the wide view on the screen suddenly zoomed in dramatically. This time it was extremely close—the tightly gathered folds inside and the movement of his finger joints were vivid, as if viewed up close. The sensation made Liu feel as if his face were pressed against Ihyeon entirely, and he instinctively drew a deep breath.

The slick fluid seeping around Ihyeon's fingers ran down the back of his hand, between his spread legs, and dripped onto the sheets. The sheer volume of it—as much as the pre-cum dripping from Liu's own cock—flowed endlessly, as if something inside had burst, as if something had gone wrong.

"This is driving me crazy."

Liu threw his head back against the headboard and muttered through clenched teeth.

[Hah, hngh, Kun...]

Ihyeon's unseen face, calling out to him with that voice, made Liu feel like he was losing his mind—not from arousal, but because it sounded like Ihyeon was desperate and in distress. He had no experience handling this level of arousal triggered by pheromones. He wanted desperately to do something for Ihyeon's heaving, leaking body, but he was 9,000 kilometers away.

"Ihyeon-ah, I want to suck you."

[Haa, ngh... mmm.]

No matter how many times he swallowed, his throat stayed parched. Liu panted, running his hand rapidly over his cock, every vein in his body feeling ready to rupture from the excitement. The pheromones racing through his blood craved Ihyeon. The part of him that was Ghost craved Didi. He was howling inside himself, slamming against walls, demanding: bring him here now.

"Seo Ihyeon, I want to suck you until you're red and soft."

[Do it... suck me... Awi, make it soft for me.]

When they were together, Ihyeon rarely asked for anything during sex. That was because Liu never left him still long enough to even voice a request.

But phone sex was different. To reach climax with someone absent, they had to ask for impossible touches—and just by asking and receiving a response, imagining the other's tongue slipping into hidden places, they had to intensify their own pleasure. Liu, too, had to be satisfied with the mere fantasy of pushing away Ihyeon's clumsy fingers and replacing them with his tongue, relentlessly targeting his most sensitive spot. For Alphas and Omegas governed by pheromones—whatever it was for Betas—it was torture.

"My pheromones right now... I think they're about to burst."

Liu, his face scrunched with the strain of it, gripped his cock and arched his back high. Even without being directly under the influence of Ihyeon's pheromones, he couldn't control his own. When it came to Ihyeon, his control had never worked properly from the start.

"I want you to smell it. I want to see you go crazy from the smell."

[I want to smell it... Awi's pheromones—they feel like they're still right here.]

He didn't seem to realize it himself, but Ihyeon's entrance was quivering—softening. Liu was going mad with the need to enter that space, which had prepared itself for him and was pulsing toward him. He wanted to be completely covered in Ihyeon's pheromones, to hold him and tangle with him like beasts all through the night.

"Me too... I feel like I'm already buried between Seo Ihyeon's legs... Ihyeon-ah, spread them wider. Let me inside..."

Unable to suppress the surging instinct any longer, Liu propped himself up, set the phone on the mattress, and rose to his knees. He spread his legs wide, rested his hips on his heels, and wrapped his right hand around his cock. Like most Beta men, just stroking himself to climax wasn't enough to release the heat building inside him. To burn off even a little more energy, Liu looked down at the phone showing the space between Ihyeon's legs and began thrusting his hips.

Ihyeon pushed another finger inside. Watching the entrance yield softly, accepting it without any resistance, Liu licked his lips.

[Ugh, mm... ngh...]

As his moans deepened, they softened into something close to sobs.

Ihyeon carefully spread his fingers inside, grinding his hips against the sheet. Milky, cloudy fluid leaked steadily from the entrance that stretched into a long horizontal oval. Liu clenched his left fist so hard his nails bit into the flesh, then collapsed his upper body onto the mattress.

He wanted to drive his throbbing cock into Ihyeon's narrow body and thrust until the bed gave out. His entire body felt bound by suffocating chains.

The desire to enter Ihyeon's body—now transforming into an Omega—the thirst to unite with his Didi, these hungers felt too profound to be described as mere sexual desire. It felt as intrinsically connected to life as the instinct to breathe. As if he would die if he couldn't reach him.

He wanted to hold that body tight and thrust inside for hours through the night. He wanted to rub again against those inner walls, now completely soaked and melted through with the outpouring of pre-cum and semen mixed with Ihyeon's own slick, until Ihyeon was writhing—to knot inside him again and again. Even if it made him the kind of Alpha he had despised, mind reduced to pure instinct with every rational structure stripped away, he wouldn't care, as long as it was Ihyeon.

Listening to Ihyeon's labored moans while lying face down on the mattress, Liu swept his hand across his face several times.

"Ihyeon-ah... it's hard, isn't it? Try moving your fingers in and out... just like I did for you, okay? If you come, you'll feel better..."

[Ngh, hah... no... I want you inside me... I want Awi to do it... I don't like this, I don't like it... rub me... I want you to knot... Awi, do it for me...]

At the end of that incoherent rambling, completely stripped of reason, Ihyeon dropped his phone. The screen aimlessly illuminated the ceiling, but the sounds of his fingers thrusting inside and his sobbing moans continued unabated.

"Ihyeon-ah... I'm sorry... I really am a terrible person..."

[Kun... Kuun... Hah, ugh, Awi...]

Ihyeon's voice, calling out to him as if he were in distress and not just aroused, made Liu feel like he was going mad. His cock was racing toward climax, yet at the same time his chest ached with a dull, throbbing pain.

From somewhere beyond the screen, in a place he couldn't see, Ihyeon seemed to have reached his climax—after which only a delicate, wavering moan persisted, barely continuous, threatening to break yet holding on softly for a while.

Liu tore at the sheets and reached climax shortly after, thrusting his hips without any specific target, but it felt like nothing had been resolved—not physically, not emotionally.

This was their third time, and each session Ihyeon had drawn him in with an even more honest and openly sexual display than the last—but even amidst all the filthy words and provocative images that drove them both over the edge, what Liu truly wanted at the moment of climax was always, without exception, an embrace and a kiss.

He wanted to hold him, to kiss him. He wanted to answer every one of Ihyeon's desires. He wanted to stroke the hair of the man trembling and gasping for breath after orgasm, and feel the lingering convulsions inside for a long time.

Still gripping his cock—which hadn't subsided at all—Liu lay face down on the sheets, absently touching the ring on his left hand.

"I miss you."

This time too, it was less a confession to Ihyeon and more words that escaped his lips as the feeling welling up in his chest exceeded what he could contain. He couldn't even be sure if Ihyeon, still writhing on the sheets in the afterglow, had heard the murmur.

He picked up the phone, which had been lying face-up toward the ceiling, and angled the screen sideways so it reflected his face as he lay prone. Ihyeon, resting on his side against the pillow, had apparently been watching him through the lens for some time.

"Was it good?"

Ihyeon gave a faint smile through a face damp with sweat. His expression was troubled, as if he couldn't quite say whether it had been good or not. His face still carried an unspent passion—still wanting Liu's touch.

"It's still twitching inside. Right?"

Hearing those words seemed to stir something deep in him; Ihyeon bit his lip hard and lowered his gaze. Then, as if trying to change the subject, he brushed the hair clinging to his face aside and asked with a trace of a teasing smile.

[Today... do you think you'll do it a few more times later?]

Though he was pretending his senses had returned after climax, his voice still held a faint tremor. Lying with his cheek against the sheets, Liu pushed himself up onto his elbows, propped himself there, and laced his fingers together, running them through his hair. He bit his lower lip and stared into space with narrowed eyes, as if lost in deep thought.

"Hmm... I don't think I want to today."

[Liar.]

Liu stroked Ihyeon's face across the screen as he laughed mockingly, clearly not believing him. It didn't matter if Ihyeon took it as a joke. In fact, he hoped Ihyeon wouldn't know the full extent of his loneliness. Knowing just enough to confirm affection was plenty.

"We're meeting in a few days, so I'm going to practice abstinence starting today."

[Ah... you don't have to. I won't tease you. It might not be good for your health either....]

Watching Ihyeon stiffening his expression in earnest—as if genuinely concerned about the level of desire that would be unleashed after a few days of abstinence—and trying seriously to talk him out of it, Liu felt an overwhelming urge to shower the screen with kisses. He was surprised at how naturally he was craving that kind of affection, the very sort he had once mocked as childish and overly dramatic.

Instead of confessing that even masturbation now felt like a self-flagellating confirmation that Ihyeon wasn't beside him, he pushed past his shyness and self-consciousness, puckered his lips, and leaned in.

[......]

Ihyeon, realizing what was being asked for, buried his face in the pillow and let out a soft snort. Liu knew it was silly behavior that didn't suit him, but having decided to be childish anyway, he waited without giving up. Ihyeon turned back to the screen, still smiling, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat a couple of times as if deliberating. Then he pursed his lips, leaned in, pressed them close enough to make a distinct smacking sound, and pulled back.

Out of embarrassment—or something else—he disappeared from the screen with a muffled little sound. Hearing his laughter from behind the pillow, Liu shook his shoulders and let out a laugh of his own. They were both aware this wasn't like them, but Liu justified it by thinking that this level of childishness, occasionally sneaking into a 9,000-kilometer long-distance relationship, was something they could be allowed.

"Just so you know, I'm not going to let you sleep for an entire week. Actually, even if Seo Ihyeon does fall asleep, I'm going to keep going."

He declared this to Ihyeon, who had returned to the screen, in a voice as puffed up as a child's.

For Liu, the number 9,000 kilometers wasn't a physical problem so much as an emotional one. Though it was more painful than he had anticipated, he always carefully phrased things so Ihyeon would perceive it as the bittersweet longing that accompanies a long-distance relationship. Compared to the days when he had to secretly steal glimpses by flying back and forth to Paris every weekend, this was a bearable pain—a happy, dreamlike one worth embracing.

· PARIS ·

The collaborative work proceeded in a relay format.

Without any prior planning, Ihyeon had faced the canvas first, using a palette knife to cover its entire surface with a deep blue tone, emphasizing rough texture. Ben then collaged in photographs of night-sky clouds that he had graphically enhanced. As if they had agreed on a specific theme from the start, the deep indigo sea and the night sky blended harmoniously, pointing in the same direction.

Taking it back, Ihyeon was in the process of blurring the boundaries between the photographs and the background by overpainting the joints where they met and adding three-dimensional clouds using gesso and paint.

Since Ben's photographs were printed on a dedicated canvas using UV flatbed printing, it was possible to work over them with oil paint. Ihyeon chuckled to himself, thinking this was probably the most modern artistic technique he had ever personally experienced.

When he had cautiously decided to start painting again, he couldn't have imagined a joint project with another person, let alone one mixing different genres. After all, he hadn't even been certain he could truly paint again.

"Even before you knew about the Changing, you knew you had to go to Paris."

What Liu had said in the car, on that rainy beach in Donghae, was right. He shouldn't have given up the opportunity he had earned by settling within the limits Liu provided, out of fear of physical distance. He had subconsciously known this—which was why he hadn't told Liu about the offer from The Hands, using the excuse that discussing it wouldn't change his mind anyway.

The embrace of first love had been comfortable.

Within Liu's unconditional acceptance and understanding, he felt as if his past was being compensated for. The protection offered by someone who possessed life experience and convictions verified through that experience held a different kind of strength than the bonds shared with peers. If Liu hadn't pushed forward, albeit somewhat recklessly, he wouldn't have even considered painting again at that time.

But the past—which was not his fault—could not be compensated for by Liu. Nor should it have been.

Ihyeon paused his brushstrokes for a moment, straightened his back, and walked over to the table by the entrance. He turned up the music playing through the Bluetooth speaker in the studio slightly, stretched for a moment, and drank his now-cold coffee.

Aside from one person working on a sculpture, Ihyeon was the only one left in the spacious, open, L-shaped shared studio. In the quiet space—where there were no footsteps or small sounds of tools being set down or picked up, only music—he wasn't sure if the colleague who had been working around the far corner, out of his line of sight, had already returned to their room.

Although the coffee was already cold, Ihyeon cradled the mug as if warmth might transfer from it, then looked back at the piece he had just been working on.

The canvas, measuring 250 centimeters wide and 180 centimeters tall, was a large size Ihyeon had never handled before. However, since his method didn't involve highly detailed depiction, filling the canvas itself wasn't overly burdensome despite its size.

But working on a canvas this large in his usual solitary style would demand considerable mental and physical focus and energy. Boldly filling such a wide surface with a knife was a new experience, and this piece also proved quite helpful in reassessing his own shortcomings. He wanted to build up his stamina and felt the need for more in-depth study of color mixing.

For now, rather than settling on a fixed style, he preferred to naturally reflect his own changes within his paintings—even if it invited criticism from reviewers who saw him as an amateur for failing to present a unique style. And there were quite a few critics who viewed Ihyeon unfavorably from that perspective.

The only rule Ben and Ihyeon had set for this work was to focus solely on the rhythm guided by the lens and the brush at every moment, without trying to convey anything specific or implant any particular meaning.

Abandoning any intention or design for how the work should take shape and relying solely on the sensation in one's fingertips—this would have been an impossible approach for Ihyeon when he first joined The Hands. Back then, he believed that meticulously conceptualizing something beforehand and expressing it exactly as conceived, without deviation, was the only way to show respect, diligence, and seriousness toward art. According to his peers, it was a period where he was as strict as a monk.

Ihyeon remembered the decisive turning point that had made it possible to transfer his current self onto the canvas so naturally, without doubt.

Just as an athlete adheres to training at the same time every day, regardless of weather or physical condition, Ihyeon had come down to his studio at his usual time that day. Following his routine of continuing with sketches—whether drawing or coloring—until a specific plan took shape, he selected a canvas and sat before the easel. He was simply thinking of warming up his hands.

The size of the canvas, the color combinations on the plastic-wrapped palette, the selection of the appropriate technique—none of it required any labored thought. He moved without hesitation, as if following a perfect plan. It was as if he had become a dancer who could move his body exactly as he wished to express, or a singer who could wield his voice like an instrument.

Just like the sex with Liu—which had felt like liberation and freedom, breaking free from all taboos and the frameworks of learned socialization—Colorful Ghost was painted in a state of immersion, loyal only to the present moment and to himself.

And while painting it, he knew it was time to face Liu again, that he wanted it.

Just as no special awakening is needed to realize hunger or the desire to sleep, just as no forceful power is required for a rosebud whose flower bud has matured to bloom—it happened quite naturally.

The clear sense of relief he had felt back then—when no doubt remained about his choices and it felt as though all residue had been cleanly purged—had not lingered in his head, but in his body, in his palms, his cheeks, his lips, and deeper inside. It was an experience that had become a part of him, rather than something that would vanish as a temporary phenomenon.

Ihyeon set down his mug, picked up his brush again, and knelt before the canvas. He could only finally put the brush down after enough time had passed for Jeff Beck's Blow by Blow album—which Juhan had first introduced him to at his apartment—to play through once more.

The music, which had seemed miles away while he was deep in concentration, gradually filtered into his ears. The introduction to the final track, "Diamond Dust," was just beginning. When Ihyeon later told Liu about this coincidence over the phone, he had to struggle not to sound too excited.

Only after cleaning up for about another thirty minutes did Ihyeon finally leave the shared studio on the second floor. He hadn't meant to skip dinner, but having focused entirely on finishing the piece meant he had been locked in for a full seven hours. Some of his colleagues often stayed holed up in the studio for twenty hours straight when inspiration struck, but this was rare for Ihyeon. Now that he was aware of the time spent, he felt a wave of exhaustion drain from his body.

"Seo Ihyeon."

Just as Ihyeon was about to step onto the stairs leading to the third floor, he paused, gripping the railing and looking down at the landing below. Yuni, dressed comfortably in jeans and a thick plaid jacket, was ascending the stairs carrying a small bouquet. She looked like she was just returning from a date.

"What are you doing here? You were in the studio this late?"

"Yeah. I finished the collaborative work with Ben today."

Looking down at the flowers in her hand, Yuni offered the bouquet to Ihyeon as if bestowing a favor, inviting him to smell them.

They were zinnias, faded pink—the same flowers that had decorated the terrace when Liu proposed.

Ihyeon leaned down toward the simple bouquet, which was wrapped haphazardly in clear OPP plastic, the stems cut unevenly and tied with a ribbon, with no real attempt at proper packaging.

Yuni's smile didn't fade as she explained that Michelle had bought them for her after they passed a flower stall inside the subway station just before it closed, catching the last-minute sale while passing by on their date.

"They smell nice."

"Right? They say the color stays beautiful even after they dry, so I want to try drying this bunch."

The flowers, the last ones left unsold, were already slightly wilted on the outside, but the insides were still fresh. Watching Yuni gently touch the soft petals, Ihyeon couldn't help but think of Liu. There were many things that reminded him of Liu, but whenever he encountered one unexpectedly and off guard like this, he had to struggle quite a bit to manage the longing.

"Hey, do you have a fever? Your face is flushed, and your eyes look a little glazed over."

"Hmm? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm just sleepy."

Yuni pulled down Ihyeon's hand as he rubbed his eyelids, then lifted his bangs and placed her hand on his forehead.

"You do have a fever. It feels pretty high—did you not realize? You must have overworked yourself."

"If I don't finish today, the exhibition schedule gets disrupted."

"One day won't be the end of the world. You're so diligent. Can you rest now?"

"Yeah, if I take medicine and sleep well tonight I should be fine. So, nuna..."

"Yes?"

Seeing Ihyeon hesitate, rubbing the railing, Yuni crinkled her nose as if she understood and gave his shoulder a light pat.

"Got it. I'll keep it a secret from the Director."

"It's nothing serious, just a slight fever, but since he can't see me in person, I didn't want him worrying unnecessarily..."

He tried hard to explain himself, not wanting to seem like they were having an overly dramatic relationship, but Yuni didn't seem inclined to tease him. Perhaps she had become more lenient because she herself was in a relationship that was quite conspicuous.

Perhaps it was hearing about the fever. After returning to his room, washing up, and coming out again, he did feel like he was coming down with something. He wanted nothing more than to get into bed quickly—too lazy even to fetch medicine—but he knew he couldn't neglect self-care, thinking of the person who would worry.

He took cold medicine from the first-aid kit on the shelf above the sink and swallowed two pills as recommended on the small cardboard box. With weakness draining the strength from his lower back and legs, he leaned back and flopped onto the bed as soon as he sat down.

"......"

Ihyeon lay sprawled across the middle of the bed with his legs dangling off the side, fiddling with his phone. He opened the messenger app and scrolled back through the conversations he'd had with Liu that day. Most of it was just routine daily reports or silly, sometimes childish banter, but reviewing it at the end of the day made him smile. The reality of being in a relationship with him—a long-distance one at that—was slowly building up, thread by thread, within the chat window.

It was early morning in Seoul. If Phantom were open for business, this would be the time Liu was getting ready for work, but he was probably just waking up slowly now, about to start his day.

Though he didn't want to wake Liu if he was still tossing and turning between sleep and wakefulness, Ihyeon hesitated for a moment before tapping the call icon.

[Are you done with work?]

The call connected instantly, as if Liu had been waiting. Ihyeon covered his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled silently. Judging by how relaxed his voice sounded, he fortunately hadn't just woken up.

"Yes. I'm in my room now."

[Your voice... sounds hoarse.]

"Uh... I guess it's because I'm tired. My work took a bit longer than usual today."

[Then get some good, deep sleep right away.]

"Yes, I'm sleepy. Hmm... I might sleep for a really long time."

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and spoke slowly.

[Don't worry if I don't contact you—just rest and sleep well.]

He found it amusing that Liu was telling him not to worry about Liu worrying, and he chuckled weakly while turning onto his side. Although Liu had urged him to sleep quickly out of consideration, Ihyeon didn't want to hang up.

"What were you doing?"

It was a question that might sound perfunctory or formal from a stranger, but directed at someone you love, it became an expression of interest.

Liu gave a very detailed report: he had started his day a little earlier than usual because of a strange dream, and to lift his spirits, he had made himself an English breakfast—even grilling two pancakes to go with it—and had just finished eating and was now drinking coffee.

Since Liu seemed to be looking for praise for having made his own breakfast, Ihyeon complimented him a few times. Moments like these, where the age difference became irrelevant and the fixed roles of older and younger reversed, were also part of the reality of being in a relationship. Imagining Liu bowing his head just slightly and himself stroking his hair, Ihyeon muffled his laughter so Liu wouldn't notice.

"The pancakes you made were delicious."

[I'll make as many as you want when we meet.]

"I want to see you soon."

[......]

After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, a gently soothing voice followed.

[If you can hold out just one more day, we can meet the day after tomorrow.]

It made him smile that it was always him brushing off Liu's expressions of missing him like this. Ihyeon pulled his legs up onto the bed and buried his face in the pillow. His eyelids felt heavy, but he wanted to hear Liu's voice longer. Perhaps his heart had weakened along with his body, because a rare urge to be deliberately clingy arose. But if the call went on much longer, Liu would sense how he was feeling. He didn't want to burden Liu, who was about to start his day. If he focused on recovering by the day after tomorrow, when Liu would arrive, he thought he could get through it without Liu noticing he'd been a little sick.

"I'm going to sleep now. Have a good day."

[Sleep well. Dream of me.]

Ihyeon ended the call smiling, appreciating Liu's playful attempt to add a deliberate cheesiness to his voice.

Unlike Seoul, where morning was beginning, this place was deep in the night and utterly silent. Both inside the apartment and in the alley outside the window, everything was quiet.

The feeling of sinking deep into the mattress, growing hazy in the stillness, was not entirely unpleasant. It was somewhat similar to the moment one succumbs to pheromones. Though he felt he could fall asleep at any moment, his insides were strangely unsettled. Pulling the blanket up to his shoulders and closing his eyes, Ihyeon reached an arm out toward the shelf by his head.

Among his everyday items—a few books he was currently reading, his wallet, wristwatch, keys, and the framed picture he had received from Suki Kim—he picked up the black leather case resting side-by-side and lay back down.

Every time his left hand briefly flashed into view during their video calls, his gaze drifted to the ring. He had never mentioned it to Liu, but seeing the ring glistening on those long, straight fingers gave him a strange sense of satisfaction, fulfilling an urge of possessiveness and ownership he hadn't even known he had.

No—he had been vaguely aware of these desires regarding Liu before. It was simply that Liu had always provided more than enough to satisfy them without ever needing to be asked or pressured, so there had been no opportunity to express them.

Perhaps Liu and he were only just now officially starting a romantic relationship. That didn't mean the depth of their feelings was at the beginning stage.

The love that had matured within him and the realm of dating—the method for expressing and exchanging that love—could seem to coincide yet function separately. It was strange that while their very existence was already deeply rooted in each other's lives, the form of their romance felt similar to that of couples just beginning their relationship.

It wasn't the imbalance where one speeds ahead, focusing so intensely on the other that everything else falls away. It wasn't the blind anxiety of wanting to leap straight into deep connection, skipping all the in-between stages. It was a relationship where he wanted to know the small details of everyday life, carefully expressed jealousy, and yet—not simply to satisfy his own possessiveness, but willingly self-censored and restrained himself to be a faithful, understanding partner. This time, it was that kind of relationship.

Liu had wanted to come here more often. It was Ihyeon himself who had limited his visits to once a month, vowing not to let this relationship tear down his routine or his life. Most of the time, it was bearable, but sometimes it was incredibly difficult.

"Even if you suddenly want to see me on a whim, I'll rush over right away."

There were times he wanted to ignore the rule he'd set for himself—once a month—and summon Liu, using that old promise as an excuse. It was all the more tempting because he knew Liu would fly over instantly if he simply said he wanted to see him. The relationship with Liu was what made life here more vibrant than before, but the reason he felt an even deeper loneliness was the emptiness of Liu not being here. The physical ache of not being able to touch or hold him was, in some ways, far more potent and vivid than any abstract idea.

In reality, he dreamed of Liu more often than he talked to him about it. He also couldn't tell Liu that sometimes he would sit alone in this room, gazing blankly at the ring in its case.

Ihyeon closed the lid of the case, unable even to put it back in its proper place before being wearily pulled into sleep. Liu's parting remark—dream of me—had been meant as a joke to make him laugh, but just for tonight, Ihyeon wished that remark could become a spell.

· · · · ·

╭────

I leave for Florence in three days. This was decided two weeks ago, after about a month of careful discussion. My family is deliberately creating a cheerful atmosphere, as if I were merely leaving for a vacation, saying Florence—now the capital of the Kingdom of Italy—will be a vibrant city. But they fail entirely to grasp the true nature of the changes unfolding, relying only on news that drifts across the sea, news they interpret in the ways that suit their palates, while they sit at tables by the lake in the garden of their English estate.

Even if I am treated merely as a tool, hauled back and forth like luggage by train and carriage, they will no longer be able to keep pace with the sense of the political situation I am personally absorbing on the European mainland.

Italian unification has not entered a stable phase. Exploitation of the southern regions has caused urban economies to stagnate across the board, leading to a buildup of discontent and resentment. One must conclude that there are no truly safe cities in Europe right now—not just Florence.

Negotiations, breakdowns, and wars are relentless across Europe, creating an atmosphere of instability. Separately, a strange excitement and anticipation drift among the people, stirring the air. While trembling at the premonition that a massive change capable of overturning everything is imminent, the populace—the subjugated classes—secretly desire it deep down.

Everything is changing. Except for the nobility, who are only concerned with maintaining their authority and wealth, the entire world was preparing and steeling itself to dive into the wave of change.

But this time, I too will not remain silent and hand my fate over to their control.

I received word that Erich's master's family had abandoned their estate and fled toward the Kingdom of Bohemia, where the mistress's ancestral home is located. Since this information was gathered from such a distant source, it wasn't entirely certain, but given the urgent circumstances, it was highly unlikely they could move while bringing all fifty or so servants along. They must have given most of the servants a few coins each and sent them off to reduce the scale of their escape.

Erich, even if it meant having to solve his own problems of food and shelter, would undoubtedly have chosen freedom without hesitation when the opportunity arose.

However, I have no idea where he might have headed after breaking away from the group. I wonder if perhaps he, too, is currently searching for news of me.

While I couldn't afford to pay large sums for information, rumors circulating among the common folk on the street were often faster, more grounded in reality, and more useful than the intelligence nobles paid for.

If he heard about my current journey, perhaps there is a chance we might even meet in Florence. Now that I know what happened to his master's family, it is difficult to suppress such hopes.

Yet meeting again is not the only way love is fulfilled. Nor does being apart mean that the love I hold for him ceases. Even if the time we shared is but a fleeting moment when viewed over the span of a lifetime, I don't need a lifetime to realize that he is the love of my life.

That single, momentary encounter was enough to show me just how much he changed me and my life. It was a love that brought about a transformation akin to making blood flow within stone. I cannot simply dismiss it as a fleeting infatuation based only on the passage of time.

I have no fear that the plan will fail. My heart is already at ease, my resolve pure—so much so that I feel pathetic for having spent so long dragging my feet, acting like a gloomy victim instead of making this decision sooner.

I will no longer stand by as they erode and exploit my humanity. I don't aspire to become a hero who carves out a new destiny. If I cannot overturn the situation, I will stop this cycle, even if it requires a clean severance.

In Florence, I should be able to obtain more accurate news concerning Austria. I might also be able to find someone to look into Erich's whereabouts for a price. In fact, now I only wish that the next two weeks would pass more quickly.

Wherever he is, I can hear Erich's cry—just live. If he desires my survival, I will stubbornly endure. But now, it will be a choice, not resignation. A strategy to wait for an opportunity.

His scent has not faded in the slightest. The heat of the blood yearning for him remains just as intense. There is not a shred of anxiety that perhaps his heart has cooled, that my scent has faded from within him. For a pessimist like me, that in itself was a miracle.

I can be as certain as if he were whispering his heart to my ear and proving it with his scent. If this is because of the special bond between Didi and me, then I will no longer curse the body I was born into.

╰────

· · · · ·

I opened my eyes to the feeling of hot liquid running from the corner of my eye to my temple. I was lying on my back, staring at the ceiling in my room at The Hands' studio. My body ached as if I had violently pushed through the wall of time to cross over into reality from some point in the past. I had to lie there for a while, collecting myself, just to regain my sense of reality.

It felt like I had dreamed of Erich and his Ghost, but I couldn't recall the details. Waking up in tears confirmed I had been dreaming right up until that moment, yet the memory had been completely erased.

Still, the emotion that had welled up so intensely—so much so that it had felt heartbreaking—remained vivid, making the area around my chest ache. I wondered if I had seen the scene of their final meeting in the dream; I desperately wanted to recall even that, but not a single hint remained, as if someone had intentionally wiped it clean.

"......"

Ihyeon turned his head at the sound of a quiet page turning. The back of a figure sitting against the bed came into view. He remembered Yuni coming by once to bring soup and medicine. But this was definitely not Yuni.

Broad shoulders, a long, strong neckline, beautiful hair, and the clearly defined profile of a side view.

It felt so unreal—like a photograph from the past had been cut and pasted into the present—that I wondered if this was just an extension of the dream.

Holding my breath, I wiped the moisture from my eyes. I carefully reached my arm out from under the blanket and lightly touched the tips of his hair. The face—which stirred my emotions in an entirely different way—immediately turned around and offered a worried smile.

"You're awake?"

"Did I... sleep that long?"

My voice, which had been tightly shut while suffering from the fever, was hoarse.

He was scheduled to arrive on Thursday evening. The last time we had spoken before I fell asleep was around midnight on Wednesday, Paris time. Assuming he arrived here on schedule, that meant I had been asleep for at least forty hours. He had said I might sleep for a long time, and it did feel like I had experienced an entire other life and woken up—but there was no way I had slept for a solid forty hours straight.

Liu set down the book he had been reading and turned fully toward me, gently smoothing my hair back. He was wearing a plain black short-sleeved T-shirt. I had no sense of how long he had been here.

"I came a day early."

"Weren't you supposed to visit the coffee bean supplier with Juhan hyung?"

"It wasn't something so urgent that it couldn't be postponed."

Liu gently covered my left hand, which had emerged from under the blanket, with his right, and stroked my cheek with the hand that had been touching my hair, as if checking my temperature.

"It's only one day... I'm fine..."

"This time was an exception. It won't happen again."

Liu pressed the fingers he had laced together, insisting that the fever still needed to come down more and that I could be angry once I was fully recovered. But Ihyeon wasn't trying to be angry. Since he was the one who had decided on the long-distance relationship, he didn't want to disrupt Liu's life balance for a reason like this. He wasn't angry at Liu; he was angry at himself. He had paid more attention to his health than anything else precisely so he wouldn't cause worry. It upset him.

"Let's eat something first. I made porridge—it just needs reheating."

"Egg porridge?"

When he asked that, picturing the porridge with carrots and zucchini that Liu had made him on the day he had hyperventilated at his apartment, Liu gave a bashful laugh and nodded. Right now, seeing that smile felt like it would be better for his health than any medicine.

"I'll eat in a little while. After I look at your face a little longer and hear your voice a little more..."

Liu hesitated for a moment, but knowing Ihyeon's desire to savor the reunion more than anything else, he didn't press him further.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Though, to be fair, there wasn't a comfortable sofa to sit on anyway.

"Come up here."

"I haven't seen you in almost a month and a half, and here we are, lying side-by-side in the same bed—was I really that restrained around you?"

Huh? Was I that bland to you? Liu added teasingly, gently biting the fingers of the hand he held.

Ihyeon let out a weak chuckle. Then, tightening his grip on their intertwined fingers, he gently pulled Liu closer. They hadn't seen each other for over a month, and now they were together. There was no need to explain in words or convey with their eyes how badly they wanted to touch each other.

"Then... don't hold back."

"......"

He was sure his appearance must have been a mess from running a fever, but perhaps because of that very fever, his longing for Liu outweighed any sense of shame. Liu, looking down at Ihyeon lying beneath him, turned his head, stirring his own hair, and muttered in a troubled voice.

"That's cheating. You know I can't resist your pheromones."

"I still can't control them. I'm not doing it on purpose... so it's not cheating."

The knowledge that Liu's defenses—which no one else had ever managed to breach—could be freely crossed by his pheromones alone stirred a surge of possessiveness and desire within Ihyeon.

Though he still couldn't sense his own pheromones, he had begun to distinguish the degree to which they affected Liu. Especially during intimacy, the process became vividly clear—how Liu would crumble and come undone under the influence of his pheromones, ultimately overthrown by his desire for Ihyeon.

It wasn't just simple lust. Only his pheromones had the power to reduce Liu to that state.

Ihyeon held Liu's gaze steadily, bold enough not to look away, and Liu—biting his lower lip while glancing sideways at him—let out a low hum, sighed, and climbed onto the bed. Even the groan the cheap mattress made under his weight sent a tremor through Ihyeon's skin.

Though it was about the size of a semi-double, it was cramped for two grown men to lie side by side. For Liu, who was over 190 centimeters, even the length wasn't very generous. It felt like his toes would touch the metal frame at the end of the bed if he stretched out completely.

He cautiously closed the distance and drew close beside Ihyeon, slipping his arm under his neck to hold his shoulder. At the sensation of that hard, hot body pressed against his chest, Ihyeon shivered as if feeling a chill. Perhaps mistaking it for cold, Liu hastily pulled the blanket over them both.

"I missed you."

Turning to face him, lying on his side, Ihyeon looked at his face and conveyed it directly.

The words "I missed you" had always been Liu's to say. Some people resolved their emotions through words, but others were the opposite. Ihyeon had been afraid to say those words over the phone, as if doing so would cause a flood of complaints to spill out.

Liu said nothing for a long time, gently rubbing the shoulder he was holding while studying every part of Ihyeon's face.

"...I'm sorry."

Knowing why he was apologizing after hearing the words "I missed you," Ihyeon shook his head.

If he had wanted Liu to live beside him in a submissive posture like a repentant sinner, he wouldn't have taken him back in the first place. Nor was it a conditional tolerance granted from a position of superiority, as if to say, let's see how well you do from now on. More than debating the true meaning of forgiveness, he just felt that a relationship structured so unevenly wouldn't work out. He couldn't ruin the future as well.

Pulling his hand out from under the covers, Ihyeon cupped Liu's anguished face. Watching him rub his cheek against his palm like a fragile animal, Ihyeon kissed him. The lips, parched from the fever, parted with a dry, faint sound.

At that single kiss, Liu's gaze immediately lost its composure and began to flicker. Ihyeon knew he had been stirred by the rich scent rising from his chest and neck.

Tilting his head, Liu followed his lips and pressed against them more deeply. When Liu tried to push his tongue in, Ihyeon twisted his head away. Liu gripped his jaw, extended his tongue, and licked Ihyeon's lower lip.

"Don't run away. It only smells like your pheromones."

"......"

As soon as he finished speaking, Liu sucked deeply on his lower lip.

"Ugh, yes. Mmm..."

Ihyeon writhed his shoulders and opened his lips to the exquisite pain he had longed for so much. Having taken Liu's tongue into his mouth, he could sense how hot his own mouth still was. He pulled with strong force on the arm holding his shoulder, filling his mouth entirely and entangling his tongue with Liu's as it moved within.

It didn't take long to cast aside the slight awkwardness and hesitation of meeting after a long time and desperately devour each other, rubbing their wet flesh together.

Kissing was a direct exchange of pheromones, and he knew it acted as a command that could drive the other person into a higher intensity of arousal.

Liu's scent—missed just as much as his body heat and touch—seeped into Ihyeon's entire being, awakening his senses, not just his sense of smell. It wasn't a one-sided effect. The thought that his own scent was likely having the same effect on Liu made Ihyeon burn even hotter.

"Hhh. Ugh... ah."

Liu's other hand, which had been stroking down his chest and stomach, slipped inside the T-shirt. Pushing the fabric up, his palm slid over Ihyeon's bare skin—pressing down and sweeping across his chest—and the friction immediately caused his nipple to harden and tighten.

Lying on his side and half-covering Ihyeon, Liu shifted his knees between his legs, pressing his entire body even closer. Ihyeon's left leg spread outward, and Liu's thigh rubbed against his groin. Liu's erection, already rigid, nudged just below Ihyeon's hip. A hot warmth, as if steam were rising, transferred through his sweatpants and Ihyeon's thin pajamas.

Overwhelmed by the multi-layered stimulation all at once, Ihyeon pushed Liu's tongue away and gasped for air. Liu looked down with slightly unfocused eyes from a distance so close their noses almost brushed. Each of his exhales seemed made of particles carrying his scent.

Without separating their bodies, Liu moved up on top of him. It was a fluid motion.

Then he lowered himself, slipping under the covers, and brought his tongue to the nipple.

"Hhh-ugh, ah."

Ihyeon bit down hard on the thin skin of his own wrist and wrapped his other arm around Liu's neck.

Liu didn't just suckle the nipple—he engulfed the areola and the surrounding flesh, sucking and working it, while simultaneously pressing his torso, folded between Ihyeon's legs, upward repeatedly. Slowly, creating supple curves as he did so.

Ihyeon's cock was pressed and rubbed against Liu's thick chest and firm upper abdomen. The slight constriction was welcome. As his lower back lifted, his chest instinctively arched toward the ceiling. Ihyeon's knees bent and legs spread wide, grinding his cock in time with the rhythm of Liu's chest pushing up.

His mind filled with a red haze. The dizziness was doubled from its usual intensity, between the pheromones and the fever.

"Ahh... hah. Mm..."

Liu sucked and pressed firmly around the areola, then drew his tongue out into a sharp point and flicked it. The tantalizing vibration of the plump flesh bouncing rapidly was almost unbearable.

Ihyeon let go of the wrist he had been biting and tangled his fingers in Liu's hair. Driven by the impulse to be sucked harder again, he bucked his hips, toes pushing against the sheet.

"It—it tickles... stop that..."

It wasn't that he disliked it, exactly, but he didn't know how else to describe it. This kind of teasing that made his toes curl inward was harder to endure than strong pressure.

From beneath the covers, he looked up, eyes wide. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Liu's excited face as he prodded and twisted his erect nipples.

"Seo Ihyeon's pheromones don't say they dislike it, though?"

"Hah!"

Liu puckered his lips into a small circle and sucked the hardened tip in with a slight, sharp pressure.

"Ah... ah..."

The force—hard to believe it was only lips—squeezed so tightly that a thrilling, dizzying pain arose. As the ticklishness was completely swept away by the intense pleasure that made his shoulders hunch, Ihyeon held his head and thrashed, arching his whole body.

"Ah, ah..."

He wondered if the skin might have slightly torn. The nipple, released as Liu pulled his head back, was throbbing red to the point where he could feel a faint sting.

As Ihyeon pushed his hair back from his neck, he found himself looking down at his own nipple. Liu, still lying on top of him, pulled the T-shirt from the back neckline and stripped it off. Just seeing Liu's bare body made Ihyeon's groin tighten even more, leaving him wet below.

"Ugh... Nnnh..."

They struggled briefly as Ihyeon grabbed Liu's wrist, trying to stop him from pulling down the pajamas. He needed to lose a little more control before he could show the soaked underwear—wet in the back, not the front.

Sliding up over his stomach and chest, Liu buried his lips in the nape of Ihyeon's neck, showering him with small kisses as he moved higher. He gently nibbled along the jawline without hurting the bone, pressed kisses onto his cheeks, and finally, their lips met.

"Mmm. Mm..."

As he swallowed Liu's saliva and scent flowing across his tongue, Ihyeon let out a low groan from deep in his throat. The strength he had been using to stop Liu's hands from gently pushing his pajamas down began to loosen.

"......"

Stretching his arm as far as he could, Liu awkwardly pushed the pajamas down halfway to Ihyeon's thighs, then broadly rubbed his palm over the underwear resting askew on his hip. His large hand stroked over Ihyeon's cock and slid deeper inside, pressing and feeling around the area near his entrance over the fabric—gauging how wet he was.

Ihyeon reached out to grab his arm again, trying to stop him, but Liu sealed their lips, pouring more of his scent into the kiss.

"Haaah... ahh..."

He couldn't help but surrender to the skillful caresses that kneaded his most sensitive flesh in various ways. No matter how much his body protested, he couldn't hide his pheromones—just as Liu had said.

Liu's pheromones surged as well, growing stronger in waves. His violently rising excitement and desire reached Ihyeon as a scent. They were equally unable to hide what they felt.

Ihyeon surrendered, returning the kiss and running his hands over Liu's bare shoulder and firm upper arm, which he hadn't held in so long. They locked eyes while playfully tangling their tongues together.

"You photograph well, but... in person you're better. A hundred times more attractive in reality."

Liu, looking down at Ihyeon with eyes stickier than their tongues, then pressed his entire body down on him, holding him tightly. Ihyeon knew he was struggling against an excitement and pheromones that were difficult to control.

He pressed his lips down once more like a stamp, then pulled back and completely stripped Ihyeon's lower half. Then, fumbling under the blanket, he carefully tucked his T-shirt beneath Ihyeon's hips. This was because, unlike Room 601, Ihyeon's bed didn't have a mattress protector.

Stripping off his own sweatpants to be completely bare, Liu slid one hand under Ihyeon's lower back and lifted him slightly. With his other hand, he fumbled and placed the pants over the T-shirt again.

"It's going to flow... quite a bit."

He smiled, his face slick with sweat. With the same hands carefully spreading the fabric so it wouldn't bunch up, he lightly brushed the cleft between Ihyeon's hips, where arousal fluid was already pooling and running.

"Mmm..."

The mere knowledge that Liu was lifting his hips, preparing for the bodily fluids the coming sex would produce, caused a faint groan to escape Ihyeon's lips. His body trembled so much that he instinctively covered his mouth.

To prevent Ihyeon's body from losing heat, everything was happening under the covers, unlike before. Even that seemed to make the moment more clandestine, drying Ihyeon's mouth.

While constantly watching Ihyeon with unsteady eyes, Liu made no move to rush. He wasn't trying to claim the reward for all their time apart at once.

"Ngh... ugh..."

Liu slid his hand between Ihyeon's hips and rubbed the slick area around his entrance broadly with his palm. With his hand thoroughly coated in arousal fluid, he cupped Ihyeon's cock and stroked it long and hard from the base.

"The blanket's going to get dirty, so just—"

Worried about contamination from sweat and fluids, Ihyeon tried to pull the blanket away, but Liu was firm.

"You have a fever, so no. I'll change it right after we're done."

Bracing one hand on the outer side of Ihyeon's arm, he leaned forward and shook his head. Then, bending his knees, he pressed his lower body against Ihyeon's, encircling both sides of his hips with his widely spread thighs.

It wasn't that Ihyeon was worried about having to sleep under soiled blankets. Even so, he didn't try to delay things over that issue. They had already entered a state where such concerns felt trivial.

Ihyeon's legs draped over Liu's thighs, their most intimate parts pressed together with no gap between them. Ihyeon exhaled as if expelling a breath, gripping the edge of the comforter that rose in a triangle, using Liu's back as a brace.

"This bed... I don't think it can take the strain."

Liu's expression was serious as he tested it, rocking his hips a couple of times. The bed, supported by a not-so-sturdy metal frame, groaned under even slight pressure.

"If we do this like usual, the people in the next room and the room below will hear everything."

In the dim light provided only by a small reading lamp near the desk, Liu turned toward the wall with a troubled look.

Swallowing, Ihyeon tossed off part of the blanket and wrapped an arm around Liu's, then began rocking his own hips shallowly. He could no longer stand the feel of Liu's cock pressed tightly between his legs, now naturally spread apart. He started to rub his groin against the unnaturally thick, hardened shaft, lightly brushing his slick inner thighs against it. Liu's facial muscles twitched as he looked down at Ihyeon.

"Haa..."

He let out a breath that sounded strained and buried his face in Ihyeon's shoulder.

"I don't know if this will work... but I'll just rub at the entrance and then pull out."

He reached his arm down, grasping his own cock. Then, positioning the head, he kissed Ihyeon.

"You know what happens to both of us if we go any further. It won't end at a volume the next room and the room below can just barely hear."

Ihyeon had no choice but to agree. Once proper penetration and friction began, he was effectively in a rut—perhaps even more powerfully dominated by pheromones than during a typical rut. Unless physical force intervened, he absolutely could not stop without reaching climax, including knotting. If he were an Alpha in rut, it would end there, but he was Ghost, driven into a state of heat stimulated by Didi's pheromones. His knotting would inevitably include a Changing.

Ihyeon was the same—growing unusually insistent on knotting and bold in his actions, like an Omega in heat. Once they were both in a state of greedily clinging to each other, refusing to let go, neither of them would spare a thought for the noise that might carry to the surrounding rooms. Furthermore, The Hands' apartment was even more susceptible to sound than Room 601.

His blood, instincts, and entire body were demanding the deepest possible union with Liu, but he had no choice but to do as Liu suggested.

Ihyeon slowly stroked Liu's arm and nodded. The head of his cock, which had been circling the entrance, began to slide in softly.

"Uuugh... Mmph..."

Ihyeon's moan, as if protesting a dull pain, was like a low, small cry. As soon as the head made contact with his entrance—completely wet and soft—that cry sharply rose and then abruptly cut off. Ihyeon covered his mouth and opened his eyes wide.

Liu licked his lips, then leaned his upper body in further, kissing the back of Ihyeon's hand as if to soothe him.

Ihyeon's heart pounded. The thickness and heat of the head pushing into the soft inner walls, that presence sinking into the thick arousal fluid, felt overwhelmingly distinct.

"Mhmm... Ah."

But penetration did not go any deeper. Once the head reached the spot stimulating that place deep inside him, Liu's hand caught at the entrance—he was gripping the middle of his cock to prevent pushing in further.

Movement began—quietly, deliberately.

Liu's thrusting was cautious, in stark contrast to his usual intensity. Even so, the mattress and the floorboards creaked with a slight delay. Though the noise was still within an ordinary range, they exchanged glances and held their breath every time a sound occurred. Being in a place that wasn't a typical private residence like Room 601 made them even more conscious.

The need to control their bodies and suppress moans because of the constraints of the location only made their arousal more acute. It felt as if Liu's cock, repeatedly entering and withdrawing, was leaving distinct marks on the inner wall.

Every time Liu's hips pulled back and then drove forward, the hand gripping his cock would catch at the entrance with a soft stop. While Ihyeon longed to swallow him deeper—to the point where he would be completely surrendered to the influence of the pheromones—he also found this restriction novel.

He was restless and felt a lack. His entrance contracted on its own, wanting to pull Liu in further. Yet Ihyeon couldn't explain where this unique pleasure—which made his body clench thrillingly—was coming from.

Although the depth of penetration was shallower than usual, Liu was dividing even that shallow entry into several measured thrusts. That very restraint, meant to curb his runaway desire, was what drove Ihyeon mad.

"Hhh, ah... ah."

"You want me to go all the way inside, don't you?"

Perhaps taking Ihyeon's muffled struggles as dissatisfaction, Liu grimaced apologetically and asked again.

"This isn't doing it for you, is it?"

No, Ihyeon shook his head. He managed to pull the hand away from his mouth and wrapped his arms around Liu's neck.

"Kun... it must be hard for you."

As he tensed his abdomen to keep his voice low, he unintentionally squeezed around Liu's cock from the inside. Liu gasped sharply, as if punched in the lower abdomen.

"Yeah, it is. I feel like I'm going to die."

Liu's upper body leaned over Ihyeon's chest, covering him. Then he lowered his head, his hot tongue tracing the rim of Ihyeon's ear as he whispered.

About how soft Ihyeon's entrance was, even without him doing anything. About how intoxicating the suction felt—wet and slick, pulling him in.

He wanted to push his hand away from where it was interfering, shove all the way in until there was no space left between them, and grind his hips like a madman whether everyone in the building heard or not.

Listening to his confession—Liu's attempt to release through words what he couldn't act upon—Ihyeon squeezed his eyes shut and held his neck tightly. With every lewd whisper and every caress of his ear with tongue and lips, the inner walls trembled.

"Setting aside the pheromones... your scent is stronger than usual. Right now, you make me want to just... do something to you."

"What... do you want to do...?"

"......"

Liu lifted his head from Ihyeon's shoulder and looked down at him from close range. The thick head, which had been repeatedly thrusting shallowly, pressed deeply inside with a slow, drawn-out weight. As if intending to push in even further, he didn't pull back but kept pressing his body forward, unable to go any deeper.

Blinking slowly, as if controlled by something, he answered Ihyeon's question.

"I want to knot you."

"Do it for me."

At Ihyeon's whisper, Liu swallowed dryly and wet his lower lip with his tongue. Where they were connected, Ihyeon's arousal and Liu's pre-cum gushed out simultaneously. Every time Liu rocked his hips from side to side instead of front to back, grinding inside, the excess fluid pooled and leaked around their point of contact with a slick, wet sound.

The sensation of thick fluid trickling down always aroused Ihyeon as much as the direct friction of penetration. Ihyeon wrapped his legs around Liu's waist and moaned softly, like a faint sob.

"Should we? Should I make it throb inside Seo Ihyeon... with a knot?"

"Yes... I want that. I want something more..."

Ihyeon nodded immediately and answered honestly, and Liu spat out a pained curse before burying his face in his neck again. While showering him with hot kisses and holding him tightly, pressing his head against that place deep inside Ihyeon, he did not release the hand gripping his cock.

But they couldn't continue like this forever. Sex without knotting was impossible between an Omega in heat and an Alpha in rut.

Ihyeon was gradually beginning to realize the dominance of pheromones—something Betas could theoretically understand but never truly feel or empathize with. It was a part of himself that had been active for a long time but that he hadn't been consciously aware of until now.

Liu wet his hand completely with their fluids, readjusted his grip, and whispered soothingly.

"When you're better... we'll go to Room 601 and knot properly."

"H-hng, ah... now..."

"Or next time, should we go to a hotel? Ask for the room with the best soundproofing?"

Imagining the scenario Liu described, the two shared a brief laugh while resting their foreheads together. But the laughter was fleeting.

"I want to do it now. Now is better..."

Whether it was the fever or the sad dream he'd had just before waking, Ihyeon found himself constantly pestering Liu, even knowing he was just throwing a tantrum and relying on Liu's self-control. Yet Liu's eyes held no resentment—only affection.

Liu kissed Ihyeon's pouting lips and, with one hand, gripped one of the thin vertical bars of the bed frame above his head. Then he pulled back until the head of his cock was completely clear of the entrance.

"Ugh, yes... Hngh..."

With Liu's head fully withdrawn and pressed tightly against the entrance, Ihyeon trembled with anticipation, wondering when it would plunge back in.

"Nnnh."

When Liu thrust in all the way to where his gripping hand stopped, Ihyeon covered his mouth. Looking up with wide eyes, he saw Liu's face glistening with sweat. Liu wiped his face against the arm stretched taut from gripping the bar.

Without warning, the thrusts came in rapid succession—fully withdrawing outside the entrance only to drive back in until his hand met the stop. Overwhelmed by the relentless rhythm, Ihyeon kicked off the covers and thrashed his legs.

"Seo Ihyeon, I can't even give you what you want like this..."

"Mhm. Ugh. Mhm."

"I really am... such a terrible boyfriend."

"Haa, ugh. Hngh!"

The skillful way Liu thrust in and out—pressing against that hidden place sharply and briefly—sent a thrilling current through Ihyeon's entire body. Unable to endure the outpouring pleasure any longer, Ihyeon removed his hand and let out a moan.

"Seo Ihyeon, your voice."

Liu warned him in a heavily suppressed voice. To keep from being pushed up, Ihyeon reached out and grabbed one of the bars, using his other hand to cover his mouth again.

Liu's gaze, looking down at Ihyeon, glistened. He licked his lips several times as if savoring something. Even while dominated by pleasure, watching Ihyeon struggle to suppress his moans and cling to his reason—perhaps that sight was giving Liu a different kind of stimulation as well.

He pushed Ihyeon's hand away with his chin and thrust his stiff tongue deep into his mouth. With his mouth full of Liu's tongue, Ihyeon couldn't let out a moan even if he wanted to.

"Mmm. Mm... mmm."

The rocking of his hips grew more violent. To keep the bed from shaking any more than necessary, Liu thrust into Ihyeon's body maintaining the most horizontal motion possible rather than driving up and down.

Fearing he might bite off his tongue, Ihyeon pressed his lips together tightly. One arm wrapped around Liu's neck, the other clutched the iron bar above his head. Moisture welled up in his eyes from enduring so much. But it seemed that resisting the pleasure—as much as surrendering to it—only amplified the sensation further.

"Hmm. Nngh. Ngh..."

Something immense, something massive, was approaching. A pleasure starting from a different direction than knotting. His fluids gushed out as if a floodgate had burst. He could distinctly feel that foreign presence.

With eyes glistening, trembling almost with fear, Ihyeon searched for Liu's gaze. The tongue filling his mouth was withdrawn rather than pulled away with a kiss.

"Haaah... hh... ah..."

Ihyeon's inner walls twitched and clenched tightly, and he came from his cock without it even being touched. Almost simultaneously, Liu pulled out of his body. As if a plug holding back a flood had been removed, the mixed fluids of both of them poured out as if they had been waiting. Every time his lower abdomen rose and fell as he gasped for breath, the fluids flowed and stopped repeatedly, following the opening and closing of the throbbing entrance.

Following his instinct, Ihyeon reached his arm downward. He scooped up the mass of fluid running over the clothes he had laid out and rubbed it between his legs, without even being aware of what he was doing.

He simply wanted to do something more. He wanted to tangle with Liu doing even more, craving a more animalistic sense of release.

"Ah, ah..."

Only after writhing slowly and rubbing between his legs for a long while did Ihyeon realize he was whimpering faintly.

Liu was kneeling between his legs, kissing away the tears on Ihyeon's face while stroking his own cock. Ihyeon cupped Liu's cheeks. He kissed the face contorted from battling the demands of his body and instincts.

He remembered the first time their bare skin had touched in his bedroom. Back then, Liu hadn't even been able to reach climax. He had only induced a deep, restful sleep in Ihyeon with an orgasm achieved through pheromones—an intensity unattainable through a standard release. Even now, thinking of the heavy, dangling weight of Liu's cock he had glimpsed between eyelids growing hazy with overwhelming drowsiness still made his insides ache.

A heavy, languid sleepiness washed over him—just like the feeling of being dragged down from beneath the bed, as it had been then. But Ihyeon fought hard to lift his eyelids. He rolled his heavy body over. Turning his head, he looked back at Liu over his shoulder.

Clutching his thoroughly soaked cock, which was dripping a copious amount of pre-cum, Liu remained awkwardly suspended—unable to fully lie down or fully sit up. Even though his entire body was glistening with sweat, he still had the blanket draped over his back like a tent over Ihyeon's body.

The sight of him merely suppressing his desire—cock fully engorged yet seemingly suspended between what to do with it and how to find release—made him resemble an inexperienced young man still awkward with his own body. For some reason, Ihyeon's eyes grew hot. He was clearly burning, as if coated thickly in the essence of pheromones all over his body.

He reached out, grasped Liu's wrist, and pulled him closer. Then, burying his face in the pillow, he drew his legs together.

"......"

After a moment of hesitation, Liu lay down, his chest pressing against Ihyeon's back. His arms slipped under Ihyeon's armpits, pulling him in tightly, and he pressed his cock between their thighs, struggling to control his large body. His restraint—as much as his unrestrained urge toward Ihyeon—was endearing.

He was detached, as if relying solely on the physical friction applied to his cock to bring about release. The nature of his movements was completely different from when he was caressing Ihyeon. He seemed to be concentrating all his energy on ignoring the fact that by shifting the angle of his hips just slightly, he could penetrate Ihyeon's body—the interior of his Didi, where a fantastic experience awaited.

Ihyeon reached his arms back, sinking his fingers into the firm, sculpted muscles of Liu's hips and pulling him closer. Almost simultaneously, the space between his legs grew warm and wet. Liu slowly and smoothly twisted his large body, rubbing his entire frame against Ihyeon's. His pheromones, which had seemed to burn crimson, were now settling into a gentler orange glow.

Ihyeon turned his head and stroked Liu's hair. This was no hallucination or perfume. Tonight, he could truly fall asleep enveloped in his real pheromones.

What if Liu hadn't been there when he woke up, what if he had been lying there alone as usual? Even though he had chastised Liu for flying such a long distance without enduring just one more day, it certainly didn't mean he wasn't happy about this early reunion.

Ihyeon buried his face back into the pillow as if he might fall asleep at any moment and closed his eyes.

"Mmm... sleep like this."

Liu, who had been nibbling gently at the area around his shoulder, placed his hand over Ihyeon's on his back.

"I'll go on a diet."

Ihyeon let out a weak laugh at the response, which was delivered with complete seriousness and no trace of humor. He wanted to exchange a few more of these nonsensical conversations, but he felt he couldn't possibly manage it anymore. A slow, devoted, long kiss began to envelop his prone body.

If he fell asleep now, he thought he might dream of Erich and his Ghost finally reuniting in tumultuous Florence.

· · · · ·

The group gathered at a café not far from The Hands numbered around ten people. There were those he had greeted at the last Christmas party, like Ben and Jun, as well as people he had seen a few times when he used to linger around The Hands, and people he was meeting for the very first time.

Regardless, these were Ihyeon's colleagues and neighbors who shared daily life with him in the same space, and since Liu occupied a seat here as Ihyeon's lover, his own impression would inevitably affect Ihyeon as well. For Liu, it was bound to be a tense gathering.

After the simple meal—egg dishes and pancakes made from locally sourced ingredients—was cleared away and the main drinking session began, the artworks unveiled at the Pre-Opening party held that day naturally became the topic of conversation.

"You must be proud that Ihyeon's latest work is also receiving such a positive response?"

Someone asked Liu with a subtle smile. She was an artist who specialized in installation work using recycled paper, and her short dreadlocks suited her well.

Liu glanced once at Ihyeon sitting next to him, then let his gaze drift downward toward his wine glass.

"As a gallerist who worked with him, and as his lover... of course I am. Even when the reviews aren't all positive, he keeps working without losing his footing, and I think that about him... is very admirable."

"It seems like you're the one who discovered Ihyeon, Liu-ssi? Ah, you fell for his work first?"

A young man from Malaysia interjected, his eyes shining with curiosity behind his horn-rimmed glasses. He was dressed stylishly, likely popular among young people these days—and also the one who, immediately after being introduced to Liu, had pulled out his phone to ask if he had a social media account.

"I didn't discover him... perhaps I should say Ihyeon came to me? I was already drawn to him even before I knew he painted, so his work wasn't the catalyst... but then again, I already had affection for his work before I knew him, so it's not entirely wrong either... Hmm, come to think of it, we're connected by quite a complicated chain of coincidences."

His own description felt a little awkward. Liu rubbed his mouth and gave an embarrassed smile. Glancing beside him, he saw Ihyeon rapidly emptying his wine, his face flushed to his ears. The habit of drinking faster when nervous or flustered hadn't changed. Seeing that this familiar habit remained the same, Liu felt a sudden rush of relief and tenderness.

Under the table, he secretly took hold of Ihyeon's right hand, and Ihyeon flinched, stiffened, and conspicuously looked around. Every one of those reactions was so endearing that Liu gently squeezed the hand he was holding before letting go.

"Cheesy."

At the accusatory mutter, clearly directed at him, Liu turned his head. It was Jun—who had been only sipping his wine with a sullen expression, barely touching his food—talking to himself.

"It's not that uncommon for a dealer and an artist to date. Given the nature of the work, if handled well, they can become partners who understand each other best, both privately and professionally. And when coincidences keep piling up, some people even call it fate."

It was Ben who steered the conversation away from the atmosphere that was about to freeze. He spoke while vigorously ruffling Jun's short-cropped hair, and Jun struggled in Ben's grasp, protesting. Watching the two of them, Liu brought his wine glass to his lips and offered an ambiguous smile.

In fact, it wasn't a planned gathering.

The Pre-Opening party, held two days early on Saturday before the official launch on Monday, had started late in the afternoon and wrapped up by evening—unlike the Christmas Eve party Liu had attended before. It was a wholesome event focused entirely on introducing the artworks.

As if disappointed by that, some people decided to gather together afterward. Most of them were members who frequently met in the shared second-floor living room at The Hands. Thanks to their enthusiastic prompting, Liu and Ihyeon ended up swept along in the mood and joining them.

At first, everyone treated Liu—an outsider and a colleague's lover—with courtesy and kept a certain distance. However, as the alcohol took effect and spirits rose, the conversation became livelier and bolder. This was partly due to Liu taking the initiative to break down the barriers and approach them. His easygoing, sociable manner was, of course, also an effort for Ihyeon's sake.

Who "charmed" whom first? Who confessed first? The nature of questions directed at couples doesn't vary much across cultures.

Each time a question was posed, Ihyeon would make a troubled expression and reach for his wine, while Liu answered satisfactorily enough to appease their curiosity, skillfully leaving overly private details aside.

"I was the one who 'charmed' him first, and I don't think there was a specific confession as the starting point—the relationship just developed naturally."

He answered almost matter-of-factly, yet the reaction was strangely fervent.

"Since Ihyeon is somewhat introverted, you must have worried when he said he was moving far away."

"Although he is introverted... that's not all Ihyeon is. I believed he could adjust well and focus on his work. He's a person with a good center, unlike me."

"Ah... so you're saying being apart was harder on you than on Ihyeon?"

Someone interpreted Liu's reply in a teasing way, but since it wasn't entirely untrue, Liu felt no need to correct it.

"It wasn't just any long distance, either. Didn't you oppose it?"

"Did you deliberately avoid visiting in the beginning to let him adjust?"

The next question followed before his answer was even complete.

"Everyone, please don't... tease him too much."

Ihyeon, who had been enduring the awkwardness of the situation with a distressed expression until then, finally cut in, unable to bear it any longer. His face was already flushed red—more from the alcohol than from embarrassment.

"Even if we ask you, you just evade the question. Don't you know hiding it only makes us more curious?"

The Malaysian young man retorted sharply.

"Ihyeon's lips are pouting. He's drunk."

Someone said that in a voice laced with amusement, and Ihyeon rubbed his face vigorously with his palms, denying it.

"When he's drunk, he agrees to whatever we ask, but he's so good at dodging questions about his boyfriend."

"He wouldn't invent a boyfriend if he didn't have one, so we even wondered if he was dating some celebrity we weren't supposed to know about."

People genuinely seemed to enjoy seeing Ihyeon flustered. It wasn't malicious—it was lighthearted teasing rooted in affection. Liu could easily sense that everyone gathered here held goodwill toward Ihyeon.

He couldn't help but notice the glances some people kept throwing, alternating between his left hand and Ihyeon's left hand.

He could also vaguely guess what suspicions and fantasies they were spinning, given Ihyeon's attitude of avoiding specific mentions of his boyfriend while claiming to have one, and the ring worn on only one person's finger.

Liu traced the ring on his ring finger with his thumb and gripped the thin stem of his wine glass. Feeling his mouth go dry, he started to lift the glass when Ihyeon, sitting next to him, leaned in and spoke in a low voice.

"I'm sorry. They're all being a little too... mischievous, aren't they?"

"This is nothing, really."

"I wish Yuni nuna was here. She's a bit late."

Yuni, who belonged to the operations team rather than being an artist, was scheduled to join after finishing the event cleanup. Liu gently cupped Ihyeon's chin, which was turned toward the entrance, turning him to look at Liu, and shook his head.

"If Baek Yuni was here, you'd be subjected to questions several times more malicious than this. She might go easy on Seo Ihyeon, but she's ruthless with me."

"......"

Ihyeon paused, rolled his eyes, and nodded in agreement. His expression, a little too earnest, was endearing. As people had said, he seemed a bit drunk. A smile escaped Liu's lips as he looked at his slightly dazed face, all his reactions slower than usual. When Liu tapped the tip of his nose with the index finger that had been holding his chin, Ihyeon smiled broadly, eyes crinkling. It was a smile powerful enough to make Liu's chest ache and stir deeply.

His heart reacted anew at the realization that he was looking at Ihyeon's actual face—not through a phone or laptop screen. This had happened several times over the past few days they had spent together. They had to part again before fully compensating for the time they had been apart, and this meeting was something Liu had anticipated all the more for it.

The finger that had been tapping Ihyeon's face moved toward his lips. When Liu lightly pinched his slightly parted lips, Ihyeon's eyes flew open wide. His flustered reaction—as if caught in something clandestine—was quintessentially Ihyeon, though no one else there would understand the meaning behind the gesture.

With the same hand that had just nipped his lip, Liu toyed with the lobe of his ear and leaned his head closer.

"I want to be alone with you soon."

"......"

Ihyeon bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze. He laced his fingers together, fiddling with them nervously.

"Be careful with the pheromones."

After a long pause, Ihyeon finally managed to murmur the warning in a small voice.

"Yeah."

Despite his reply, Liu didn't pull his body away. He deliberately leaned his weight onto Ihyeon's shoulder, pressing his entire body against him. This forced Ihyeon's upper body to tilt, making him have to wrap his arms around Liu's shoulders just to support himself. While the action was playful, it was also an intimacy that would only pass between lovers—enough to draw protest from the group.

"Hey, you two, could you separate a little?"

Someone tapped the table twice. Liu, whose body had been leaning entirely on Ihyeon, casually straightened up as if nothing had happened and rested his arm on the table.

Just as he was about to lift his wine glass, the woman with dreadlocks carefully posed a question.

"But... even if your job is gallerist, when your lover collaborates with someone else, doesn't that make you a little jealous?"

It was a sharp question. Liu set the glass back down and smiled slightly. Then he turned to look at Ihyeon.

Ihyeon, holding his wine glass half-filled with dark red wine, was looking at Liu with rare anticipation in his eyes—clearly expecting an answer about feeling jealous of the collaboration or being conscious of the person he was working with.

It was a different emotion than when Ihyeon had been upset over the phone if Liu showed jealousy. In that moment, the expression he revealed was so lovely that Liu wanted to cup his flushed cheeks in both hands and cover them with kisses.

Liu bit his lower lip to suppress that urge. Instead, he gently stroked Ihyeon's face from his forehead down to his chin with his fingertips. As the contact between them continued, some people sent admiring glances mixed with envy, while others jeered. It seemed he would have to accept being the target of their mischievous curiosity today.

Liu took a sip of wine and cleared his throat.

"Separate from my affection for Ihyeon, I'm confident that my love for and understanding of his work is second to none. So I want to say I don't get jealous—and that would be the mature attitude—but... honestly, it bothers me. The communion shared through collaborative creation is something I can't experience with him."

It was a brief answer, an attempt to be as honest as possible. Ihyeon only took another sip of his drink without showing any distinct reaction. Liu lightly ruffled his hair, an attempt to hide his awkwardness.

"Ah, I shouldn't have asked. It's such the right answer it's starting to annoy me."

The woman with dreadlocks shook her head, leaning back as if to withdraw from the discussion.

"We've confirmed the affection, so tell me about the downsides of long distance. When you're apart, you get hurt over small things, and you start doubting each other even if contact goes quiet for just a moment. The intimacy issue is also something we can't honestly ignore."

This time, Ben stepped in. He seemed to want to quickly throw the bait these spectators desired—the hardships of long-distance, the minor complaints they had about each other—and provoked Liu more directly. But Liu wasn't inclined to play along.

"I don't know about other people, but long-distance relationships have their own advantages. Because we miss each other so much, most minor problems don't even register as real issues."

This time, Liu was clearly determined to flaunt his affection. Despite looking mischievous at times, Ben was easy to deal with. When Ben was the one he was engaging with, Liu felt a bit more relaxed. He added smugly,

"And intimacy is a trivial matter compared to him building his career here."

"Someone like that, on Wednesdays..."

It was Jun again, interjecting with a muttered, sarcastic remark as if talking to himself.

"Hm? Why Wednesday? What about it?"

The young Malaysian man pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses, showing curiosity. Jun kept quiet about giving any specific explanation regarding "Wednesday."

However, Ihyeon's face—having understood what Jun was talking about—had flushed completely to his ears. Perhaps aware of his own reddened face, Ihyeon scrubbed at it vigorously with the hand not holding his glass.

Wednesday was the day Liu had arrived a day earlier than planned. Despite his caution, it seemed Jun, who lived right next door, had faintly heard sounds of them being intimate.

Someone brought up the story of a The Hands member who had broken up after a long-distance relationship. It seemed to be about someone everyone there knew well. While the topic briefly shifted elsewhere, Liu stood up, saying he was going out for a cigarette.

Ihyeon, looking up as Liu left, seemed somewhat relieved—as if the teasing might settle down with at least one of them gone. Ihyeon was by no means naive for his age, but he had a certain innocence in these matters. Liu could almost understand the group's desire to tease him a little. He offered a brief smile toward Ihyeon and stepped outside the café.

The temperature was slightly above five degrees Celsius, but it felt cool rather than cold. Under the narrow awning, Liu lit a cigarette and glanced back at the interior.

He thought their overreaction probably stemmed from the fact that the person involved was Ihyeon. They must have assumed Ihyeon's relationships were the so-called "cool" type, characterized by minimal expression and little physical affection. That probability would only increase if Ihyeon himself had consistently kept quiet about past boyfriends.

As a fine mist veiled the street, lights began to flicker on, one by one. Liu felt the damp, cool air touch his skin and exhaled a long plume of smoke.

His thoughts inevitably drifted to Ihyeon's past situation, where he couldn't speak about having a boyfriend. The memory of their reunion remained vivid. So too did the sensation—a sudden chill down his spine—when Ihyeon mentioned that a colleague in Hong Kong had shown interest in him.

"I told him I had a boyfriend. I felt like I needed to draw a line. Was I lying?"

The title of "boyfriend" that Ihyeon had bestowed felt like a special honor Liu had spent his entire life striving to attain. That title contained Ihyeon's forgiveness.

He wanted nothing more than to be accepted by Ihyeon and live by his side. In the face of that meaning, everything he had pursued in his life seemed insignificant. It was the same now.

To empty himself, to entrust his own sense of worth entirely to the other's hands—that was a humble, desperate yearning he had never experienced before.

He felt small, faded, like one of countless specks of dust in the universe. Yet it wasn't miserable. Liu himself couldn't properly explain how or why he felt that way.

It wasn't because he was certain of Ihyeon's forgiveness. Perhaps it was because he had already finished preparing and bracing himself to wait for Ihyeon his entire life. He had committed such a fault, and Ihyeon was someone worth waiting for, even if it meant paying that price.

It was also the first time he had endured humiliation in front of third parties just to play the role of someone's lover. He had lived believing he was the type who hated such things, that he would never meet someone he wanted to be with enough to bear that kind of burden.

It had been better to live alone than to reveal the abnormal identity of being a Ghost to someone. Though lonely because of the strange nature of his being, it wasn't because he needed someone to understand him. His self-esteem wasn't so low that he needed others' understanding just to ease his solitude.

However, he could no longer afford to act so arrogantly.

Even if Ihyeon hadn't been Diamond Dust, even if he hadn't made the mistake of Changing him, he would have eventually wanted to show Ihyeon even the very end of himself.

Other people didn't matter. The loneliness that had clung to him tenaciously, as if it were a part of his very existence, was resolved by the understanding and acceptance of just one person. Neither his Alpha self nor his Ghost self was monstrous anymore, thanks to Ihyeon.

Instead, in that place, a deep groove remained—the pain Ihyeon had to endure to forgive and accept him. That scar now defined who Liu was, the life he had to live. He had turned the course of his life based on an event he had never even considered before.

Through the glass pane, the lively sounds of laughter from inside the café drifted faintly. Liu raised his left hand, adorned with a ring, and put a cigarette between his lips, a faint smile touching them.

"Director!"

He turned his head at the familiar Korean voice. Yuni was waving from the entrance of the alley by the canal and approaching him.

"You took a long time?"

"Yeah, well... I was talking with Michelle for a bit..."

She avoided his gaze, mumbling, her face looking more exhausted than usual.

Yuni glanced briefly into the café over Liu's shoulder and asked to borrow a cigarette. Her smoking was rare—she barely went through half a pack in an entire year. Liu silently handed her the pack, and just as she let out a long first drag, he asked casually.

"Did you fight with Michelle?"

"......"

Yuni paused for a moment. She didn't seem unwilling to talk. Rather, with an air of wanting to confide in someone trustworthy, she lowered her shoulders and began to speak.

"It wasn't a fight... no, maybe it was a fight."

She roughly ran her fingers through her short hair, smoothed it back, and took a drag from the cigarette.

She began by saying that as her relationship with Michelle deepened, they had recently started opening up to each other about their family situations. She couldn't go into detail, but she mentioned that Michelle's father had been suffering from a chronic illness for a long time.

"He's already retired and taking care of his health, so he's doing well now... but there's always the risk that his illness could suddenly worsen or that something more serious could develop. Michelle told me a few days ago that if that happened, she might have to return to England, even just temporarily."

As their relationship deepened and Michelle became more precious to her, perhaps Michelle had judged it proper courtesy to share potential future events in advance.

Liu took one last, deep drag from the cigarette, which had already burned down considerably, and turned to dispose of the butt.

"When I saw her at the exhibition earlier, I told her that if that happened, I would go to England with her."

"......"

Liu, who had been grinding the cigarette butt into the stand-up ashtray, stopped and turned to look at Yuni.

"But she flatly refused, saying it was absolutely impossible. She insisted that my career must never be hindered because of her."

Yuni took a drag, exhaled the smoke, and continued after a brief pause.

"We clashed over that. It wasn't a topic we could resolve quickly, so we parted ways for today... I just didn't expect Michelle to react like that, so I feel a bit unsettled."

Hearing the bitterness in Yuni's voice, Liu folded his arms and looked down at the ground.

"It's not like I'm saying I'll throw away my career and my dreams just to be with Michelle. There are plenty of good galleries in England too. Michelle is more than just a lover—she stimulates me and keeps me grounded. Even though I haven't had a lot of romantic experience, I know how rare it is to meet someone like that. Career isn't the only important part of my life."

"Michelle cherishes you too... that's probably why she said that."

He could only say that because he empathized with both Yuni's and Michelle's positions. Yuni, who had been focused on smoking for a moment, also seemed to grasp Michelle's true feelings.

She glanced at the sale items displayed in front of the flower shop across the street.

"When I first moved here and struggled, Michelle helped me in so many ways. It wasn't just simple kindness—it made me feel like I wasn't alone even in a foreign place. If I can't be there for Michelle when she's having the hardest time... then I don't know what love means."

Her final, quietly muttered sentence left a deep impression on Liu. It wasn't that he felt he had heard a clear definition of love. Such a definition probably couldn't exist. But hardly anyone would argue that being with someone during their hardest times wasn't love.

Liu fiddled with his ring with his crossed hands, turning her words over in his mind. He noticed a man lingering near the flower shop, holding a bundle of yellow mimosa flowers, inhaling their scent with a look of bliss. Liu and Yuni stood side-by-side, quietly observing his face.

The man paid and walked away from the flower shop, the bouquet of mimosas tucked into his shopping basket.

"Oh—Ihyeon scolded me. Said I broke my promise not to tell you."

Suddenly brightening her tone, Yuni leaned over and nudged Liu with her shoulder. Liu smiled apologetically.

"I understand how Ihyeon feels, but... if my partner was sick so far away and I didn't even know about it, I think I'd be incredibly upset. That's why I told you. I just didn't expect you to pack your bags and get on a plane three hours later just because I said he had a fever."

As she finished speaking, Yuni shot Liu a quick, sidelong glance.

"I got scolded too. For overdoing it and changing my schedule over what turned out to be a common cold."

Liu rubbed one arm with the other and glanced briefly through the glass window. Yuni smiled, seemingly entertained. Then, with a lingering trace of amusement on her face, she lowered her gaze.

"I don't know who objected more—you or Ihyeon—when it came to him joining The Hands... but you seem to be getting along well again now, and I'm not trying to butt in and give advice, but... perhaps Ihyeon was relieved when you arrived. At least, that's how it looked to me."

"......"

Yuni seemed to believe that the reason Liu and Ihyeon had been separated for a time was a conflict over Ihyeon's transfer to The Hands. It was a completely mistaken assumption, but since it was just an assumption, she wasn't entirely certain either.

"Don't take what Ihyeon says too literally. He fundamentally doesn't want other people to suffer because of him. He tries especially hard not to cause trouble for those he cares about."

In the worst-case scenario at that time, if Ihyeon had had to come here alone without Yuni, he surely would have been much lonelier. Believing herself to be the person who understood Ihyeon most accurately, she had no intention of closing her ears to others' words. Yuni and Ihyeon had spent over a year here, relying on each other and growing close. This advice, coming from her, was certainly worth considering.

Liu remained silent, nodding thoughtfully. She sent him a brief smile.

"Anyway, I'm going to drink and get drunk today. I'm mad at Michelle too. I'm going to rebel."

Having declared this, Yuni tossed her cigarette butt into the ashtray and disappeared into the café ahead of him. The sounds of her companions greeting her could be heard noisily even from outside the door.

Liu didn't feel like immediately merging into the warm camaraderie inside. He glanced briefly at the back of Ihyeon's head as he greeted Yuni among the crowd, then turned away. He planned to smoke just one more cigarette before going in.

He was slowly drawing the first puff after lighting it when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. A smile involuntarily spread across his lips, which were holding the filter.

"Why... aren't you coming in?"

He could sense the effort Ihyeon was putting into articulating his slurred words, thickened by drink. Then a small whisper followed: "I waited." Ihyeon's breath against his neck sent a light shiver down his spine.

"Aren't you cold?"

Liu gently stroked the arms wrapped around him and pulled Ihyeon forward. He tossed the cigarette, which he had barely taken a single puff from, into the ashtray without hesitation and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

It didn't matter what kind of jeers came from inside the café. These few days—where he could see, hear, and touch the real Ihyeon—were too short and precious to worry about what others thought.

"Because my parents work in this field, I used to paint a lot when I was little."

"......"

Liu felt Ihyeon's gaze as he rested his chin on Liu's collarbone and looked up. He must have had a curious expression, wondering what Liu was about to say. Liu kept his eyes fixed on the colorful baskets in front of the flower shop and continued.

"Until I was about ten, brushes and paint were very familiar toys. And my parents said—though they might not be objective—that I had quite a bit of talent."

"......"

"Maybe I shouldn't have stopped painting. Or maybe... I should have pursued photography more seriously instead of just keeping it as a hobby."

Only then did Liu look down at Ihyeon. Even while blinking slowly in his drunken state, Ihyeon was listening intently with a serious expression. Liu released one of the arms holding his waist and swept the hair from Ihyeon's forehead.

"You working with someone else. You painting other people, or other people owning your work—that makes me far more jealous than anything else. Me being jealous... Seo Ihyeon doesn't care for that much."

Ihyeon dropped his serious expression and let out a soft chuckle. Liu pulled him into a tight embrace as if to punish him, and spoke in an intentionally light tone.

"But I have a goal: to be the most faithful interpreter of Seo Ihyeon's artistic world, and your perfect partner both privately and creatively. I will manage these feelings. I'm just telling you so you know."

The more they spent time apart, the more sensitive Ihyeon was to Liu's feelings. He always wanted to avoid causing worry and was cautious when discussing things Liu might be concerned about. The same was true for Liu, but now he didn't want to hide even the most trivial emotion, even if it was only to avoid worrying Ihyeon. He knew that merely withholding or postponing things—even without outright lying—could breed misunderstanding. In that case, it was better to bicker back and forth as things arose.

An older woman passing in front of the two embracing men smiled warmly when her eyes met Liu's. Liu smiled back silently so Ihyeon wouldn't notice, and he pulled Ihyeon closer by tightening the arm around his waist.

Ihyeon, who had been fidgeting slightly in his embrace, spoke in a low voice.

"You've always been a perfect supporter, even from the very beginning."

"......"

The presence in his arms sometimes left him speechless. Ihyeon had a way of moving Liu that made him wonder how it was possible.

Thinking of the definition of forgiveness that Jacques Derrida had once spoken of—which Ihyeon had mentioned during a phone call—Liu ruffled the hair on the back of his head.

"Stop being so lenient with me. What happens if I start taking advantage of it?"

Ihyeon laughed, pressing his forehead against Liu's shoulder. Even the tremor in his own body caused by Ihyeon's laughter being transmitted directly to him felt special. Liu let out a long, slow breath, wrapped his arm around Ihyeon's shoulder, and kissed his ear. He felt Ihyeon's two hands grip the hem of his thin knit.

"Even if some people misunderstand my intentions, and there are times I feel scared in front of the canvas because of those stares... when I remember that there is at least one person who will see my heart exactly as it is, then... I gain the courage to boldly paint what I want to paint."

"......"

It was a relief that they were holding each other. Liu lowered his head once more and pressed his lips to Ihyeon's cheek. The cheek, flushed from the alcohol, was as hot as it had been on that Wednesday night when he was suffering from a fever.

"I know I'm clumsy with expressing myself... but, well... it's not that I hate jealousy—it's that when Kun says things like that, my own emotions get unsettled, and I start missing you... and that's what makes it hard. That's why I acted that way."

Liu pulled Ihyeon back to look at his face. He was clearly more intoxicated than Liu had ever seen him, yet he was earnestly striving to convey his thoughts clearly.

As much as Liu had wanted to see him, Ihyeon must have felt the same. Just as he had made a half-hearted proposal because he didn't want to confine him, perhaps Ihyeon was enduring the time apart because he didn't want to interfere with Liu's life and work.

Liu slowly shook his head from side to side.

"Wh—why are you looking at me like that?"

It was clearly difficult for Ihyeon to speak anymore, and his pronunciation became slow and slurred again. Liu smiled, pressing his forehead against Ihyeon's.

"Just because. Being together feels like a dream, and I love it."

Rubbing his nose against the bridge of Ihyeon's, he pressed his lips against his. He was reminded of their first kiss on the terrace at The Face's party—Ihyeon, flustered and flushed by just a kiss, and the unfamiliar version of himself who had lost his usual composure, provoked by such clumsy reactions.

After several brief touches—gently pressing and releasing the surface of their lips—he tilted his jaw to delve deeper. The sweetness of wine lingered on Ihyeon's lips. It was cozy and warm; he didn't want to pull away.

Ihyeon's hands, which had been gripping his waist, moved up his back to cup his shoulders. Liu pulled his shoulders closer and stepped backward until his back hit the glass wall of the café. A damp chill seeped through his thin knit, but he didn't care.

Given the location, they didn't use their tongues. As Liu kissed Ihyeon's sweet upper and lower lip in alternation, Ihyeon also pursed his lips and enclosed Liu's. The moist, sweet sound of their lips pressing and separating tickled his ears.

After holding and pulling each other's shoulders several times, Ihyeon was the first to push Liu away. Keeping his gaze lowered, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand and dropped his voice.

"Let's go inside. Awi's nose... is cold."

"Ihyeon-ah."

"......"

"I can't. I think my pheromones are about to come out."

Ihyeon laughed, relaxing his shoulders. Then he lightly pushed Liu's chest with a loosely balled fist and darted a short distance away. Liu grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Biting his lower lip to hold back a laugh, he wrapped his arms around Ihyeon's waist once more.

Liu lowered his head to kiss him, but Ihyeon twisted his body to avoid his face. They spent quite some time like that, playing in front of the café. Neither of them felt the cold.

When they returned inside the café together, both of their faces were flushed red, and Ihyeon was holding a small bouquet of yellow mimosa.

· · · · ·

"Not for long... just two or three days."

Liu stood in the bathroom with the door cracked open just a sliver, speaking in a low voice on the phone. He had one hand tucked into the front pocket of his robe, which was tied loosely at the waist, and swept his hair back.

"No, I'm fine now. The Pre-Opening event went well yesterday. Yeah. So... setting that aside, it's just that I want to take another two or three days."

When he mentioned staying a few more days before heading back, Manager Han seized the opportunity and didn't stop teasing him. After wrestling with her for a while, Liu finally leaned his back against the tiled wall as if surrendering. The hair he had been holding fell lightly onto his forehead. "Ha... fine. Think whatever you want and make fun of me all you like. It's because I can't bring myself to leave—my younger lover is here in Paris and keeps weighing on my mind. And I'm still worried about how sick he was. Like you said, Manager Han, I'm being overprotective. So I'll stay a few more days, and once I know he's completely healthy, I'll leave. Okay?"

A triumphant, cheerful laugh echoed from the other end of the line. Liu scrubbed his bare face vigorously, pushed himself off the wall, and quickly ended the call.

"I'll take that as your agreement, Manager Han?"

He felt like everyone, including Manager Han, was treating his relationship with Ihyeon as something to joke about. He wasn't the type to be flustered by situations like this, but he felt strange—clumsy and off-balance in a way he couldn't account for.

Liu shook his head and was about to leave the bathroom when he paused in front of the mirror above the sink.

He slipped his phone into his robe pocket, grasped the edge of the vanity, and stroked his faintly bluish jawline. As evidence of the night's activities that had lasted until dawn, the man in the mirror had eyes clouded over and hazy, like sugar-coated donuts.

At a distance, his eyes—which looked as if they had no pupils or irises, only whites—would make anyone feel uneasy. Children would certainly scream and run away. Ihyeon's description of them as being like "snowballs" was only possible through the filter of love.

Liu still didn't feel confident showing these eyes to Ihyeon. They were hideous, but more than that, they had become a painful, branded mark—a reminder of what he had done to Ihyeon.

The pain was deserved. He didn't want to forget it. Even though Ihyeon had cleanly forgiven him, it was something Liu couldn't pretend had never happened.

He carefully closed the bathroom door and returned to the cramped kitchen. Ihyeon was buried in a pile of soft blankets, stretching.

"You're up?"

"Mm... what time is it?"

His voice was thick with sleep. Liu sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled back the blanket that half-covered Ihyeon's face.

"A little past ten. You can sleep more, but should I make you some coffee?"

Ihyeon peeked out from under the covers and looked up at Liu, nodding. At his gaze—which landed on Liu's white eyes—Liu rubbed the back of his neck and quickly got up.

When he returned with the large mug of lightly brewed hand-drip coffee, Ihyeon was sitting up. His upper body, revealed outside the white bedding, was beautiful even through Liu's blurry vision.

In just over a month, Ihyeon's body had become firmer and leaner. His physique, at the peak of youth, was starting to look more like a young man than a boy.

Last night, Ihyeon had been pleasantly drunk and had become more candid than usual in a short amount of time. Recalling his bold seduction, Liu immediately felt a heavy sensation between his legs. His cock stirred inside the underwear that was the only thing he wore besides his robe.

Even as a boy, he had never been this defenseless against sexual stimulation. The reaction was as immediate as if he had been exposed to the pheromones of a powerful Golden Omega. This was because Ihyeon was Diamond Dust.

The more they had been entangled, the stronger his influence became, and the stimulation was even more immediate now with the lingering afterglow still in his body. The taut, dense pheromones were circulating rapidly through his veins. They were in a state where they could ignite at any moment and lunge at each other.

To shake off the arousal, Liu cleared his throat and handed the mug to Ihyeon. He bent over to give him a morning kiss on the forehead and tried to turn away, but Ihyeon grabbed his wrist.

"Aren't you going to drink with me?"

"I was getting ready to make pancakes."

"You don't have to... and you can barely see yet."

Ihyeon lowered the corners of his eyes and stroked Liu's wrist with his thumb.

Even without being told, Ihyeon had always been bothered by Liu's overly solicitous care that followed sex as a matter of course. Even though they had been thoroughly tangled together the night before, Ihyeon's body was perfectly dry this morning.

What's more, he had no memory of anything that happened after the second knotting this morning. He couldn't tell whether Liu had taken him to the bathroom to wash him or dried his body with a towel.

"This is a familiar place. If I'm careful, I can manage that much."

"I like the pancakes Kun makes, so I'm happy to have them, but..."

Liu ruffled Ihyeon's hair, which was showing an apologetic expression, and tied the front flaps of his robe with the belt.

"Have some coffee and wake up a bit. The batter is already made—I just need to cook it."

Liu retreated to the kitchen counter as if fleeing. Before calling Manager Han, he scooped the pre-mixed batter into a frying pan and shaped it into rounds, trying desperately to concentrate on anything other than Ihyeon.

"Did you have all the ingredients?"

"......"

As if unaware of his efforts, Ihyeon approached from behind, rested his chin on Liu's shoulder, and looked down at the frying pan. He, too, was wearing a robe.

"I went shopping before the party yesterday. I wanted to make you breakfast."

They both realized at the same time that this comment implied he had been certain there would be sex after the party.

Ihyeon pressed his forehead against Liu's shoulder, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Am I being too obvious?"

Ihyeon bit his lower lip and shook his head.

"You should still be recovering—go wait at the table? It'll be ready soon."

"Why do you keep trying to stay away from me?"

There was a dull ache below Ihyeon's waist and a slight stinging sensation between his legs. However, it wasn't so bad that moving around in the small room was difficult.

Ihyeon gently wrapped his arms around Liu's waist as Liu unnecessarily pressed down on the pancakes—which were cooking perfectly well on their own—with a silicone spatula.

"Is it because of your eyes? I like them. You're beautiful enough that I want to keep looking."

Liu turned the induction dial to low and turned around.

"I get aroused."

"......"

"Like I'm a teenager. Just you coming near me..."

Liu stopped there, let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his bangs, feeling pathetic. Then, with a resigned whatever-happens-happens attitude, he guided Ihyeon's hand to his crotch.

"This is what happens."

"Ah..."

Ihyeon understood Liu's awkwardness upon feeling the distinct shape and warmth beneath the robe—soft yet firm, unmistakably present. That explained why Liu had been clutching the front of his robe so tightly, unlike usual.

Ihyeon looked up at Liu's pale eyes for a moment and then suddenly asked.

"This is because I'm Didi, isn't it?"

"Because you're Didi, and because you're Seo Ihyeon."

He recalled someone grumbling during the drinking party with The Hands colleagues last night that Liu only ever spoke the absolute truth. Ihyeon felt he had no choice but to agree.

"There's something I want to ask..."

Ihyeon hesitated before starting.

Liu quickly flipped the three pancakes cooking simultaneously in the large frying pan, then turned back to Ihyeon.

"The person who underwent the Changing... or anyone who even attempted it once—there hasn't been anyone until now, right?"

"......"

Liu bit down lightly on his lower lip and slowly nodded.

Ihyeon gazed intently into Liu's hazy eyes, then caressed his cheek and kissed him there. Afterward, without a word, he quietly went to the dining table and began clearing away the laptops, tablets, and art books so they could set the table.

Liu, blankly rubbing the spot where he had been kissed while watching Ihyeon, slowly turned and hurried to prepare the meal.

The breakfast spread was quite generous—pancakes served alongside thick, grilled Scottish salmon, orange juice from a nearby organic shop, and avocado salad.

To Ihyeon, who admired it and thanked him, Liu said humbly,

"It might look impressive, but these are all things I can make without much effort."

Seated across the corner of the table from Ihyeon, he poured orange juice into two glasses.

"If your condition isn't too bad, how about we go for a walk in the nearby park after breakfast? I can just wear sunglasses."

Ihyeon paused, his hand mid-cut on a piece of pancake, gazed at Liu for a moment, and then nodded.

He thought he understood the reason behind the suggestion. It was likely Liu's attempt to restrain himself, knowing that if they stayed alone in this room, he would probably try to have sex.

Since it was Sunday and Liu was in Paris, they had agreed to skip work that morning. Ihyeon would have liked to just linger around the room until the afternoon work session, but he didn't want to ignore Liu's effort.

They ate leisurely, exchanging various disjointed stories: about the pieces revealed at the party, the personalities of the colleagues they had mingled with the night before, and even a review of the sex they had immediately upon returning to Room 601—like hungry people tearing off each other's clothes and wrestling together, heating up from the very first moment. About an hour passed.

Around the time the plates were mostly empty, Liu used the excuse that it was Sunday to open a bottle of dessert wine. Pushing the plates aside, he poured the pale yellow wine into two glasses and offered one to Ihyeon.

"When I spoke briefly with Yuni yesterday, she seemed to vaguely think that the conflict between us stemmed from the issue of you coming to The Hands."

After finishing the meal completely and wiping his mouth with a napkin, Ihyeon nodded as he brought the wine to his lips.

Ihyeon had also vaguely guessed what Yuni was thinking. From an outside perspective, since there was nothing else obvious that could have caused problems between the two of them, it wasn't unreasonable for speculation to lean that way.

"Keeping quiet about what happened between us, not telling Yuni or anyone else... that must be inconvenient for you. Once the Changing is fully complete, you'll have to let people know you've become an Omega, and if you say it was a natural manifestation, that too becomes a lie."

Liu had consistently urged Ihyeon to tell the people around them—at least those who wouldn't carelessly spread the word even if Liu's Ghost status were revealed—about the Changing.

The scope of the confession also included the fact that Liu had proceeded with the Changing while keeping it secret from Ihyeon. Ihyeon had been delaying the decision because he wasn't entirely comfortable with it.

"Then I'll have to reveal that Kun is Ghost too—is that all right with you?"

"Clarifying the wrong I committed against you is more important."

Liu's expression was calm; he had resolved himself to this long ago. He had always maintained that the people around him had a right to know his true self. Ihyeon understood how much debt Liu felt toward him and others, but he held a slightly different opinion.

He didn't consider the initial, unilateral Changing to be Liu's true nature. If such darkness were his essence, Ihyeon couldn't have resolved to try making things work with him again. If anything, it felt more like an unprecedented derailment that had drastically strayed from the track of Liu Weikun.

"I don't like the idea of other people—besides the person directly involved—seeing Awi differently because of this."

Ihyeon traced the rim of the diamond-shaped dessert wine glass and looked down at Liu's left hand resting on the table.

"Of course, everyone around us is kind and will judge wisely... but you don't have an obligation to tell everyone about a mistake made in a romantic relationship. If I had intended to resolve this issue publicly, I wouldn't have taken Awi back in the first place."

Liu's determination to pay some kind of price could, viewed differently, be self-satisfaction. If his own happiness was truly his top priority, Ihyeon sincerely hoped he wouldn't expand the issue any further.

Ihyeon took a sip of wine but couldn't quite taste it.

"If revealing it to others leads to another problem, then aside from Awi, I will suffer again myself... and that's not for my sake. It would just mean suffering twice because of the Changing."

Liu, who had been listening intently with a serious expression, let out a low groan and nodded. It was less a sign of complete agreement than an acknowledgment that he understood Ihyeon's feelings. He downed the remaining half of the wine in his small glass in one gulp.

"I've tried many times to figure out who I least want to tell about the Changing. To discover my own honest feelings."

"......"

"Because telling the person I least want to tell could be a punishment for me."

Liu reached out and gently covered the back of Ihyeon's hand resting on the table.

"I understand what you're saying. It makes no sense to trouble you just to ease my own guilt. But... thinking about our future, I think it would be good to tell at least two people."

Ihyeon looked directly at Liu's face. In the late morning sunlight pouring through the long window that covered the entire wall facing the street, Liu's pale, shining eyes brought snowfields to mind.

"One of them is probably Manager Han. The other one is..."

"My mother... I plan to tell Suki Kim. If you're okay with it, I'm planning to stop briefly in Hong Kong on my way back to Seoul this time."

Liu spoke cautiously, gauging Ihyeon's reaction. Ihyeon's expression crumpled sharply with unconcealed surprise and worry. His gaze wavered, and a faint sound escaped his parted lips.

Ihyeon knew the efforts Suki Kim had made and the sacrifices she had endured precisely so that her son—a Ghost—would not make such a mistake. He could fully anticipate the disappointment she would feel toward her son upon learning the situation.

Liu gripped Ihyeon's hand tightly.

"The person I least wanted to be discovered by. And at the same time, the person I most wanted to confess to, has found out. After this... I'm not afraid of anything else. Whatever outcome I face will just be paying the price for the sins I've committed."

The person he least wanted to be discovered by, and simultaneously the person he most wanted to confess to.

Even just from the way Liu gazed at him deeply, Ihyeon knew Liu was talking about him. Wrapping his fingers around Liu's fingers clasped over his hand, Ihyeon nodded heavily.

He had wanted the issue confined strictly between Liu Weikun and Seo Ihyeon, but he couldn't deny that he understood Liu's guilt. Perhaps this was the bare minimum effort required for Liu to survive without utterly despising himself—to somehow embrace his own identity and keep living. Ihyeon knew he couldn't try to control even that.

Due to the weight of the conversation they had just shared, the two cleaned up their meal and prepared to go out in a somewhat subdued atmosphere.

Even though the weather was clear, the morning temperature was still around five degrees Celsius. Liu, who had put on a casually designed coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck, stopped Ihyeon, who was about to leave the room without gloves, and carefully put them on for him.

"You were sick just a few days ago—you can't let your guard down just because you feel a little better."

After putting on the gloves, he glanced sideways at Ihyeon and also packed a thermos of warm coffee.

As they stood side-by-side before stepping outside, wearing sunglasses and each holding a thermos, they looked like the protagonists of an action-comedy film. On the way to the park, Ihyeon chuckled several times.

Among the several entrances, the two went into Parc des Buttes-Chaumont through the gate near the 19th arrondissement. Buttes-Chaumont—whose name means "small hill"—was a park of continuous large and small mounds, and Ihyeon felt more attached to it than to the larger Parc de la Villette nearby.

The two began walking slowly along the promenade that circled the lake.

The park was quite lively with people enjoying the rare sunny Sunday. For the locals who loved to come out for walks or to read whenever the sun shone, even in midwinter, a temperature of around five degrees Celsius was no obstacle.

Although Ihyeon considered himself quite resistant to the cold and thought the winters here were mild compared to Korea's, reading a book in the park in midwinter like a true Parisian was still too much. He had tried a few times, but whenever he sat still without moving and focused on his book, he felt the chill freeze him to the core regardless of the actual temperature. After just ten minutes, his fingertips turning pages would become stiff and tremble.

Instead, until autumn, he used to visit often with his The Hands colleagues, Yuni, or Michelle to drink beer or eat a simple lunch of sandwiches from a nearby shop right there in the park. It was also a place where he often came alone to stroll or sketch.

The fact that he was walking here with Liu struck Ihyeon as something entirely new. This moment even felt like a miracle obtained after enduring a harsh winter. Even if that was a slightly sentimental exaggeration, it was clear this was not a piece of luck or happiness easily acquired.

Thanks to the temperature rarely dropping below freezing, the lawn remained green even after winter. Though not a large number, some people were sitting or lying on the grass, soaking up the sun. A couple who had brought their toddler who had just started walking sat on the grass, heads leaned against each other's shoulders, watching their child with smiles that seemed to encompass the whole world.

Within the roughly five hundred meters they had walked from the entrance, they had already spotted at least three same-sex couples with children. Even without children in tow, there was another same-sex couple whose hands were clasped together while each holding a thermos—Liu and Ihyeon themselves.

"One of the things I've noticed since coming here is how many same-sex couples have children."

Ihyeon said this, his gaze following the wobbly back of a child crawling and walking freely on the grass.

Whether they were couples with the same primary gender who had adopted children, or same-gender Alpha-Omega couples, he couldn't know for certain. But either way, it wasn't common.

"The social atmosphere is probably more flexible than in Korea. It must be a little easier for same-gender Alpha-Omega couples to form and live as part of society in their own way."

There were certainly people here who clung stubbornly to conservative attitudes, like Nicholas's father. But as Liu had said, the overall social atmosphere was undeniably more open.

"The ratio might be similar in Korea—they just hide it and live that way because they can't reveal it."

Liu added this while taking a sip of coffee from his thermos, and Ihyeon nodded.

Once Ihyeon fully became an Omega and was officially registered, Liu and Ihyeon would be able to legally marry in most major cities worldwide, including Seoul. As Liu had said when he proposed in Chicago, they wouldn't need to go through the hassle of finding cities that recognized the marriage of same-gender couples with matching primary genders.

Regardless of whether they were actually considering marriage, the issue of whether one's identity was recognized and accepted by society was important.

As Ihyeon followed Liu off the walking path and onto a gently sloping grassy hill, he thought of the people he had met through "Late Blooming." Most of them struggled not because of their own standards for their new gender, but because of the prejudice and discrimination from those around them and from society.

Passing by people scattered on the grass, they reached another walking path at the top of the hill. Ihyeon tightened his grip on Liu's hand and said,

"Um... yesterday was the first time I felt my own pheromones."

"...Ah."

Liu made a sound like he was in pain and stopped walking. Although his eyes couldn't be seen through his sunglasses, his face looked as if he had walked directly into something solid.

To make way for a woman jogging past from behind, Liu pulled Ihyeon's hand to the side of the path. He placed his thermos on a bench, then took Ihyeon by both shoulders, his brow furrowed.

"Why... didn't you tell me right away?"

"Because we were both completely drenched in pheromones and on the verge of knotting?"

"......"

Ihyeon replied with a slight smile. Liu awkwardly wiped his mouth. Then, from behind his sunglasses, he peered into Ihyeon's face. The hands on his shoulders were pressing with a nearly painful intensity. After a long moment, he wrapped his arms around Ihyeon's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.

"Weren't you scared?"

Ihyeon shook his head at the worried tone.

To keep his unsettled emotions from showing to Ihyeon, Liu composed his expression before finally letting go.

The two settled onto a bench. Below the hill, they could see the lake and the island rising high in its center. Gazing at the pavilion atop the cliff-like island, Ihyeon took off his gloves and held his thermos.

"I'd always felt Kun's pheromones before, and I knew my own pheromones were reacting—becoming more aroused when I smelled his scent. But that was indirect perception. Yesterday, I knew: this is my pheromone, my pheromones are flowing out of me right now."

Liu leaned forward, concentrating on Ihyeon. His furrowed brow still seemed to carry worry that Ihyeon might be shocked or frightened.

However, Ihyeon felt a sense of relief rather than fear. It was an effect happening within his own body, yet he hadn't been able to actually feel it, which had been quite frustrating until now. It felt like his vision was finally clearing a bit.

"It's hard to put into words precisely... but if I had to find the closest feeling... it's like I became a speaker? Like sound waves are spreading through my body..."

"......"

"Don't make that face. The starting point was Kun, but the outcome was my choice. It's not Awi's fault that I'm Didi."

Liu's expression did not lighten easily. He found Ihyeon's hand wrapped around the thermos and held it.

"Let's go to the hospital together. From now on, I'll come here once a month, so it would be best if we went then. You need a proper examination and a prescription for suppressants suited to your progress."

"Hmm, I don't know if we can get a hospital appointment that quickly. It's fine if I go alone."

Liu was scheduled to leave on Wednesday, so he only had tomorrow and the day after. Specialized medical institutions for Alpha-Omega pheromone care were not abundant here either, so an appointment that soon seemed unlikely.

Liu took off his gloves, put them in his coat pocket, and then, with a slight hesitation, took Ihyeon's hand again and fiddled with his fingers.

"Actually... I pushed it back two days."

"......"

"Don't be angry, Ihyeon-ah. Okay?"

Ihyeon intertwined his fingers with the fingers on Liu's ringed hand and shook his head.

"I'm not angry. Why would I be angry? I want to spend more time together too... I feel the same way."

Ihyeon knew that once the construction was finished, Inwu's solo exhibition would follow along with the reopening event. But sometimes he just wanted to be honest about his feelings. He didn't want Liu to misunderstand, thinking he hated jealousy or would be angry if a schedule was pushed back.

"There will be more things to worry about than when you lived as a male Beta."

Tension was evident in Liu's voice.

"I know. I looked into everything, and I made up my mind only after thoroughly considering whether I could handle it... and whether it would be worth it. We've had a long time together, haven't we?"

As Liu stroked Ihyeon's cheek with the back of his hand, he also managed a strained smile.

"So I also know that once I become an Omega, your Alpha instincts will be stimulated, and you'll become bound to me."

Ihyeon was referring to the Alpha's protective instinct that manifests toward an Omega with whom they have had continuous relations and exchanged pheromones.

In modern times, where Alphas and Omegas alike took suppressants to control pheromone exposure, this had become almost vestigial—an outdated relic.

No Alpha wanted to be bound to another, and Omegas also found it burdensome. The trend was to enjoy pheromones with a one-night encounter but refrain from exposure in continuous relationships. To avoid being tied down.

"Of course, I'm talking about when we're continuously exchanging pheromones during sex."

"I want that."

Liu's response was immediate. Tightening his grip on Ihyeon's hand, he emphasized,

"I want to live a life continuously exposed to your pheromones... a life centered around you."

Was it out of guilt? Was becoming an Alpha bound to Ihyeon a way to atone for the sin of the Changing? For a moment he felt the impulse to ask, but Ihyeon dismissed the question himself. He already knew the answer.

He knew Liu would have resolved to live such a life even without the influence of pheromones. Ihyeon understood that this did not necessarily mean a life of extreme sacrifice or subjugation.

"I'm going to try hard to become a Golden."

Liu nodded minimally, as if he had anticipated Ihyeon's decision.

"It probably won't be too difficult for you. I'll help with anything I can."

Silence stretched between them for a long time. Neither of them turned their gazes toward the surrounding scenery. Facing each other, they communicated without pheromones from behind their sunglasses, looking at each other as if looking at themselves.

Liu's lips, once cold, turned warmly and unreservedly toward Ihyeon.

"Perhaps it's an unavoidable inferiority complex toward Betas..."

"......"

"I wanted to have sex with you without pheromones. I've always been curious what that would feel like."

Ihyeon thought he vaguely understood the meaning behind those words.

Once the Changing was complete and he became a full Omega, pheromone control would become possible—either through the regulation of a Golden, or through suppressants. If that happened, perhaps sex without pheromones—something that could never have occurred between Ghost and Diamond Dust—might become possible.

Liu gently stroked the back of Ihyeon's hand with his thumb, then took off his sunglasses. Ihyeon was momentarily startled enough to stop breathing, but he quickly calmed himself and focused only on Liu.

"Even so... even after becoming an Omega, I want to Change under the influence of your pheromones. I want to Change."

Meeting Liu's white eyes—perhaps revealed in the bright sunlight for the first time—Ihyeon recalled the day his great-uncle had visited.

I want to change. That night, when they had revealed their inner thoughts through nothing but metaphors.

He was beginning to understand, even if only a little, that to live the life he wanted and become the person he wanted to be, he had to break his own silence and raise his voice himself.

He would mend the sharp cracks and rebuild trust, making it even stronger. On that, at least, he believed in Liu.

Seeing Liu squinting against the brightness, Ihyeon put the sunglasses back on him and said,

"Actually... there's a place I'd like Awi to go for me."

The high-pitched laughter of a child drifted up from the bottom of the hill. The scarf around his neck felt a little tight. The texture of the air was definitely different from midwinter. Slowly, without ever losing its way, the season was changing.

· DONGHAE ·

Liu woke up before the alarm. For a while, he lay there listening to the sound of the waves. Then he got out of bed, pulled a T-shirt over his head, and walked over to the minibar. He brewed a cup of coffee using a drip bag from the selection provided and headed toward the window. Around the horizon, just before sunrise, the sky was beginning to soak in a piercing blue and violet hue. Though the weather was overcast, the light seeped through the clouds with even greater intensity.

The fact that one could watch the sunrise over the East Sea from the guest room window was perhaps the only redeeming quality of this old hotel, which looked like it must have been built at least twenty years ago.

Slowly sipping his coffee, Liu waited for the yellow sun to completely rise above the surface of the water. He had plenty of time.

Having grown up moving between various cities around the world—perhaps because of it—he usually didn't feel much excitement in unfamiliar places. But facing this sea connected to the Pacific, his chest stirred.

This was a place the young Ihyeon had been moved to by the decisions of adults before he could fully process the shock. A place where he had no choice but to protect himself by responding to silence with more silence, and a place he had turned his back on and fled.

With one hand shoved in the pocket of his sweatpants, Liu tilted his cup and recalled another point in his past connected to the sea before him.

This was the same sea he had come to in order to meet Ihyeon after learning about the Changing. The sea had witnessed the ugliness of his own belated confession—hands hanging uselessly after the truth had been exposed with nowhere left to retreat. Familiar and yet strange, it made him want to look away.

I had never felt such complex emotions facing any sea before. The sea had always been merely an object of contemplation—sometimes enhancing the relaxed mood of a vacation, or a backdrop that made the city lights shine brighter.

I swallowed another mouthful of the remaining coffee, the sediment settled at the bottom. I quietly watched the waves, endlessly repeating their cycle of rolling in, seeping into the beach, and disappearing. I couldn't easily look away. Ihyeon's quiet endurance—never raising his voice to plead his own pain—felt deeply submerged within them.

Even after the sun had fully risen above the horizon and disappeared behind the clouds, there was ample time.

After a stroll along the hotel's beachfront, I hastily filled my stomach with the unappetizing breakfast served at the first-floor cafeteria. I checked out early and loaded my travel duffel bag into the back seat of the car. My head was clear, despite not having slept enough.

There were plenty of hotels along the East Sea coastline in far better condition. The only reason I chose this place was that it was the closest to the memorial hall. I could reach my destination with ample time to spare by driving about thirty minutes from the hotel.

The sky, which had been completely overcast during my walk, was now sprinkling a fine drizzle. Before leaving the city limits, I sought out a flower shop I had searched for the day before.

The rules stated that flowers and photos couldn't be placed inside cases or affixed to the glass. Ihyeon had told me this, but I didn't feel right showing up empty-handed.

With practiced professionalism, the florist recommended several typical arrangements suitable for visiting a memorial hall. It seemed there was quite a demand for condolence flowers, with several other memorial halls located nearby. Browsing the small shop, I bypassed the recommendations and chose Jana roses instead—asking that they be arranged simply, perhaps just five or six stems.

"These days, people often choose brighter flowers when visiting the deceased too," the florist noted, skillfully securing the stems and applying the wrapping. I nodded.

Since I wasn't very familiar with Korea's actual mourning customs, I had asked Manager Han beforehand. She had advised me that unless it was for a funeral or grave maintenance, there weren't any strict courtesies I absolutely had to follow. She added: "You don't need to worry too much about etiquette. Just visiting will mean a lot."

Even without knowing who I was visiting, Manager Han had said that. She must have vaguely guessed. But I didn't feel that the person I was visiting would be glad to see me. I wasn't very confident.

Leaving the city, I drove another twenty minutes along the two-lane national road. Once I turned south along a small stream branching off a relatively large river, the road narrowed and became winding. To the west stretched low mountains covered in thickets, and to the east, nestled beside the town, were small, irregularly shaped rice paddies, not very wide. Since it was the end of winter, the fields were dry. It was a rural Korean landscape that Liu was somewhat familiar with from having visited his mother's studio in Gangwon Province several times.

I rolled the window down about a hand's breadth. A little rain blew in, but not enough to bother me. The refreshing air from the damp, green forest felt like it was purifying my lungs, causing me to naturally breathe more deeply.

Ihyeon had explained that because his maternal grandparents had handled the entire funeral, his mother's ashes had been interred at a private columbarium near the Seoul metropolitan area. A year after leaving Seoul, his father had personally moved his mother's remains here. The family only found out about the transfer about six months after it happened. The man who never spoke a word had handled it without any family member knowing.

I gnawed on my lip, thinking about the man's way of loving—a man who had turned his back on his young son, who had no one else to rely on, and chose to drown in grief over the loss of his wife, even refusing to attend the funeral of the wife he loved so dearly.

Just as I was starting to feel anxious because no signpost had appeared, the naturally formed thicket ended, and man-made landscaping began. I had arrived at the memorial hall.

I parked the car in the lot where the office and lounge were located. After a moment's hesitation over whether to retrieve the umbrella I always kept in the trunk, I grabbed only the bouquet and stepped out of the car.

Perhaps because it was a weekday and the weather was poor, only three or four cars were parked there. The surroundings were so quiet that the sound of the drizzle settling on the trees was clearly audible. A man who appeared to be around Liu's age heard the car and opened the office door to look out. Standing on the threshold, he gruffly stated that the bouquet could not be left at the memorial hall. I reassured him that I planned to take it back with me. The man scrutinized me from head to toe with a wary gaze before disappearing back into the office.

I began walking up the incline behind the parking lot. The path leading to the memorial hall building was well-paved, but visitors were not allowed to drive up.

The memorial hall building was situated in a cozy location, as if embraced by the forest. The area around the building was as eerily quiet as the parking lot below.

I casually brushed my hand over the chest of my coat, then ascended the highly polished granite steps and entered the interior.

I could hear the hushed voices of visitors. No faces were visible—only voices, and there seemed to be very few of them.

I slowly walked down the corridor between the large wooden display cases holding urns, searching for the section Ihyeon had indicated. Although the wall near the entrance had windows to let in natural light, the interior felt dim even with the lights on. It was probably the weather.

Since the area was clearly sectioned off, much like a library, finding the niche was not difficult.

The quiet sound of my footsteps on the floor gradually slowed and then stopped completely.

"......"

Confirming the name engraved on the small memorial tablet next to the urn, the muscles in both of Liu's jaw tightened.

I moistened my lower lip with my tongue. Then, politely, I gathered the bouquet I had brought in both hands over my lower abdomen. My head kept bowing as if a heavy weight had been attached to my forehead. My emotions churned as if I were standing on a ship's deck.

I was flustered—I hadn't expected to feel such agitation before the memorial tablet of someone I had never actually met, even if she was Ihyeon's mother. I couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of my surging emotions.

It probably wasn't direct mourning for the deceased, but rather sympathy, empathy, and guilt for everything Ihyeon had to go through from her death.

Although I hadn't dared mention my own mother's story to Ihyeon—afraid of touching a wound that still bled—there was someone I feared confessing my Changing to even more than Manager Han or Suki Kim. Even if that person was now nothing more than ashes resting silently among countless other urns, it was the same.

I pressed my lips together, trying to smooth the contortion on my face, and took a ragged breath.

"Happy birthday."

A confession seeking forgiveness and a promise for the future. I managed only to convey those words, swallowing everything else down.

Manager Han had told me on the phone that the visit would probably be brief, since there was no grave to tend or food to lay out for bowing. But as I turned to leave—still holding the Jana roses that had decorated the proposal to Ihyeon—over thirty minutes had already passed.

Stepping outside the building, the rain was still drizzling. Gazing at the misty forest directly ahead, I let out a long breath. I desperately wanted a cigarette. I had refrained from smoking since waking up, feeling it wouldn't show proper respect.

My feet wouldn't move. Like someone with lingering attachment, I stood under the concrete awning, my gaze fixed on the quiet, rainy landscape. Someone was approaching rapidly from the uphill path I had just walked.

The man, wearing a backpack, walked with long, quick strides without an umbrella. His movement—the only dynamic thing in the surroundings—felt conspicuous.

When the man drew close enough for me to make out his features, I straightened my body, which had been leaning to the side. A crease formed between my brows. The man, who didn't even bother to shake the water droplets from his jacket after stepping under the awning, was Ihyeon's father.

A momentary crack appeared in the man's eyes. I instinctively knew he had recognized me too. But the clash of gazes was fleeting. Ihyeon's father walked right past me without even slowing his pace.

It took him about thirty minutes to come back out.

Even though I had stayed for nearly an hour myself, I couldn't guess what the man inside—where there was little he was permitted to do—was doing with his time. Still, I waited patiently.

It wasn't to say anything specific or hear anything in particular. But for some reason, I didn't want to just turn away. It wasn't out of pity or courtesy. If I had to define it, it was closer to the opposite.

"......"

Even though he must have seen my back on his way out, the man again walked past me and descended the stairs. That was expected. I quietly followed him, maintaining a distance of about fifteen steps.

At the fork where the parking lot and the entrance road diverged, I grabbed the upper part of his arm and blocked his path. His eyes—which I met directly and up close for the first time—were distinctly hazy, as if he had turned his back on the world. They were the kind of eyes that seemed to look past the person standing before him toward something behind them.

"I'll give you a ride. Get in."

"......"

The man lowered his gaze to the bouquet of Jana roses in my hand. Until the man walked over to the car and stood there, the two of us stood facing each other in the drizzle, with the dense thicket—darkened by moisture—as a backdrop.

I hadn't expected the offer to be accepted. But there was no reason to be flustered. I placed the bouquet in the back seat and started the car. As if the silence were contagious, I kept my mouth firmly shut until we reached the village, about thirty minutes away in the opposite direction from the hotel. I had no desire to spin plausible stories just to please him or ease the atmosphere.

As we drove along the coastal road with the East Sea to our left, the man hugged his backpack and stared out at the gray sea and sky.

It was only when the alleyway with the shark family mural—where I had once parked and waited to meet Ihyeon—began to come into view that I slowed down and spoke.

"I went to the memorial hall... at Ihyeon's request."

The sea had long since vanished from view, but the man's gaze remained stubbornly fixed outside the window.

"Ihyeon is doing well there. He's healthy, fully dedicated to his work, and receiving recognition for it."

Ihyeon had been contacting his great-uncle and his wife periodically, but I deliberately conveyed this news directly to imply that I was continuing my relationship with Ihyeon.

The man turned his head and looked down at the backpack on his lap. His eyelids blinked rapidly.

The two of us fell silent again for a long time. Only the unseen ocean asserted its presence with the sound of waves. Even though I didn't say anything to make him stay, the man didn't get out; and even though he held firm, I didn't ask him to leave.

I gripped the top of the steering wheel and tightened my hand. Enduring this place and the man sitting beside me was more painful than I had expected. I released my bitten lip and spoke as if sighing.

"He will probably... become an Omega before the year ends."

"......"

The man's gaze shifted to me. I met his eyes squarely.

His pupils and irises were normal, of course. Nevertheless, I felt that his eyes resembled my own white irises after the Changing. His eyes—which had seemed like an empty void—blinked and showed a reaction.

Is he worried, even as a father?

A wicked impulse to mock him stirred. The restraint required to suppress it caused my facial muscles to twitch briefly.

I knew that Ihyeon had told this man about the Changing. But now, I didn't feel the guilty shrinking I had felt before the urn. I knew it was audacious, considering what I had done to Ihyeon, yet anger boiled up toward the man instead. It was an anger that resembled self-hatred.

The thought of the wounds and shock this man had inflicted on Ihyeon made my teeth chatter—yet at the same time, I wasn't sure if I could have handled the same situation any better. Losing Ihyeon. No, having him taken away. Ihyeon simply disappearing one day. What in that hell could possibly give me the strength to live again?

Perhaps my inability to grant this man the forgiveness I had received from Ihyeon stemmed from our similarity.

I felt a strong urge to smoke again and looked away from the man first. As I unclenched my fist and ran a hand over my face, the man unzipped the backpack he had been clutching so tightly.

He took out a sketchbook—size 16—and waved it in front of my face as if urging me to take it. The man was capable of deep stillness, as if sunk into the abyssal depths, yet he would sometimes disrupt that balance with sudden, volatile movements.

I took the notebook, somewhat stunned.

"......"

Sketches and rough drafts—done with pencils, colored pencils, and markers—densely filled every page of Kent paper. I opened my mouth but could not make a sound.

After losing his wife, the man had turned his back on Ihyeon and completely given up painting—as far as I knew. And when Ihyeon left this village to go to Paris, he had left all his art supplies behind. Just in case. He hadn't known whether the bait he'd left would lead to disappointment or hope, and not knowing was still frightening—but it was better than the suffocating silence, so he had decided to throw something out there. Ihyeon had told me this over cocktails during a date at a dim café in Paris.

The miscellaneous belongings and fishing gear piled up in a corner of the yard. The view of the sea from a cliff-like vantage point. The corroded gate. The scratched fish. The small dog scampering around.

The man had been showing his wife fragments of the narrow world he observed—those crude and pitiful cross-sections of daily life.

"......"

At the sound of the man opening the passenger door, I snapped my head up as if waking from a dream.

The man, having stepped out of the car, was looking at me with eyes where the boundary between pupil and iris was indistinct. They resembled the eyes of a mermaid forcibly dragged ashore in a net, or the eyes of a stag that had encountered a hunter's rifle while frantically digging through snow in midwinter, searching for its mate and young.

I bit my dry lower lip until it hurt. After standing and looking at me for a moment, the man closed the door, ascended the stairs leading to his house, and disappeared into the rain.

I curled the left hand holding the cover of the sketchbook and stroked the ring as if searching for a painkiller. I missed Ihyeon so much it was almost unbearable.

· SEOUL ·

Manager Han repeatedly fiddled with the handle of the large mug before letting go. Her cup was about half full of coffee, but since she had barely touched it while listening to Liu's story, it must have gone cold by now.

"Shall I brew some more coffee?"

"......"

At Liu's question, she suddenly looked up. She met his gaze with a blank expression, as if she had heard an unexpected question, and slowly shook her head. Then, not wanting her thoughts interrupted, she lowered her gaze back to the mug. Liu ran a hand down his face from his forehead, then took a drink of beer and lit a cigarette.

Manager Han's silence continued for some time afterward. She puckered her lips a few times as if about to say something, but then clamped her mouth shut even tighter than before.

It was only after the freshly lit cigarette had burned down about halfway that she finally opened her mouth, seeming to have somewhat composed herself.

"Is there anyone else who knows besides me?"

"Shushu and Choi Inwu... Suki Kim."

Manager Han's eyes narrowed at the mention of the last name. Liu thought he knew why.

Although he had kept quiet about the Ghost, he had once told Manager Han about Suki Kim's efforts—how she had set aside her painting for a time and focused solely on that matter, in order to turn Liu into a Golden Alpha free from the domination of pheromones.

Knowing the kind of person Suki Kim was, Manager Han could fully anticipate—and was horrified by—how disappointed she must have been upon hearing Liu's confession.

Liu watched the smoke curling from the cigarette in his hand and added his explanation.

"Shushu thought we were undergoing the Changing by mutual agreement, and Choi Inwu... I asked him to go along with it to buy myself some time. That's when the topic came up."

"......"

"I visited my mother on the way back from Paris this time and told her myself."

"Then you never intended to tell Shushu or Inwu directly. Why are you telling me this?"

It wasn't an accusatory tone—more a simple curiosity, as if to say she didn't want to know such an ugly side of her business partner and friend.

"Back then, I wasn't thinking about the future at all—I hadn't even planned to keep it secret forever. Now... I thought Manager Han had the right to know that I'm the one who committed this act."

Manager Han shook her head, the movement almost imperceptible. It seemed less like a denial of Liu and more like she still couldn't believe the situation. It was beyond her capacity to process. She seemed to be postponing any conclusion for the time being.

"What did your mother say?"

Liu stubbed out the cigarette he had been holding without taking another drag since she spoke, and repeatedly opened and closed his empty fist in a meaningless gesture. He seemed to consider whether to answer her question directly, but even Liu's wry smile as he lowered his gaze was enough for her to anticipate the situation.

"Does Ihyeon know that you told her?"

Liu bit down on his lower lip and nodded.

"We decided to take our time and work through things together regarding my mother. For now... she's too disappointed...."

Manager Han let out a sigh and leaned back against the chair. For the first time since Liu began his story, she relaxed her shoulders and looked around with an unsteady gaze, as if seeing the place for the first time.

"I completely understand how she must feel. Honestly, right now, I don't even know how to process this. A Ghost, of all things... And Ihyeon too...."

Unable to finish her sentence, she roughly swept her hands over her face. She shook her head several times with force, trying to compose herself.

Manager Han's information about Ghosts wasn't much different from what Choi Inwu had. She had only vaguely heard the name before. To them, Ghosts were legendary beings, like vampires or yetis. So there was no need to even mention Diamond Dust.

For a moment, her firm gaze fixed on Liu.

"If you plan on telling Yuni and Juhan as well, I really hope you won't."

Unlike before, her tone was calm yet resolute, as if she had reached a firm conclusion on this specific point.

"I understand why you want to confess everything. But if you think about it from their perspective... that's not the right way to go. It's too much for them to bear. Just... stay as the Liu Weikun they've always known. And I'm sorry to say this, but you'll simply have to carry the guilt of keeping this secret yourself, Director Liu."

"......"

Liu, lost in thought while stroking the ring, asked for a beer. He seemed suddenly overcome by a desperate thirst. Liu brought two bottles—one for himself and one for her—twisted off the caps, and handed one over. As if genuinely parched, she downed about a third of it in one go. Then, scratching the surface of the bottle with her fingernail, she spoke in a low voice, as if sharing a secret.

"I know what it's like to be so deeply infatuated with someone that you can't see anything else. My partner was also a Beta."

When they first started working together at The Face, the two of them had quickly recognized they were cut from the same cloth—but because they were similar types, they never asked about or showed curiosity regarding each other's private lives.

Liu only found out that she had moved to Hong Kong with her artist husband after the divorce had already been finalized and her husband had returned to Korea. Even when she told him that story, she hadn't gone into detail about the love story or the reasons for the divorce.

"The reason things didn't work out between us had absolutely nothing to do with the difference in our genders—Alpha and Beta—but... when I was completely obsessed, if I could have, I would have wanted to turn my partner into an Omega."

Her voice was flat, but the faint, bitter smile playing on her lips conveyed that this was far from an idle remark.

"Of course, I didn't have the right pheromones for that, so thankfully... it only remained a vague desire."

She gave a low scoff, gripping the neck of the bottle and letting her hand slide down. Her gaze was fixed on the translucent green bottle, but her eyes were looking somewhere else.

"Even though I hadn't been particularly conscious of being an Alpha, I nearly went crazy with anxiety because my partner wasn't an Omega—whether that's instinct or something else, I don't know. Because no matter how much attraction you feel on a human level, it's difficult for an Alpha, an Omega, and a Beta to physiologically understand each other's mode of existence. Well... the same goes for Alphas and Omegas, too."

She snorted softly and took another long, cool gulp of beer. Having nothing to do but listen intently, Liu finished his own beer along with her.

"Loving someone. In the end, maybe it's just wanting the other person to remain beside you in the form you desire. At the same time, it's also the desire to remain in the form the other person desires, so you can keep being loved. Those two desires have to find a balance...."

Her eyes, tracing back over past relationships that had failed to find balance, held neither regret nor longing. But one could sense a faint ache lingering around the scars.

In her, Liu saw a reflection of Shushu. He could now vaguely understand that feeling lingering pain from a past love didn't necessarily mean holding onto foolish attachment. Instead of condemning their feelings as stubborn, he could nod and share a drink with them—only after nearly losing his own love.

Manager Han's eyes, lost in reminiscence, suddenly narrowed.

"Don't tell me that's why you avoided me and kept your distance from the Phantom work?"

"It wasn't that."

Liu shook his head and placed the shopping bag he had set beside him onto the dining table.

"What's this?"

"Souvenirs from my Paris trip."

"Besides that bomb you just dropped, you prepared something else?"

Liu rubbed his mouth and offered an awkward smile at her sarcastic glare.

"Digital prints and eco-bags made by The Hands. They sold these as a special event during the exhibition."

She took the items out of the shopping bag, lined them up on the table, and examined each one carefully.

"These are made from Ihyeon's work?"

A look of pleasure and pride spread across her face. Liu took another gulp of beer to gather his courage. It didn't help much.

"I was thinking of having you take over Phantom."

"...What do you mean?"

Manager Han's face subtly stiffened as she placed a small notebook—printed with a collaborative work with Ben—onto the table.

"I want to properly support artists who have talent but struggle to find a gallery they can trust with their work. It will be similar in nature to The Hands, but I expect it will operate more like a sponsorship foundation. I plan to step away from Phantom entirely and focus solely on that. Of course, discussing the actual acquisition of Phantom is a conversation for whenever you're ready."

Manager Han, who had been listening to Liu with heavy eyes, shifted her gaze to the items spread out on the dining table. Most of the small-to-mid-sized galleries around Phantom that had taken on experimental projects recently were concurrently producing this kind of planned merchandise.

Contemporary art was no longer the exclusive domain of wealthy older individuals who stood back and maintained a dignified distance. The age range of those establishing small galleries or artist collectives was getting younger, as was the demographic that appreciated and consumed art. While Liu welcomed this change itself, he had always maintained a negative stance toward commercializing artwork and mass-producing it as merchandise.

"If I step away, you and Kwon Juhan can steer Phantom into becoming a more contemporary and dynamic gallery."

Liu forced a smile and added.

He hadn't reached a conclusion about which method was more correct. It didn't mean the approach he had maintained until now was wrong, nor was it a surrender to the flow of the times.

Unlike Manager Han, Yuni, and recently Juhan, he had always maintained a certain distance, observing things from the sidelines. Whatever he did, it lacked intensity—it lacked desperation. So it was natural that everyone had found it strange when he rushed to open the New York branch as if he were being chased.

This was a habit he had previously dismissed as inconsequential. However, after Ihyeon left and Liu began to scrutinize himself more strictly, he could no longer ignore that lukewarm quality. He had thought he was staking everything on Phantom, but he had never truly drawn everything out of himself.

He intended to hand over the operation to those who had poured more fervent affection into Phantom, and finally, truly, intensely, desperately, immerse himself in figuring out what he could throw himself into with complete commitment.

"You discussed this with Ihyeon... right?"

Manager Han asked cautiously, sounding out the question. Liu smiled wryly and nodded, understanding her concern—given that he had once proceeded with the Changing unilaterally.

"So after leaving The Hands, Ihyeon is also planning to join?"

"Nothing has been decided that far yet. Regardless of what Ihyeon chooses, I'm going ahead with this project. If you agree to take on Phantom, we'll need to move forward with specifics."

"I suspected your heart had already left the moment you gave me permission to run the café...."

Manager Han trailed off, sighing. Despite her expectations, her expression was one of bewilderment.

"Take all the time you need to think it over. I can wait."

She looked up after gazing for a moment at Liu's left hand, where the ring sat. Her eyes held a complex emotion that couldn't clearly be defined as contempt, anger, pity, or empathy.

Without a word, she nodded, gathered the scattered gifts, and stood up. As they waited together by the front door for the substitute driver, they talked about their time working together in Hong Kong. They laughed and chatted with exaggerated cheer, as if reacting against the weight of the complicated decisions, actions, and burdens they would have to face going forward.

Yet the one thing both of them had to agree on was the fact that their lives now were more precious than those days.

After seeing Manager Han off, Liu crossed the living room and returned to the dining area to take the mug she had used and the empty beer bottles to the kitchen. As he finished tidying the dining area before heading upstairs to his bedroom, Liu suddenly stopped. He looked around the quiet space.

"......"

Even before Ihyeon entered his life, there had been the lively warmth of people who cared for one another here. But even within that vibrant exchange, he had always held himself a few steps back. It wasn't intentional. He simply didn't know how to get any closer, nor had he ever felt the need for deeper intimacy.

He had considered himself quite fortunate for the way he had lived: trusted friends who were also business partners, eager and diligent employees he wanted to support, friends he had grown up with like brothers, and even friends with whom he could trade barbs.

But after Ihyeon appeared in that landscape, everything changed.

The balance was broken, the gaps widened, and suddenly the emptiness in his life became starkly apparent. And into that emptiness, Ihyeon's presence pushed in—warm and full.

The first person he had desired fiercely and desperately. The one whom he had wounded so deeply that the excuse of inexperience couldn't begin to cover it.

Liu stared blankly at the dining table surrounded by eight empty chairs, then found his phone and gripped it. After checking the home screen, he headed downstairs.

Even without turning on the lights, the garden lamps and moonlight filtering in provided enough illumination. He sat on the mattress, having removed the pillows and sheets, and fiddled with his phone.

Sitting in this spot, savoring the afterglow of sex, he recalled the moment he had taken his first photo with Ihyeon. He almost expected Ihyeon to come down the stairs laughing and approach him, yet he also felt anxious, wondering if everything that had happened here hadn't just been a daydream.

He had told Manager Han that regardless of Ihyeon's decision, this project would proceed independently—and that was true. But he had no intention of denying that he was preparing, if not immediately then eventually, to work with Ihyeon's art.

Like Manager Han, like his father, he knew well enough that he belonged to the class of people more inclined to look than to create. There was no doubt about his affection for art, and his confidence that he was the best collaborator to understand Ihyeon's artistic world and create the most suitable conditions for it remained unwavering. However, he would no longer be impatient.

Liu rested his elbows on his knees, propped his chin, and gazed into the silent space, checking his phone once more. It was a little past three in the afternoon in Paris.

He didn't want to interrupt Ihyeon's afternoon work, but on the other hand, he knew how the conversation with Manager Han had concluded and that Ihyeon would be waiting for his call. As expected, the call connected before the phone even rang twice.

Ihyeon was practicing sketching in Room 601. He said he had locked himself somewhere completely alone because he didn't think he could concentrate well. It had been the same a few days ago, on the day Liu visited the memorial hall.

He conveyed Manager Han's opinion that it would be best to keep things from Yuni and Juhan, but Ihyeon didn't express his stance on it. Instead, he seemed more sensitive to how Manager Han had taken the suggestion about transferring Phantom—he was concerned that she might be disappointed that Liu was officially departing entirely.

"Manager Han seemed to have had some inkling. After all, you've known each other for a long time."

Liu ran his free hand over his face. The room was chilly because the heating wasn't on, but it was still indoors. Even though winter was clearly at its very end, the tip of his nose was already growing cold at just this slight temperature.

[You must have been nervous. You did well.]

He chuckled, running his hand through his hair, feeling he wasn't in a position to hear such words.

Small sounds came from the other end of the line—something being placed on a table, a chair being pulled out. He must have poured coffee into a mug and sat down at the table. Liu could picture his movements clearly.

Liu closed his eyes and focused all his senses on the sounds coming through. After the sound of liquid being sipped, Ihyeon's pleasant, calm voice followed.

[I spoke with Reed yesterday. He said the thirty thousand should be met soon... It seems I might be leaving The Hands a little earlier than planned.]

"...Is that so?"

His eyes opened. Trying to keep his voice steady and avoid showing any agitation, Liu responded as calmly as he could.

[When Kun said he wanted to establish a new organization... I didn't answer right away, but... you know it wasn't because I was hesitant, right?]

"......"

The truth was, he had lacked confidence. He had always thought Ihyeon would choose him someday, but he had tried not to expect it—to suppress that hope. It wasn't that he doubted Ihyeon's affection, but rather that he still harbored doubts about his own worthiness.

[The person I want to entrust my paintings to... has always been... just one person.]

"......"

Ihyeon's voice was far from the confident, eloquent tone people often use to reassure someone. Nevertheless, his words always carried more weight than any eloquent speech. Every syllable he uttered—never spoken carelessly—was filled with a steadfast promise that could never be broken.

Liu wanted to smile just to convey how much happiness those words gave him—even if Ihyeon couldn't see it. But it wasn't easy. All he could manage was to silently regulate his breath so Ihyeon wouldn't notice how suddenly it had become unsteady. It felt like being swept away by a massive, unexpected wave, losing his balance, and falling from a board.

To embrace someone who had endured the harsh blows of life through silence could not be purely sweet. Nor did Liu wish to covet only the sweetness among the emotions he experienced through Ihyeon.

Instead, he wanted all of Ihyeon.

He wanted Ihyeon's pain so much that he wished for every single agony the other man had felt to pass through him and be reproduced once more. He wished for the scars left deep inside this guileless man—who neither exaggerated the tragedies that befell him nor complained about them—to be etched onto himself just the same.

If he said such a thing, Ihyeon would probably smile and say that wasn't the form of love he wanted.

Huu—Liu let out a long breath. An exhale that seemed determined to expel every last remnant lodged deep in his lungs. Stroking the ring on his ring finger with his left thumb, he swore to himself again: even if he couldn't reclaim the pain Ihyeon had endured so far, he would never again stand on the side that hurt him.

"From the moment Alienation was first hung in my room... perhaps I wasn't so different either."

He tried not to cause worry, but a tremor remained in his voice. If that tremor helped convey his sincerity to Ihyeon, then that would be fine too.

He closed his eyes. Ihyeon sat waiting within the darkness behind his eyelids, at the dining table in Room 601, bathed in slanted afternoon sunlight. The waves calmed, and the submerged board floated back to the surface.

"There is only one person I want to stake my life on. There has only ever been one, and in the future too... I love only that person."

Liu spoke, his voice not hiding its tremor. Ihyeon's smile—possessing a warmth softer than sunlight—materialized before his eyes. A gentle breeze carried the familiar and longed-for scent.

He glided once more across clean waves, heading toward the beach. His painting. The language Ihyeon had given him. Like Colorful Ghost.