TATMFL - 75

From that day on, Do-kyung made it a point to “clock in” at the Fine Arts building every single day. Coming and going so frequently that people might mistake him for a Fine Arts major, his actions only fueled everyone’s suspicion—and eventual certainty—about his relationship with Raon. Even the professors jokingly referred to him as Raon’s shadow.

Because of this, Raon found it impossible to focus on studying for her upcoming final exams, which were less than a week away.

“Haa.”

Letting out yet another sigh, she absentmindedly tapped her pen against the notebook.

Across from her, Hye-sung glanced up awkwardly from his textbook, watching Raon struggle under the weight of her tangled thoughts.

She’d been like this for days now. While she had always spaced out occasionally, lately her distress seemed more profound than ever.

He didn’t need to ask what—or rather, who —was causing it. Ever since Do-kyung had brought her home drunk and left, Raon had seemed lost in thought. …Actually, even before then.

Watching Raon mindlessly drag her pen back and forth across the page, Hye-sung cautiously asked,

“He came by again today?”

Though Hye-sung omitted the subject, they both knew he was talking about Do-kyung.

Raon squeezed the pen tightly, then let go, exhaling deeply as she pressed her throbbing eyelids. She nodded wearily.

“He said he’d wait while I studied, but then he left.”

“Wait?”

“Yes.”

With a bitter laugh, Raon shook her head in disbelief.

Today, just like every other day recently, Do-kyung had shown up uninvited. When she mentioned studying, he paused thoughtfully for a moment.

Raon had fully expected him to give up and leave. After all, Han Do-kyung and studying? The combination was absurdly mismatched.

But contrary to her expectations, after some deliberation, Do-kyung nodded resolutely with determination etched across his face. Then, before leaving, he dropped one final remark.

“I’ll bring my study materials.”

“…What?” Hye-sung blinked at the unexpected statement. “Did he say he’d study here with you?”

“No, not exactly.”

But… even without saying it outright, Raon couldn’t help but feel that Do-kyung already knew where she would be. He had acted like he knew her whereabouts for days now.

Mumbling vaguely, Raon avoided elaborating further. Following her gaze toward the café entrance, Hye-sung chuckled knowingly.

“So that’s why you’ve been staring outside every few seconds?”

“What?”

“You write one letter, look outside, write another, and look again.”

Hye-sung smiled softly, resting his chin on his hand. His warm eyes softened the teasing tone, though concern still lingered beneath the surface. At that expression, Raon fell silent.

Then, out of habit, her gaze drifted once more over Hye-sung’s shoulder. Her pupils quivered involuntarily.

Catching the movement instantly, Hye-sung turned around skeptically, only to see Do-kyung entering the café. As usual, all eyes were drawn to him as he strode straight toward Raon—with an incongruous textbook tucked under his arm. It didn’t take long for Raon and Hye-sung to recognize it as the textbook used in the “Understanding Korean Art” course.

Hye-sung stared incredulously between Do-kyung and the book. Raon mirrored his confusion.

Ignoring their reactions, Do-kyung placed the book firmly on the table and flashed Hye-sung a grin devoid of sincerity.

“There’s no event where you’re not present, huh, Young-hyung?”

His words carried a sharp edge. Hye-sung forced a hollow laugh but quickly looked bewildered.

Turning back to Raon, Do-kyung’s face lit up with a radiant smile, as if nothing unusual had happened moments ago.

The abrupt shift caused the previously noisy café to fall eerily silent. Hye-sung gaped in awe, momentarily forgetting the situation entirely. Somewhere in the background, someone audibly swallowed.

Meanwhile, Do-kyung leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. With tense anticipation, he lowered his voice and addressed Raon directly.

“Help me study.”

Like a blade slicing through calm waters, his words sent ripples through the air. The faint scent of earth after rain grew stronger.

Do-kyung, who had been breathing deeply these past few days, exhaled regretfully and flashed the charming smile Raon adored.

True enough, her fragile gaze wavered under his intense stare as he teased playfully,

“I need to avoid academic probation.”

Caught off guard by Do-kyung’s deliberate charm, Raon exhaled belatedly.

Before worrying about academic probation, shouldn’t he have attended class properly first? That thought crossed her mind as she observed Do-kyung, whose attendance record was already beyond saving.

Avoiding his piercing gaze, Raon turned her head away. Her pulse thundered painfully in her ears, making the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably.

“Even if you study now, it won’t make a difference.”

“Really?”

Shrugging indifferently, Do-kyung plopped down beside her. Rather than genuinely concerned about his grades, he appeared unconcerned altogether.

Resting his chin on his hand, he gazed at Raon.

“Well then, I’ll just quietly sit here.”

It was clear from the start that sitting next to Raon was his real goal. Satisfied, Do-kyung grinned widely.

That night, Professor Yang, Do-kyung’s personal physician, carefully stored the collected blood samples into an icebox and remarked,

“Your current condition is something you’re well aware of, Master Han.”

Do-kyung casually dabbed at the injection site with cotton, raising an eyebrow nonchalantly. Despite being the subject of discussion, he treated the conversation as if it pertained to someone else. Professor Yang sighed heavily, flipping open the lab results brought earlier that morning.

“You collapsed last night due to your pheromone glands being overloaded. You’re aware of this, correct?”

Yang had rushed over upon receiving news of Do-kyung’s collapse late the previous night.

“And even though I pleaded earnestly for you to rest at the hotel today, you insisted on going to school anyway.”

When told not to go, he stubbornly refused. Now, when advised otherwise, he went regardless.

Clutching his chest in frustration, Yang lamented, “I’d rather see you dead than suffer like this.” Then sternly added,

“Stop being so obstinate and release your pheromones. If you don’t, the next time you collapse may not end so harmlessly.”

But Do-kyung ignored him completely, instead focusing intently on his phone.

Seeing the screen light up with familiar content, Yang groaned loudly in exasperation. He recognized the photo Do-kyung obsessively stared at: Raon’s high school graduation picture.

Frowning, Yang examined the erratic graph of Do-kyung’s pheromone levels recorded on the report. Always consistent before, the line now resembled a chaotic mess.

“This level of instability could trigger rut sooner than expected,” Yang muttered grimly.

“Sooner? When?”

Finally turning his attention to Yang, Do-kyung listened intently.

“It’s hard to predict precisely, but judging by your gland activity, it might happen within a week or so.”

Yang adjusted his glasses pensively.

“You’re aware that suppressing your pheromones during rut will be futile, right? No matter how hard you try, there’s no hiding them during rut.”

Rut wasn’t just a heat cycle—it was also when residual pheromones built up in the glands were expelled.

Even if Do-kyung managed to suppress his pheromones daily, during rut, the floodgates would burst open. Perhaps even more violently than ever before.

“…”

Frowning at Yang’s warning, Do-kyung soon relaxed, shrugging dismissively.

“It’s fine. Finals are ending soon.”

He had planned to stick close to Raon throughout winter break, practically haunting the Fine Arts building. Though those plans might change slightly, having rut occur during vacation wasn’t the worst scenario.

Yang sighed deeply.

“Fine, let’s assume this rut happens during vacation. But what about the next one? I never guaranteed that rut would strike only once, Master Han.”

Typically, an Alpha experienced rut four times a year. However, given Do-kyung’s extreme nature, his cycle remained consistent at twice annually—in April and November.

Yet considering his current state, it wouldn’t be surprising if rut occurred more frequently than that.

“And if collapsing unexpectedly becomes routine? Luckily, last night’s incident happened in a hotel. But imagine if it occurred outside—”

Unable to finish, Yang trailed off, envisioning the worst-case scenarios.

Unfazed, Do-kyung smirked lightly, brushing off Yang’s concerns.

“If my pheromone glands fail, rut is the least of my worries. Besides, Joon will ensure I don’t die alone somewhere.”

“This isn’t something to joke about!”

Yang snapped, rising sharply. His outburst startled Joon, who was waiting outside.

While Yang glared at Do-kyung in frustration, the latter remained fixated on his phone.

Even as his body deteriorated, Do-kyung smiled carelessly, as if none of it mattered—as long as he could stay by Raon’s side.

Watching him, Yang wore an expression of utter bewilderment.

Do-kyung, grinning foolishly at a single photo, bore little resemblance to the man Yang thought he knew.