TFN C38

Chapter 38

***

Cheongmun checked the state of Wonhyo, who had curled himself into the tissue-pile nest and was now nodding off.

Even with just the minimum necessary rites carried out, it had still taken more than two hours of constant movement, so fatigue was only natural. Normally he barely stirred in daily life—so to see such endurance in dancing at all was surprising. Aside from a couple trips up Mount Inwang since first being marked, Wonhyo had simply remained indoors without outings, so yes, his activity level was generally low.

Cheongmun finished reviewing the last batch of paperwork, leaving his digital signature at the end. A black-market detainee from last month was attempting to bargain down his sentence with supposed information, but what he offered was less accurate than what the National Tax Service had already tracked, so it was likely worthless. Still, part of this job was listening to garbage once in a while.

He quickly wrapped up the last authorizations and rose.

Returning unit members had already dropped off the received evidence, their gazes converging as he spoke:

“If nothing more is expected tonight, then dismiss yourselves.”

“Ah—I have a handover of autopsy documents in thirty minutes, the Myeongam Reservoir incident, so you all go first.”

“I’m on overnight duty. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Everyone’s occupied. In that case, I’ll follow the team lead and leave now.”

Cheongmun knew from early morning duty that it would be the following afternoon before the baseline analysis concluded, so he left without hesitation. Carrying, in his palm, a sleeping chick named Wonhyo.

He transferred him carefully, ensuring not to wake him. The boy must have been deeply asleep, for though moved, he only drooped his head further without stirring.

Just three minutes by car—or on foot—from headquarters, Cheongmun brought him into his own apartment.

Situated with Yongsan Park visible across Han River’s expressway instead of the river itself, the unit felt different tonight. He spent more time in his duty office than here, leaving the home barren save for a single bedroom. Into this bare, black-and-grey space, Wonhyo entered, and at once looked striking—like a bright shard of spring dropped into a world of winter.

Nest and all, Cheongmun set him upon a pillow, then fetched an unused talismanic item acquired back on the Seventh Floor of the Tower. Useless unless one was cursed into beast-form, it had sat forgotten in Bureau storage. Potions sanctified for curse-breaking worked faster—this item was never tried.

The large, fist-sized bead resembled cheongsimhwan. He broke off a piece small enough for a chick’s beak and pressed it to Wonhyo’s mouth.

Softly parting in slumber, the beak accepted it. He waited for it to dissolve—and then, the change began.

“Mmgh—”

Pristine white skin gleamed under the lights. Like steps pressed into untouched snow, his body stretched, branched into lean human form, warming, flushed pink with flowing blood. The thumping of his heart echoed steady at Cheongmun’s ears.

Back before him lay Wonhyo in human shape.

“It worked, then?”

But bare flesh shivered in a room still cold without heating. Instinctively the body rolled, seeking warmth towards him. Cheongmun lifted the covers—yet the boy shrank again on the spot. Once more, yellow fluff ballooned outward, scattering like dandelion, returning him round and small.

Narrowing his eyes, Cheongmun scooped him delicately from beneath the quilt, returning him unhurt to the nest.

So the antidote worked—but only for a fleeting twenty seconds.

He considered administering more, but set it aside for later, pulling fresh tissues instead, layering them half over the tiny body, ensuring comfort, before shifting the nest to a secure corner.

“Good night.”

Somewhere, faintly, came another chirp.

Chapter 5.

A cock impossibly wide filled his mouth, stretching past what he thought could tear.

Wonhyo thought so—yet the firm, smooth flesh thrusting down his throat was sweet, and his gullet swallowed reflexively. Trembling all over, he forced himself wider, compelled to devour more until sated.

The shaft scraped his palate, ground his tongue, and drove back in again—not retching, but instead pooling heat thick in his belly.

Pressing splayed palms against the man’s thigh, he felt the ridged muscle clench. Each time his hands tightened, the grip at his scalp tightened too, pushing him deeper.

The man holding him finally gasped and withdrew, pulling his hips away.

Bereft, Wonhyo jerked his head forward like a pecking bird, desperate to swallow again—but the man lifted him, redirecting his mouth against hot lips and tongue.

Harsh kisses smothered him, the man’s eyes half-lidded, examining swollen lips, nipples red and taut, cock twitching and leaking precum—all of it before locking their eyes again.

Wonhyo, panting, reached out. His cool body, untouched, needed heat—the heat that shredded reason and left him mindless.

Reading his need, the man toppled him flat, spread his legs wide.

Between them, grinding against, their erections met, colliding with each thrust.

Wonhyo’s hand shot down toward his own, but the man’s bigger hand engulfed both together.

“Ungh!”

Rough, violent, punishing—two shafts sliding together, spilling slick fluid until they slapped against one another.

The man’s finger jabbed at his overstimulated tip, teasing his slit, forcing him briefly to climax-yet-not, never letting release crest.

Wonhyo clawed back at the hand, arching desperately, but the grip refused to yield—building only more unbearable ecstasy.

Each erratic gasp, heavy heat filled him and blackened thought; toes curled, stomach knotted, until a burst of chill snapped through.

Shivering cold drove every nerve—then, Wonhyo awakened.

“…Fuck. Just a dream.”

“Chirp.”

The obscene dream shattered into reality where a small chick’s chirp replaced his curse.

Startled, Wonhyo flustered, wings beating frantically until tumbling off his perch.

Instinct spread wings, but birds cannot simply always fly. He plummeted—yet a large hand caught him, set him gently back down.

No feathers lost, no hurt.

Opening his eyes, Wonhyo saw beneath him—expansive flesh, corded chest, abs flexing under quilts.

Wait—was this still a dream?

Familiar, too intimately familiar, his beak shut on instinct to stifle chirps.

Blinking awake, features sharpening, Cheongmun’s eyes regained their focus, locking on him.

Without letting him fall, he summoned a cube and placed him carefully atop.

Caught mid-flutter upon its transparent surface, Wonhyo stared, trembling, while Cheongmun rose and strode out, disappearing.

Left alone, Wonhyo gathered himself. This was no Bureau duty-room—too private, too stripped down. No investigator would sleep shirtless there, least of all Cheongmun.

The click of a door announced his return. Now dressed in a shirt, glasses perched, he approached.

“Chirp.”

‘Uh… good morning?’

Questions boiled inside—where, why, how. More than anything, why he woke up here. But first greetings, he decided.

Though the cookie’s effect was long gone, mercifully Cheongmun understood.

“Good morning. Did you rest?”

His voice was lower, huskier this early hour, so uncannily just like that voice from Wonhyo’s dream.