HYDP C8

Chapter 8

“It’s a joke. A joke.”

“…Should I just kill you.”

“Sanhong, you’re left-handed, right? More scars on the left hand. Used a knife a lot? Still, your hands are so pretty.”

At last, Cheonguk caught both of his hands and examined them this way and that. Hands that were a complex. Hearing someone call the scar-covered hands pretty felt bizarre.

“If you’d just quietly let me have a finger, would that be so hard?”

“……”

“I’ll only suck it, nice and easy. So trust me, just this once.”

The last sentence didn’t match the ones before it at all. Trust him to do what, exactly? Noticing the wild glint in Cheonguk’s eyes, he flung the tweezers to the floor and was about to rise when Cheonguk, grabbing his waist, stood up with him.

How could he exert that kind of force with a wound like that? Youth really was something else.

“Are you an Omega?”

“What would you do with that info.”

“I’m going to brag that I’m a Beta.”

“……”

“So relax, okay?”

Tilting his head side to side in a way that didn’t fit his size, he was a little scary from Sanhong’s perspective. The kid seemed a bit unhinged—or maybe not….

If it was because of him, did he owe the bureau personal compensation?

“I’m good at licking without hurting.”

Why he kept harping on the finger was beyond him. Did he have some trigger that made him seize up at the sight of fingers? Or did it turn him on? If so, look at the fingers all you want. Why this? He couldn’t suppress the surge of questions.

“I could jerk off for days just looking at your hand.”

“…….”

He resolved to file a claim for psychological damages with the bureau later. In the end, with Cheonguk clamped firmly around his waist, he ended up seated side by side just past the threshold of the room. It felt absurd, but no matter how hard he bit his tongue, this wasn’t a dream.

He stared, blank, as Cheonguk brought his fingers to his mouth. He wasn’t drugged, nor out of his mind. So it was certain. A madman. But even a madman—could he really suck the fingers of someone he’d met today for the first time?

That makes no sense—

“Sluurp….”

“……”

At the first sweep of a soft tongue over his finger, chills ran down his spine. Since he didn’t push him away, Cheonguk took it as a yes and licked with even more devotion.

His finger slid whole into the wet heat of his mouth. Then that soft, hot tongue worked over every inch of the left hand. Where the scars were darkest, he sucked with a fixated gentleness, as if to heal them. At that point, he gave up thinking. The psychic shock was immense.

He spread the left hand wide, then licked between the fingers. The almost-caressing motion set his wrist trembling. Something ticklish crawled up from his toes. He could feel his toes wriggling inside his shoes. The embarrassment doubled.

After a few minutes, he had, in fact, done nothing but suck fingers. Quietly, carefully, he finished with a few last smacks inside his mouth, then wiped the damp fingers with his own sleeve, meticulous to the end.

“Sanhong, you smell sweet.”

“……”

“Got a baby?”

His heart dropped. It wasn’t his pheromone scent. It was surely the residue of products he shared with the kids, soaked into his skin.

But stung, he kept his tone even.

“I don’t have a pheromone scent.”

“I know. Even if you did, I wouldn’t be able to smell it.”

He said he was a Beta.

At that, he blinked placidly. With his build and height, he could have passed for an Alpha; it was honestly hard to accept he was a Beta.

“Still, it’s a little disappointing.”

“……”

“I want to smell your pheromones too.”

He flashed him a small smile.

“Tell me your real age next time.”

“What I said before was real.”

“Keep lying and I’ll eat your ass.”

At his cheek, he let out a short laugh. Trying to correct a point he knew wouldn’t be believed made him feel even more ridiculous.

He couldn’t walk on his own with a wound he’d inflicted himself. In the end, he decided to take Cheonguk back to the bureau. An absurd choice.

“Wow. You know how to drive? This isn’t easy to handle.”

“…Get in. Now.”

Coming to, he realized he was playing chauffeur. Like a decent adult dragging a delinquent home before he ran away. Unaware of his feelings, Cheonguk kept spooling out useless chatter in the passenger seat. Strangely, none of it stuck in his ears.

“This kind of kid really works for the bureau? Don’t tell me he’s some short-term hire.”

With any number of thoughts, he started the engine.

Cheonguk fished painkillers out of the glove pocket, tossed them into his mouth, and chewed them down. Trying not to show the pain, his forehead was slick with sweat. Watching the childishness of it with a tender pang, he let out a quiet sigh.

“That neighborhood’s rough. How’d you decide to live there.”

“Live there long enough and you adapt.”

“Kid’s already talking like an old fart.”

“……”

There was no point denying it; he wouldn’t be believed anyway, so he gave up on rebutting from the start.

In this world, there are many things that become easier when you give up. For instance, the catcalls and snide remarks people throw—what matters is whether they cross the line. If they didn’t, you could just let it go.

Wounded and still, for some reason, excited. He hummed, hooked an elbow out the window.

“Hey. Like this, it feels like we’re in a wedding car.”

The painkillers were likely doing the heavy lifting, so he left him be. As soon as he could cut him loose, he’d look more into him. He just didn’t fit this job.

After a good drive, they reached near the bureau HQ. He couldn’t pull up to the front door, so he parked a little ways off.

“I treated it, but just in case, go to a hospital.”

“Why the sudden polite speech. Drawing a line?”

“Just go.”

“Are we breaking up?”

“Don’t skip it because you feel fine. You’re not a doctor.”

“Hey. Don’t make that scary face. It’s freaking terrifying.”

Bang—

He slammed the driver’s door and spun away. Oddly, though, the words he’d tossed out right before the door shut kept circling in his head.

“See you again.”

When he hobbled into the bureau lobby, faces froze as one.

“Get the deputy director here, now!”

Shouts erupted.

A short while later, he was stretched out on a cot in the infirmary. With the deputy director’s senile mug hovering, demanding what the hell had happened, his stomach lurched.

Going from a face as pretty as Sanhong’s to an eyesore right up close—nothing could be more unpleasant. Unable to bear it, he lurched upright and clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Hey! W-what the—!”

It was the most wrecked he’d looked lately. The deputy flailed, rubbing his face in helpless agitation.

“You okay!? Why’d you play hero and go alone. Hero, my ass! Why’d you cut comms? Who said you could do whatever you want? And what’s with that state now! I told you to be careful with him!”

Seeing him listen quietly, the deputy decided he had license to keep going; his mouth didn’t stop. Annoyed, Yang Seo-jin, the infirmary lead, covered her ears and dumped disinfectant over the mess of his thigh.

“Been a while since you limped.”

“Yeah.”

Both were taciturn, so talk was sparse, but they were boyhood friends. Seo-jin thought the slightly buoyant look on his face was odd.

“Coming back beat to hell—what’s got you so happy.”

“I’ve been living my life like a damn fool till now.”

“Out of nowhere?”

“Deputy Director.”

He called to the deputy fuming at his side. The man barked at him to add the honorific, but his eyes didn’t stray from the wound.

“Your side’s hit too… Ha. So why’d you call me?”

“I failed.”

“……”

“Failed to capture Sanhong.”

“…I know, idiot! Stop talking!”

“Cheonguk, fail?” It was unthinkable, and Cheon-jung’s mood bottomed out like a stone.

“Put me on disciplinary.”

“…That’s a bit much.”

“Don’t they usually put you on leave for a failure?”

He planned to use the time off to rest and learn more about Sanhong. But Cheon-jung paled like he’d heard something monstrous and patted his shoulder, frantic.

“You won’t be disciplined. Don’t worry.”

“What are you on about. Just do it.”

He scolded him not to pretend he was looking out for him. Then he went back to his real point.

“By the way… Sanhong’s an Omega, right?”

“Huh? Uh-huh.”

Cheon-jung paused at hearing him casually call him “Sanhong,” but shrugged it off.