Hero Hunter is on Parental Leave C5

Chapter 5

“It appears that patient Won Iheun is exhibiting signs of dissociative amnesia.”

“Dissoci—what?”

“It’s one of the dissociative disorders, commonly observed as a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. Dissociative amnesia refers to the loss of memories related to a certain period of time, or even one’s past as a whole—”

Yeongung interrupted the doctor before he could launch into another lecture.

“Sorry, but could you please get to the point?”

Because of the high mortality rate among Hunters, the Bureau required every active Hunter to register a designated guardian in case of emergency. Won Iheun had listed no family—no blood relatives—but Yeongung.

And now, Yeongung was sitting in the guardian’s chair, listening to the doctor’s explanation of his condition.

He parted his chapped lips with effort, his voice catching in his throat.

“So, you’re saying…”

It was the kind of day where the sunlight was warm and the wind soft—yet he felt as though he were standing under the merciless blaze of midsummer. Sweat trickled down his back, chills shivering through him despite the zipped-up windbreaker. Something in his body felt wrong.

He wiped his cold sweat with his bare hand, deciding that after he finished learning about the cause and treatment of Iheun’s memory loss, he’d stop by the obstetrics department.

As he was about to wrap up, the doctor suddenly reached out a hand. In his palm lay an expensive handkerchief, a luxury brand’s logo embroidered in bold, conspicuous stitching.

Yeongung wasn’t the type to splurge on brands, but the logo looked familiar.

Ah. Of course—it was the same brand stacked in Won Iheun’s lavish dressing room.

Everything Yeongung saw, he saw in relation to that man. The world itself seemed to orbit around him.

But unlike Iheun’s understated designs, this handkerchief screamed for attention, the logo practically begging to be noticed.

So he’s the showy type. Well, doctors aren’t forbidden from liking luxury, I suppose.

Yeongung shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

Before pregnancy, his body had been closer to a Beta’s—largely unresponsive to others’ pheromones. But today, the faint trace of pheromone clinging to the handkerchief made his stomach turn. He refused the doctor’s gesture and subtly covered his nose with his hand, pretending to wipe away sweat.

The little life inside him must have already recognized its father, because the moment the Alpha’s pheromone hit, it rejected it violently—repulsed by a scent that wasn’t Won Iheun’s.

That fierce will reminded Yeongung so much of Iheun himself that a strange warmth filled his chest.

He’d have to stop calling the baby “it.” Maybe he should give it a name. Something like Yeongwon—a blend of his and Iheun’s names, meaning “eternity.” The word alone felt right.

He was lost in idle daydreams when he realized the doctor was stealing glances at him—curious, almost starstruck. The idea of standing face to face with an Absolute Hunter must’ve been novel to him.

“Mm.”

The doctor coughed awkwardly and adjusted his glasses after Yeongung’s cold refusal. Yeongung cut straight to the question that mattered most.

“So why is it that Won Iheun remembers everything—except me?”

At once, the doctor slipped back into a calm, professional tone.

“There are several types of dissociative amnesia. In this case, Mr. Won is experiencing systematic memory loss—forgetting certain categories of information, such as specific people or locations. Unfortunately, in his case, the person he’s forgotten is you, Hunter Yeongung.”

“⋯.”

“This type of memory loss often stems from psychological factors—trauma or extreme stress. I believe the Gate battle you both fought triggered a severe emotional trauma.”

“Trauma from the End War? Won Iheun? You’re serious?”

PTSD. The term felt absurdly out of place when applied to someone like him.

Sure, that day had been brutal. But this was Won Iheun—a man who had witnessed scenes far worse countless times before. The notion that this particular incident had broken him seemed laughable.

“The patient doesn’t even remember destroying the final Gate,” the doctor continued. “At first, the memory loss seemed random, but when we pieced together all the missing fragments, the puzzle spelled one name: you, Hunter Yeongung.”

“⋯⋯.”

“Meanwhile, your memory remains intact. What happened inside that Gate?”

The doctor’s stern tone carried a subtle accusation, and Yeongung bristled.

“Think carefully,” the man pressed.

He didn’t like the man’s voice—so smug, so clinical—but still, Yeongung’s mind began replaying that day’s events like a match being analyzed move by move.

What could have traumatized Won Iheun so badly?

They’d thought the fight was over, only to be hit by the hidden bug. He’d almost died—would have died—if not for that beautiful bastard.

Wait. Was that it? Was it because I almost died?

The thought was absurd. What arrogance. As if he meant that much to Won Iheun.

Ridiculous. He’d wasted years mistaking Iheun’s small gestures of kindness for affection—how pathetic to fall for that delusion again.

Yeongung gave a bitter laugh and picked at the scab on his lip until fresh blood welled up, catching the doctor’s eye.

“Were you… close to Master Won Iheun?”

“What?”

“The attending physician’s notes mention that he used a forbidden skill that day—something one would only risk for a parent, a child, or… a lover.”

That last word made Yeongung glance at the nameplate on the desk.

Professor Nam Suhwan, Department Head, Division of Neuropsychiatry.

Of course. One of those types—an academic snob who’d never set foot on the field but thought he could analyze Hunters like lab rats.

“To be frank,” the man went on, “it seems to go beyond mere camaraderie. I hear Alpha-Alpha relationships aren’t so uncommon among young Hunters these days…”

The pristine white coat suddenly looked filthy, like it had been dragged through gutter water.

Yeongung’s lips twisted into a faint, sardonic smile.

So that was it. The man thought Iheun was another Alpha—and that Yeongung’s pheromones, which only true Alphas like Iheun could detect, were proof of some sordid affair.

That damn handkerchief earlier, the constant lingering stares—it all made sense now.

For the first time, Yeongung was on the receiving end of unwanted interest from another Alpha. It was disgusting. No one had ever dared to hit on him before—not unless they had a death wish.

“Ah,” Yeongung said softly. “So you’re not a doctor. You’re just a pervert.”

The man shot to his feet, chair clattering backward. “W–What?! That’s not—”

“So what, you want to fuck an Alpha too? Is that what you’re saying?”

The explicit words made the doctor’s face blaze crimson. Yeongung almost laughed at how ridiculous it looked—someone aroused by humiliation.

Ever since he’d realized his feelings for Iheun, no one else had ever stirred him—not a single soul. His heart had gone first, and his body followed.

It had never been about lust. It was about closeness. About wanting to stay by his side. Yeongung was old-fashioned that way—faithful to a fault, disgusted by shallow games like this.

The only man who’d ever touched him was Won Iheun—and only from behind. The front had remained untouched, pure.

Without another word, Yeongung used his skill. The man’s body lifted into the air, gasping.

“Because you’re fucking disgusting.”

He hurled the flailing body into a steel cabinet filled with files. The metal groaned and warped. A fountain pen from the man’s pocket clattered out—straight into Yeongung’s hand.

The sharp nib pressed against the man’s throat.

“Guh—! W–Wait, this is a misunderstanding!”

“Professor Nam Suhwan,” Yeongung said coldly. “I’ll remember that name. Resign before I report you to the Bureau. If you don’t, I’ll make sure no Alpha, Omega, or Beta ever eats again—because I’ll slice off that filthy thing of yours myself.”

The door creaked open.

“Professor Nam, is something wrong? I heard a noi—oh my God!”

A young assistant’s shriek split the air. The noise sent a piercing pain through Yeongung’s head. His ears rang. His body shivered violently, the chill turning into a full-body tremor.

Ah… That’s it.

His limit.

Just before his consciousness faded, strong arms caught him from behind.

“I may not remember you, Hunter Yeongung,” came a calm, silken voice near his ear, “but one thing’s for certain…”

Iheun’s breath brushed his neck.

“You irritate me.”

A breathless laugh escaped Yeongung’s lips. Crazy bastard.

Smiling faintly, he lost consciousness in the arms of the man he loved beyond reason.