DHG Ch 9

During that period when his life felt like it was held in pawn, Heewoo often found himself thinking of his mother whenever he had a spare moment. Her curly hair, her lips painted a vivid red, a mother who sparkled with youth like a truly beautiful older sister.

It was Kim Jinhwan who had delivered the news of that futile death.

‘Is this Heeran noona’s keepsake?’

It was an item Heewoo remembered too. The necklace his mother would occasionally wear on special days. A pendant that could be mistaken for a feather or a leaf hung from it like a teardrop.

He didn’t tell his grandmother about his mother. He kept it buried deep, like a necklace worn only around the neck. Because he knew it would surely sadden her.

The year he turned seventeen.

Heewoo canceled his high school enrollment. Instead, he began working in the kitchen of a restaurant in Gangnam, designated by Kim Jinhwan. The one fortunate thing was that Kim Jinhwan had honored the terms written in the initial contract. Heewoo was allowed to visit his grandmother twice a month.

“Are you studying hard? Listening well to your teachers?”

The care facility he’d researched while shuttling between PC cafes was truly decent. It was small but meticulously maintained. Staying there, his grandmother—who had once resembled dry firewood after surgery—began to show a moist, tender smile again. Each time she patted his hand while talking about the care staff or her new friends, Heewoo felt the rightness of his choice. Because it meant he hadn’t lost that warmth.

“Yes, I’m studying hard. The teachers are all good to me too.”

Whenever he met his grandmother, Heewoo smiled like a boy who knew nothing of hardship. He focused on producing a carefree, bright voice.

His grandmother was his lifeline. His sunlight. Heewoo endured sixteen-hour workdays without a single day off, looking forward only to those twice-monthly visits with her.

Three years—that was how long his grandmother held on.

Baby. You need to study. Don’t come too often. Don’t you wear a uniform? I saw a puppy in a uniform and wanted to grab it… Her words came in short bursts, but at some point, she began speaking less. The tender smile dried up too. She drifted away slowly, giving Heewoo time to prepare.

Live well. You have to live well.

My yellow puppy. My little one…

Even on the last day he saw her, Heewoo forced his trembling lips into a smile. Why are you saying that? You need to get better soon, Grandma. He rubbed his cheek against her parched palm, desperately wishing he could give her some of his youth and health, but he knew.

There wasn’t much time left to see her face. Her hands no longer carried the comforting scent of rich soil. Heewoo only hid his tears.

✮⋆˙

He wondered why he’d dreamed of the past.

Heewoo pushed his eyelids up. A smell ingrained in him over years wafted to his nose. It was the scent of disinfectant he’d encountered while shuttling between hospitals and care facilities.

He was in a hospital. It seemed to be the emergency room, with partition curtains drawn around him. In a daze, he recalled his last memory. Fleeing the warehouse was where it ended.

Had he been brought to the hospital afterward? Were Kang Sunsoo and Kang Manager transported too? Somehow, he doubted it.

It’d be a lie to say he hoped they were unharmed. He’d suffered too much at their hands. Still, he’d only wished they’d stumble and struggle a bit on the roadside—not die.

Heewoo exhaled slowly, trying to push away the gloom. He clung to the good memories he’d glimpsed in his dream. A carefree childhood, a yard where morning glories and crepe myrtles bloomed, his grandmother’s hand stroking his hair. Tracing back to that point, he narrowed his eyes.

It was because a memory—unsure if it was a dream or reality—overlapped. A firm embrace holding him tight, fingertips brushing through his hair, a faint cool scent cutting through the stench of blood.

What memory is this?

But the vague impression that had started to surface vanished as the curtain was abruptly pulled back.

“Oh, you’re awake?”

It was Mingun, holding a shopping bag in one hand.

“You collapsed. They said you need a tetanus shot because of the cut on your hand.”

Heewoo lowered his bleary gaze. Sure enough, his right hand was wrapped in a white bandage.

Soon, Mingun called for a nurse. The IV had just finished, so the nurse removed the needle.

“Patient, you’ll need additional treatment before you leave. We’ll register you with the Trait Department as soon as the doctor arrives.”

Heewoo’s face stiffened. He wanted to refuse outright, but all his attention was fixed on Mingun standing beside him.

The Trait Department? They couldn’t have figured out I’m an omega, right?

“Thank you.”

Mingun accepted on Heewoo’s behalf. The nurse, glancing between the two contrasting figures, left. Even then, Heewoo remained rigid as Mingun spoke to him.

“You’re an omega, aren’t you?”

It was a bombshell. Faced with this situation for the first time, Heewoo felt lost on how to respond. No one had ever known before, but this time he’d been caught.

“They said you collapsed because of a pheromone disorder.”

Mingun spoke cautiously, but Heewoo didn’t reply.

Mingun awkwardly blinked, looking elsewhere. He was feeling a rare sense of unease. As an alpha himself, he’d been stunned when the doctor casually referred to Heewoo as “an omega patient” early that morning—especially since he’d never sensed even a hint of pheromones from his old classmate.

Heewoo let out a low sigh. Brushing aside his despair, he slowly accepted the situation. He checked the most important thing first.

“Does anyone else know besides you?”

“…No. Just me.”

“…”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Mingun added, still looking sheepish. Again, Heewoo didn’t react much.

It was around 7 a.m. With time to spare before appointments began, the two left the emergency room.

“Change into this.”

The shopping bag Mingun handed over contained newly bought clothes. Heewoo was still in a patient gown. His original clothes must have been soaked, so they’d changed him.

The last image of his twin flashed through his mind, but as he’d done countless times before, Heewoo tried to let the bad memory slip away. He changed into the new clothes in the bathroom, emptying his mind as well.

“How is it? My taste’s pretty good, right?”

Heewoo nodded at Mingun’s playful remark. The white shirt and slightly loose jeans were flawless, not a single thread out of place. The soft touch against his skin felt unfamiliar.

“Wear stuff like this more often.”

Mingun indirectly teased his classmate’s usual preference for thick, baggy clothes. He watched the unresponsive Heewoo with a slightly curious gaze.

In truth, those clothes had been left behind by his new boss, Jang Seungyung.

It was also Jang Seungyung who had brought Heewoo to the emergency room. The new boss had personally bought the clothes, then snorted as if he found it absurd himself before handing over the shopping bag and card and leaving.

He’d seemed deeply irritated, so Mingun had acted cautiously. He intended to keep quiet about what had happened that early morning.

Well, I’ll keep the fact that this guy’s an omega a secret too.

“Let’s go grab some breakfast.”

Deciding to call it even, Mingun brushed off his thoughts with ease. His steps toward a nearby convenience store were light, unlike Heewoo’s. The two, each with their own hidden feelings, stepped out into a street still sprinkled with drizzle.

✮⋆˙

“It’s a condition caused by artificially suppressing your pheromones.”

An hour later, after getting a tetanus shot, Heewoo visited the Trait Department again. The doctor explained, pointing to a monitor on the wall.

“See the graph of your pheromone levels? They’re completely flatlined. Your pheromones can’t even respond naturally anymore. Your body’s reacting to that with pain.”

To aid understanding, the doctor likened it to sleep apnea. Just as breathing happens unconsciously in daily life, pheromones should be released naturally—but by forcibly suppressing them for so long, it was as if Heewoo had forgotten how to breathe.

“The solution is to encourage your pheromones to respond naturally again. I’ll prescribe some medication. You’ll need to take it consistently.”

Beyond the medication, the doctor suggested another treatment he could try in daily life. Heewoo couldn’t hide his stiff expression. The suggestion was rather disconcerting.

“Regular pheromone showers would also help.”

Heewoo couldn’t bring himself to speak. Regardless of the patient’s reaction, the doctor continued calmly.

“There’s a caveat. You need to avoid taking in multiple strong pheromones at once.”

The reason for this shock was that Heewoo had been bombarded with multiple pheromones in a short time. His blocked pheromone glands had been intensely stimulated, and by suppressing his own pheromone response again, the situation from that early morning had occurred.

Afterward, Heewoo received various instructions. That frequent pheromone showers would be ideal, or at least once a month if circumstances didn’t allow. But he let it all pass by—he had no intention of subjecting himself to pheromone showers.

Instead, he took note of things like the possibility of pain when his pheromone glands began reactivating, or that it was a natural symptom of dormant bodily functions waking up.