Volume 2.
It had been a moment that barely lasted an instant.
And yet, even years later, Yeonwoo would be able to recall that moment with perfect clarity: the man charging at Keith with a knife, the security guards rushing in too late, Keith stepping backward, and the screaming that erupted around them.
"Keith!"
He had shouted in fear, his voice breaking. His mind went blank—there was only one thought running through it.
Protect him. Take that knife away. Shield Keith—no matter what.
Yeonwoo had run with all the strength he had. He reached out, trying to stop the man. Strangely, the scene played out before his eyes like a slow-motion panorama. The man’s movements were sluggish, as if the air itself were thick. It felt like just a little more—just a little farther—and he could reach him. The man raised the knife, drawing a wide arc. Keith seemed to step back. But it was too late. Right in front of Yeonwoo’s eyes, the blade slashed across Keith’s arm.
"……!"
Bright blood burst into the air. The screams intensified, chaotic and high-pitched. Security guards lunged in from every direction. Even as he was pinned to the floor, the attacker shouted incomprehensibly.
"Be cursed! You’re all devils! Kill every damn Apex Alpha! The end is near—God will punish all of you! O Lord, smite these demons with Your wrath…!"
Yeonwoo froze.
He couldn’t believe it—he had failed. He’d reached out with everything he had, and still… he’d been too late. Keith was already bleeding from a gash across his arm.
Snapping back to his senses, Yeonwoo rushed to him and immediately loosened his tie.
"I’ll stop the bleeding."
He quickly inspected the wound and tied the cloth tight around it. Then, he checked whether someone had already called an ambulance or located the nearest hospital.
"It’ll be faster to go straight to the hospital. Will that be all right?"
He asked in a brisk tone. Keith nodded wordlessly, his face completely unreadable. Yeonwoo turned to Whitaker.
"Take us to the closest hospital now. I’ll alert them so he can be treated the moment we arrive. Hand the attacker over to the police and send me a full report once it’s handled."
Yeonwoo looked back up at Keith.
"Are you all right? Can you walk to the car?"
His voice was too professional—so detached it gave even himself chills. Keith glanced down at him with an unreadable expression but said nothing, merely turning away. Yeonwoo followed him immediately, getting into the car with him.
"...Yes, Mr. Keith Pittman has just been attacked. We’ll be arriving in about ten minutes. It’s a laceration, approximately four to five inches in length. I’m unsure about the depth, but he’s mobile and bleeding has been controlled for now. Yes, please begin treatment as soon as we arrive."
After the emergency call, Yeonwoo reported directly to Keith. Though Keith had clearly heard the call from the seat beside him, he showed no reaction. Yeonwoo was worried he might pass out from blood loss.
"I’ll make sure the press doesn’t get wind of this. The incident won’t make the news."
It didn’t really need to be said, but Yeonwoo said it anyway—just to speak to him. Keith didn’t respond, but he blinked as he stared out the window, which made Yeonwoo feel slightly relieved.
Even though the tie was wrapped tightly, blood had started to soak through in patches. Yeonwoo bit his lip in an effort to stay calm.
***
The waiting medical team immediately began treating Keith’s wound. Thankfully, it hadn’t damaged any major blood vessels or nerves.
"There may be a scar—or not… Well, you’re not exactly like ordinary people, as you know."
The doctor added with a tone that lacked confidence. That the wound would heal quickly was a relief. There had been no major blood loss or complications—just a clean wound that needed stitching.
"You’ll need to come back to have the stitches removed. We used quite a few…"
After scheduling the next visit, the doctor left. Yeonwoo completed the necessary procedures, then quickly began making calls to ensure full security lockdown. He also called Charles to inform him of what had happened, so future care could be adjusted accordingly. Keith’s injury would need to be monitored carefully. He made sure to relay the follow-up appointment details without leaving any gaps.
He purchased a clean shirt and made his way back to Keith’s hospital room. Security guards stood stationed outside. After a quick greeting, he knocked.
Knock knock.
After a short pause, he opened the door and saw Keith sitting on the bed. The moment the door opened, Keith turned to look at him. Yeonwoo closed the door behind him and walked over, handing over the new shirt.
"You should change. How’s the wound?"
Yeonwoo couldn’t bring himself to look directly at the injury. He kept his gaze fixed on Keith’s face as he asked. But Keith, unfazed, raised his arm deliberately as if to show it off.
Bandages were wrapped around his muscular arm. The stark white cloth caught Yeonwoo off guard and left him speechless. Keith spoke with disinterest.
"Just a few stitches. The doctor said the bleeding was controlled really well."
He let out a dry chuckle. Maybe it was meant as praise, but Yeonwoo couldn’t think of anything to say. He simply opened the box and took out the shirt. Keith stripped off the torn one he was wearing and held out his arm. Yeonwoo helped him dress, carefully avoiding contact with the wound.
Just as Keith reached to button the shirt, his brows furrowed. When he bent his arm, the pain must have pulled at the injury.
"I’ll do it."
Yeonwoo quickly stepped forward and sat beside him on the bed, beginning to fasten the buttons one by one. With each click of fabric, reality crept closer.
The memories he had tried so hard to suppress came rushing back. The man who had lunged at Keith, the wide swing of the blade, the splattered red drops of blood.
And most of all, his own helpless self, unable to do anything.
His hands stopped moving. No—he couldn’t stop them from trembling, making it impossible to continue. The white bandages blurred his vision. He couldn’t see anything else.
"...What’s wrong?"
Keith asked, puzzled. Yeonwoo couldn’t answer. He couldn’t see anything but the white cloth. His hands trembled so hard they hovered in midair, unable to reach Keith’s arm. At last, his lips moved. His voice came out raw and cracked.
"I’m sorry."
"For what?"
Keith looked genuinely confused. But Yeonwoo continued, as if in a trance.
"I should have protected you. I… I didn’t stop him."
Keith said nothing. He just stared at Yeonwoo, incredulous.
"I’m sorry. I… let you get hurt. I caused this."
"You didn’t do it."
Keith’s tone was brusque. But Yeonwoo shook his head.
"Still… I should have stopped him. I should’ve moved faster. I saw him. I saw him coming."
His vision blurred. Yeonwoo bit his lip hard. After a pause, Keith finally spoke.
"That was Whitaker’s job."
Yeonwoo shook his head sharply. No, that wasn’t it. He should have realized earlier. He could’ve blocked it—Keith didn’t have to get hurt.
"...It should’ve been me."
The words spilled from him, barely audible. Keith remained silent.
Suddenly, darkness filled Yeonwoo’s vision. He reflexively closed his eyes—then felt something warm press against his lids, blocking out the light.
It took him a moment to realize that Keith’s hand was covering his eyes.
Yeonwoo didn’t move. He simply sat there, dazed. Not seeing anything was easier. His chest ached too much to look at Keith.
Suddenly, heat welled up behind Yeonwoo’s eyes. It wasn’t until he felt moisture rolling down his cheeks that he realized—he was crying.
As his shaky breath stuttered in through sobs, a pair of lips pressed to his.
Startled, he parted his lips. As if waiting for that moment, a cool dampness touched them—followed by a soft tongue slipping between them.
At first, he couldn’t even grasp what was happening. His mind was foggy from crying, his eyes still covered, his breath ragged with quiet sobs. All Yeonwoo could do was let the pressed lips move against his, unmoving, yielding.
Just when he thought the kiss had broken, a moist warmth touched the inside of his lips again. A tongue gently brushed past his teeth and entered his mouth, then the lips found his again.
"……!"
Weight suddenly pressed down on him from above. He fell back weakly. The dull bounce of the mattress met his back, but the hand that had been covering his eyes now cradled his head, sparing him from any impact. Yeonwoo barely managed to open his eyes, only to immediately shut them again at the glare of the overhead light.
In the meantime, the kiss broke and resumed—soft pressure, a slight parting, then returning from the other side, lips meeting again.
He had never been kissed like this before. It was a kiss that soothed, comforted, caressed. Keith kissed him gently, cautiously, again and again—as if Yeonwoo might break if handled too roughly.
Ah.
Completely pinned beneath Keith on the mattress, Yeonwoo could feel his entire body: the hard, firm muscles, the weight pressed over him, the intense body heat—everything.
He wanted to raise his trembling arms to hold Keith close. But he didn’t move. It felt like if he so much as shifted, the illusion would shatter. He wanted to keep it—just a little longer. This aching sweetness. With eyes closed, chest rising in shallow breaths, he poured everything into the kiss. He wanted more. He wanted to remember this moment.
As their lips met again, Keith’s hand stroked down Yeonwoo’s neck. Slowly, his fingers traced over the collarbones through the fabric, heading lower.
"……!"
When a firm fingertip pressed against a nipple, Yeonwoo gasped between their locked lips. The hand that had paused began circling the hardened peak, slow and deliberate, through the thin fabric of his shirt. He fought to suppress the moan building in his throat—but he couldn’t stop his breath from growing ragged. When Keith gripped his nipple and rolled it between his fingers, Yeonwoo’s heart seized. His body ached, lower down, and he clenched tightly to stop himself from becoming visibly aroused.
When he finally managed to open his eyes, Keith’s face filled his half-lidded view. Their lips parted, and Keith met his gaze. Yeonwoo could only stare, dazed. Then Keith’s hand came up once more, covering his eyes. Nothing but black filled Yeonwoo’s vision. When he closed his eyes beneath the palm, his fluttering lashes lightly brushed the warmth of Keith’s skin.
Haa—a trembling breath escaped Keith’s lips and returned to Yeonwoo’s own. Then their lips met again, this time harder. Keith nibbled at Yeonwoo’s lower lip, then sucked on it audibly. With one hand fondling his nipple, rolling it gently, and the other hand’s tongue sweeping inside his mouth, Yeonwoo’s senses short-circuited. All strength left his limbs. His body went limp. He could only feel the weight of Keith atop him.
He wished they could become one like this. That all of Keith could enter him, fill him. He inhaled deeply, breathing in Keith’s pheromones, and amid the haze of thought, the idea surfaced.
If that were the only way to have all of him, he’d do anything.
Knock knock.
The sudden knock startled him back to reality. And Yeonwoo wasn’t the only one. He felt Keith’s body above him tense completely. The man pressing him down had also snapped back to himself.
The kiss broke. Keith lifted his body.
It felt strange—how Keith seemed to retreat from him in pieces, methodically, one part at a time.
And yet, the hand that had been covering his eyes remained in place. For some reason, Yeonwoo had the distinct feeling Keith was looking down at him. He lay there in silence, hardly breathing. He wondered what Keith was thinking, what expression he wore, why the hand still hadn’t moved—but at the same time, none of it mattered.
All that mattered was that Keith was looking at him. That it was just the two of them in this space.
That was enough.
Truly.
"...Fuck."
Yeonwoo didn’t realize Keith had cursed until a few seconds after the words reached his ears. As if that were the trigger, Keith finally pulled his hand away and stood up.
Yeonwoo lay still on the bed, watching him turn away. All they’d done was kiss—but he felt as if he’d been discarded after sex. Keith strode to the door. With his hand on the knob, he suddenly spoke.
"This is your fault."
The words came out like something bitter spat to the floor. Then Keith opened the hospital room door. Light briefly flooded the room, only to vanish again the moment Keith stepped into the corridor. The suffocating quiet that followed made Yeonwoo realize he’d been left alone.
I have to go.
The thought came slowly. He didn’t want to move a finger, but he had to. He had to follow Keith. Had to return to the mansion. Had to do whatever Keith told him to do. That was his job.
His hands trembled, making it hard to fix his clothes. After struggling to tidy up, he raked his fingers through his hair to smooth it down. But even then, getting his mind in order proved more difficult.
This is your fault.
Keith’s words came back to him. He was right. It was Yeonwoo’s fault.
He had known Keith would regret it. He had known he should have stopped it.
But he hadn’t. Because he hadn’t wanted to miss that fleeting sweetness.
It had been selfish. He’d let it happen purely out of desire—even though he knew how it would end.
By the time he finally gathered the courage to step out into the hallway, Keith was speaking with Whitaker. It felt like a long time had passed, but the hallway clock showed barely twenty minutes.
Thankfully, Keith had his back to him. Yeonwoo quietly stepped behind him, mindful of his expression.
Keith didn’t turn around. Not even a glance.
"...So let’s handle it that way."
Whitaker ended his report with a nod. Keith turned and began walking without a word. Yeonwoo quickly followed. Their footsteps echoed in sync—but the silence felt heavier than ever.
It felt like a predetermined path, like everything had snapped into place. As if he were being pushed forward.
As Yeonwoo stepped into the car behind Keith, he thought:
I need to let go of this feeling. Soon.
Keith’s soft pheromone scent still lingered in the air.
Yeonwoo closed his eyes.
So that it would stop hurting to smell it.