Chapter 205

Siron sat a short distance from Baekgyeong on a bus stop bench across from a used car dealership, feigning the air of an ordinary tourist as he looked toward the lot. Beyond the dark chain-link fence, rows of used cars were parked haphazardly, and above them, a string of faded international flags flapped weakly in the wind.

Scanning among them for the Taegukgi, Siron shifted his gaze toward Baekgyeong’s profile. Baekgyeong sat with his head slightly bowed, staring only at the ground. He wore a gray hoodie, the loose hood drooping over his crown and casting half his face in shadow. The eyes beneath that dim shade looked hollow, and Siron felt an involuntary pang of concern.

Looking like that... he seems so desolate.

No words of comfort came to mind. Instead, Siron simply stayed quiet at his side. At that moment, a car slowly rolled out of the dealership’s entrance. It was an old white Ford van, with windows only in the front row, the rear sealed off by solid metal walls. Through the windshield, Isaac’s face came into view.

Hours earlier, after leaving the airport, the three had taken a taxi down the city highway, then gotten out at the bus terminal. Crossing the street, they switched to another cab, then to buses and taxis again, repeating the process several times until at last they stepped down at a roadside where one-story commercial buildings stood sparsely apart.

There they had purchased prepaid Android phones from a small shop, then walked another half hour before finding the used car lot. More than anything, they needed transportation.

Now the battered van, its paint peeling in patches, sped eastward down a Texas highway. Siron sat in the passenger seat, Baekgyeong on a folding seat in the back. The sky stretched endlessly high and blue, the wind harsh and dry. As Isaac stopped at gun shops and sporting goods stores to buy several handguns and shotguns, Siron and Baekgyeong waited, locked inside the vehicle.

By dusk, they finally pulled into a roadside diner that doubled as a bar for their first meal of the day. The moment they pushed open the wooden door, every old man in worn jackets turned their gaze on the three. Hands paused midair with glasses of liquor. For several seconds, silence hung heavy, mechanical. Their stares only eased after Isaac placed his order. The eyes had been measuring outsiders.

But Siron felt relief instead. Alphas could never live to be as old as those men.

“Guess there aren’t many young men in the countryside.”

He dipped a fry into ketchup as he spoke.

“Hm, I’m not so sure.”

Isaac shrugged as though uncertain. Baekgyeong said nothing, only tilting back his beer. The gloom had not lifted from him. Concern flickering in his eyes, Siron glanced at Baekgyeong’s shadowed face, then turned to Isaac.

“What do you mean, not sure?”

“On the road I saw plenty of farm trucks running in long lines.”

“Oh... yeah.”

“The corn harvest must be over. They’ll be busy transporting products across the country.”

Even as Isaac finished speaking, the door swung open and boisterous voices spilled in. A group of men entered and claimed seats at the center of the hall. Most were tall, but not so much as to be overwhelming. More than that, they looked well into their fifties.

Siron’s tension melted, and he chuckled under his breath.

“Definitely not alphas.”

At that instant, his eyes met a man’s across the way, one who was tilting back a mug of beer. Awkward, Siron flashed a polite smile like a greeting, then turned back to his food. But even without looking directly, he sensed the man nudge his companion, pointing him out.

Having lived with a damaged face for so long, and even after recovering keeping himself in hiding from others’ eyes, Siron had forgotten how much attention his appearance could draw. Baekgyeong and Isaac too had faces and presences that drew eyes wherever they went. Added to that, the combination of their races meant the trio stood out anywhere.

After finishing their meal, they returned to the van. The interstate stretching east across America lay cloaked in darkness. Once a wagon trail of the western frontier, it had been poured over with asphalt and concrete, widened into a massive road. On either side, the plains spread out like a black sea with no end.

An hour later, a massive agricultural complex the size of dozens of soccer fields appeared, where the trucks that had passed them earlier now stood parked in formation.

Another twenty minutes and they reached a shabby commercial district — a handful of small shops, an old grocery store, a post office that served as the town’s anchor. Within fifty, perhaps a hundred kilometers, it was the only semblance of a downtown. Two kilometers beyond, they finally found a motel.

“These are all that’s left. Three rooms, but they’re not adjacent.”

The motel owner waved his hands apologetically, explaining that none of the rooms were side by side. It was unusual for a country motel with forty rooms to be nearly full.

“This time of year there’s heavy trading of corn futures.”

The middle-aged woman gave the explanation brightly, her sharp eyes scanning over the three men at the counter.

“First time visiting this town?”

Isaac shook his head.

“This is my third year coming.”

“Really? ...Must be here for corn, then?”

Isaac lied with calm ease.

“Yes. We’re with the overseas procurement team ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) of a Japanese feed company.”

“Ahh, Japanese.”

Her smile widened, directed now at Siron and Baekgyeong.

【Nice to meet you. My son married a Japanese woman. They live in Japan now.】

In clumsy Japanese, she stammered. Baekgyeong kept his mouth shut, and Siron only replied, “Hai, hai,” with a gentle smile. An awkward silence stretched until Isaac joined in smoothly with a smile.

“They’re shy, these two. We’ll take the keys. One night.”

“...All right.”

Her expression slightly puzzled, the owner handed over the keys: 104, 215, and 218. The motel was a two-story building shaped like a “ㄷ,” well-kept and clean. Room 215 sat at the corner; to its left was 104, to the right 218. Siron took 215, with Baekgyeong and Isaac in 104 and 218. They all agreed Isaac, the strongest, should stay closer to Siron.

Siron carried into his room a .22 caliber pistol with a silencer. Alone, he had chosen to arm himself.

After locking the door, he moved to the window, as large as a car windshield. From there, he could see Baekgyeong’s room at an angle. The boy had thrown his window wide open, set a single sofa beneath it, and sat there, watching Siron’s room.

Isaac, on the other hand, had planted a bug in Siron’s room, promising he would come immediately if anything sounded off.

To need this much protection — even at the height of his acting career he’d never had such security. With the future feeling so dark, Siron let out a long, sinking sigh and pulled the curtain shut.

[“All right, listeners of Texas, this is DJ Dean Lake, former sheriff. Tonight we’re talking about the creepy things happening around you. Hmm. For the second day in a row we’ve had someone call in about a new drug called NeoPeak.

They say sexual assault cases tied to this drug have spiked over the last year. Victims describe the pill — a deep cherry red — as delivering ‘overwhelming pleasure.’ Under its influence, they lost all self-control, only realizing the damage to their bodies after the effects wore off. My God, what was happening in that time?

According to the Georgia Bureau of Narcotics’ official report, more than 140 NeoPeak-related sexual assaults were recorded last year alone. Serious, isn’t it? The world grows darker by the day, and what exactly are the authorities doing?”]

The radio volume was low, yet in the stillness of night the DJ’s voice cut sharp and clear. Siron, tossing in his sleep, slowly opened his eyes to the sticky, low murmur at his ear.

What’s that sound... ah, the podcast.

Before falling asleep he had queued up several episodes to download. They’d kept playing on loop after he drifted off. He wanted to shut it off now, to sleep deeply, but his body was too heavy, too languid to move.

Even slipping into drowsiness, his thoughts lingered on NeoPeak. A pill designed to make alphas’ convenient sex look like consent — turning rape into “consensual” violation, destroying victims. Joan Welch, victim of the motel rape case. V3011, Paco Torres, kidnapped by Hybris and forced into prostitution. The two NeoPeak victims he knew came unbidden to mind, dragging him into gloom.

He wanted to block out such soul-crushing news, yet couldn’t bring himself to stretch out and grab the phone. And then, something felt off between his legs. A dull ache pulled taut beneath, and without realizing it he pressed his thighs together, rubbing slowly.

“My God. You look like a sex doll God Himself must’ve poured His soul into.”

The strange voice inside the room snapped his eyes wide open. In the dark, someone was looking down at him, eyes glinting.