Chapter 206

Tags: #pheromone #finditforme #strangesensation #Texas

Comments (132):

[a2jlkfgdk9jw]: That strong? Must’ve been VVVIP Eta.

┗[pe1kq2kd1ks]: Don’t talk nonsense. There’s no such thing as VVVIP Eta.

[d390dsks211]: Damn, the detail in this. You a Spurs player yourself? hahaha.

┗[dlkw32injk32]: If it’s Spurs, you mean Malik Miller, right? That bastard always skips games saying he’s sick. A hundred percent rut breaks. lol.

┗[ROOTBOT]: Naming or speculating about specific individuals is forbidden. Account suspended for 21 days. Added to surveillance list.

┗[kw3ef7lkflmk1]: Holy shit! This season’s MVP?

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[ROOTBOT]: Author created a false public opinion post. Board access suspended for 7 days. Added to surveillance list.

Dale saw the post “Was anyone at Dallas–Fort Worth Airport, Gate D, today?” before it was deleted.

The forum overflowed with bait and nonsense, but Dale felt that the author’s words were genuine.

The location was specific, and the Spurs had indeed returned to Texas today after finishing a friendly match. Moreover, a post had gone up on a fan forum about the team’s superstar, Malik Miller, behaving strangely at the airport.

Dale had wanted to contact the poster, but was dismayed to find that his account had been suspended for 7 days. The post itself was deleted, the account frozen, and the private message function blocked.

He wanted desperately to know more about the identity of that scent, but at the moment there was no way.

There had to have been someone.

Three years ago, after falling into a drug-induced brain death and becoming an alpha, Dale had lived like a man chasing a mirage he could never catch.

Due to the overdevelopment of his Class-X receptors, he had acquired olfactory pathology and suffered from neurological breakdowns. They said the incidence was about one in a hundred thousand—but hell, were there even ten thousand alphas in the world? Either way, he was unlucky enough to be the one.

The condition he had—“X-Type Hypersensory Receptor Syndrome”—allowed him to pick up even trace remnants of pheromones far beyond normal detection ranges. Because of the frequent hyperarousal episodes, he was often sick. Whenever he entered that state, the world became too vivid, overwhelming him with unbearable stimuli that seemed to attack his very nerves.

And lately the symptoms had worsened—he had been unconscious for two full days last week.

In that suffering, he always clung to a strange conviction: that someone existed out there who would deliver him from his pain. A revelation from God, powerful and undeniable.

The church had abandoned him. People feared him, wouldn’t even meet his eyes. But that blind faith pulled him back from suicide each time.

No creature is born alone. Just as God had paired every being in Noah’s Ark. And for an alpha, governed entirely by instinct—how could there not be a destined mate?

Dale was certain that his God-given partner existed somewhere in this world. He couldn’t explain why, but his entire being kept reacting ceaselessly toward someone.

And then that person appeared. So close, all of a sudden. Like fate.

He had never imagined his destiny would turn out to be a dick-swinging East Asian man. But when fate stood right in front of him, all doubts became meaningless. If it was God’s plan, he had no choice but to accept it.

“Now, now. Don’t be scared. I’ve got no intention of hurting you, that’s what I’m saying. Your pheromones were so thick, I caught them all the way at my doorstep, two kilometers away.”

Dale genuinely had no intention of harming the man before him.

But Siron thought otherwise.

When he opened his eyes, a dark silhouette loomed over him. His muscles seized, his whole body freezing as if his limbs had been locked in ice.

A huge muscular frame, pale hair, maybe mid-twenties, white. Siron’s entire body chilled with terror. Faced with that overwhelming dread, he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream.

In the pitch-dark room, the faint streetlight filtering through the curtains was the only glow. And yet he could see the man’s eyes perfectly.

It was the kind of expression that made you think: if happiness could turn into madness, it would look exactly like this.

The bug.

Barely clinging to his senses, Siron recalled the listening device. He parted his lips and forced his tongue, stiff as concrete, to move.

“S... save...”

“I told you, I’ve got no intention to hurt youuu. But—let’s not make a fuss, huh?”

The man’s giant palm clamped over Siron’s mouth. Something rolled off his hand into Siron’s mouth, landing on his tongue. Coated, bitter—like a pill.

Siron spat it out the moment the man moved his hand away and managed to let out a strangled cry. The pill fell just under his jaw.

“Quiet, tongue. I’d hate to blind those pretty eyes of yours. You hear me? If you understand, nod your head. Right now.”

He spoke in a drawling Texas accent, feigning gentleness as he forced Siron’s eyes closed and pressed his thumb against his eyelids. A threat that he could pop them at any moment.

“No answer? Well, I don’t mind prosthetics either. They come in all sorts of colors—you can swap them out depending on your mood. Ha ha ha. Or wait—was that a joke? Mmm, maybe it was.”

Not strangulation, but gouging his eyes out to blind him—he was utterly deranged.

Cold sweat beaded down Siron’s back.

The man picked up the pill and shoved it back into Siron’s mouth.

“Go on. Swallow it.”

Siron hesitated, then pretended to swallow, hiding the pill between his canine and the inside of his lip. He forced down a gulp of saliva.

The man pulled his hand away and carefully bound Siron’s wrists together with tape.

It was only then that Siron remembered he had shoved a .22-caliber pistol into the nightstand drawer. But with his hands pressed together and tied, even if he reached it, he wouldn’t be able to fire.

[“Under the influence of the drug, even if the attacker inflicts violence, the victim feels no pain. On the contrary, they experience extreme pleasure. For this reason, most victims believe in the early stages that it was ‘consensual.’ In the end, they hesitate to report it—or worse, feel ashamed. I declare to you: NeoPeak is the most evil drug humanity has ever faced. The story you are about to hear is... unbearable. But listeners—please, don’t close your ears.”]

As the man tied Siron’s arms, a podcast played faintly in the silence.

At the same time, Siron’s clarity began to return.

No mistake—the bastard had given him a drug. And not just any drug. NeoPeak.

“That’s odd. It should’ve kicked in by now.”

“D... drug? What did you give me!”

Siron deliberately raised his voice, loud enough for the bug in the nightstand to pick it up.

“A pill to make you happy. If you don’t take it, it’ll hurt quite a bit when we do it.”

“What hurts?”

The man smirked as he answered.

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough.”

The sheer confidence in his voice set off a red siren in Siron’s head.

Did they fall asleep? Or... is the bug not working? Isaac, what the hell are you doing!

The man’s fingers suddenly shoved into his mouth, sweeping under his tongue, along his gums and lips. With a disgusted sigh, he muttered:

“Goddamn. You didn’t take it.”

He pulled out the half-dissolved pill, pinched it between two fingers, and rammed it straight down Siron’s throat.

“Ghhk! Urgh!”

“Swallow.”

Tears welled in Siron’s eyes as he had no choice but to obey.

But even then, the man didn’t remove his filthy fingers. Instead, he toyed with Siron’s tongue and palate, pressing and stroking them as if savoring the texture.

“Defying me, huh? Damn. Guess you’re braver than you look.”

He grinned in satisfaction, then slapped Siron across the face.

Siron, stunned, struggled to make sense of what was happening. The man chuckled.

“That expression—beautiful.”

He seized Siron’s face and forced a kiss on him.

His wet hand pressed against Siron’s eyes, threatening to burst them, while his tongue slid lazily, sucking at Siron’s lips.

“Ugh... mmmph!”

“Disgusted? Hahaha. My tongue’s a little long—see?”

The kiss deepened. Siron could feel the tiny ridges of his tongue, sticky and invasive, pressing, peeling away, then smothering again.

The man exhaled, shallow and ragged. Faint pheromones seeped from him, settling over Siron’s skin like morning dew.

Revulsion, faint arousal, terror—his heart pounded as if it would burst. Siron squeezed his eyes shut, imagining shutting a faucet, trying to suppress his own pheromones.

But the fear shackled him, body and mind locked stiff, refusing to obey.

The man pulled his fingers away from Siron’s eyes, looking down at him with dissatisfaction, as if annoyed that Siron still lay there like a block of wood.

“...Nothing? The drug’s not working? You feel nothing?”

“S... spare... me...”

The man sighed, covering Siron’s mouth again.

With his teeth, he tore open the bedsheet cover. Shoving the filthy fabric into Siron’s mouth, he bound it tight with tape.

“Room 104’s man.”

His tone turned cautious, almost warning.

“He doesn’t know I came in here. I slipped through the bathroom window at the back.”

He giggled and bent close, staring into Siron’s terrified eyes.

“Curious about Room 218 too? That guy seems unwell. He reeks of death. Hmmm. And what were the three of you doing? Don’t tell me—were you fucking two men at once, like some whore?”