Chapter 255

"Put the gun away. Right now. Otherwise there’ll be no cooperation at all."

Before they could stop him, the warden opened the door and stepped out.

"Mal! Why are you so late!"

Malcolm’s wife threw her arms around him, her voice pitched with instability.

"Are you okay? The news was going crazy."

"I texted you I’m fine. I swung by the animal hospital and got to the hotel late, and by then it was already locked down."

"Honey, you have no idea how lucky you are. They said there were eight casualties. That could have been you!"

Her voice trembled without mercy. Like she might break into sobs any second, she fought to keep her emotions in check.

"I told you, nothing happened. I came back alive, didn’t I."

Having dredged up the old shooting he’d survived to vent how shattered she still felt, the warden’s wife finally steadied herself enough to ask:

"Where’s Bambi?"

"In the car."

Baekgyeong squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, then jammed the pistol back into the holster under his jacket. Flustered, Siron fumbled and lost his grip on Bambi. The dog sprang from Siron’s arms into the driver’s seat, poked through the gap of the open door, and whined for his master to pick him up.

"Bambi! Wait. I’ll— Huh? ...Who...."

"Hello."

At Siron’s awkward greeting, the warden’s wife glanced back at Malcolm in confusion.

"Hel...lo."

She eyed Siron, who still hadn’t gotten out of the car, with caution, then, after confirming the shadowed figure of Baekgyeong in the back seat, pressed herself close to the warden and asked under her breath:

"Who are they, honey? Guests?"

"...Yes."

"If you were bringing guests, you should’ve told me first!"

She gave his back a sharp smack, then forced a smile.

"Ha-ha. Why aren’t you getting out? Come on out."

Whether she was naturally sociable or simply putting on a good face while grinding her teeth at her husband, she cheerfully beckoned the two strange men out of the car. After a brief hesitation, Baekgyeong and Siron climbed out.

"Oh? Oh my!"

The warden’s wife was a middle-aged East Asian woman. Her reaction to seeing Baekgyeong was so unmistakably Korean that Siron felt a prickle of foreboding.

"Vile Group! You’re Baekgyeong, right? You are!"

"......."

"My God, you’re alive? I felt awful watching the news say you were missing—what a relief. Does your family know? They’ve been looking everywhere. You were on TV again this morning."

Staring at him with worry, she looked around as if to reorient herself to where they were, then fired off questions like a machine gun.

"What brings you to Helso State? How do you know my husband? Won’t it be chaos if people find out you’re here?"

"Hannah, nothing’s getting out."

"Really?"

"Really. It’s a mess. Please, keep calm."

"I’m just so shocked, honey."

Hannah, the warden’s wife, seemed like a curious sort. Then again, who wouldn’t be, with a headline name like Baekgyeong suddenly showing up with her husband? As a prison warden’s wife living on prison grounds, it was the first time she’d met a famous man with no criminal record—and from her own homeland to boot—so it felt especially momentous.

She’d been staring at Baekgyeong like she was bewitched when she suddenly came to and noticed Siron, half-hiding awkwardly behind him. Siron scratched his forehead to half-cover his face and gave a small nod.

"Nice to meet you."

Not knowing how to introduce himself, he let it slip out lamely, but she only grew more intent and stepped close, peering at him. She tilted her head, studying Siron. Uncertain recognition flickered on her face.

She shot a quick look at the warden, then asked in careful Korean:

"Are you Siron?"

"Pardon?"

"The voice sounds the same. I’m Korean too. Whenever I get homesick, I watch lots of Korean dramas and films, so I know the actors well. I can tell who’s who just by their voice."

Siron flinched and involuntarily backed away. He hadn’t imagined anyone would recognize him by voice. He regretted not altering it.

"Did you return to acting? Is that makeup? A movie? A drama? I’ve seen almost everything you were in."

"You’ve got the wrong person."

At Siron’s firm tone, Hannah widened her eyes, then apologized.

"Then pretend I don’t know. I can be a little dense."

Siron had put a decent amount of work into his disguise, so he couldn’t understand how people kept seeing through it at a glance. The answer came when he caught his reflection in the car window.

When did it get like that?

Along the edges where the silicone sat on his cheekbones and jaw, the adhesive had turned chalky and lifted. One tense situation after another had left him sweating; moisture had pooled where the silicone met skin and made it peel. With Baekgyeong there too, a faint sense of familiarity was all it took to put the pieces together.

"Ma’am."

Watching Malcolm at her side, Siron spoke in Korean.

"Please don’t tell the warden who I am. I’ve fought hard to build a new life."

Seeing the weight in his eyes, her face sobered with genuine concern. She still looked like she had a thousand questions, but she nodded silently.

"Don’t worry."

"Please. And if he insists on asking...."

"A Korean church."

"Sorry?"

"I attended a Korean church in Atlanta for years. My husband hates hearing about the Korean church. I’ll say we know each other from there."

Quick on the uptake, she turned to Malcolm.

"Honey. Your guests must be tired. Let’s get them inside."

By his wife’s unexpected invitation, they walked openly into the couple’s residence. Before they could even perform the polite dance of refusal, each of them was handed pajamas and shown to a guest room.

Left alone with Baekgyeong, Siron peeled the clinging silicone from his face and crushed it in his fist. The soft, yielding feel in his hand felt filthy and repulsive. He shoved it into the trash, then flopped onto the couch. He didn’t want to wash. He didn’t want to do anything. He only wanted to rest.

Reality had slammed back in. The frantic escape from the hotel, the worry over the vanished Isaac, the constant vigilance around a warden they couldn’t fully trust—he’d had no time to think about his own situation. But the long night ahead with Baekgyeong sat on him like homework, and only now did he have a moment to look at his life. Even so...

I don’t want to think.

Everything felt like it had happened in a blink. If he could, he wanted to disappear from the world and never have to care again. But Baekgyeong wouldn’t let him lie there limp. He hauled Siron up.

"You’ve still got silicone bits stuck all over your face. Go wash."

"I’m tired."

"You used to throw a fit if a single tiny whitehead popped up."

"Back then, my life still had hope."

Muttering without an ounce of will, Siron sprawled back on the couch.

"What’s the point of smooth skin. It’s not like looks put food on the table."

"Since when is Yoon Siron the king of negativity."

Baekgyeong tugged him up by the arm and dragged him to the bathroom. Even after he reluctantly showered, Siron’s mood didn’t lift. Baekgyeong followed, showered quickly, shook water from his hair, and perched on the bed.

"Why the sudden gloom? We’re right at the doorstep."

Siron lay on the bed with wet hair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I don’t think Imprinting is going to make things better."

"Is this because they stormed the hotel today? That was because of Isaac and me, not you...."

"3543."

Baekgyeong frowned, like the word came out of nowhere.

"You mean the number they used to call you on the island?"

"The governor’s son called me by that number. He tried to drag me off by force."

Like lightning cracking overhead, shock swept over Baekgyeong’s face. Siron covered his face with his palm, unsettled.

"The Hybris alphas know me."

The sigh he let out pooled hot in his hand and rolled back over his face. Suddenly Siron shot upright.

"Then they know I’m an omega, don’t they?"

Baekgyeong still didn’t answer. Siron had hoped for something reassuring, but maybe Baekgyeong was picturing something worse than he was.

Siron stared at the closed door.

"Say we meet Gezar Bazelli and learn how to Imprint. You think alphas will just give up an Imprinted omega?"

"An omega without pheromones... is no different from a beta."

"Do you really believe that?"

Siron let out a derisive snort.

"Look at Dr. Yuri Berec’s life. He wasn’t even laid to rest in a grave after he died. They stored his body in a lab freezer to carve it up for experiments. Why did the governor’s son try to kidnap me? Did he know I’m an omega and want to experiment on me? Or did he just want a taste of an omega?"

A heavy shadow fell over Siron’s exhausted face.

"God, my head’s a mess. I think my life is really ruined this time."

He squeezed his eyes shut and lay back on the bed. He’d thought the sex scandal, the nationwide ridicule, the drowning debt—that was the darkest it would get. He was wrong. He’d clawed his way out of the tunnel only to plunge into a pit with no way out.

And Isaac—the one who’d shoved his life toward that pit for a mere three thousand dollars—wasn’t here. He’d made it impossible to hate him cleanly, and now there was no way to even confirm if he was alive.

With everything rushing toward the worst, even being ruled by his emotions felt like a luxury. With a choked groan, Siron sprang to his feet.

"I need plastic surgery."

He stepped into the bathroom and studied his face in the mirror from every angle, muttering to himself.

"Ha... I wanted to live with this face my whole life."

Watching from the doorway, Baekgyeong snorted.

"Didn’t you just say looks don’t put food on the table?"

Siron examined the face in the mirror like he was engraving it into memory, speaking with utter seriousness, without a hint of a smile.

"It’s because I’ll miss it. Not everyone gets to live with a flawless face like this."

Baekgyeong came in, wrapped himself around Siron from behind, and set his chin on the crown of his head. With long, straight fingers he lightly pinched Siron’s face and moved it side to side. Admiring its delicate symmetry from every angle, he pressed Siron’s nose up into a pig snout, then pinched the outer corners of his eyes to make them smaller, and clicked his tongue.

"Makeup didn’t fool anyone. I doubt surgery will fix it. ...You’ll just end up a slightly uglier Yoon Siron."

Siron smacked Baekgyeong’s hand away from his lower lip, stinging it red. Staring at the mark on his hand, Baekgyeong said flatly:

"So forget surgery. Think only about why we’re here."

He drew Siron’s upper body back against him and met Siron’s gaze in the mirror.

"You and I— the two of us are going to Imprint."