A surge of emotions crashed over the room like a violent tide, scattering his pheromones in every direction. Seo Heemin’s hypersensitive body convulsed instinctively, reacting to the overwhelming presence.
"I never expected the same bastard who treated all Alphas like rutting dogs to sit down and eat with one so peacefully. What, were you planning to spread your legs like you always do and beg him to help you escape?"
Cha Iheon’s voice was dripping with disdain. He was convinced I had tried to coax Dr. Hwang into helping me run away.
What an absurd misunderstanding.
This was the same man who, despite beating, imprisoning, and even breaking “Seo Heemin’s” ankle, still insisted on feeding him only the best, most nutritious meals. He had thrown a fit whenever Heemin lost even a little weight, complaining that he couldn’t enjoy holding him if his bones jutted out.
And yet, over a single cup of instant ramen, here we were.
It was beyond unfair.
More than that, it was terrifying. I knew all too well how dangerous his jealousy-fueled rage could be.
His cold, killing intent lurked beneath the surface of his smile, stabbing into my chest like an icy dagger.
I turned desperately to Secretary Jung, who stood silently behind him. My eyes pleaded with him—Please, please stop Cha Iheon. Please.
"Don't look away."
"......."
"Look at me, Seo Heemin."
In the novel, Cha Iheon had been described as a storm that turned violent at the slightest movement of “Seo Heemin’s” eyes or gestures. It had seemed like a poetic metaphor when I first read it.
Now, I realized it was nothing short of a living nightmare.
Every time my eyes flickered, every subtle motion of my hands sent him into a deeper frenzy.
I glared at him in frustration.
"Fuck."
The curse slipped out from my dry lips.
His bloodied fist shot toward my face, and I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut.
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But before the blow could land—
"I was the one!"
Dr. Hwang’s sudden outburst cut through the suffocating tension.
"I was the one who invited him to eat! You can’t take medicine on an empty stomach, can you? Besides, I happened to be hungry myself... This kid did nothing wrong."
Slowly, I cracked one eye open.
The fist that had been about to shatter my face hovered in midair.
"Didn't expect someone who only dines at hotel restaurants to have a taste for cheap junk food."
Cha Iheon twisted his lips in a mocking smirk.
"When you get old, you start craving nostalgic flavors. I used to eat this often during my shifts in the ER."
Iheon’s smirk deepened.
"Next time, I should treat you to a bowl at a street stall instead of a hotel."
His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but at least he finally released my hair.
I quickly rubbed my sore scalp and shot Dr. Hwang a grateful glance.
"Your hand—what the hell is that? Get it treated—"
"It's fine."
"Still—"
"Secretary Jung."
Iheon’s voice turned cold and indifferent.
"Yes, sir."
"It’s late. Take him home."
"I’ll fetch his bag."
Secretary Jung retrieved Dr. Hwang’s medical bag from the nightstand and handed it to him.
"Chairman Cha, don’t lay a hand on that child for a while. His body is too weak—he could collapse at any moment."
"I appreciate your medical opinion."
"Then, I’ll take my leave."
Just as Dr. Hwang was about to step toward the door, Cha Iheon called out again.
"Doctor."
Dr. Hwang turned back, his expression wary.
"What is it now?"
"Don't overstep again."
It wasn’t a warning.
It was a death sentence, delivered with an icy smile.
Even Dr. Hwang, usually unshakable, flinched at the unspoken threat. I shuddered, and a deep chill crept down my spine.
Only Secretary Jung remained unaffected, bowing politely as he said, "Have a good night, sir."
And just like that, I was left alone with Cha Iheon.
I stood there, frozen, unsure of what good night was supposed to mean in this context—
Until a firm grip seized my wrist.
"Come here."
His rough touch yanked me forward, dragging me helplessly into the dimly lit bedroom.
The faint moonlight seeping through the curtains barely illuminated his sharp, predatory gaze.
A piercing chill ran down my back, like the edge of a blade pressing against my skin.
"Take it off."
"...What?"
"Take off your clothes. Have you forgotten your role?"
Seo Heemin’s role—the tool to relieve Iheon’s pheromone overload, a mere plaything for his pleasure.
Slowly, Heemin met his gaze.
The air was thick with a suffocating tension, his pheromones laced with something raw and primal.
He was serious.
Despite Dr. Hwang’s warning, despite everything, Cha Iheon fully intended to claim me tonight.
In the original novel, he had struck “Seo Heemin” across the face when he resisted on the first night. Then, he had torn his clothes apart and shoved his grotesquely swollen cock down Heemin’s throat.
And after that...
"Who told you to drool?"
"...H-hhck—!"
"Suck it again."
He had forced Heemin to take his spent cock back into his mouth, demanding that not a single drop be wasted.
Looking up at Iheon’s tightly sealed lips, I reached for the buttons of my shirt.
His eyes followed the movement of my fingers.
Tok.
A single button came undone.
A sliver of "Seo Heemin’s" porcelain-white skin peeked through the gap.
I hesitated.
Would he really force me to go down on him?
Tok.
I undid another button.
He made no move to strike me, no attempt to tear my clothes off himself.
But he wasn’t going to stop either.
The face in front of me—both familiar and foreign—filled me with resentment.
If only he had been a complete stranger.
Because he shared a name and a face with my friend, I had stupidly allowed myself to trust him, to think that he was something other than a monster.
But I had been a fool.
Cha Iheon was a brute who threatened people without hesitation, who resorted to violence the moment things didn’t go his way.
Even though I knew what he had done to “Seo Heemin,” I had thought—He wouldn’t actually go that far, would he?
I had been so, so wrong.
This wasn’t someone else’s story anymore.
This was my body now.
I couldn’t afford to think of “Seo Heemin” as just a character in a book.
"...Hk."
Tears spilled from my eyes.
From the moment I crash-landed into this world, a creeping fear had lodged itself in my heart. I had ignored it, convinced myself it wasn’t real.
But the dam had broken.
Grief, raw and overwhelming, surged through me.
"I’m sorry, Mom."
I had only finished two semesters of college.
I still had student loans.
I was supposed to land a corporate job like my older sisters and finally make life easier for my mother.
Instead, I was going to die in this absurd world, leaving behind nothing but debt.
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Would my family spend the rest of their lives wondering what had happened to me?
Would my mother live with a hole in her heart, never knowing where her child had gone?
Even my sisters, who nagged me constantly, had always loved me.
They would be devastated.
It wasn’t fair.
If I had known this would happen, I would have—
I would have made more friends, not just stuck to Iheon.
I would have fallen in love, even just once.
I would have studied harder, worked toward a full-ride scholarship.
Regret crashed over me in waves, suffocating.
"Why did I have to read that stupid book... If I had known, I wouldn’t have read it... Mom, my sisters... Hhk, hhngh—"
Before I knew it, I was sobbing into Iheon’s chest.
Tears streamed down in torrents, soaking his shirt.
His face twisted with displeasure.
Annoyed, he shoved my hands away.
"Have you lost your mind, or are you just pretending to?"
He thought I was delirious.
Of course he did.
"Seo Heemin" had no mother. No sisters.
From his perspective, I was rambling in a fit of psychosis.
"I’m not insane. Choi Sook-young. Seo Hee-jae. Seo Hee-jung. Seo Hee-yeon. My mom and sisters—they exist! Even if you don’t know them!"
"You?"
He scoffed.
A bitter, disbelieving laugh.
And then—
His hand wrapped around my throat.
"Hhk—!"
I choked.
"Whatever you’re thinking, drop the act."
His grip tightened.
"No matter what you do, you’ll never escape me."
"Hh—kgh...!"
My throat convulsed against his palm, struggling for air.
His pupils, dilated with a feverish glow, were fixated on me—piercing, inescapable, suffocating.
In the novel, “Seo Heemin” had never been able to escape Cha Iheon.
Not even once.
Even though he despised the way Iheon clung to him, even though he trembled in fear of his obsession—
Whenever his anxiety spiraled beyond control, whenever his mind was on the verge of breaking, the only person he had left was Cha Iheon.
Because there was no one else.
Iheon had systematically destroyed all of his relationships.
He had erased every connection "Seo Heemin" had, ensuring that in the end—
There would be only him.
Cha Iheon wasn’t a man you could run from.
The harder you struggled, the deeper you sank into him.
My breath stilled.
I knew then.
I would have to give in.
The moment I swallowed that realization, a single tear escaped down my cheek.
It landed with a soft plip—
Right onto his wounded hand.
"...Fucking hell."
Iheon let go.
Was it because the sting of water against his raw wound irritated him?
Or was it something else?
Either way, his fingers uncurled from my neck, and I collapsed onto the bed, gasping.
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then, without another word, he turned and stalked toward the walk-in closet.
A bundle of clothes flew through the air, landing on my chest.
"Get changed."
I stared down at them, blinking away the lingering blur of my tears.
A plain white T-shirt.
A pair of black sweat shorts.
...Not what I had expected.