Chapter 9: One-Sided Imprinting

The sight of Yunhwan, seen again under the bright sky rather than in a gloomy hospital, was different than before. More precisely, it was because the passive and somewhat cowed attitude he usually displayed had vanished. As he mulled over Junseong’s ambiguous explanation regarding Seonghye, Yunhwan’s brow furrowed once more.

Junseong watched Yunhwan with eyes that had grown even calmer. His mouth, which had been closed for a moment, slowly opened.

“I’m going to explain it now, Yunhwan. Everything, without leaving out a single detail.”

Junseong quietly observed the man in front of him once more.

Why him? That question remained unresolved even after the storm-like days that had swept over him recently.

It happened on a quiet afternoon just like this one, less than two hours after he had returned to Seoul with Seonghye.

‘Where is this place?’

Having gone through the riot at the hospital, Seonghye—who had been put to sleep with sedatives—woke up in his own home in Seoul. Up to that point, things were fine. The problem started afterward. Even though he was in his own house, Seonghye’s wariness didn’t subside in the least.

Junseong, who had witnessed Seonghye’s various facets over the years, stepped forward.

‘I’ll explain first. This is your house. You live alone, so the furniture and interior are quite sparse, but this is indeed where you lived.’

‘My house?’

‘If you find it hard to believe, you can look through the photo albums in the study. Just be aware beforehand that your mother has passed away.’

Even after hearing Junseong’s explanation, which flowed as logically as a simple math formula, Seonghye didn’t move easily. Instead, his eyes darted around quickly as if searching for something. But when it became clear that whatever he was looking for wasn’t there at the end of his wandering, his expression began to contort.

‘Where is that person?’

‘What?’

His feet shifted restlessly across the smooth floor. It was less like he was looking and more like he was physically hunting for something. Every time he moved, the sound of his footsteps echoed loudly.

‘The hospital. The person I met at the hospital. I’m asking where that person is.’

The reason his flat tone felt eerie was the abnormal heat burning in his eyes. Junseong recognized it as madness, or a precursor to a psychotic episode. Penetrating the abyss of another’s mind and identifying long-buried trauma through countless counseling sessions was what Junseong did best. Seonghye was no exception.

But this time was different. It was fundamentally divergent from the Seonghye Junseong had known.

Despite his shock, Junseong gathered himself to manage the situation, but right at that moment—

‘Where is he?’

Seonghye threw open the nearest door. There was no way anyone was inside. It was the study, containing over a dozen albums documenting Seonghye’s life from childhood to adulthood, yet not a single one was pulled from the shelf. Only after scouring every room and even ripping back the flimsy curtains with his own hands did Seonghye emerge from the study.

But this was only the beginning.

‘Min Seonghye. What the h*ll are you doing? You’re a patient, so rest, alright?’

Manager Park stepped forward to stop him, but Junseong blocked his path.

‘Seonghye, wait. Look for it later. Let’s talk first.’

Unlike Manager Park, Junseong calmly moved to settle the situation. He quietly followed Seonghye, who had just entered the bedroom.

But there, he saw…

“Junseong?”

The bizarre sight Junseong encountered that day wasn’t due to the aftereffects of a head injury, nor the amnesia Yunhwan suspected. It was simply… Seonghye. Of course, since he didn’t know how the man in front of him would take this truth, he had to hide it for now.

The sound of a clap brought him back from his reminiscence to reality.

“You didn’t answer, so…”

As his blurred vision snapped back into focus, he saw Yunhwan’s bewildered face. Ah. Junseong bit his lip, looking frustrated. Behind Yunhwan, Manager Park was mouthing the word “Crazy?” toward him.

“…Ah, sorry. So, something happened to Seonghye’s body after the accident that day.”

“He lost his marbles.”

“Manager.”

As Manager Park interjected with a deliberately abrasive comment, Yunhwan’s gaze naturally drifted to the side.

“What you were saying earlier.”

His voice trembled. Without even wiping his sweat-soaked forehead or neck, Yunhwan looked back and forth between the two men with stubborn eyes.

“There’s a problem with his memory, and then… what’s next?”

Impatience filled Yunhwan’s eyes as he sought an answer. He felt this stifling feeling wouldn’t ease until he heard it directly from one of them.

But then.

Yunhwan’s expression quickly shifted to confusion at the piece of paper dropped in front of his eyes. Neither a threat nor an explanation, Manager Park simply tossed a single sheet at Yunhwan and spoke with a twitching lip.

“See for yourself.”

“Th-this is…”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

He rubbed his smooth scalp vigorously with a handkerchief while staring at Yunhwan. Unable to watch Yunhwan read through every sentence from the top line, Manager Park reached out toward the paper.

A finger wearing a thick gold ring pointed to a specific spot, and Yunhwan’s head tilted slightly forward.

“Yeah, there. You see it clearly? Go ahead and read it out loud.”

Yunhwan, who had been staring holes into the paper with his head down, slowly began to read the words.

“The two… parties shall proceed with treatment via one-sided imprinting. …One-sided imprinting?”

Even though he had read it quietly as instructed, Manager Park’s expression toward Yunhwan remained unappeased. Swallowing his annoyance, Manager Park said:

“If it takes you this long to read one line… never mind. Read the part after it.”

“In conjunction with medication and psychological therapy.”

“Keep reading, keep moving.”

“Ensure the imprint can be released within two months.”

“Stop there.”

Yunhwan wiped his flushed cheeks with his hand. As if the sweltering heat wasn’t enough, being in front of Manager Park—who had a personality hotter than the midsummer sun—made his body tense up repeatedly. He had done his best to read the document, but he still couldn’t understand what the phrases he had just read actually meant.

“But what does this mean…?”

Yunhwan’s head bowed toward the paper again. This time, Junseong, who had been quietly observing the two, naturally intervened.

“As you know, Yunhwan, Seonghye is a secondary gender possessor.”

Junseong pointed his chin toward the paper in Yunhwan’s hand.

“The ‘one-sided imprinting’ written there means that Seonghye, who is an Alpha, has literally imprinted on someone unilaterally. Usually, in these cases, if the consent of the person who was imprinted upon cannot be obtained, the imprinter undergoes treatment to erase the imprint. Like Seonghye will.”

“…Ah, I see.”

Junseong, explaining as concisely as possible out of consideration for Yunhwan (who was a Beta/non-possessor), fell silent for a moment as he chose his next words. The truth he had to hide was too large and heavy to explain in an instant.

He wasn’t confident that the man in front of him—this person who didn’t seem particularly remarkable in any way—would follow his persuasion easily.

“Fortunately, Seonghye can return to his former self through treatment.”

The sound of Junseong’s breathing grew lower as he chose his words. Looking at Yunhwan, who was focused on his voice, Junseong frowned again at the sudden memory of that day.

‘Min Seonghye, calm down. Calm down and come out to the living room. Let’s talk.’

Junseong, who had followed Seonghye into the bedroom, was more sincere than anyone else in the room about calming the situation down. Even more than Manager Park, who claimed to be Seonghye’s guardian.

As if to prove this, unlike Manager Park, who was looking on with an anxious face from the bedroom door, Junseong succeeded in grabbing Seonghye’s shoulder and turning him around. Perhaps his career in treating Seonghye was finally shining through.

Junseong was about to tell the Seonghye he was facing to step outside, but his lips froze.

In the meantime, he heard the sound of several people behind him catching their breath.

‘Why isn’t that person here?’

‘…….’

‘I even remember his name. Kwon Yunhwan, that’s right. He told me himself. That I ended up like this because I got hurt because of him.’

‘…You, you.’

A dreamy, hazy voice drifted toward Junseong. The delicate voice tracing the events of a few days ago contained a slight tremor, as if painting someone’s face.

In contrast, what escaped Junseong’s lips was an intermittent groan, steeped in a complex mix of shock and horror.

‘You, your eyes… why are your eyes like that?’

Before Seonghye could answer, Junseong took a step back. It might have looked like an irresponsible act, unbefitting a medical professional, but no one could blame him. Every single person there, except for Seonghye, wore an expression of pure horror.

Seonghye’s eyes were blood-red. It wasn’t a metaphor; the blood vessels in his eyes had literally all burst, making it no exaggeration to say his black pupils were engulfed in flames.

The first to regain his senses was Manager Park. Perhaps thanks to his years of dealing with rough situations, he pushed Junseong behind him and keenly observed Seonghye’s condition.