Chapter 13: The Source of Dopamine

Finally, a quiet atmosphere settled over the house only after Manager Hong, unable to bear the heat, retreated outside. Yunhwan raised the fan’s power back to ‘Low,’ tilted it toward Seonghye, and picked up the folding fan that had fallen on the floor.

He sat down and began to fan himself, but then…

“…….”

Seeing the faint lines caused by UV exposure on the sleeping Seonghye’s face, Yunhwan frowned slightly.

The sunlight streaming through the window on the wall opposite the door was particularly intense today. For someone born and raised in the countryside, this level of heat might be manageable with a single fan, but for others, it was simply cruel weather. Yunhwan stood up and, without hesitation, drew the curtains.

The midsummer sun, which had been stretching toward Seonghye’s face and the empty space beside the bed, finally vanished.

A rare sense of satisfaction filled Yunhwan’s brown eyes, which were usually dull to emotional shifts.

“Seonghye is still sleeping.”

The space where the light had retreated was filled again by Junseong, who had just stepped back into the room. As soon as he entered, the wave of heat hitting his face made his eyes go wide.

“Phew, aren’t you hot, Yunhwan?”

Junseong fanned himself with the white papers he was holding, clicking his tongue. Yunhwan gave a small shake of his head.

“I’m not that hot, but I think Seonghye is struggling with the heat while he sleeps.”

In contrast to the worried Yunhwan, Junseong looked down at the peacefully sleeping Seonghye and let out a chuckle.

“You don’t need to worry about that. Summer is Seonghye’s favorite season.”

It was fascinating to Junseong that despite Seonghye’s ever-changing tastes and whims, his choice of a favorite season remained remarkably consistent.

He wondered what that season truly meant to him.

Even Junseong, who had delved deep into Seonghye’s psyche for years, hadn’t reached that answer yet.

Staring with curious eyes at the jade-colored linoleum—a sight almost extinct in the city—Junseong remembered the contract he had momentarily forgotten and approached Yunhwan. As he drew near, as if by reflex, Yunhwan’s gaze dropped to the floor.

A bitter smile spread across Junseong’s face at the obvious avoidance. At times, Yunhwan seemed capable of meeting his eyes, but just as quickly, those brown eyes were busy running away again.

This man looks like he needs counseling too…

But having only met twice, it would be overstepping to mention treatment or counseling. Pushing his pity aside, he held out the copy of the contract he had set aside.

“Here. This is your copy, Yunhwan. You should keep it safe.”

Yunhwan took the contract and bowed his head reflexively.

“And… I’m saying this because you seem very worried, but I’ll be handling Seonghye’s psychological counseling alongside the treatment. Well, that is my specialty, after all.”

Junseong smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling.

“Every human has their own source of dopamine. Sometimes it overrides reason and dominates emotions, and in the worst cases, it can cause severe withdrawal symptoms.”

“…….”

“You are the only person who makes Seonghye survive and think. However, because your existence is too stimulating, if Seonghye can’t handle it and goes over the edge, that would be a problem too.”

That’s why I’m staying here, Junseong added.

“The good news is that since you’re a Beta, you won’t be affected by Seonghye’s pheromones. If you were both stimulating each other, that would be an even bigger mess.”

Hearing this, Yunhwan rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

Dopamine, stimulation… To Yunhwan, who had no memory of ever being a significant presence to anyone, Junseong’s explanation was nothing short of shocking.

It made sense; for the past 32 years, he had lived his life strictly within the categories of “ordinary” and “average.”

Looking back, his life had started with a few curves the moment he was registered under his grandparents’ family registry rather than his parents’.

Like an awl in a pocket that cannot be hidden, he often stood out against his will due to the “penalties” he was born with. Fortunately, as he grew older and wiser, he learned how to correct exaggerated rumors and mastered the art of hiding himself from the gaze of others.

The reason Yunhwan stayed in the military longer than others wasn’t because he was a natural soldier. He simply liked the sense of stability that came with being part of society, even if he was just a small cog. Plus, the military was a good place to save up a lump sum while having his basic needs met.

After being discharged, he jumped straight into the job market without a moment’s rest and was lucky enough to find a job quickly. It wasn’t the ordinary office job involving suits that he had dreamed of, but it was similar in that a salary was deposited into his account every month.

Like a jagged stone being smoothed out, he gradually absorbed himself into the world.

Ironically, this was possible because Yunhwan was a “normal” person—specifically, referring to his secondary gender.

“I’m glad you can’t feel anything. I feel bad for Seonghye, but imprinting isn’t always a good thing. Not just for the body; if your hearts are even slightly out of sync, it becomes incredibly painful.”

“Is Seonghye… in a lot of pain right now?”

“Yes, he is. He’s going through a one-sided imprint all alone, so it would be a lie to say he isn’t suffering.”

Junseong smiled sadly. To an Alpha, there was nothing more agonizing than a one-sided courtship and a fever endured alone. Furthermore, since he could feel nothing coming from the target of his imprint, the hardship was naturally harder to bear.

That was why Seonghye’s treatment was so urgent, and it was a relief that Yunhwan had accepted the responsibility so readily.

While most ordinary people would feel repulsed at becoming a target of an imprint, Yunhwan showed a sense of duty toward the treatment instead of disgust.

Yunhwan, who had been listening quietly to Junseong’s words, looked at the sleeping Seonghye and spoke as if he had just remembered something.

“Then when will his memory return? His body is important, but his memory needs to come back too.”

He added:

“I’m not a doctor, but it seems important for Seonghye’s memory to return first. And Seonghye must be very frustrated, too, having to stay here in this state.”

“…I suppose so.”

At the mention of Seonghye’s memory, a look of hesitation flickered across Junseong’s face before vanishing.

“As I said before, the amnesia is… temporary. We expect it to return soon.”

“…Ah….”

It was an affirmative answer, but the tone was somehow murky and ambiguous. Yunhwan, who had been staring at the sleeping Seonghye, raised his head while mulling over the response, only to lock eyes with Junseong. Unlike Yunhwan, who quickly looked away in surprise, Junseong smiled gently at him.

“As stated in the contract, please contact me immediately if Seonghye regains his memory.”

Recalling one of the clauses in the contract he had read with Junseong, Yunhwan nodded vigorously.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

“After all, Seonghye lost his memory and ended up imprinting on you while trying to save you… If his memory returns and he ends up taking it out on you, that would be troublesome. If we meet him first, we can settle the situation quickly on our end.”

Yunhwan swallowed hard at the explanation. He had momentarily forgotten just how violent Seonghye’s original nature was before he lost his memory.

That made it even more baffling why he had been injured trying to save him, but for now, the only choice was to ensure Seonghye found stability and regained his memory as soon as possible.

Yunhwan bowed his head and nodded. Just as Junseong said, it seemed necessary to contact him the moment Seonghye showed even the slightest sign of being different from usual.

After finishing the conversation with Junseong, Yunhwan finally caught his breath.

Inside the house, where the temperature was barely different from the outside, only Yunhwan and Seonghye remained. It wasn’t that the others had left; rather, with the nationwide heatwave warning blaring, they had all taken refuge in the cars, knowing that staying crowded in this small house would be a recipe for disaster.

After watching the sleeping Seonghye for a little longer, Yunhwan carefully stood up and headed to his own bedroom. His space was as simple as Seonghye’s, containing only his grandmother’s vanity, a chest, a TV, and a single bookshelf.

Yunhwan used it now, but the original owner of this room had been his grandmother. Conversely, the room Seonghye was sleeping in was the small room where Yunhwan used to stay.

Standing before the bookshelf, Yunhwan reached out with his long, straight fingers and began to scan the books one by one. His finger traced a horizontal line across the tightly packed spines. He passed the second shelf of the three-tier bookcase and straightened his back as he reached the third.

It should have been around here…

When the book he wanted didn’t meet his fingertips, he let out a low sigh.

Since he had no memory of throwing it away, it had either been lost during the move or his grandmother had cleared it out.

“Hmm….”

Just as a look of disappointment settled on Yunhwan’s face.

“……!”

In an instant, a strange and eerie sensation crawled up his spine. It was the instinctive realization that someone was standing right behind him.