Chapter 77: Manifested

Even after finishing the shower using only cold water, the burning sensation refused to subside.

It felt as though steam were rising from his entire body.

As he dried himself and changed clothes, the floor suddenly swayed beneath his feet.

Only after blinking slowly several times did Han-geon realize that he was staggering.

“Uh…?”

His legs gave out in an instant.

Stumbling unsteadily, Han-geon collapsed sideways with a heavy thud.

The sensation of his vision shaking as his body fell felt profoundly unfamiliar.

Lying on his side and gasping for breath, Han-geon clutched his lower abdomen.

Something was wrong with his body.

He had thought it was nothing more than a cold or general fatigue.

Lately, he’d had a lot on his mind and plenty of stress, so he assumed the symptoms were lingering because of that.

The reason he’d ignored the warning signs that had been steadily sounding off was simple—
having spent his entire life exercising, injuries had been common, and he’d grown used to not reacting much to ordinary pain.

But as he twisted on the floor with his face contorted in agony, Han-geon realized it with bone-deep clarity.

The symptoms he’d dismissed as nothing were, in fact, not nothing at all.

“Ugh… hh, ngh….”

A terrifying heat surged through his body.

A groan slipped out against his will.

The dull ache in his lower abdomen sharpened into stabbing pain, as if a knife were plunging in again and again.

Cold sweat poured off him as Han-geon rolled across the floor, his face flushed a vivid red.

He’d already had his appendix removed as a child…
and it wasn’t food poisoning—he’d skipped dinner entirely—
so there was no explanation for why his stomach hurt this badly, all of a sudden.

In the madness of the pain, his entire body felt like it was on fire.

Even the breath he gasped out felt scorching hot.

In just a few minutes, his hair and T-shirt were soaked through with sweat.

Shivering violently as chills alternated with waves of heat, Han-geon grit his teeth and began crawling forward inch by inch.

He needed to find his phone first and contact Eun-gyeol.

After that, he could call 119 or do whatever else was necessary.

Barely managing to reach the bathroom entrance where he’d left his phone, Han-geon forced his sweat-drenched body upright.

Gripping the phone, he pressed the speed dial with Eun-gyeol’s number.

“…Hah, ha, ahh….”

He waited while groaning in pain, but Eun-gyeol didn’t answer.

No matter how long he waited, only the cursed ringing tone echoed back.

When the automated message finally announced that the call couldn’t be connected, he gave up.

He tried to call 119 instead.

But his sweat-slicked grip failed him, and the phone slipped right out of his hand.

Just as he bent down to pick up the fallen phone, it vibrated loudly, announcing an incoming call.

An unfamiliar number.

Thinking it might be Eun-gyeol, Han-geon answered immediately.

“Eun-gyeol, hh, ngh…….

Is that you?”

–Han-geon-ssi, it’s me.

Even hearing the calm, sunken voice, his pain-fogged mind couldn’t immediately identify the speaker.

A few seconds later, Han-geon’s eyes flew open.

“…Yoo Junseong-ssi?”

–I called because there’s something I absolutely had to tell you.

“Right now, I don’t have the leeway to listen to that, ngh….”

His voice came out squeezed and ragged, like wringing out wet laundry, and he was just about to hang up.

That was when a single word from the phone snagged his ear like a thrown hook.

–Your body feels strange right now, doesn’t it.

That’s manifestation pain.

He nearly dropped the phone.

Unable to speak for several seconds, Han-geon finally forced a voice out from deep in his throat.

“…What… did you say?”

–You….

Junseong paused briefly.

His hesitation was unmistakable even through the phone.

Then, as if he’d made up his mind, he spoke again.

–You’ve become an omega.

In that instant, his thoughts stopped.

The spinning world before his eyes, the pain tearing through his body—everything froze for a moment.

Those few unbelievable words brought the entire world of a man named Choi Han-geon to a complete halt.

He couldn’t blink.

He couldn’t even breathe.

Like a statue, Han-geon stood rooted in place.

A moment later, the phone slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor.

From the device, still connected, Junseong’s repeated “Hello?” echoed insistently.

–Today, it was faint, but I smelled pheromones from you.

I’m not lying.

Go to the hospital and get it checked.

You don’t have to believe everything I say—just believe this one thing.

With that, the call ended.

The breath trapped in his chest rushed out all at once.

The moment he exhaled that hot breath, a storm of heat crashed back over him.

Crouching down, Han-geon wrapped his arms around himself.

Wild thoughts threatened to overwhelm him.

But he didn’t have the luxury of sitting here like this.

Before his body grew any weaker, he had to get to a hospital immediately.

His trembling fingers hovered over 119—then he changed his mind and called a taxi instead.

He didn’t even remember how he got out of the apartment.

Still wearing sweat-soaked clothes, Han-geon staggered out of the complex.

He climbed into the taxi waiting at the front gate and named the largest hospital he could think of.

Seeing Han-geon groaning in pain, his face pale as paper, the driver slammed down on the accelerator.

Just as the hospital came into view outside the window, Han-geon’s phone screen flashed and vibrated.

It was Eun-gyeol.

The name that hadn’t connected no matter how desperately he’d wanted it to—just moments ago.

“….”

For the first time, Han-geon turned away from that name.

Right now, he didn’t think he could bear to hear Eun-gyeol’s voice.

The phone rang relentlessly.

Once, twice, three times, four—
Han-geon finally shut it off entirely.

By then, the taxi had stopped in front of the emergency room.

After paying, he staggered inside.

“…I came to get my pheromones checked.”

With a pitifully trembling voice, he spoke a word that still felt far too unfamiliar.

The staff member nodded matter-of-factly, asked about his symptoms, and after hearing the circumstances, guided him to an isolation room.

Left alone, Han-geon lay curled up on a sofa with a blanket pulled over him, waiting for the doctor.

In the meantime, they asked questions for information gathering, drew his blood, and attached unfamiliar machines and monitors to his body.

An endocrinologist entered the room holding the test results.

Before he could explain in detail, the nurse who’d come in with him administered medication through the IV line.

Liquid flowed in rapidly.

Within minutes, the pain that had left Han-geon gasping for breath began to subside.

As the pain retreated a step, it finally felt like he could breathe again.

Holding his breath, Han-geon waited for the doctor’s verdict.

“Choi Han-geon-ssi?”

“Yes.”

“You said you were originally a beta, correct?”

The doctor studied the results with a grave expression, pausing briefly.

Then he slowly opened his mouth.

“At present… your omega pheromone levels are measuring extremely high.

The symptoms you’re experiencing also match those that accompany manifestation.

Therefore….”

His heart pounded as if it were about to shatter.

Han-geon clenched his visibly trembling fists and waited for the doctor’s next words.

“You have manifested as an omega.”

The heart that had been raging moments ago plummeted straight to the floor.

His lips twitched and spasmed.

Without even the presence of mind to look at the shattered remains of himself, Han-geon spoke with a deathly pale face.

“Th-then…

I’m not very knowledgeable about this, but… why did this happen to me?

And that… is there really no way to… reverse it?”

The doctor looked at Han-geon’s desperate expression with a complicated gaze.

“First of all… trait changes are extremely rare.

Only a dominant alpha can change a beta into an omega.

In other words, the cause would be prolonged exposure to pheromones from a dominant alpha.

Additionally, you’re currently imprinted.”

“…Imprinted?”

When Han-geon stared at him blankly, the doctor, despite his troubled expression, explained in detail.

That the person who caused this had unilaterally imprinted on him.

That manifestation pain is usually severe enough to keep someone bedridden for days, but because of the imprint, it had been limited to this degree.

“Once imprinted, you’ll only respond to the imprint partner’s pheromones.

Conversely, if the imprint partner moves away from you, you may experience imprint withdrawal pain.

Simply put—well—it might be easiest to think of it as having a mate….

Though it’s one-sided.”

Each word the doctor spoke chipped away at Han-geon.

Becoming an omega was already unbelievable, but the cause—and the word imprinting—were even more devastating.

Seeing Han-geon stare back in hollow silence, the doctor let out a short sigh.

“And as for reversing it….”

After hearing the rest of the explanation, Han-geon nodded weakly.

The shock was so overwhelming that not only his mind, but his heart too, felt completely hollowed out.

He no longer had the strength left to be angry, to tremble with anxiety, or to be afraid.

He just wanted to collapse and sleep like the dead.

While receiving the IV that quickly suppressed manifestation pain, Han-geon curled up and drifted into a shallow sleep.

When the treatment ended, the doctor explained that the pain should fully subside within a day.

As he paid and picked up his medication at the pharmacy, only one sentence from the doctor’s explanation repeated over and over in Han-geon’s mind, crashing through him again and again.

‘There is no way to reverse it.’