Chapter 8: The First Glitch

Humans are weak.

Even with the lightest touch, they break or shatter so easily. Just like this.

Seeing the large bruise beginning to form on Min-hyeon’s forearm, Jun-ho frowned. Over the dark red mark imprinted on his arm, the handprint he’d left on Do-hyeon’s shoulder in his final moment overlapped.

“Min-hyeon.”

Jun-ho’s eyes followed Min-hyeon. Watching Min-hyeon, who couldn’t quite meet his gaze and kept looking elsewhere, Jun-ho almost let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity of having thought of Do-hyeon even for a moment. Even though Min-hyeon and he were so different. Jun-ho deliberately hardened his expression further to hide his feelings.

Taking Min-hyeon’s hand and gently pulling him closer, careful not to harm this precious pure-blooded human he’d found like a miracle, Min-hyeon hesitated but obediently offered his hand.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Ah…”

Perhaps this very moment could be considered the first checkpoint for evaluating his progress on this quest. Jun-ho waited for Min-hyeon’s answer.

As expected, his diligent efforts over the past few days paid off—Min-hyeon revealed that he’d successfully taken the route Jun-ho had wanted.

Min-hyeon fervently expressed his concern that Jun-ho might blame himself for hurting him—though he didn’t say it outright. Seeing this, Jun-ho felt relieved. At the same time, he felt a slight deflation. A game that’s too easy from the start tends to lose its appeal, after all.

But even a boring game can stimulate one’s ambition depending on the reward at stake. And the reward for this game was what Jun-ho had most desperately desired for centuries.

Jun-ho gazed pleasantly into Min-hyeon’s sparkling eyes—which, though Min-hyeon himself might not yet be certain, held clear emotions.

The large white pain patch, which perfectly covered the exact spot of the bruise, gave off a distinct, sharp scent. But even that strong fragrance couldn’t completely mask the sweet scent of blood that Jun-ho could clearly perceive. Was it because he was sitting alone with Min-hyeon in this small room, almost like a closed space? Or was it because Min-hyeon was a pure-blooded human?

Even the small amount of blood—trapped beneath the epidermis, pooling in the dermis and beginning to coagulate—wafted a cloying sweetness that could drive a person mad. And it wasn’t even completely concealed by other strong scents that interfered with perception. If he hadn’t known from the start that Min-hyeon was a pure-blooded human, it might have been different—but once he’d become aware, he kept feeling that uniquely sweet blood scent of a pure-blooded human.

It was no wonder, he thought, that most pure-blooded humans were discovered before they reached adulthood. After all, compared to adults, children—whose motor skills were still developing—were more likely to fall, bleed, or bruise.

If even one of his kind was nearby when a child bled, no matter how incompetent that person might be, there was no way they wouldn’t recognize the child as a pure-blooded human.

The scent of blood emanating from Min-hyeon felt slightly more vibrant than when he’d first discovered he was a pure-blooded human. That was the surest proof that Min-hyeon’s feelings toward him were gradually becoming clearer, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

If things continued like this, the destination would smoothly be where Jun-ho wanted it to be. Even though Min-hyeon seemed completely unaware of his own feelings, that wasn’t a major problem.

After all, as long as he was certain he would achieve what he desired, a slightly slow pace didn’t matter much. Rather, he should perhaps be grateful for the fortune of being able to fill the final moments of his life with small, peaceful, ordinary days.

Having finished his assigned portion early, Jun-ho lay his upper body across the seminar room table. Resting his head on his outstretched left arm, he looked up at Min-hyeon, who was absorbed in his work.

Watching that youthful face—usually so conscious of Jun-ho’s every move, but now completely focused on his laptop screen—was unexpectedly not a bad way to pass the time. Min-hyeon was so restless, never staying still for a moment.

He’d bite his lip, then stick out his small tongue to lick his upper lip, or furrow his brow and glare at the monitor with intense concentration, then blink rapidly when something stumped him.

Finding it tiring to keep his head down and stare at the screen, he suddenly threw his head back and twisted it around to stretch his stiff neck. Jun-ho’s gaze naturally followed to Min-hyeon’s neck.

[Not the lips. Find the artery flowing deep inside the neck—right there—and sink your fangs in precisely. Then apply pressure and suck. If you can target the heart directly instead of the neck, even better.]

Miran’s low, calm voice echoed vividly in his ears. Even as she explained that this was the only way, Miran probably never imagined that Jun-ho would actually find a pure-blooded human like this.

[One thing to be careful about: make sure not to break the neck midway, so the pure-blooded human can retain their life force intact until the very end. Of course, you mustn’t sever the carotid artery all at once either—they’d die before you could drain all the blood.]

First, he’d gently nibble on that defenseless nape with just his lips, careful not to hurt him. Then he’d soothe him with soft licks so he wouldn’t be frightened. Spreading his tongue wide over the tender skin, feeling the life force surging from within—that would be wonderful.

He felt as if his mouth was filling with sweetness. Jun-ho’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The pure-blooded human’s blood, traveling down his esophagus to its final destination—around his stopped heart—seemed to make that area tingle.

“Hyung, what are you doing? You weren’t laughing at me, were you?”

Had he been staring too intently, making Min-hyeon feel his persistent gaze? Or had he unconsciously licked his lips while looking at him?

Min-hyeon looked at Jun-ho with a strange expression. Jun-ho feigned nonchalance.

“Just watching.”

“Watching what? Surely not me?”

“Yeah.”

“…Why?”

“Because it’s entertaining.”

“What’s entertaining?”

“Everything.”

Min-hyeon’s eyes narrowed. His gaze seemed full of complaints or grievances. But when Jun-ho just kept smiling without ever specifying what was so entertaining, Min-hyeon pouted and spoke sullenly.

“Of course, to hyung, everyone else probably looks equally ugly, but I’ve been told I’m not the absolute worst-looking—at least not that level.”

“Who said that? Your brother?”

“…My friend agreed too.”

Jun-ho, who had been sprawled across the table, sat up and straightened his posture. Then he carefully examined Min-hyeon’s face and spoke with genuine seriousness.

“I don’t think so.”

“Ah. Hyung, that’s too much. You can’t use your face as the standard—you have to look at it generally, generally.”

Though he said it jokingly, Min-hyeon looked quite wronged. Jun-ho’s smile deepened.

“Cute.”

“Huh?”

“I said you’re cute.”

The heat that started around his ears and jaw began to slowly spread, coloring Min-hyeon’s entire face red.

So easy to read. Min-hyeon’s reaction was exactly as Jun-ho had expected. If things continued like this, it probably wouldn’t take long to reach the game’s ending.

At a loss for words, Min-hyeon just repeated “Wow, hyung” and “Hyung, really” before finally hanging his head. His neatly trimmed short brown hair tilted downward, revealing a tempting nape.

Min-hyeon buried his face in both palms. In that position, he writhed silently for a while, then lifted his head as if nothing had happened.

“Honestly, hyung, the way you talk… you know it’s so easy to misunderstand, right?”

His grumbling tone and words were quite natural. But his eyes, unable to look directly at Jun-ho and darting here and there, said much more than his mouth.

His mood grew lighter and lighter. A deeper smile settled on Jun-ho’s face as he faced Min-hyeon. Min-hyeon made a grimace.

“Please, hyung. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“Why?”

“When you smile at me like that, I feel… weird. I can’t really explain it, but anyway.”

Is this the moment?

If he was just beginning to become aware of his own feelings, a well-timed suggestion now could yield considerable effect.

Suggestions or hypnosis don’t work well on people who dislike or distrust you. In those cases, one had to expend more power. But for someone who already had basic goodwill toward you, suggestions took hold easily. The greater the favor, the better they worked. So even a small suggestion would have a significant effect on Min-hyeon.

Jun-ho pursued Min-hyeon’s eyes, which kept trying to escape him. Persistently following until their eyes met, finally, trembling brown eyes faced him.

Jun-ho, who had been about to lightly use his power on Min-hyeon, was somewhat taken aback. No matter how strongly he poured out his power, he sensed no sign that the suggestion was taking hold on Min-hyeon. The fluttering and shyness Min-hyeon was showing him now wasn’t the suggestion he’d tried to plant. That was simply Min-hyeon’s own heart.

“Huh? What? That’s strange.”

Min-hyeon, who had been blushing shyly at Jun-ho, tilted his head and rubbed his eyes. Only then did Jun-ho realize what was happening and quickly stopped using his power. Since suggestions weren’t working on Min-hyeon at all, the command to forget everything he’d seen during the suggestion wouldn’t have been input either.

“What’s wrong?”

Did his answering voice tremble slightly? Hiding his discomposure, Jun-ho smiled gently. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this flustered.

“Just now, your eyes looked blue. I must have been seeing things. They’re fine now.”

“You must be tired. Let’s call it a day. If there’s anything left unfinished, we can meet again tomorrow and work on it.”

As he watched Min-hyeon power off his laptop and prepare to leave, Jun-ho’s mind grew complicated. He needed to figure out what was going on.

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