"I can't see your face anyway."
He could feel the man watching him silently. He was staring at Le An, thinking. He looks...As if he actually gave up against me. Did he give up? Should he be spared if he accepts hatred even without knowing why he was hated? Should I tell him why I hate him? Would that make those eyes look back at me again? Or are there any other ways to make him look at him? This time, it was the man, lost in thought. He just... wanted Le An to look at him. To make it easier for him to hate him.
After focusing on guiding a bit more, Le An felt dizzy. The flow he was giving was too strong. Theo, for example, would've asked him to stop by now. Ever since he started taking the medications, Le An's control over his guiding power had been unstable. Just yesterday, he'd accidentally unleashed an intense flow on two espers; one fainted, and the other became aroused. He now had to exert more energy to manage the density of the flow, which left him even more exhausted. At this moment, he felt overwhelmingly sleepy.
The man had noticed for days that Le An had grown a bit thinner, and his guiding ability was out of sync. "Are you still researching me?" he asked.
Le An's brows furrowed at the unexpected question. "No," he replied honestly. Le An hadn't truly given up on researching him, not entirely. But he no longer had a clear idea of how to continue. Everyone around him had started paying close attention to his every word, knowing he wouldn't ask anything without a reason. That alone made it harder to act freely. For now, he was stuck. He didn't know what to do next. Because, in the end, all the answers still pointed back to this man.
"Why did you stop?"
Le An didn't respond. When he remained silent, the man filled in the gap himself. Was it because he wasn't afraid of him anymore? Could that be a threat in this man's eyes? The man looked more intently at him, as if by focusing harder, he could see through to his soul.
But with Le An's head bowed, all the man could see was the curve of his neck and the line of his back.
As he watched the back of Le An's head, his eyes drifted to the nape of his neck. It was unmarked, clean… and flushed. A soft pink. The color seemed to trail down, probably touching the curve of his shoulders too. Even his ears carried a faint warmth. His gaze lingered, again, on the nape.
Le An wasn't short, not exactly, just smaller beside him. He found himself wondering what people thought of him, those who didn't know that he was an omega. Did they suspect? Or maybe, did they hope? To survive, his traits had learned to stay hidden. But no matter how much he tried to cover it, something in him seemed unguarded. He didn't carry the weight of an alpha. His presence wasn't commanding, but something else entirely.
And… His nape, again, the man thought… His nape caught the light in a strange way, like something glazed..? It almost seemed like it would smell sweet. And if something smells sweet…
His thoughts didn't finish. They just… dulled. His senses blurred. He only realized his stillness when a faint shift in the air made him blink. The anger and disgust, so often sitting beneath his skin, weren't there just now. It had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
He blinked again. There was a strange pressure in his chest. As if something in this silence, some directionless pull, was starting to unsettle him.
"H-hey... Uhm, I think that much guiding is enough."
The man jolted back, like snapping awake from a trance. All the thoughts that had just clouded his mind shattered and scattered, slipping away before he could catch them. That nape, just moments ago something distant, abstract, was painfully close now. He hadn't even realized how much he'd leaned in.
The body in front of him was trembling. "Please, don't-"
"Why? I… I'll answer. It's because I didn't answer earlier, r-right. Because I have no one to ask, nowhere else to look. That's why." Le An couldn't figure out why the man had suddenly leaned in so close, whether he intended to harm him or if something else had sparked that sudden anger.
The man, fully aware now, saw that one of his hands was on Le An's neck, fingers slipping under Le An's own. Le An wasn't covering the man's hand; he was covering his nape, the very spot where his glands lie, protecting himself instinctively from potential harm.
The man pulled his hand back immediately. Light fingerprints were now visible on Le An's neck. Only then did Le An start to calm down.
Finally, the man responded to Le An. "The flow was too strong. You didn't keep the rate I asked for. That was an instinct."
"Oh..." Le An removed his hand from his neck slowly. "I thought I'd made you angry."
The next thing the man said was unnecessarily cruel. Le An flinched.
"What makes you think I'd be kind to you when you haven't even done anything wrong?"
Le An looked up at him, confused and even slightly angry. His eyes were finally visible. Finally, the man thought. "Now you're looking at me. Guess you didn't have the guts before."
Suddenly, a dialogue began between them that neither could hold back. The man had returned to his usual self, but inside Le An, a spark of anger flared from the pressure and control the man exerted over him.
"You're the one too cowardly to face me. Where's your face?" He said.
"I don't show my face to people I despise," the man said coldly.
"Someone who truly despises would proudly show their face to their enemy, wouldn't they?"
"No. I despise even the idea of being known by you."
"Why? What did I ever do to you?" Le An asked, nearly scoffing.
The man grabbed him by the wrist again, indicating they should resume guiding. But his grip was too tight. "Shut up and do it properly."
"No. Why do you hate me?"
His very existence made the man's stomach twist. Le An didn't know that. He didn't know why this man hated him so much. But he wanted to. So, he didn't start guiding.
The man looked into Le An's eyes. They held nothing but curiosity, like someone chatting casually with a hater. "Why are you asking? Can't handle not being liked for once?"
"I don't-"
He interrupted Le An. And then, perhaps for the first time, the man began to speak about why he hated him.
"People like you think the world revolves around them. There are millions like me, people you've hurt, whether you know it or not. You believe what you don't see can't hurt you. But here I am. In the room of the country's biggest guiding reservoir. I could drain it forever, and no one would even know."
"Biggest guiding reservoir? Wow..." Le An sighed. "If I'm that self-centered, why am I the only one being blackmailed and used like this? Or are there others?"
"No. You're the only one who deserves it. Like cheese in a trap."
"Then..." Le An gulped. "You're the rat sneaking into my room at night, just to bite the cheese you despise the most."
Silence fell between them. Then-
"So let's not speak of guts-ha!" Le An collapsed to his knees. He wasn't breathing. Couldn't even scream. Pain surged through his body, like spikes stabbing his brain. He went blind. His ears rang.
The man stared, his mind spinning. His body had lashed out on instinct, releasing a psychic attack with all the rage he'd buried.
Le An convulsed on the floor. Three red marks appeared on his neck. Le An knew nothing of his past, yet here he was, talking like that? Didn't he deserve it?
"You crossed the line." He said.
Le An didn't respond. Couldn't even hear him.
"Hm? Can't talk now?" He wasn't sure how long had passed when he noticed it.
A red line of blood dripping from Le An's nose, trailing over his lips and chin.
A tear slid down his cheek and mixed with the blood. One drop hit his sleeve.
That brought the man back to reality. Le An inhaled sharply. The man moved quickly, ending the oppressive force. He tilted Le An's head forward, pressing his wrist against his nose to stop the blood and prevent staining.
Le An was half-conscious and paralyzed by fear. Just seconds ago, he thought his neck was about to snap. He couldn't even struggle; he'd just gasped and closed his eyes tightly. The man picked him up and carried him to bed. The bleeding stopped quickly, but Le An's body still shook.
He wiped the blood from Le An's face and his own hands using wet wipes from the bathroom. Only one drop of blood remained, the one on Le An's sleeve.
"Take your shirt off."
Le An barely heard him. His mind was drifting. His reply was off-topic.
"I... won't say anything bad to you... f-from now on."
The man sighed, staring at his pitiful form. Suddenly, he thought of the oppression he'd just unleashed, enough to make even an alpha kneel. Applying that to an omega...
He lifted Le An's shirt himself.
Then he stopped.
Bruises. Dozens of injection marks covered Le An's arms, in varying shades of yellow, green, and purple, old and fresh. The cold air hit Le An's bare skin, making him tremble even more.
The man stared at his chest for a long time and suddenly remembered what had triggered this entire fight.
His stomach turned.
The so-called treasure of the country was in terrible shape.
His shoulders, the ones he'd thought earlier might be pink, were covered in pain relief patches.
"Why do I hate you?" the man said. "From the very first day I saw you, everything in my life began to fall apart. I lost everything... Because of you. Even before you were called the Treasure, do you get it?"
Le An was in a slightly better state now; he could finally process the man's words. That's why he gave a small, trembling nod.
"While you were being glorified, I was being buried. And if you think you don't deserve this, no. You do. I believe that."
Fragments of the past flickered before the man's eyes: the last moment he held his father's hand, the day he first saw Le An. His jaw clenched. The anger and hatred were too vast to contain; something inside him ached. Looking at Le An now, he felt not sympathy, but a strange pain. A reminder. A reflection of everything he'd lost.
Just like every time he saw Le An's face on a banner, an ad, a passing photo for all those years, a bitter ache filled his chest again.