SPW 63

Sarang, with broken ribs and fractured limbs, could be found in the emergency room of the Royal Hospital.

It was nearing six months since Sarang, who had risked his life to escape, had married Matthew Caia. Florian looked down at Sarang, who was lying in the intensive care unit with a respirator on. Therapeutic pheromones were being administered along with treatment to Sarang, who was so severely injured it made one frown.

To Florian, that was the sum of his impressions regarding his encounter with an eighteen, no, a mere seventeen-year-old Asian boy.

“What about the process of restoring the birth certificate to its original state?”

“It is in preparation. But Boss, you need this man’s pheromones right now, don’t you?”

The question was whether there was any need to revert it when the boy, who had been made eighteen instead of seventeen by Caia’s document forgery, could be used immediately. However, Florian was a man for whom procedure and justification were important. His pride would not allow him to lay a hand on a kid who was not even an adult yet just because of his own pheromone problem.

“Did you confirm that the recording starts from the moment Kim Sarang jumped over the wall of the Caia estate?”

“Yes, Boss. We have captured everything on camera, from him jumping the wall and getting help from a passing car, all the way to him entering the emergency room of the Royal Hospital.”

Planting people in the Caia estate, creating a small commotion to make an opening for Sarang’s escape, and leaving the locked door open—it was all the work of Florian’s side. Of course, the person who gave Sarang, who was limping and could barely walk, a ride was also one of Florian’s people.

“Take a few pictures of the intensive care unit and send them to Caia’s lawyers. Then we should get an immediate response.”

It was just as Florian had predicted. The Caia-side lawyer sent a reply as soon as he confirmed the photos. Their reaction was swift, as they would have already confirmed Kim Sarang’s absence and been tracking him through every available channel.

The reply stated that Kim Sarang’s injuries had nothing to do with the Caia family, and that divorce proceedings were currently underway. Of course, it was all lies. It would have been Simon Caia who inflicted the serious injuries on Kim Sarang, and the divorce proceedings were likely not underway but were just now being hastily prepared.

They had read Florian’s proposal and warning in just a few photographs. He’s broken anyway, so I’ll take him. If you interfere, I will make the situation as messy as possible for Caia. They must have been provoked by the warning, but with Florian having secured Kim Sarang, it was the Caia side that was at a disadvantage.

Two days after Sarang was moved from the intensive care unit to the Summer Palace, the news of Matthew Caia and Kim Sarang’s divorce was announced. It took up only a small corner of a newspaper.

The official announcement that Kim Sarang had been abandoned by Caia passed by like that, without drawing anyone’s attention. Matthew Caia’s eleventh divorce was nothing more than a tired old story that no longer drew the public’s interest or curiosity.

☀️

Florian was sitting in the bedroom, which was engulfed in silence.

He’s more of a scumbag than I thought.

He had expected that the dream bastard’s motive for approaching Sarang would be impure, whatever it was, but he hadn’t known he would be that selfish and of such poor character. The Florian in the dream ended up spending a heat with Kim Sarang before that winter was over. Kim Sarang, being a dominant alpha with a faster recovery rate than others, quickly got back on his feet with Florian’s pheromones and active medical support.

As if in sync with that, Florian’s sudden heat began. Florian did not correct the birth certificate that Caia had tampered with. It was very easy to coax Kim Sarang. To Kim Sarang, Florian was the very savior who had saved his life. He would have gone so far as to feign death if Florian had told him to die.

Would the Kim Sarang of reality be any different? The image of Sarang, who would smile purely with shining eyes that couldn’t hide his excitement and shyness whenever he saw him, naturally came to mind. Sarang, who had come immediately upon hearing that Florian, who hadn’t shown his face even once in two years, needed him, would have had no hesitation. He had even complained to Bailey, asking why he had only come to find him now.

A foolishly kind Kim Sarang.

No, being kind and good wasn’t foolish. That was just a shifting of blame by the bad people who take advantage of it. Letting out a sigh that came naturally, Florian got off the bed. He must have spent his heat in the central room, but Florian had woken up in his own bedroom. Sarang had probably moved him. The neat cleanup was also Sarang’s handiwork. Not even Bailey would be able to open Florian’s anus and scrape out the semen.

“……”

The drawing room was empty. It was dark despite being daytime because the lights were off, and it was cloudy outside as usual. A fortnight had passed. Sarang would have missed at least four matches. It was one of the reasons why pheromone management was essential to survive in the league. Since Florian was his legal spouse, absence during a heat was a guaranteed right.

But if he suddenly took leave like this, without rhyme or reason, neither the club nor the fans would welcome it. Above all, they would find it suspicious. Repeatedly taking sudden heat leave meant that his pheromones and heat cycle were unstable. Or, that he was using heat leave as an excuse to be lazy. Whether it was an unstable heat cycle or dereliction of duty, it would become a problem once talk started.

There were many minor details missed when drafting the prenuptial agreement. This was the result of Florian’s lack of understanding of soccer and professional athletes, and Sarang’s selflessness.

‘I can do well even without Rian.’

He was right. On the contrary, it was Florian who desperately needed Sarang’s help right now. It was also Florian who was getting in the way of Sarang’s life.

What a mess I am.

After spending a fortnight in heat, Sarang must have washed Florian clean, moved him to the bedroom, and then gone to work at the club. Since it was the first heat after their marriage, no one would have noticed. However, if this continued, suspicious eyes would surely follow. One way or another, Florian’s pheromones and heat cycle needed to stabilize.

Florian opened the terrace door, went out, and sat on a chair, drinking water. The low-lying clouds were a sign that it was going to rain.

Do they stop outdoor training if it rains? It seemed like they rarely stop a match.

After getting to know Sarang, Florian, who now frequented soccer stadiums and watched matches despite having no interest before, was inwardly surprised by the fact that soccer was a more intense and dangerous sport than he had thought. There were one or two injured players in every match, and if you were unlucky, a string of injuries could occur in a single game. It was a sport that inherently involved physical contact, and this phenomenon was compounded by the league’s lenient attitude towards physical fights.

And he endured two years in a place like that with only suppressants and no partner. If you included the season he had just debuted in, it was four years. After becoming an adult, the need for pheromones must have been even more desperate.

‘It was really great.’

‘Playing a match with a body that didn’t hurt at all.’

He said it was thanks to me, so I should be satisfied, but I don’t know why my mood is sinking.

He said there wasn’t a single day he wasn’t in pain. Is it okay to say something like that with such a bright face? Isn’t that against the rules?

The wind brushing past the nape of his neck was cold. Sarang, who was sensitive to the cold, always made sure to wear an outer jacket even in March. Sarang, who would run like a wild horse even if it rained or snowed during a match, would come to the bench and start shivering from the cold, meticulously putting on a club padded jacket, gloves, and even a neck warmer.

Every time the broadcast camera showed such a sight, Florian thought he was cute. It was a natural impression, since Kim Sarang was just a Sarang-like kid.

As if anyone was listening, Florian needlessly made an excuse and drank the rest of the water. This time, too, he had no memory of the fortnight. His heat sickness had flared up, and he had rushed from New York to Canton on a plane. He thought someone had carried him in their arms in the parking lot; it must have been Sarang. And bits and pieces of a conversation with Sarang remained in his mind.

‘Haah… I suppose my heat has come?’

‘How do you feel? Rian.’

And then he had asked for more pheromones. His mouth, which gets loose whenever his heat comes, might have blabbered on about something else, too. His memory was not clear. He only vaguely remembered Sarang’s explosive pheromones, which were as intense as the burning heat.

‘I don’t want to see… your face, so do it from behind.’

Yes, that’s what happened.

It wasn’t easy to spend an entire heat cycle begging a kid for pheromones, for someone who had proclaimed himself a guardian, of all things. Of course, Sarang was a full-fledged adult, and they were legally a married couple, but Florian felt uneasy, as if he were constantly doing something he shouldn’t.

A sense of immorality. Is this what you call a sense of immorality?

For someone who wasn’t particularly ethical, his heart grew soft only when it came to Sarang.

This isn’t good.

The aftereffect of a heat without memories was that he started to overthink things.

Florian, having drunk all the water, threw the empty bottle into the trash can and left the terrace.