Chapter: 9
Yoonseong’s gaze locked onto Hadam.
Even if you looked at her from an airplane, his eyes said, she was still pathetic.
“She’s not even a kid anymore, getting distracted by pointless stuff. Tsk.”
Yoonseong clicked his tongue openly, then walked past as if Hadam and Yigyeol had never been there to begin with, completely ignoring them.
“Ha.”
Hadam let out a hollow laugh.
That expression. That tone. That attitude.
How did he manage to scrape at someone’s nerves over something so trivial?
If it was a skill, then it really was a skill.
“What’s so pointless about taking photos? And ‘Life’s One Shot’ is something people of all ages take.”
She glared at Yoonseong’s back as he disappeared. Yigyeol laughed out loud.
“Why are you laughing? Adding fuel to the fire?”
“Sorry.”
Maybe it was her sharp tone—Yigyeol immediately backed down.
“But still, what’s his problem? I thought he’d say it came out nice.”
“Byeol Yoonseong? As if. No, more importantly, why would you even show photos to other people?”
“You can’t show them?”
“Nope.”
“Why? I want to brag.”
“Because… never mind. Forget it.”
Looking at Yigyeol staring at her with such innocent eyes, Hadam doubted any explanation would get through.
If she said people would misunderstand, he’d probably ask why they’d misunderstand, what kind of misunderstanding, and what was wrong with that.
“Why stop halfway through what you were saying?”
“It’s my choice.”
She snapped back curtly and was just about to step away—
“But, hey.”
A low voice stopped her.
What now?
With a sigh of resignation, she turned around.
Yigyeol opened his mouth with the most serious expression she’d ever seen on his face.
“When you turn into a rabbit and get angry, what do you do? Do you bite people and stuff? I really want to see it. When will it happen?”
Hadam nearly screamed.
In this situation, that’s the question you ask?
Grinding her teeth, she warned him sharply,
“I. Don’t. Turn. Into. A. Rabbit. Got it?”
Seriously, this was ridiculous.
“You know the way back to the dorm, right? Go on your own. I have another appointment, so I’m leaving first.”
Watching Hadam storm out of the commercial building, Yigyeol waited until she’d put some distance between them.
He hadn’t been teasing her on purpose—he was genuinely curious. But her reaction was so perfectly predictable that it only amused him.
Besides, since they’d just met, he figured she’d let a bit of mischief slide.
Yigyeol looked ahead.
Hadam’s hair, falling past her shoulders, swayed in the wind.
The scent of spring carried by the breeze mixed with Hadam’s unique body scent.
“Having sharp senses is a good thing.”
When he had to sense another’s movements in the dark, trace the faint origin of blood in the air, or pick up on the weak groans of someone barely clinging to life…
He had never once thought it was a good thing.
But today, for the first time in his life, Yigyeol thought that having sharp senses was good.
Once they passed the school boundary, her scent grew stronger.
Yigyeol quickened his pace. Catching up didn’t take long.
“You’re really fast.”
Hadam frowned, but the shallow crease visible between her bangs was far from intimidating.
“I thought you were mad and just took off.”
“That’s… true, but—! Haa.”
As if giving up on replying altogether, Hadam let out a long sigh.
Yigyeol laughed again.
And when he realized once more that his pheromones reached their most perfect balance only beside Hadam, his conviction solidified completely.
That eternal rest was here.
She was smiling.
Wasn’t the default expression worry, tension, awkwardness, anger, tears, or a blank face?
In all the years Yoonseong had known Seon Hadam, he had never seen her smile.
She smiled occasionally when she was with her best friend, Oh Yuna—but that was an exception.
Yet in that photo earlier, Seon Hadam was clearly… smiling.
Why? How?
…There was a time when I wished you would smile.
Standing by the dorm hallway window, Yoonseong stared outside with dark eyes.
He got out of breath easily, yet still went to the commercial building—something he usually avoided.
—We’ll keep the two of them together. You’ll continue monitoring, observing, and reporting, just like before. Nothing will change.
“Father… once I graduate, will it really all be over?”
—That’s what I told you.
“…Yes. I’ll hang up now.”
Yoonseong didn’t trust his father.
The new orders given to him only deepened his resentment.
And yet, he couldn’t disobey.
Because he knew Hadam’s secret—one that even Hadam herself didn’t know.
Why only Hadam transformed into an animal.
Why the other students could remain fully human.
And further still, why the world of beastkin could remain stable.
Within the rabbit’s pheromones lay a truth that everyone needed to know—and yet must never be revealed.
Was there a more contradictory statement than that?
He had pretended not to know, deceiving Hadam for far too long.
Yoonseong often felt disgusted with himself.
That disgust piled up inside him like trash in a bin, until it overflowed—until he actually retched.
But it never truly cleaned him out.
Fragments of emotion remained, like filthy stains that would never wash away.
Trying to hate Hadam had been his final struggle, his last desperate flailing.
He wondered if lying to himself might dull that pitiful sense of guilt, even just a little.
In the end, it hadn’t worked.
As he wandered through the swamp of his thoughts, Hadam came into view—with Do Yigyeol walking behind her.
He couldn’t read the intentions of that tiger cub, but one thing was certain.
Hadam was being used right now.
Yoonseong grabbed the empty cup resting on the window frame.
With a crumpling sound, the paper cup collapsed completely in his grip.
There was no typical infirmary inside Geumsu Academy like other schools had. Instead, there was a separate building called the Health Wing.
It was designed to resemble a general hospital as closely as possible. Given the school’s location, visiting an outside hospital wasn’t easy—and there was also the belief that beastkin were best cared for by their own kind.
Annual full-body health checkups for all students, as well as routine transfusions and blood draws, were all done in the Health Wing.
“I told you, I have an appointment with the nurse.”
“You do your thing. I’ve never been here before, so sightseeing sounds good.”
In front of the Health Wing, Hadam had a brief argument with Yigyeol.
He insisted on following her even though he had no business there.
“If you come in, I’ll have to change clothes first. You want to see that? Pervert?”
In the end, Hadam played her last card. It worked instantly.
Yigyeol looked away awkwardly, then disappeared at once after saying they’d meet tomorrow.
Hadam checked her heart rate once before pushing open the glass entrance door. A wave of medicinal and blood scents rushed out at her.
Because the building was the only one on campus facing north, sunlight rarely reached inside—but the interior was brightly lit with strong lighting.
Perhaps to create a warm atmosphere, the floors and walls were mostly white and ivory.
Even so, many students found it bleak. It was probably because the smell of medicine had seeped into every corner of the building.
Hadam headed to the end of the first-floor hallway.
She passed the counseling room, treatment room, and examination room until the door to the blood draw room came into view.
Most students used the treatment room.
Scraped skin, colds, even fractures—all of it could be handled there.
During the semester, almost no one went as far as the blood draw room.
Almost no one except Hadam.
When she turned the handle and opened the door, someone stood up from behind the desk as if they’d been waiting.
“Hadam! How have you been? Nothing wrong, right?”
The woman reached out her arms.
Hadam stepped closer and gladly hugged her.
“I’m good, Auntie!”
Seon Inhwa—Hadam’s aunt and the school nurse—greeted her warmly, rubbing her back.
Since they hadn’t seen each other since the group checkup last December, Hadam was genuinely happy to see her too.
“Sit down. Let’s get this over with quickly.”
“Okay.”
Hadam took off her coat and naturally rolled up the sleeve of her right arm.
After every transformation into a rabbit, it was mandatory to check for abnormalities in her condition. In other words, blood draws were a kind of health checkup for Hadam.
An armrest was already prepared on the desk.
When she placed her arm on it, several injection marks that hadn’t fully healed were exposed.
They alternated arms each time, but the frequency was so high that her skin was regenerating more and more slowly.
“Did you enjoy your break?”
“Yeah. Thanks to you, I got plenty of rest.”
Inhwa tied a yellow rubber band near the crook of Hadam’s arm.
The vein rose clearly.
When the cold alcohol swab touched her skin, a chill ran up the back of her neck.
Tap, tap. After checking the vein one last time, Inhwa inserted the needle.
Red blood began to fill the transparent syringe.
Hadam stared at the sight without even a hint of discomfort.
When she was younger, she cried and screamed, refusing to do it. But the more afraid she was of needles, the higher her heart rate climbed—and the more often she transformed into a rabbit.
That led to more blood draws.
Once she realized it was a complete vicious cycle, Hadam finally learned how to endure this time.
Just as Inhwa paused, holding the syringe—
Hadam suddenly spoke, as if something had just come to mind.
“Auntie. Did you know ‘Life’s One Shot’ opened in the commercial building?”
“Oh my, really? Lucky you. You wanted to take pictures so badly. So, did you take any?”
“Yeah. A new friend came today, so…”
It was an awkward word, but there was no better way to explain it.
Calling him a transfer student felt strange when they went to the same school.
“Ah, I heard. From Taebaek Hall, right? When you stay at this school long enough, you really see all kinds of strange things. Bring him by sometime. I’m curious what he’s like.”
“Okay. But Auntie, about the owner of Life’s One Shot…”
“The owner?”
Inhwa asked as she untied the rubber band and handed her some cotton.
Hadam pressed down on the spot where the needle had been removed.
“Yeah. Apparently, when that person was in school, their best friend had the last name Seon! They said I look just like their friend.”
Inhwa’s hands, peeling the adhesive off a bandage, froze midair.
