The cell reeked of desperation.
Seo-Yun had stopped trying to clean the blood from under his fingernails. It wasn't his—not all of it, anyway. After Ryven's last visit, he had scratched the wall until his fingers bled, until the pain quieted the nausea curling like smoke in his gut.
But now the sickness was constant.
He barely touched the food they gave him. Bread turned to ash on his tongue. His stomach churned with an emptiness that wasn't hunger—but grief. A hollow, sickening ache that started just beneath his ribs and sank lower each day.
He could feel it now, when he pressed his palm to his belly. Just the faintest swell, a tightness like something alive was pressing back.
This is real.
And it terrified him.
He couldn't afford to let them find out. Not yet. Not until he was free. If Kaelith knew, he'd claim the child. Not out of care—out of control. The child would be his legacy, and Seo-Yun would be nothing more than the vessel.
Or worse—a breeder.
He had read how it unfolded in the novel. The moment Ciel's pregnancy was discovered, Kaelith made him a permanent resident of the breeding wing. There were others—some so far gone they no longer spoke. Their eyes had been replaced by compliance.
That would not be his fate.
So Seo-Yun endured.
Until the punishment came.
The guards arrived midday.
He wasn't expecting them—no heat cycle had been scheduled, no Alpha had summoned him. They came without chains. That was worse.
Seo-Yun backed into the corner of the cell, heart hammering. "Why—?"
They didn't answer. Just yanked him forward, dragging him down stone corridors he hadn't seen before.
The room they brought him to was cold, sterile, with a long steel table in the center and surgical lights above.
Varian stood waiting.
"Subject 6-9-B," he said without looking up from his tablet. "Unusual pheromone patterns. Irregular appetite. Possible internal infection. Mandatory diagnostics."
Seo-Yun's stomach twisted. They know. No. Not yet.
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "It's just—"
"You don't decide what's 'fine,'" Varian said, eyes sharp. "You just obey."
The guards forced him onto the table. Leather restraints wrapped around wrists and ankles. The cold against his back made him shake.
Varian stepped close with a scanner. "Any resistance, and I'll use the collar."
Seo-Yun clenched his jaw. Every muscle screamed to fight—but he couldn't. Not here. Not now.
The exam was clinical.
Cold gel on his abdomen. The probe pressed down. A hum filled the air.
Varian's expression changed for a flicker of a second—barely noticeable. His eyes narrowed.
Seo-Yun stopped breathing.
"Interesting," Varian muttered. "The hormonal spike could be heat residue… or something else."
Seo-Yun forced himself to lie still.
Varian didn't confirm. Didn't accuse. Just recorded the data and ended the scan.
When the restraints were removed, Seo-Yun nearly collapsed, limbs trembling.
"You're scheduled for observation," Varian said, tone unreadable. "Further testing in three days."
Seo-Yun stumbled back to the cell in silence.
They didn't know yet.
But they suspected.
That night, Seo-Yun sat hunched over the pin the girl had given him, hidden inside the mattress lining.
His hands trembled as he worked it against the base of his collar, searching for a latch, a weakness—anything.
Each prick of the pin reminded him of what was at stake. You have to escape. Before they confirm. Before they claim what's growing inside you.
He didn't sleep.
Because in three days, he might be found out.
And by then, it would be too late.