(Dohyun pov)
Warning: abuse, suicide, murder.
My body was covered in bruises - deep purple, dark red, and yellowing green. Each mark told a story of pain, of being used and abused. I lay on the cold, hard floor of the dungeon-like room, my eyes vacant and filled with self-loathing. I can barely lift my arms — every movement burns. Bruises bloom along my skin, a map of shame I'll never scrub clean. I try to stand, but my legs buckle, sending me crashing back to the cold floorboards.
I can still smell him. His scent clings to the air, thick and poisonous, Alpha pheromones crawling into my lungs no matter how hard I try not to breathe. I gag on it. I hate it. I hate him. I hate myself. I hate everything. Then I tried to smile like Jihwa. He said I looked beautiful.
The door creaks. Heavy footsteps. I feel him before I see him — that suffocating presence pressing down like a weight I can't push off. I bought the curve of my lips downward.
"Look at you," he says, his voice soft, almost amused. "You're trembling again."
"I'm trembling because I hate you," I rasp, though it comes out weak, pathetic. This was the first time I actually spoke back. I was shivering. Afraid for the punishment. But again I wanted him to know how I felt.
He crouches down in front of me, green hair falling into cold blue eyes, eyes that see too much. A wave of pheromones rolls off him and I choke, covering my mouth with my sleeve like that'll do anything.
"You hate me?" he murmurs, touching my throat with two gloved fingers. "Then why does your heart beat like this whenever I'm near? So fast. So desperate. You reek of pheromones.."
"Don't touch me!" I moved away, but my voice cracked. Damn it. He hears the fear. He always does. Why was he releasing his pheromones? He's trying to make me horny. Oh hell no. He just r@ped me and acts like nothing. I trembled in fear, but had the urge to fight.
"You say no with your mouth," he says, leaning closer until I can't turn my face away, "but your body… your body says yes every single time. Don't you see, Dohyun? You were born for this. Born for me."
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. My eyes sting. "I never wanted this. I never wanted you." I cried. I trembled in fear. I'm scared. He might touch me again.
But his pheromones grew stronger, heavier, like breathing smoke that burns from the inside out. My chest tightens. The room spins. My body betrays me again, pulse racing, knees weak, as though some traitorous part of me agrees with him. At the same time, I felt nauseous.
"I hate this," I mumble, barely audible even to myself. "I hate you. I hate myself. I want to die."
"Poor little Dohyun," he says with a mock softness that makes me want to scream. "Cry if you must. You'll come back to me anyway. You can't die without my permission."
"You don't give me a choice," I whisper, tears spilling before I can stop them.
His smile is faint, almost tender — cruel in its gentleness. "Exactly."
He finally leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. But the air is still poisoned, thick with him. I collapse fully, pressing my face to the floor as if I can hide from the smell, the feeling, everything.
My hands claw at my own skin, desperate to tear him off me, to scrub myself raw. I can't. I'll never be clean.
"Why am I like this?" My voice cracks apart. "Why do I let him do this to me?"
I hate it. I'm disgusted with myself.
I thought about Jihwa and smiled. I tried. I really did. The brightness he offered me just gave me warmth in my heart. I'm so jealous. Why can't I smile more than him? I want to be happier.
I laughed and cried yet again. I can't smile
I never will. Just a weak pathetic slut. Why was I even born as an omega? To make things even worse. A recessive one.
The silence offers no answer, only the sound of my own sobbing, harsh and broken, echoing off the walls. I fell asleep.
The next second, I woke up and found myself on a bed. What is this luxury? Am I in heaven?
"Quit spitting nonsense." Hyok glared at me.
"I'm sorry master…"
"Be grateful I'm being nice to you."
At that moment I burst.
"Nice? You call this nice? Or your insane obsession." Shoot, I should've kept my mouth shut.
The second the words left me, I saw it in his eyes — that flicker of rage under the cold blue, quick as a spark before a wildfire.
"You dare talk back to me?" Hyok's voice is low, dangerous. "After everything I've given you?"
"I didn't ask for any of it," I spit out before I could stop myself, and that's it — that's the breaking point.
His fist slams into my ribs so hard I swear something cracks. The air leaves my lungs in a strangled gasp. He pushed me off his bed and I crumpled to the floor, clutching my side, but there's no time to recover — another kick lands square in my stomach, folding me in half. Pain explodes everywhere at once.
"Ungrateful," he snarls, grabbing a fistful of my hair and moving my head back so I have no choice but to look at him. "You think you can talk to your master like that?"
"Stop—!" I try to choke out, but it's useless. His boot comes down again, this time across my back.. I taste blood.
I can't even breathe between hits. My body's shaking, not from defiance now but from sheer, bone-deep terror. And yet some bitter part of me whispers that I deserve this — that this is what happens when you open your stupid mouth.
"Say it," Hyok growls, slamming me against the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth. "Say you're mine. You are just a whore."
I'm sick of this. I can never break through these chains.
"N-no—!" I manage before another blow cuts me off, sharp and blinding.
"Say it!" His pheromones are pouring out now, choking me, suffocating me until my head spins. My knees buckle, but his grip keeps me upright, jerking me like a puppet on strings.
"I—" The word breaks off in a sob. My vision swims. I can barely see through the tears and blood. "I'm… yours…"
The rage in his expression smooths into cold satisfaction. Just like that, the blows stop. I'm left slumped on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, every breath a knife in my ribs.
"That's better." His voice is soft now, mocking. He crouches down, tilting my face up with cruel fingers. "Never forget who you belong to, Dohyun."
When he finally leaves, the room spins around me. My body is one throbbing bruise, but the worst pain isn't in my skin — it's deeper, somewhere I can't reach. I hate him. I hate myself more for giving him what he wanted. I will seek revenge. I want him dead. So he won't be able to hurt poor innocent omegas and also use them as a lab experiment.
I press my forehead to the cold floor, whispering the same question over and over, voice raw and broken.
"Why can't I fight back? Why can't I just leave?"
But there's no answer. Just silence. And the faint trace of his scent still choking the air.
I want to smile. Come on Dohyun, you can smile. Remember what Jihwa said? I looked gorgeous.
The next morning, I found myself waking up to white.
White ceiling, white sheets, the smell of antiseptic that burns my nose. For a second, I think maybe I died in my sleep. That would have been… merciful. But then I turn my head — pain lances through my ribs sharp as broken glass — and I see the IV stand beside me, the slow drip of clear fluid into my arm. No, I'm not dead. I'm alive because he wants me alive.
Of course he does. He said it himself, I can't die unless he allows me too. The. I just need to trigger him
My lips are split. Every breath hurts. My skin feels too tight over bruised bone, covered in places that throb with every tiny movement. Someone's dressed me in clothes that aren't mine, soft and expensive, smelling faintly of cedar and something sharper — his scent. Even the air in this room is tainted by him.
I want to rip the IV out. I want to tear these sheets, claw the walls, smash my head against the floor until everything stops. I try to sit up, but my body revolts, trembling, weak, like it doesn't even belong to me anymore.
The door opens. No knock. He never knocks. Why would he? This is his space. I'm his too, apparently.
He entered the room with a try of food and placed it on my leg. "You're awake. You passed out for a week." His voice is quiet, almost pleased. His blue eyes flick over me like he's checking inventory. "You should have stayed under longer. Your body needs rest."
Rest. From the man who nearly beat me to death last night. I almost laughed. Wait, I can laugh?
I threw the tray on the floor trying to trigger him but instead ... .He walks over, smooth and unhurried, adjusting the IV line with careful fingers, as if this is real concern. "You were dehydrated. Your fever spiked. I can't have you breaking on me, Dohyun."
"Can't I break? Let me suffer. Isn't that my purpose?" My voice is rough, bitter. "You break me every single day."
The words hang heavy between us. He doesn't like them. I see it in the way his jaw tightens, in that flicker of irritation behind his calm mask. He likes me to be silent, obedient, and patient.
I push myself upright anyway, ignoring the scream of my ribs. "What's the point of this?" I gesture at the IV, the bandages, the fresh clothes I didn't ask for. "You patch me up just so you can tear me apart again?"
"Careful," he says softly, though the softness feels like a blade sliding against my throat.
"Why?" My laugh comes out harsh, cracked. "Are you going to hit me again? Go ahead. You love that, don't you?"
"Dohyun." His voice drops lower — that warning tone I've learned to fear.
"Kill me, then." The words leave me before I can stop them. "You beat me so much — just finish it. Kill me. Master. No. Park Hyok. Do it. Right now."
For a moment, the air freezes. His face is still, unreadable. Then the room changes. Heavy. Thick. His Alpha pheromones bleed into every breath, clogging my lungs, making my heart race until it hurts.
"Do it," I whisper, staring right at him with my dead eyes even though my vision's already swimming. "I'd rather be dead than yours."
After all he needed me alive and heathy to experiment on me.
Something sharp flashes across his face — rage, yes, but something else too. Possession. The kind of fury that comes from someone realizing they might lose their favorite toy or lab experiment.
He moves faster than I can blink. His hand closes around my throat. Not tight enough to cut off air — not yet — just enough to make my pulse hammer against his palm. His blue eyes are inches from mine, cold and wild at the same time.
"Don't say that again," he growls. His voice is hoarse, like he's choking on something himself.
"Why not?" My voice cracked but I kept talking, reckless. "If you hate me so much, if I'm nothing but trouble — end it. You'll feel better, won't you? Isn't this what you wanted last night? To watch me beg?"
I see it. The thought crossed his mind. His fingers tighten just slightly, and black spots burst behind my eyes. For one horrifying, thrilling moment, I think he's actually going to do it. And the worst part? I almost want him to.
He came closer without a word, and before I could even flinch his hand was at my throat, squeezing. Harder this time. My vision blurred almost instantly, the edges of the room fading to black.
And yet… it didn't scare me. Not the way it should have.
Ah. What pleasure. What strange, twisted relief. My chest burned, my ears rang, and I thought, so this is what it feels like… this is how it ends.
I tried to smile — God, I really tried — but my face wouldn't cooperate. My lips barely managed to twitch upward, a broken parody of a grin. The room tilted. My fingers went cold. And I managed to smile because then… something in his expression changed.
His grip didn't loosen right away, but I felt it — a flicker of hesitation. His blue eyes weren't cold now. They looked… confused. No, not just confused — almost startled.
"Do it," I rasped, or tried to, though my voice was little more than a breath. "Go on… finish it. I'm not afraid."
But suddenly, it was him who felt wrong. His gaze locked on my trembling, almost-smile — and for the first time, he looked uncertain. Like he didn't recognize me. Like he didn't recognize himself.
The pressure on my throat wavered, not much, but enough for me to catch a gasp of air that seared all the way down. My chest convulsed, my head spinning, yet I saw it clearly: the Alpha who never faltered, faltering.
And for one strange, bitter second, I felt powerful.
But then — just as suddenly — he lets go. Steps back like he's burned himself. He's breathing hard, jaw tight, refusing to meet my eyes.
"I said don't say that again." His voice is low and dangerous now. "You don't get to decide when you die. I do."
I collapse back onto the pillows, clutching my burning throat, my whole body trembling so hard the IV line shakes. I can barely speak, but I force the words out anyway:
"Coward. You can beat me. You can break me. But you can't kill me. Not because you care. Because you're too selfish to lose your favorite toy."
The room goes completely still. His expression smooths over into that calm, collected mask — and I know this is worse than his anger. Calm Hyok is terrifying. Calm Hyok doesn't miss. Just hit me. Don't stay silent. I don't like this.
"You're alive because I allow it," he says finally, voice soft as silk. "And you'll stay alive because you belong to me. Don't forget that."
He leaves like nothing happened, the door clicking shut behind him, but his scent lingers in the air, thick and suffocating.
I stare at the ceiling until my vision blurs. My throat throbs. My chest feels hollow.
I rip the IV from my arm. Blood runs down my wrist, a thin red line, but I don't care. I curl up on the bed, knees to my chest, hugging myself like maybe I can hold all the broken pieces together.
"I'd rather die," I whisper into the silence. "I'd rather die than keep living like this."
But I'm still here. Still breathing. Still his. And the worst part is… I hate myself more than I hate him.
I closed my eyes, hoping to see heaven when I wake up…maybe I don't deserve heaven but I hope at least hell.