[BREAKING NEWS]
"This is an emergency public health announcement."
"A previously unknown virus has begun spreading across several cities. Health officials have identified it as Ardell Syndrome, a rare biological mutation that affects the body's hormones and instincts."
"Doctors warn that once infected, patients experience extreme fever, heightened sensitivity, and uncontrollable surges of desire. Sedatives have proven ineffective."
"But what alarms experts most… is that relief appears to come from only one source — physical contact with a genetically compatible partner."
"Medical teams have classified carriers into three types."
"Type A — stabilizers.
Type B — reactors.
Type C — neutral."
"Type B patients suffer the most severe symptoms and must bond with a Type A partner to survive the episodes. Without a match, their condition may become life-threatening."
"Type C individuals show no symptoms but may still carry the virus."
"Authorities urge citizens to report any unusual fevers, scent sensitivity, or behavioral changes immediately."
"This is not a rumor. This is not a drill."
"Stay indoors. Avoid close contact."
"And if you feel your body changing… seek medical help at once."
---
"So… I'm Type A?"
Seo Yeong stared at the result on his phone, his throat suddenly dry.
"Does that mean this thing can kill me too?"
He let out a shaky laugh, but it didn't sound like one.
"I mean… what happens if a Type B finds me? I'm basically dead meat, right?"
The words tasted bitter.
Three days ago, he had been worrying about assignments, overdue rent, and whether the cafeteria would run out of fried chicken again.
Normal problems.
Now the entire country was talking about infections, instincts, and "compatible partners" like it was some twisted dating show designed by hell.
Type A. Stabilizer. Rare.
Valuable.
Wanted.
According to the news, Type A bodies could calm a Type B's episodes.
According to the internet… they were basically targets.
Some people called them "lifelines."
Others called them "prey."
Seo Yeong called it bad luck.
The virus had barely broken out a week ago, and already his life was a complete mess.
Classes suspended. Dorms half empty. Sirens every night.
And now this.
He dropped back onto his bed, covering his eyes with his arm.
"…Great. Just great. Of all types… why me?"
"I mean… why me? This is so ridiculous."
Seo Yeong raked a hand through his hair, pacing his tiny dorm room for the hundredth time.
"If I hadn't gone to the hospital to check this stupid 'type' thing… I wouldn't even know."
He stopped, biting his lip.
"Maybe I could've just lived normally."
Maybe ignorance would've been better.
Maybe he could've pretended the virus was just another rumor online. Just another problem happening to other people.
But no.
He just had to get tested.
And now—
Type A.
Stamped clearly on his medical report like some kind of death sentence.
Rare. Compatible. Necessary.
Wanted.
He let out a weak groan and flopped onto his bed.
"Seriously… what kind of bad luck is this?"
"Maybe I should just disappear… dig a hole and bury myself or something."
Seo Yeong muttered to himself, hugging his knees on the bed.
"This is so stupid."
Type A.
Why did it have to be something so obvious?
It wasn't even fair.
"I don't even smell normal… why does it have to be this strong?"
He lifted his sleeve and sniffed faintly.
The scent was soft but rich — warm and sweet.
Like red roses after rain.
Too noticeable. Too inviting.
Exactly the kind of scent the news warned about.
Type Bs could pick it up easily.
Find him easily.
"Great… I'm basically a walking target."
He buried his face into his pillow.
"Maybe I should just hide somewhere no one can find me…"
---
Miles away, in a dark, silent room, another boy lay sprawled across his bed.
The curtains were drawn tight. No light. No sound.
Only the harsh sound of his breathing filled the space.
His fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles pale.
His body burned like it was on fire.
Every nerve screamed. Every instinct clawed at him.
Find. Chase. Claim.
But there was no one there.
No scent to calm him. No touch to ground him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched.
"…Damn it… I'm losing control again."
---
The next morning, Seo Yeong woke up feeling like his body didn't belong to him.
Hot. Too hot.
His skin burned against the sheets as if he'd been left out under the sun all day.
"…Ah…"
A weak groan slipped from his lips.
His head throbbed. His throat felt dry. Even breathing felt heavy.
When he lifted his hand to his forehead, it was burning.
A fever.
A really bad one.
His heart dropped.
The news.
They said Type As would experience something similar to a heat cycle.
Sudden fever. Hormonal spikes. Heightened scent production.
Vulnerability.
"Don't joke with me…" he whispered hoarsely.
His vision blurred when he tried to sit up. The room spun slightly, like he hadn't slept in days.
For a moment, he considered staying in bed.
But there was no food left. No medicine either.
And he definitely couldn't call an ambulance.
If the hospital confirmed his type again, they might register him… monitor him… or worse.
What if someone found out?
What if Type Bs started looking for him?
"…I'll just buy medicine. That's all," he muttered.
Pulling on a hoodie and a mask, he forced himself outside.
Each step felt heavy.
The morning air should've been cool, but to him it felt suffocating. His body was too sensitive — every smell, every sound, too sharp.
By the time he reached the pharmacy, sweat soaked his back.
His hands trembled while paying.
The cashier even gave him a weird look.
"You okay?"
"…Just a cold," he lied.
---
When he finally made it back home, his legs almost gave out at the door.
The fever had gotten worse.
Much worse.
His breathing turned ragged, and the sweet scent of roses thickened in the air around him, almost cloying.
Even he could smell it clearly now.
"…This is bad…"
His phone buzzed with emergency alerts.
Type A and B patients are advised to seek medical supervision immediately during symptom onset.
He stared at the screen.
Then locked it.
"…No hospital."
If he went, he'd be exposed.
Registered.
Marked.
And in this world, a marked Type A wasn't safe.
He slid down against the door, hugging himself as heat pooled under his skin.
"I'll be fine… it's just a fever…"
But even he didn't believe that.
---
To be continued...