Chapter 38

“It will get much worse.”

At first, rut fever felt like the aching sickness caused by a high temperature. But instead of chills, it produced scorching thirst and a heat painful enough to burn from within. Human reason faded until only violent lust remained. The Alpha became possessed by the conviction that he would lose his mind if he did not satisfy it immediately.

Masturbation offered only brief relief. In the end, what remained was the primitive, violent instinct of an animal driven to mate, willing to do anything if it meant extinguishing the need. An Alpha’s rut was far more dangerous than an Omega’s heat cycle. To prevent Alphas from losing control and committing crimes, they were expected to carry suppressants or remain indoors throughout the period.

It was enshrined in law regardless of country, or at minimum established as a social rule. Whatever might have happened in some distant barbaric age, most modern nations regulated rut strictly. Yuri disliked wasting money on suppressants, so he usually found an Omega whose cycle aligned with his, or locked himself inside and endured it alone. Even Igor, who wrung people dry to the marrow, ordered his men to take their full rut period away.

An Alpha blinded by lust was prone to mistakes, and having one in the field brought no benefit. Through experience, Yuri knew precisely how painful and degrading rut fever could be. The young, handsome man before him seemed to have no idea.

“But I took suppressants.”

“You may have bought the wrong kind.”

“That can’t be. I asked the pharmacist before I bought them,” Cherriot protested in an aggrieved voice. Perhaps wanting to prove himself, he tugged Yuri toward the house.

Yuri made no effort to free the wrist that had remained firmly caught all this time. As he followed, he thought that perhaps this was what he had secretly wanted during the walk home. Yuri did not dislike it that much. Not even Cherriot’s selfish, ill-mannered behavior.

Once inside, Cherriot hurried into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards. Yuri followed at a slower pace and closed the front door in place of Cherriot, who had once again forgotten to lock it.

As the lock turned with a click, Yuri replayed his conversation with Alexei. No one would smash through the door tonight, but if that day came soon, Yuri quietly asked himself how far he would be capable of going. Cherriot had sought out “good mercenaries” because he wanted as few people hurt as possible. But the protection Cherriot desired was an idealistic fantasy.

The situation before him had moved beyond deciding right and wrong. The only choices left were to kill or be killed. People willing to murder others for their own purposes did not change. Yuri had learned through experience that they might retreat when disadvantaged, only to drive a knife into one’s back later.

As the number of scars carved into his body increased, so did the lessons he had once been ignorant of. Still, Cherriot’s wishes were what mattered. Fighting while keeping everyone alive took far more effort and increased the chance that Cherriot himself would be hurt. But if it put Cherriot’s heart at ease…

“Look, Yuri. It clearly says suppressant right here.”

Cherriot’s voice pulled him away from the conflict between his own methods and Cherriot’s. The man held up the medication he had found and waved it as evidence. Yuri watched his pale cheeks, reddened more deeply than usual by fever, then slowly looked toward the box. Only a limited number of pharmaceutical companies produced rut suppressants, and Cherriot had purchased one of them.

Yuri gave a low hum and crossed the living room toward the kitchen.

Cherriot was scattering pheromones everywhere like someone who had never learned how to contain them. As Yuri advanced through the scent, thick as transparent smoke, his body gradually grew tense. It felt like approaching a lion sitting perfectly still.

He knew the beautiful man wearing such an innocent face would never harm him, yet the pressure unique to an Alpha in rut bore down on him. No. Not exactly pressure. It stirred strange impulses inside Yuri as well.

When he finally reached Cherriot on the other side of the island, Yuri deliberately remained opposite him. Following the instinct that something would happen if they stood too close, he kept a little distance between them.

Cherriot handed him the medicine.

Although Yuri was no pharmacist and looking at the box would change nothing, Cherriot watched him with eyes that trusted Yuri to solve everything. Yuri reached for the package and accidentally touched Cherriot’s fingers. As his fingertips brushed the man’s round, smooth nails, Cherriot’s innocent expression transformed in an instant.

The pupils at the center of his darkened green eyes contracted into narrow black points. Desire flared openly across the pale face staring at Yuri. Seeing it made Yuri feel as though he had been dragged back to the afternoon beside the lake, when they had lost themselves in wanting each other. Cherriot’s gaze fixed on him as though glued there, drying Yuri’s mouth.

Had meeting someone’s eyes always been this intense?

This indecent?

He was doing nothing but looking, yet his mouth went dry and heat gathered in his stomach. Even breathing made him tense.

As Yuri remained frozen, Cherriot slowly leaned forward. The man stood more than half a head taller than Yuri and possessed a correspondingly broad, long upper body. Simply shifting his balance brought him easily within reach. The island was only wide enough for two dishes side by side.

When Cherriot bent over it, their faces came close enough that it would not have been strange for their lips to touch. Like a beast standing over prey, Cherriot brought his face near and tilted his head. His golden lashes, curved high, fluttered as his green eyes openly traced Yuri’s mouth.

Yuri tightened his grip around the medicine box.

I should push him away.

The thought rose, then burst like a bubble. The minimum distance he had guarded as though it were his final line no longer meant anything. Cherriot could cross it in one stride whenever he wanted.

And Yuri could not stop him.

“…Sorry.”

Just as instinct warned that something was about to happen, Cherriot whispered in a tightly restrained voice. He released a long, regretful breath, shook his head, and withdrew.

“Ah, fuck. I really am in rut.”

He raked his hands through his hair and muttered as though he were going mad, then hurriedly put distance between himself and Yuri. He paced restlessly before the island and closed his eyes.

“What’s the point of selling something as a suppressant if it doesn’t even work? I should sue them.”

Watching Cherriot struggle to hold on to his reason, Yuri finally forced his stiff body to move and opened the box. He removed the instruction sheet and ran a finger over the dosage and side effects until he found the relevant line.

—Begin administration seven days before the expected start of the cycle. Taking immediately before the cycle may cause adverse effects.

In other words, the drug Cherriot had bought was meant for regular, preemptive rut suppression. There were broadly two types of suppressant: long-term medication like this and short-term emergency medication. What Cherriot possessed was indeed a suppressant, but it did not suit his circumstances. Despite the foolish mistake, Yuri did not find him pathetic or careless.

Cherriot’s restless confusion only made him seem pitiable. If he had truly never managed rut with medication before, it was an understandable mistake. He could have searched online before purchasing it, of course, but…

“It won’t do anything now that it’s started, will it?” Cherriot abruptly approached Yuri again and asked.

Yuri lowered the leaflet enough to meet his eyes, then nodded. “No.”

“Then… do I have to keep hurting like this?”

“It will feel far worse than it does now,” Yuri answered from experience, and Cherriot’s complexion turned pitifully pale.

Rut fever was an internal pain, fundamentally different from tolerating an external injury. For someone without Cherriot’s experience, it would undoubtedly be grueling. And in this particular matter, Yuri had nothing to offer.

As far as he knew, rut could be relieved only with an Omega. When their differing pheromones intertwined and filled what the other lacked, neutralizing each other, the body finally quieted after fulfilling its purpose. That was why relationships between people of the same designation had always seemed strange to Yuri. For anyone born an Alpha or Omega, these cycles were a curse repeated endlessly until reproductive function faded with age.

Yuri did not want Cherriot to suffer. He wished the suppressant had worked, but that option had already passed.

Only one remained.

I think his bag was near here.

Yuri turned toward the living room sofa. He remembered seeing Cherriot toss his bag nearby after they returned. Just as he thought, it lay abandoned on the floor. Leaving the confused Cherriot alone for the moment, Yuri headed toward the living room.

He felt Cherriot stop pacing the kitchen and stare after him. Ignoring the gaze fixed between his shoulder blades, Yuri approached the sofa, bent down, and picked up the bag.

I put the cup sleeve with the barista’s number in here.

“Yuri, wait!”

The instant Yuri grasped the bag, Cherriot rushed to his side and seized the opposite end. The strap had been loosely tightened, leaving the bag half open between them as each man held one side.

“Why are you suddenly going through my bag?”

“I’m looking for something.”

“Then tell me and I’ll get it. What are you looking for?”

As if the bag contained something Yuri was not permitted to see, Cherriot kept pulling it toward himself. The struggle opened the mouth of the sports bag wider. “The Omega we met earlier.”

“…What?” Cherriot’s gaze turned fierce. His normally gentle eyes sharpened upward, and his reddish-brown brows twisted with displeasure. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for that cup sleeve.”

“I am.”

“You said you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not. It’s for you.”

Yuri did not elaborate, but Cherriot appeared to understand what he meant. His furrowed brow hardened into something almost menacing. Then he erased all expression and wrenched the bag away.

“Get that thought out of your head. That Omega isn’t the person I want. ”

Startled by the pheromones rising violently with Cherriot’s anger, Yuri released the bag. Something heavy tumbled from it and struck the floor. Yuri reflexively turned toward the sound and saw a book.

The title of the volume lying neatly on the floor was Anna Karenina. Yuri stared at it in confusion. He had not seen Cherriot put any such book into his bag before they left the house.

Cherriot released a long sigh. “Nothing is going right. ” Complaining miserably, he tossed the bag he had fought so hard to protect onto the sofa and bent toward the book. He carefully picked it up by the spine with long fingers, straightened, turned it front and back as though checking for damage, then held it toward Yuri, who remained still in confusion.

“Take it. It’s yours. ”

This time Yuri looked at him without understanding. “…What?”

“I was going to give it to you at the lake, but then you fell in. Not that I’m blaming you. There just wasn’t a good moment after that, so I kept carrying it around. Anyway…”

Yuri remained frozen, unable even to think of accepting it, and Cherriot extended the book again.

“You seemed to like reading, so I bought it for you. The café we visited earlier sells books too.”

Yuri’s dark brows drew together. A numbing shock spread through him, as if he had been struck hard in the back of the head, and his mind went blank. He had never imagined this. Neither Alexei nor his father, both of whom knew he read, had ever given him such a thing.

“Will you take it? Unless you don’t want it. ”

Yuri had never expected to receive it from this man.

“I chose a book I like. You were reading Tolstoy, so… It’s a little long and boring, but I like even those parts. Wait. You haven’t already read it, have you?”

Yuri’s throat abruptly tightened, leaving him unable to answer. As his silence lengthened, the book in Cherriot’s hands began to tremble faintly. The man was nervous. Despite possessing a face so beautiful, he looked like an awkward novice asking someone on his first date.

Watching the green eyes fixed desperately on the book while Cherriot pressed his lips together, Yuri slowly reached out. As though determined not to miss a single movement, Cherriot lowered his head and grew utterly serious. Without his smile, grave and careful, he looked more beautiful than ever. His auburn brows appeared shaped hair by hair, and the subtle shadows cast by his straight nose and elegant nostrils gave his face the perfection of sculpture.

But a sculpture could not have made Yuri this happy. Only the living Cherriot breathed life into Yuri’s heart.

Feeling as though he were dreaming, Yuri accepted the book. The solid weight in his hands finally made it real. Aware that Cherriot had not looked away from him, Yuri supported the back of the book as though handling something precious and slowly opened the cover.

Past the stiff binding, the first page bore a sentence. All happy families resemble one another; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Ah.

When Yuri had been forced to travel with Cherriot and heard about the man’s security guards, he had remembered those words. He had heard them somewhere without knowing their source and often repeated them to himself while trying not to drown in the misery of his own life. He was not the only person living this way.

Countless unhappy families existed in the world. The sentence he had believed to be an old saying had come from a book. It was fascinating. It sent chills over his skin.

Yuri could not believe that a line running through his entire life had appeared here before him, or that Cherriot was the one who had shown it to him. He could not believe Cherriot had remembered seeing him read and deliberately visited a café that sold books. He could not believe Cherriot had searched for a chance to give it to him, failed, and then stood here trembling like an inexperienced fool. Like the angel who had appeared one day at the shoemaker Simon’s home, Cherriot had arrived as light in a life that had never possessed even a lamp.

“Don’t you like it? The ending isn’t very good, but it still has enough—”

The man who boasted he could seduce anyone he wanted was so nervous over giving Yuri a single book that the questions would not stop.

Yuri carefully stroked the cover, released a slow breath, and raised his head to meet Cherriot’s eyes. “I’ve never read it.”

The feeling was so unfamiliar that Yuri did not know what expression he wore. But he knew it was different from his usual face. Although the night was pitch dark, his eyes stung faintly, forcing him to narrow them. The tension left his tightly sealed mouth, and the corners of his lips rose without his realizing it.

“Thank you. I like it very much,” he whispered this with complete sincerity.

The curve at Yuri’s mouth deepened, creating soft creases at the corners of his eyes. Light shimmered across his normally still blue irises, and his dark brows arched beautifully. His face transformed like a quiet lake shining beneath moonlight.

Yuri closed the book’s cover with the care of a man handling something terribly important. Worried he might crease it, the smile in his eyes grew momentarily serious. Lowering his head, he stroked the title with his fingertips. The letters had been embossed into the cover and painted gold.

After rubbing the gilded lettering and confirming once more that the book in his hands was real, Yuri looked up at Cherriot and smiled again. He opened his mouth to thank him once more, though no number of repetitions could have been enough.

“Goddamn it, Yuri.” Cherriot swallowed the words from his lips. “I really tried to hold back. I tried everything I could.”