LnD | Chapter 6

“I think I’m going into rut.”

Louis, with eyes like a rabid beast, glared at Anna, trembling. Anna spoke in a calm tone, like someone trying not to provoke an armed robber.

“Let’s go to the panic room. Can you do it?”

But Louis didn’t answer. His condition was getting worse.

[Dealer H:
When a male alpha experiences a rut cycle, he becomes completely uncontrollable due to shock. For the safety of himself or others, confine the alpha in a safe place and administer anesthesia every 12 hours. The symptoms of heat can last from three days to a week.
※Caution※ As soon as symptoms appear, do not hesitate to fire the anesthetic dart.]

With emergency lights flashing in her mind, Anna quickly pulled out the tranquilizer gun hidden in the kitchen cabinet.

But Louis’s instincts were faster than Anna’s judgment. Louis slowly stood up. His loose shorts bulged awkwardly due to his erection.

Anna thought she’d never forget today until the day she died, just like she couldn’t forget the night she witnessed her parents’ death.

The alpha instincts consuming her brother were disgusting and terrifying. Anna tried not to look at it, even by accident, and spoke in a firm and solemn voice.

“Go to the panic room.”

She aimed the gun at Louis once more.

“Go to the panic room now!”

But Louis didn’t hear Anna’s command. No, he couldn’t follow it. His instincts, flooding like a dam-breaking flood, paralyzed his reason.

The confusion disappeared from Louis’s face, his pupils dilated as if overdosed on drugs, turning his bright olive eyes pitch black. His unwavering gaze fixed on her, flashing ominously.

Terrified, Anna shot at Louis, who was almost sprinting toward her. Without even having time to remember her resolve to fire just one shot, she screamed and fired until all six shells fell.

Fortunately, Louis didn’t die. The tranquilizer dart, strong enough to take down a bear, hit him, but his heart was still beating.

Anna crouched beside Louis, placing her fingers near his nose. She felt a faint but regular breath. It was a relief that it hadn’t escalated to the worst-case scenario of needing emergency rescue.

“Alphas are transcendent, right? As long as he’s breathing, he’ll overcome it.”

Anna steeled her resolve. Pulling her T-shirt to wipe her tear-soaked face, she grabbed her brother’s arms to move his 6.4-foot frame. Dragging Louis’s limp, stone-like body, she headed to the panic room, which had nothing but a palm-sized window.

Si-ron wasn’t good at hiding lies and mistakes. Despite being praised as an actor who could perform well, he often froze in situations requiring impromptu acting without a script, and variety shows were his kryptonite. Even when he kept silent, his secrets were always easily uncovered.

“Did you mess up a delivery?”

Iqbal asked suspiciously as Si-ron hesitated while entering the store.

“Huh? Oh… yeah, yeah.”

Si-ron answered visibly flustered by the casual question. Iqbal frowned.

“I just swerved a bit while driving. It wasn’t dangerous.”

“Do you have to deliver the food again?”

“No. The customer said it was okay. So I promised to give them extra service next time they order.”

Si-ron smiled brightly, showing his white teeth, trying to charm his way out of embarrassment. Iqbal, unimpressed, responded grumpily.

“Who said you could give extra service for your mistake?”

“Oops!”

“Just deduct it from your paycheck.”

“Aww, boss.”

Iqbal spoke without a hint of humor to the suddenly gloomy Si-ron.

“I’m joking.”

“…I told you before, I’ve never seen anyone laugh at your jokes, boss.”

Iqbal, unfazed, snorted. He gestured with his chin toward the hall beyond the kitchen wall.

“Look at them. They’ve been nibbling on a palm-sized bread for an hour. Even worms eat faster than that.”

Si-ron peeked through the narrow window connecting the kitchen and hall to see Iqbal’s targets. Four pairs of eyes sparkled at Si-ron. Yikes. Si-ron flinched, grabbed a mask from his pocket, covered his mouth, and went out to the hall.

Three girls and one guy, appearing to be in their late teens to early twenties, looked up at Si-ron. They were a cute, nerdy mix of diverse races, sparking curiosity about what they might be fans of.

“Do you need anything?”

At Si-ron’s friendly voice, the four quickly exchanged secretive glances.

“We’d like to order more.”

The girl with thick eyebrows under a hijab alternated between the menu and Si-ron as she ordered. While she ordered, the other three openly observed and admired Si-ron.

‘No way, right?‘

After passing the order to Iqbal and preparing the food, Si-ron pondered while rolling out dough.

‘They didn’t recognize me, right? …No way.’

Si-ron had lived for over four years in an environment ripe for overdeveloped self-consciousness. As a celebrity in Korea, especially a noted actor, he was recognized everywhere, asked for autographs, and secretly photographed. After a scandal that made him a public mockery, it felt like no one in Korea didn’t know him.

But upon returning to the U.S., especially in Bargas City, where the proportion of Koreans and East Asians was low, no one recognized him or whispered about his past.

Occasionally, someone who had watched his Korean dramas would recognize him, but that happened maybe three or four times a year. When Si-ron insisted he was just a lookalike, they easily believed him.

Perhaps because no one knew him, and those who did treated him insignificantly, he managed to cure the celebrity disease that had spread like terminal cancer, rotting his mind.

But those guys seemed suspicious. Why don’t they just ask directly? Every time I get close, they lower their voices and exchange glances.

As dinner guests began filling the small restaurant, Si-ron, conscious of the suspicious customers, hid his true feelings and served food with a smile. Then he quickly retreated to the kitchen, hoping they wouldn’t start a conversation.

“They’re weird.”

“Well, they look like they’d tip you $100 just for a smile. Why not boldly ask for it?”

“$100? They look like they’re still getting allowance from their moms.”

Iqbal glared at Si-ron and Asimi, who were gossiping about the customers in the kitchen.

“Stop hanging around here and go make a delivery, you punks!”

It was a welcome sound. After carefully taping the lids of the delivery containers to prevent curry spills, Si-ron ignored the stares and hurried out of Curry King.

The delivery destination was a residential area beyond Summers Park. It was about a 10-minute ride by motorcycle through the park, but over 30 minutes if you went around it.

Summers Park was dangerous, even in broad daylight, with drug addicts and prostitutes swarming, making it a feast for serial killers. Although cars could drive on the well-maintained roads within the park, most people avoided it due to addicts lying across the paths and took the regular roads instead. Si-ron, however, always cut through the park when delivering to the eastern area.

But today, the park was noisy. The area, darkening with nightfall, was lit up like day by the flashing lights of police cars and ambulances. A white sheet covered a body on the ground, suggesting a violent stabbing among addicts.

Bargas City had a murder rate of 284.3 per 100,000 people, making it a chaotic city where murder cases were not uncommon. Considering Korea’s murder rate of 0.6 per 100,000, the security situation was dire.

Within Bargas City, the most severe violent crime occurred south of the Nathan River in Riverland, a place filled with slums, brothels, and drug addicts, where South American crime organizations violently clashed.

In contrast, north of the Nathan River in Linhart, the self-operated city police maintained good security. Close to Midtown, where large corporations and promising startups gathered, wealthy whites and some successful Asians lived, protected by police and private security, enjoying safe lives behind high walls.

Si-ron’s mind flashed to the face of the blonde woman he had seen earlier that day at a mansion in Linhart. He realized the source of the nagging familiarity that had been like a fishbone stuck in his throat.

She resembled Norman Anderson, the private second class heroine from the drama ＜Return to Bunker＞ that Si-ron was recently obsessed with, as if they were siblings.