‘A precious omega, they said.’
He looked nothing of the sort. It seemed like they’d rushed to groom him at the last minute, but there was no hiding the frail body and roughened hands. On top of that, habits worn deep into the body weren’t easy to shed. The way he flinched at a loud noise or even a raised hand made it plain that he had been struck before.
Under the pretext of taking away a precious omega that the Cluster had raised with great care, Muksirok couldn’t suppress a sneer as he recalled the offerings Cluster 9 had put forward. The money alone sent as a betrothal gift was enough to keep Cluster 9 fed for ten years, and the amount agreed to be paid afterward was double that.
Not that he had any intention of renegotiating the price at this point. It didn’t matter how the omega he’d contracted had been raised. If anything, he’d have to say he was indifferent to it.
As long as conception was possible, nothing else mattered.
Already suspicious of Cluster 9 to begin with, Muksirok lowered his estimate of the documents being genuine by another notch. Not only did the rabbit look undernourished, but the family’s attending physician — sent along with the betrothal gift previously — had returned without ever having laid eyes on the bride.
[They say that no one who isn’t a member of the Cluster may enter, and that the bride absolutely does not go outside before the wedding — it’s the rule. They’re taking a hard line, saying they won’t go through with the contract if we push any further.]
It was a luxury made possible only because they knew the seed of omegas had run completely dry in the upper Clusters that had beastmen at their core.
Cunning old fox.
Muksirok thought something that would have sent any decent fox beastman into a frenzy, and narrowed his eyes.
The rabbit in front of him had every likelihood of having been conditioned by that old fox. That would explain why he hadn’t run, and why he’d rattled on without any fear — in front of strangers, no less — about having two wombs.
Without knowing what he was going to have to endure from now on.
Well. The bride was brimming with the will to conceive. That was better counted as a windfall, if anything. Add to that the fact that he had been abused. Taming an animal that didn’t even know it had been abused wasn’t as difficult as one might think.
Show it a kindness it has never received in its life, sell it out at a moment it can’t predict, then return to being gentle again — repeat that, and the rabbit before him would be dragged along by the hand holding its leash without ever realizing its owner had changed.
Once tamed that way, it wouldn’t be so bad to borrow this omega’s womb for the sake of the Cluster’s future and secure as many heirs as generously as possible. It might also be worth continuing until an omega was born among them.
Muksirok had been quietly watching those eyes fixed elsewhere — and the moment Yeonwoo’s gaze drifted to him, he pulled the corners of his mouth into a smile. It was only natural that Yeonwoo’s eyes went wide at the sight of that picture-perfect smile.
Pretending not to notice, Muksirok extended his hand.
“Shall we go?”
It was the first act of kindness — dispensed under meticulous calculation.
Thump, thump.
Yeonwoo, who had been briefly dazed by that stunning smile, hurriedly dropped his gaze. His heart, already trembling since a while ago, was now pounding so loudly it felt like it was lurching with every beat.
He ducked his head as though to avoid it, but couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances. It was the first time a hand had ever been extended to him. Which was precisely why he didn’t know what to do with it.
Was he supposed to take it? But what if that wasn’t it — then what?
It had to be some kind of test — to see whether he knew his place. He did know, and yet a test framed this way was something he’d never encountered before, and the answer wouldn’t come.
Just as Yeonwoo, consumed by anxiety, began to gnaw at his own lip —
“Mm?”
A short sound, and a large shadow fell over him.
I’m going to be eaten.
Yeonwoo curled in on himself on instinct. The instinct of a small animal placed before a predator. Unlike Kang Sihyeon, who had stopped himself from approaching, Muksirok didn’t hesitate.
Whatever the method, all he needed to do was repeatedly confirm the fact that his arms were safe.
Even better if Yeonwoo came to feel that only his arms were safe.
Muksirok thought as much as he crouched down. Then he gripped Yeonwoo beneath the arms and lifted him up lightly, just like that.
“Ah——!”
Before Yeonwoo had a moment to adjust to the suddenly elevated view, Muksirok resettled the rabbit in his arms with one hand, and spoke as he patted the soft backside with light, rhythmic taps.
“Shh.”
It looked like gentleness — but in the end, it gave no room to wait. It was control, dressed up as kindness.
“Ha, what’s going on here? Did you two set up house together?”
The criticism landed the moment they walked in. Kang Sihyeon, already seated, made no effort to hide his exasperation.
The expression on his face was one of pure disbelief — and then his brow suddenly crumpled into something far uglier.
“What the — why are you groping the kid’s ass! Are you seriously messed up in the head from the pheromones? Have you decided to just stop thinking altogether?!”
Whether Kang Sihyeon was angry or not, Muksirok made a point of patting the backside cradled against his arm. He had no intention of stopping — and in practice, he didn’t. It had begun as a deliberate act of kindness, but the soft give of the texture was proving rather satisfying.
And even more to his liking was the rabbit, who flinched and jumped with every pat. Each time he fluttered so pitifully, there was a smell like bedsheets dried well in the sun. The rabbit — who hadn’t the faintest clue that Muksirok was tormenting him on purpose — offered no real resistance, only let the corners of his eyes flush a soft pink.
Not knowing that the more he reacted, the more relentlessly Muksirok wanted to push — the way he’d behaved the entire way here, as though being teased, had made it everything Muksirok could do not to slip a hand inside his clothes.
What kind of reaction would he give then.
There was no need to think deeply about it. It was obvious that he’d whimper without being able to push him away, just like now. Perhaps he’d be so startled he’d cry. The thought of him looking up with tear-filled eyes in pitiful appeal was rather appetizing.
Muksirok was in the middle of imagining Kang Sihyeon’s horror at the thought — the threat of getting him committed to a locked ward — when he felt the gaze looking up at him, and tugged his lips into a smile. He gave one more deliberate pat to the backside wriggling as if asking to be let down, and then it went still.
He was capable of being reasonably clever, too. When Muksirok smiled at him approvingly, the already-noisy heartbeat grew even busier.
The process of taming this one is going to be quite enjoyable.
Just as he thought so — Kang Sihyeon, who had caught sight of the irrational impulse swarming just beneath the surface of those eyes, shot to his feet.
“Hey!”
Yeonwoo, who had been flustered by the noise, gasped — hup — and swallowed. At the same time, his body, which had loosened just a little, locked up again. Muksirok looked down at Yeonwoo, who had tucked his head in like a startled turtle, and clicked his tongue.
Always so easily frightened.
“If you have eyes, use them. You’re the one who needs to think.”
“……”
Kang Sihyeon’s mouth snapped shut at the sight of Yeonwoo frightened all over again.
“You’ve got less capacity for learning than the rabbit. Fatherhood really isn’t for you.”
Muksirok moved at an unhurried pace and pulled out a chair with one hand to sit down. Yeonwoo was still tucked in his arms.
“Tch, fatherhood my ass.”
Kang Sihyeon didn’t outright deny it, and dropped back into his seat. His expression was sullenness itself. Still making no secret of his displeasure, he turned to glare at Yeonwoo this time. It grated on him endlessly — when Yeonwoo had trembled at his every step, and yet here he was, nestled snugly in Muksirok’s arms.
“Hey.”
“Y-yes.”
Even to the halfhearted call, Yeonwoo answered promptly. Kang Sihyeon — who had no way of knowing that Yeonwoo was typically called things like hey, you, or maggot — felt the sharp edge of his expression ease just slightly at the mild, obedient voice that came back at once.
“Do you actually know whose lap you’re currently sitting in?”
“……Oh.”
Yeonwoo’s lips parted slightly. He couldn’t answer Kang Sihyeon’s question right away, and hesitated. It was because he didn’t know what to call Muksirok. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the man’s name. It was simply that addressing someone else by name was something that had never once been permitted to him.
A fitting title crossed his mind — but he couldn’t bring it to his lips. It was because he still didn’t know exactly who had purchased him.
Kang Sihyeon, who had no patience to speak of, furrowed his brow in frustration. Yeonwoo’s hemming and hawing wore at him so much he even began jiggling his leg. Before long, his paper-thin patience ran out entirely, and he asked again — this time prodding.
“Hey. Do you know whose mouth you’ve crawled into right now.”
His voice had gone up from before. Yeonwoo, taking it as pressure, blurted the words out in a rush.
“M-master.”
In that instant, the leg that had been bouncing rapidly — stopped.
“……What?”
Kang Sihyeon looked dumbstruck. He even asked again as if he’d misheard — and then his face immediately crumpled. This was the moment where the volume should have gone up.
“You — that godawful title…… where did you pick up that kind of talk?”
But the shout didn’t come. The rabbit trembling on the other side had come into his line of sight. Instead, the rage pressing down on his body showed itself plainly. A thick vein rose on the back of his neck, and the clenched muscle of his jaw bulged and twitched beneath the skin.
With an expression that clearly wanted to roar at full volume, Kang Sihyeon spat the words back through his teeth.
“Or — did that crafty little snake tell you to call him that?”
A grinding sound. Crack. The air was such that even a moment’s delay in answering felt dangerous. Yeonwoo shook his head, nearly on reflex.
“N-no.”
“Then?”
