Chapter Text
The evening pressed warm and gentle around them, soft light pooling on the bench where Sieun sat. Boxes and bags were already packed in his room, his life on the brink of change. Soon, he would move to a dorm at SNU, for the future he had worked so hard to earn.
Suho sat beside him, hands restless, gaze darting everywhere but Sieun’s face. “You know… Halmoni keeps talking about you,” he began, voice bright at the edges but trembling underneath. “She still tells every one she sees, ‘Our Sieun-ah is going to be a doctor. He's going to study at SNU.’” He gave a weak laugh. “She’s probably prouder of you than of me. And… thank you again for yesterday. For my birthday party. And for you know... last week. I was so glad you were there.”
Sieun’s chest tightened. He blinked, trying to smile, but the weight of Suho’s words pressed down on him. He wanted to argue, to brush it off, but even now, he could feel the truth in every syllable.
“You worked harder than anyone, Sieun-ah,” Suho continued, voice quickening. “You’ve been through so much and still, you made it. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone stronger. You’re… you’re everything I could ever be proud of.”
Then Suho faltered. The air thickened. “I… love you. With all my heart,” he said, voice trembling, “more than I ever thought I could love someone. But—”
Sieun’s lips parted in shock. His mind stuttered, heart hammering. But what? His pulse raced, a mix of disbelief and sudden heat.
Then came the words that split the air between them like lightning. “My… my Alpha craves pups of his own, I already feel it. A family. In the future. And you... you can’t give me that. I don’t want to lead you on,” Suho continued, voice breaking. “If I stayed, pretending this wouldn’t matter, it would only crush us both later. I'm sorry.”
Sieun froze completely, throat tight, hands gripping his knees. His shoulders trembled, a furious, trembling motion. Anger bubbled up immediately but beneath it, a bitter, painful knot of understanding started to form.
Suho reached out, cupping Sieun’s cheek. Sieun closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, a tear escaping despite his anger. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t. His hand rose instinctively to cover the other’s, holding on for just a moment longer before letting go.
“You got into SNU,” Suho whispered, voice raw. “You’re going to do incredible things. I’ll always be proud. Always, Sieun-ah.”
Pride and grief coiled together inside Sieun like a living thing. A future he had dreamed of, one that wanted to build, for Suho and Halmoni, now stretched out before him alone.
When Suho finally stood, the motion was ordinary, but the weight of it made Sieun’s chest ache. He remained seated, frozen in place, watching the Alpha go. Anger burned in him, hot and sharp, but underneath it, the quiet, stubborn understanding whispered that Suho had said what he had to say, that it was okay for him to want these things and nothing could change that. The part that had loved him so completely, simply understood. He understood and he would bear it. He had to.
Sieun didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the bench. The sky had darkened and the fresh evening air brushed against his tear-streaked face. His body felt unbearably heavy, his chest tight, his mind a chaotic jumble of disbelief and hurt. Since Suho’s words had cut him open, he hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved except to swipe at his cheeks with trembling hands.
The city lights blurred around him, soft halos in the darkness. All he could hear was Suho’s voice echoing in his head, repeating the breakup over and over. Every step he had taken after leaving Suho’s bench had been aimless. His throat burned. His heart burned.
A jingle of a bell pulled him back to the present. Somehow, he had stumbled into a building without realising it. His hands shook violently, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath.
“Sieun! What—what’s wrong?” Baku’s voice was immediate, urgent, full of concern.
Sieun couldn’t speak. He shook his head, his words dissolving into ragged sobs. Finally, through the gasps, he managed, “Suho… broke up… with me.”
Baku’s expression softened instantly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Sieun, pulling him close. Sieun collapsed into him, the tears spilling freely.
“I… I just… I don’t know what to do,” Sieun whispered, voice shaking violently.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Baku murmured, his hands steadying Sieun. “I’m here. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
Sieun clung to him like a lifeline, leaning into Baku as if the world outside could no longer reach him. Baku rubbed gentle circles on his back, murmuring softly while the restaurant carried on around them, the fryers sizzling, the bell jingling with new customers, but none of it mattered.
Eventually, Baku guided him to a table and set a small container of chicken in front of him. “Eat something,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “You need it. You’re shaking too much to even stand properly.”
The next morning, sunlight spilled softly through the thin curtain, waking up the sleeping mess on the bed. Sieun’s head throbbed relentlessly, his mouth was dry and every movement sent the world tilting around him. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, taking in the room, the faint smell of last night’s alcohol and the soft, lingering scent of Baku’s cologne.
He tried to sit up and froze. On the floor beside the bed, tangled in a heap of blankets, Baku lay half-asleep, one arm draped over his face, blocking out the sun. His chest rose and fell in a slow, uneven rhythm, and for a moment, Sieun simply watched him, the quiet steadiness grounding him. Somehow, Baku stayed with him, took him home. He had let Sieun collapse entirely, taking the floor so he could rest.
A low groan escaped Baku’s lips. “I… I fucking hate Ahn Suho…” he muttered, half-dreaming, voice rough and muffled.
Sieun blinked, tears threatening again. He looked down at Baku, heart aching at the raw, unfiltered emotion spilling from him.
Without warning, Baku shifted, scrambling onto the bed beside Sieun, still half-asleep. He draped an arm over him, nuzzling close. “Don’t cry… not for this asshole,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “Just… breathe, okay?”
Sieun leaned into him instinctively, letting the warmth seep into his aching body. He felt a faint pang of disgust at the faint tang of Baku’s morning breath, but it didn’t matter. For the first time since the heartbreak began, he wasn’t alone.
“Mm… you’re so nice to cuddle,” Baku mumbled, half-asleep, his arm tightening slightly around Sieun. “If you’d stop acting like a hissy cat all the time, I could sleep properly…”
Sieun couldn’t help a shaky chuckle through the tears. “You stink,” he whispered, pressing his face against Baku’s chest.
“Mm… still cute,” Baku murmured, already drifting back to sleep, his breathing steady and warm against Sieun’s hair. Sieun closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the comfort of it.
Suddenly, Baku shifted beside him and the sudden movement made his stomach revolt. He bolted upright, clutching his chest, bile rising violently.
“I—I bathroom!” he gasped, stumbling down the hall.
By the time he reached the toilet, he was doubled over, retching violently, tears streaming, grief and nausea blending into one suffocating wave.
From the doorway came Baku’s voice, sharp and teasing. “Lightweight,” he said, leaning lazily against the frame. “Seriously, Sieun-ah, you’re pathetic.”
Sieun groaned, shivering, unable to speak and doubled over again.
Baku pushed off the doorway, stepping closer, eyes blazing. “I’m not apologizing for calling Ahn Suho an asshole,” he said, voice low, simmering with pure rage. “I thought he was chill. I thought he was… I don’t know… normal. But no. You help him through his rut, every painful, exhausting thing you did for him… and then what? He dumps you like it’s nothing. Why? Because apparently, he suddenly realises—oh, maybe he’d rather knot someone he can knock up? It's the timing for me, Sieun-ah. ONE WEEK after his rut... One fucking week. Bastard.”
Baku’s jaw clenched, fists tightening. “God, I hate that guy. You don’t have to deal with his entitled, selfish ass ever again. Thank god.”
Sieun’s shoulders shook violently. He bent over the toilet again, vomiting, the grief tearing through him. Tears streamed freely, blurring the world, mixing with bile, and every retch seemed to purge a little more of the heartbreak lodged deep in his chest.
Baku leaned against the doorway, watching, breathing hard. “Seriously, Sieun-ah… you’ve been through so much for that bastard. And now he’s gone. Gone! I’m so fucking glad. He didn’t deserve you, not a single ounce of your heart.”
Sieun pressed his face against the toilet seat, sobbing uncontrollably, stomach heaving, but beneath the nausea, beneath the grief, he felt a tiny spark of relief. Baku’s anger, sharp and protective, anchored him.
Minutes later, Sieun was still hunched over the sink, shaking, when footsteps echoed down the hall. A familiar voice, rough with sleep but unmistakably cocky, cut in, “Huminnie, what the hell a—oh.”
Gotak leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, taking in the scene. Without hesitation, he walked over to his boyfriend and pressed a quick kiss to Baku’s mouth, then smirked at Sieun. “Wow. You look pathetic.”
Sieun flushed, groaning in humiliation, but Baku immediately straightened, his jaw tight. “Shut up, Tak-ah. He got dumped. He's allowed to look pathetic.” His voice was loaded with venom.
Gotak’s smirk dropped. “That prick.” His eyes flicked back to Sieun, widening with something that looked dangerously close to anger. “If it's true what Huminnie texted me, I'll kill that fucker.”
Sieun sobbed again, clutching the sink.
Gotak let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Unbelievable.” He crouched a little, his voice lower now, steadier. “Listen, Sieun-ah. You can always stay with us. We’re already the most unorthodox pair in the neighbourhood.”
Baku barked out a short laugh, the anger still simmering in his tone. “He’s right. Two Alphas together already makes people talk. Add a Beta and no one would blink an eye.”
Gotak grinned and nudged Sieun’s shoulder. “See? You’ve got a place. With us, you don’t need to waste another damn tear on someone like him.”
Eventually, after another round of dry heaving and tears, Sieun pulled himself together just enough to move. His body felt both hollow and unbearably heavy, but the silence of the bathroom pressed too hard against his ears. He splashed his face with water, drew a shaky breath, and shuffled down the hall towards the kitchen.
Gotak was busy at the stove while Baku was sprawled at the table. Gotak glanced up first, his mouth quirking into a grin. He pointed to the chair beside next to Baku. “There you are. Come on, sit.”
Sieun sank into the seat, shoulders hunched, eyes swollen.
Gotak joined them and leaned back in his chair. “So, what’s the plan for today, Sieun-ah?”
Sieun only lifted one shoulder in a vague shrug. He didn’t have the energy for more.
Baku chuckled, a low, warm sound that carried through the kitchen. “Good. I’ve got just the right idea.”
The two Alphas shared a look, unspoken but easy, before turning their attention back to Sieun. From that moment until afternoon, it was as if he’d become the child of the pair: Gotak fussing over whether he’s feeling fine and hydrated, Baku tugging him back into bed to cuddle between them, both of them tossing careless jokes over his head.
For hours, Sieun found himself buried in warmth. The breakup still gnawed at him, sharp and merciless, but in the cocoon of two Alphas who refused to let him drift too far, it dulled. Just enough for him to breathe.
The following weekend, the four friends met at a quiet café tucked away from the crowded streets. Sieun sat with his hands wrapped tightly around his mug, staring down at the steam as if it might give him courage.
“I need to tell you something,” he began, his voice low but steady. The three of them leaned in, sensing the weight in his tone.
“I’m… not starting at SNU this autumn.” He paused, the words sharp in his own throat. “I’ve decided to defer my admission. I’ll do my military service first.”
The table fell silent. Gotak blinked, his brow furrowing. Juntae’s eyes widened in surprise. Even Baku, who usually had a ready laugh or curse on his lips, just stared at him for a moment.
Then, without warning, Baku reached over and pulled Sieun into a firm hug. “I’m proud of you,” he said quietly, his voice rumbling against Sieun’s ear. “Really proud. And maybe… maybe during those two years, you can forget that asshole. Leave him behind where he belongs.”
Sieun’s chest tightened, but he didn’t pull away. For the first time since, the words felt like a balm rather than a knife.
Gotak finally broke the moment with a low whistle. “Military first, huh? Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah,” Juntae added, leaning forward. “Why now, though? Why not study first?”
Sieun sat back, his hands falling to his lap. “Because if I go now, I’ll come back free. No more waiting for the draft, no interruption halfway through med school. And… I think I need the time... and space. To clear my head.”
The three of them exchanged glances but didn’t argue. They could see in his face that this wasn’t a whim.
“When do you start?” Juntae asked carefully.
“In two weeks.”
Another hush settled over the table. Then Gotak leaned back and grinned crookedly. “Two weeks. Guess that means we’d better enjoy having you around while we can. Once you’re in uniform, you’ll forget all about us and start saluting trees or something.”
Juntae laughed. Even Baku cracked a smile, ruffling Sieun’s hair roughly. “Don’t listen to these idiots. You’ll do fine. And when you come back, you’ll be stronger than ever. No Alpha, no asshole, no one’s ever gonna shake you again.”
Gotak raised his cup like a toast. “To Sieun-ah, the future soldier and, eventually, the doctor. Scariest combo I can imagine.”
“Scary for everyone but us,” Juntae chimed in with a grin. “We get lifetime free checkups, right?”
A tiny laugh escaped Sieun’s throat, shaky but real.
Two weeks. He had three weeks with them before everything changed.
The night before his enlistment, the four of them gathered in Baku’s cramped room. The single desk lamp glowed softly, throwing long shadows over the walls. On the desk lay the clippers, silent and waiting, like a symbol of the inevitable. None of them moved at first. The air was heavy, thick with everything they wanted to say but couldn’t.
Finally, Gotak cleared his throat. “If we don’t start now, he’ll show up tomorrow looking like a half-plucked chicken.” His laugh was strained, too sharp around the edges, but it broke the silence.
Sieun sat cross-legged on the floor, his hands gripping his knees. He tried for a smile, but his lips trembled. “Just… make it even, okay? I don't care how short you cut it.”
Juntae picked up the clippers first, the buzz filling the room. The sound was harsh, final. Dark strands fell across Sieun’s shoulders, sliding down to the floor, and with each strand that disappeared, the reality of tomorrow pressed harder against his chest. Gotak took his turn, his movements slow and careful, almost reverent. Then Baku stepped forward. His hands shook so badly he nicked a line crooked, swore under his breath, and stopped entirely. He dropped the clippers, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes.
“Fuck,” he choked. “I can’t do this—I can’t.”
Gotak was at his side immediately, wrapping strong arms around him, pulling the taller Alpha into his chest. “Hey. It’s alright. He’s not dying. It’s two years, Huminnie. Just two years.”
But Baku clung to him, shoulders shaking, his voice raw. “He’s my Sieun-ah. My kid. My—fuck.”
Sieun’s own vision blurred. By the time the last strands were gone, all four of them were crying, huddled together on the floor in a messy circle, the silence filled only by the sound of muffled sobs and the hum of the lamp above them.
The next morning was too cold for a early August, the kind of chill that sank into the bones. The bus terminal was crowded with families, the air buzzing with farewells, but for Sieun the world had narrowed to just three faces: Baku, Gotak and Juntae. All of them looked wrecked, eyes swollen and red, their usual sharp edges softened by grief.
Sieun hugged Juntae first, then Gotak, each embrace lingering, wordless. Finally, he turned to Baku. The Alpha grabbed him in a crushing hold, burying his face in Sieun’s shoulder.
“I’ll call as soon as I can, I promise.” Sieun whispered, though his own voice wavered.
That promise broke Baku entirely. He sobbed openly, clinging so tightly that Gotak had to pull him back. “Don’t you forget us, Sieun-ah!” Baku’s voice cracked, desperate. “Don’t you dare forget me!”
Sieun laughed through his tears, shaking his head. “Like I ever could.”
The bus engine rumbled to life, low and unforgiving. Sieun gave them one last look, Juntae with his jaw set tight, Gotak with one arm still braced around Baku and Baku himself, crying like his heart had split in two.
He climbed the steps slowly, each one heavier than the last. At the window, he pressed his palm to the glass. Outside, the three of them lifted their hands, three anchors holding him even as the bus pulled away.
Of course they didn't come. They never cared.
The bus ride to the base had been silent. By the time Sieun stepped through the gates of the training camp, his chest felt hollow, his head still aching from too little sleep and too much crying.
The following days blurred together, shouting instructors, endless drills under the sun, the sting of sweat in his eyes, muscles aching in places he didn’t know existed.
By the end of the fourth day, he thought he might actually die. His throat was raw from shouting chants, his hands blistered from push-ups on gravel and his legs trembled constantly. Every night, he collapsed onto his futon with nothing but exhaustion to keep him company.
The next evening, Sieun had barely managed to drag his aching body through the line, his hands still trembling around the tray from the day’s drills. He sat down in a corner, too exhausted to think, staring blankly at the rice cooling next to the too thin soup. The air smelled of boiled cabbage and disinfectant. He was too tired to care.
The chair beside him creaked.
“Newbie,” a drawl broke through the noise. “It’s fate.”
Sieun didn’t need to look up to recognise that voice. He kept his eyes on his food.
“Waaah,” Seongje drawled, leaning closer. “Not even a hello for your senior? Hm… maybe I should report you, Newbie. Subordination is no fun.”
Sieun pressed his lips together, shoving rice into his mouth just to keep from answering.
Before Seongje could needle him further, another tray slid onto the table across from Sieun. A low, almost hesitant voice followed.
“Cut it out. He looks dead enough as it is.”
Sieun’s head snapped up. His breath caught. Sitting across from him was a face he thought he'd never see again, Na Baekjin. His hair was cropped short, his uniform sweat-stained, but there was no mistaking him.
“You…” Sieun whispered, stunned.
Baekjin gave a faint, crooked smile. “Yeah. Long time.”
Seongje clapped a hand on Baekjin’s shoulder, grinning wide. “Can you believe it? Fate, right? The three of us, all in the same place. Me and Baekjin have been here for months already and now you show up for training, newbie. Destiny’s got a sense of humor.”
Sieun wasn’t laughing. His chest felt tight, his pulse racing. Of all the people he could have run into here…
“So, Newbie,” Seongje said, tone slick with amusement. “How’s your little vegetable? Hm?”
Sieun froze, the words landed like a punch to his gut. He lowered his gaze, lips pressed tightly together. He wouldn’t give Seongje the satisfaction of an answer.
“No reaction?” Seongje leaned in closer, voice mockingly sweet. “Come on, don’t be shy. Or are thi—”
Sieun pushed back his chair suddenly, the legs screeching across the floor. He straightened, saluting sharply to his two seniors and without another glance at them, he walked out.
Behind him, Seongje’s laugh followed like smoke.
Over the next two weeks, the pattern set in. Seongje bullied him whenever he found the chance, shoving him during drills, whispering digs about his past, smirking when Sieun stumbled under the weight of training. During drills he got either soaked by the heavy rain or the August sun was shining relentless, burning down until Sieun’s skin prickled and his body ached. Every insult from Seongje only added to the load he carried.
But Baekjin was different. He didn’t talk much at first, just watched. When the cadets ran laps or marched across the yard, Sieun would sometimes catch him glancing over, steady, quiet, unreadable.
It was late afternoon, the heat pressed down like a weight, suffocating and endless. The cadets had just finished another round of drills, their uniforms soaked through with sweat, boots caked in dust. Most collapsed in the shade, gulping water, too tired to speak.
Sieun sat alone on the edge of the training field, chest heaving, his canteen nearly empty. His arms trembled from the push-ups, his knees stung where they’d hit gravel.
A shadow fell across him.
“Here.” Baekjin stood there, holding out his own canteen. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried no mockery, just quiet insistence. “You'll faint if you don't drink enough.”
Sieun hesitated, then accepted it. The water was lukewarm, metallic, but it slid down his throat like relief. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing up. “…Thanks.”
Baekjin crouched beside him, resting his arms on his knees. For a while, they sat in silence, the shouts of instructors and the shuffle of boots echoing in the background.
Finally, Baekjin spoke. “You’re tougher than you look.”
Sieun let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not really. Feels like I’m falling apart every day.”
“Everyone does,” Baekjin said simply. His gaze lingered on Sieun, steady but not invasive. “The difference is… you keep going.”
Sieun looked at him, startled. It had been weeks since anyone said anything to him that wasn’t an order, an insult, or empty small talk. His throat tightened, and he quickly looked away. “…You’ve changed.”
Baekjin’s mouth quirked faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “So have you.”
Another silence settled, but this one was different, not heavy, not hostile. Just quiet, almost comfortable.
When the whistle blew to summon them back, Baekjin stood first, brushing dust from his pants. He offered Sieun a hand.
For a moment, Sieun stared at it, conflicted. Then, slowly, he took it. And though nothing else was said, something small, fragile and unfamiliar lodged itself in his chest.
Slowly, Sieun realised he wasn’t entirely alone. Even in the suffocating heat, even with Seongje’s constant sneers, there was someone who saw him. Someone who didn’t demand anything from him, didn’t mock or pry. And for the first time since he’d arrived, Sieun felt the faintest thread of relief.
Sweat poured down Sieun’s back as he pushed through yet another set of drills. His body was leaner now, sharper, movements more precise. But in the sweltering air, his lungs felt like they were filling with fire.
Was there ever an August in history this hot? he thought bitterly, his vision wavering.
And yet, his fellow cadets had started to look at him strangely. Their eyes lingered too long. Their whispers cut off when he approached. Even Seongje, usually relentless, had fallen silent. One afternoon, instead of taunts, he only frowned, slapped Sieun lightly on the shoulder and muttered, “Take care of yourself, Newbie and stay with the Betas.”
The words unsettled Sieun more than any bullying ever had.
The next day, his body betrayed him. During drills, his legs buckled. His chest heaved as if he were drowning on dry land. Gravel bit into his palms when he hit the ground. The world blurred around him. Through the haze, he heard Baekjin’s voice, low but firm, speaking with their drill sergeant. A moment later, strong arms hooked under him, lifting him from the dirt. The motion rocked him, his head falling against Baekjin’s shoulder.
And then, everything changed. It was as though his senses had been set ablaze. Every sound, every color, every movement sharpened to unbearable clarity. Scents, thick and overwhelming, intoxicating, hit him all at once. Sieun inhaled sharply, his gaze dragging up to Baekjin. The air between them shimmered with something new, something raw. And when he breathed in, the allure was unmistakable.
Sieun clung to Baekjin’s shirt, his breath coming in ragged gasps, every nerve alive with fire. The sterile air of the infirmary could not mask the scent spilling between them, thick and intoxicating. His body trembled, too hot, too raw, too new.
“…Smells good,” he whispered, the words tumbling out unbidden.
Baekjin’s eyes widened, his entire body going rigid. “Yeon Si—fuck.” His voice was harsh, strangled. “Why the fuck are you here? You’re… presenting. Now.”
Sieun didn’t answer, he couldn’t. The burning ache in his chest and belly drowned out thought. His fingers fisted into Baekjin’s uniform, pulling him closer. Baekjin cursed again, shoving the door closed behind them. He put Sieun down and pressed him against the wall, hands braced on either side of his head, trembling with the effort it took not to give in. Every breath filled him with Sieun’s scent, sweet and sharp, an Omega in heat and his Alpha instincts howled.
“Why here? Why now?” he ground out, his forehead pressed against Sieun’s temple. “Do you even know what this means?”
Sieun whimpered softly, the sound wrecked, helpless. His legs nearly gave out beneath him. Baekjin caught him instinctively, jaw locked, fighting against the pull that threatened to tear his control to pieces. “Hel—”
The door burst open, interrupting Sieun's plead.
“Shit,” Baekjin spun around, shielding Sieun with his body.
Seongje stood in the doorway, expression twisted not in mockery but in sharp, unexpected clarity. He took one look at Sieun, the sweat-soaked trembling, the dilated eyes, the thick heat rolling off him in waves, and swore under his breath.
“Get him to the bed, Beakjin,” Seongje said, his tone clipped.
“Then,” he said, voice firm. “Leave. Don’t—don’t get caught up in this. Let him deal with it himself. We'll wait outside until the staff comes and helps him.”
Baekjin blinked, stunned. “…What? You’re just… gonna stay?”
Seongje shook his head. “No. I’m not staying either. But I’m not sticking around with an Omega in heat.”
Baekjin’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving, every instinct screamed to stay, to protect, to take. But the sense in Seongje’s words hit him harder than any drill instructor’s shout. He hesitated only a moment before pulling back, hands reluctantly letting Sieun go, his eyes locked on the younger boy’s glassy, desperate gaze.
But Sieun… didn’t calm. Not even close. His knees buckled slightly as he shivered against the wall, and his voice broke as he reached out with trembling hands.
“Don’t… leave me,” he begged, a soft, desperate plea. “Please… both… stay. Help me… please… Alpha.”
Seongje’s smirk returned, half exasperated, half resigned. Sieun’s plea hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, and for the first time, the two Alphas had to reckon with what they couldn’t control and what they might not want to.
Sieun’s body shook, every nerve alight with raw, urgent heat. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his hands clutching at the air as if he could hold both Alphas close by sheer will. The world around him blurred and throbbed with color, scent and sound, every sensation amplified to an unbearable pitch.
Baekjin’s instincts screamed to intervene, to take control, but even he hesitated. Seongje, normally so cruel, froze beside him, nostrils flaring as Sieun’s scent washed over them, rich, intoxicating, irresistible. For the next moments, both Alphas continued to stare at the trembling, presenting Omega.
Sieun’s trembling hands reached out again. “Alpha… help me…,” he whispered, voice broken but commanding in the rawness of his need.
And then, instinct met vulnerability. Both Alphas, still caught between restraint and desire, succumbed in surrender to the heat and the scent of the Omega before them.
“Stay… please,” he whispered, voice broken but commanding in the rawness of his need.
From that moment, Baekjin and Seongje stayed with him, guiding him through the overwhelming flood of sensations, keeping him from falling apart entirely. They shifted with him, soothing, pressing, filling, holding, until his body finally began to settle, though his muscles still trembled with aftershocks.
It was during the second night that the commotion began outside the infirmary. A group of Beta cadets, instructed by the commanding officer to ensure Sieun’s safety, tried to pull him out. Baekjin and Seongje stepped in immediately, fangs bared, growling and the Betas froze. After one cadet caught sight of the fresh, tender bonding marks on their necks, their order seemed to change from rescue to preservation. By the next day, trays of water, food and blankets were quietly delivered to the infirmary doorway. The Beta cadets still whispered under their breath, but now in reverence rather than command. Baekjin and Seongje never left Sieun’s side, monitoring every breath, every tremor.
After several days, Sieun finally began to come back to himself. His eyes fluttered open, body still warm, hair damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead. He groaned, voice raw and weak. Sieun’s body was sticky with sweat, muscles trembling, utterly exhausted and aggravated by the sensation of something fluid running down his ass and thighs. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his limbs felt like lead. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone comprehend the world around him.
“Wha… happened?” he croaked, looking around, still dazed. “Why… you here… both of you?”
Seongje leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You went into heat, Newbie,” he said plainly. “And let me tell you,” he laughed, shaking his head, “you’re the neediest Omega I’ve ever met.”
Before Sieun could even respond, or process, he hissed, frustrated and raw, a sound born from heat and embarrassment.
Seongje’s laugh only deepened, smooth and teasing. “You’re already jealous?” he drawled, voice low, amused. “But don’t worry. For me, there’s no one more perfect than you, Sieun-ah. There will never be anyone I'd rather fuck than you, princess.”
He leaned in, lips curling toward Sieun’s, but before the kiss could happen, Baekjin pushed his hand between them, his chest pressed to Sieun’s back, hands firm but gentle.
“I… I’m sorry,” Baekjin whispered against Sieun's hair, voice rough with emotion. “I'm ashamed for taking advantage of you. If you want this bond, Sieun-ah, I’ll take responsibility for you, for everything… that could, well... happen.”
Sieun turned his head, blinking up at him, overwhelmed, breath shallow.
Seongje chirped from the side, still smirking, “We had to keep you constantly knotted, or we’d think you’d die of agony. Baekjin and I had to take turns because you couldn't get enough... You must be filled to the brink and just imagine how perfect our children would be.”
Sieun froze, heart hammering, eyes wide. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His body refused to comprehend.
Seongje’s gaze flicked toward Baekjin, then back to Sieun. “And, just so you know… Baekjin got you first. He also marked you first and vice-versa.” He pouted, voice soft but teasing, like a cat with a cornered mouse.
Sieun’s cheeks burned red, mortified beyond measure. His body still hummed with residual heat and the memory of being marked and taken by the two Alphas made him feel exposed in a way he’d never imagined.
Baekjin moved closer, brushing a hand over Sieun’s trembling shoulder, soft and grounding. “It’s okay,” he murmured, voice warm, soothing. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’re safe with me.”
Something inside Sieun flickered, a strange, warm pulse of happiness at the attention, the care, the gentle dominance surrounding him. The shame was still there, raw, but beneath it, he realised a feeling of belonging. His eyelids drooped, and for the first time since after waking up, a small, shaky relief settled over him, utterly overwhelmed by the reality of what had happened.
Slowly, Sieun’s breathing evened out, his trembling muscles softening just enough for him to begin processing the situation. He flexed his fingers, sticky with sweat and let his gaze roam over the two Alphas beside him. Neither Baekjin nor Seongje seemed sure how close they could safely come, how much of the heat-struck vulnerability they could touch without overstepping.
A soft knock interrupted the fragile calm. A voice called from the other side of the infirmary door, cautious and professional, “Private Yeon… is he conscious again?”
Sieun lifted his head weakly, voice hoarse but steady, “Yeah… I’m awake.”
The door creaked open and Baekjin immediately threw a blanket over Sieun’s shoulders, tucking him gently inside.
“The commanding officer wants to see you three as soon as possible,” a voice announced, then the door clicked shut again.
Seongje’s usual smirk returned, faint and teasing, but with a touch of uncertainty. “Well…”
“Shower,” Baekjin said firmly, crouching slightly to tuck the blanket more securely around Sieun. His hand brushed over the Omega’s back, warm and grounding. “Don’t worry, Sieun-ah.”
Before Sieun could protest or fully comprehend, Baekjin tugged a pair of pants over his own legs and threw on his shirt, then lifted the Omega with ease, carrying him to the base facilities. Sieun’s body was still heavy and exhausted, but the steady, confident presence of Baekjin made the movement feel almost safe, almost normal.
Seongje fell in step beside them, still grinning faintly, watching the Omega. The three of them moved together, a strange, unspoken unity forming in the quiet aftermath of heat, imprinting, and the lingering marks that tied them irrevocably to one another.
Sieun found himself being guided into a shower. The hot water ran over him, steam curling around the cramped space and for the first few moments he simply shivered under the spray. It didn’t take long for Baekjin and Seongje to move closer, instinctively hovering, hands brushing against him as they helped wash him.
It was awkward. Alien. Sieun had long been used to communal showers with other cadets, but this—the careful, intimate attention from two Alphas who clearly weren’t going to let go—was something entirely new.
“Don’t be shy, Sieun-ah,” Seongje said, voice low, teasing, but firm. “Nothing we haven’t seen or tasted the last few days and believe me, you taste divine.”
Sieun froze, mortified, every nerve alight. His cheeks burned, heat creeping up his neck and he felt simultaneously exposed and… something else, something unfamiliar but not unpleasant stirring in his chest.
“If you want it, Sieun-ah… I’ll provide for you. Whatever you need. You won’t have to worry about anything.” Baekjin blurted out.
From the side, Seongje scoffed, leaning lazily against the tilted wall with his arms folded. “Tch. Look at you, playing the noble Alpha after basically raping him. Don’t say things you can’t keep, Baekjin.”
Baekjin wrapped a towel around Sieun's shoulders, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Make yourself useful, Seongje,” Baekjin’s dark eyes flicked towards the other Alpha, unamused. Seongje rolled his eyes but retreated out of the bathroom. “Go get some clothes.”
Baekjin stepped closer, eyes soft, voice quiet but intense. “I meant what I said, Sieun-ah. I like you, seriously. I already thought about asking you out when we're on leave or done with our service... And having you as my mate… it’s better than any prospect I might have ever had. You're smart and strong... and pretty.”
Sieun blinked, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, too stunned to speak, still trying to process the strange mix of embarrassment and… warmth. He could only stare up at Baekjin, heart hammering, feeling the weight of the words and the truth behind them, sink in.
The steam settled into silence again, broken only by the sound of Baekjin moving the towel to dry Sieun. He worked carefully, as though afraid Sieun might break if he pressed too hard.
Minutes later, the door swung open and Seongje returned, his grin broad, holding a bundle of clothing. “Here we go. Only the best for our precious mate.”
Together, they eased Sieun into the too-large uniform. The fabric hung off his thin frame, sleeves slipping down past his wrists, pant legs pooling at his ankles. Sieun frowned faintly, his movements sluggish, but as he tugged the shirt closer to his body, his nose brushed against the collar.
The scent hit him instantly, Seongje’s. Strong, sharp, distinctly Alpha. Instinctively, Sieun turned his head, burying his nose against the fabric and inhaling deeply.
Safe, home.
His body, tense and uncertain until now, softened. His shoulders loosened, his breathing slowed.
Seongje smirked, satisfied. “Knew you’d like it. Keum looks good on you.”
Before Sieun could snap at him, Baekjin stepped closer, pulling him gently into his chest. Sieun didn’t resist. His nose now pressed into the solid warmth of Baekjin’s shirt, the scent of him filling his lungs. Something in his chest unclenched by inhaling the two scents, something primal and terrified but also relieved.
Baekjin’s arm tightened around him. “That’s it. Breathe, Omega.”
Sieun let himself lean into their scents, into their presence, his body accepting what his mind still couldn’t fully grasp.
The three of them entered the commanding officer’s office in stiff silence, Sieun tucked between the two Alphas. His oversized uniform made him look even smaller, the collar pulled high to shield his throat, though the fresh, red marks beneath were unmistakable.
The commanding officer’s eyes flicked over them, expression caught somewhere between stern and weary. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he bowed his head ever so slightly toward Sieun.
“Private Yeon,” he said carefully, “the military owes you an apology. Your blood work was never properly reviewed. It should have been standard procedure for every Beta candidate before enlistment, to prevent exactly this sort of situation.”
Sieun blinked, his mind sluggish, still fogged with exhaustion. “…Blood work?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes.” The officer’s tone carried the weight of bureaucracy and regret. “All Betas are to be screened to ensure no latent Omega traits are overlooked. Clearly, this did not happen in your case. Because of that negligence, you presented here, on base, in the middle of training.”
Sieun stared, numb. His whole body felt too heavy to react.
The officer exhaled, straightening. “Effective immediately, Private Yeon will be discharged from Military service due to his Omega status. Arrangements will be made to transport you back to Seoul as soon as possible.”
For a long moment, silence hung in the room. The weight of it pressed down on Sieun, who clenched the fabric at his knees, trying not to shake.
Then Baekjin spoke, voice steady but edged with restrained anger. “And what compensation will the Military provide?”
The officer looked up sharply.
Baekjin’s gaze did not waver. “Because of your oversight, an Omega presented here under unsafe conditions. He was forced through his first heat on base. With two Alphas. Both of whom marked him.” His jaw flexed. “That is not something you can write off as paperwork error. Especially after the scandal years ago and all the military's efforts to keep Omegas out of their ranks.”
The room felt stifling, the air too heavy to breathe. Sieun kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his hands trembling against the fabric of his oversized sleeves.
Baekjin’s voice cut through the silence, harsher than before, ragged with disbelief. “You may punish me for insubordination, but what I’m about to say comes from me as an alpha, as a mate, not as a soldier. So... You think you can just dismiss him? Brush this off like an accident?” His hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. “If you try, I’ll drag this case before a military court. I’ll stand trial myself if I have to, for what happened in that infirmary. For what I did.” His throat worked, but he forced the words out. “For the rape of an Omega and bonding said Omega without his consent, under the military’s watch.”
Sieun’s head snapped up, his heart slamming against his ribs. “B–Baekjin—” His voice cracked, mortified, the very word tearing into him like glass. Shame flooded him, hot and unbearable.
Immediately, Seongje shifted closer, slipping a hand over Sieun’s trembling fingers. “Hey. Don’t look like that.” His tone was softer than his smirk suggested, coaxing, steadying. His thumb brushed gently against Sieun’s skin.
Then his sharp gaze flicked back toward the commanding officer, his mouth curling into that familiar scoff. “And this is how you handle it? By shrugging and sending an Omega home like broken equipment?”
Sieun sat frozen between them, caught between Baekjin’s blazing anger, Seongje’s mocking defiance, and the raw ache in his own chest. Every nerve screamed at him to disappear, but the warmth of Seongje’s grip kept him tethered, the fierce certainty in Baekjin’s words shielding him in ways he couldn’t yet comprehend.
The officer’s sigh was long and heavy. Slowly, he reached for the phone on his desk. “Have our legal counsel brought in immediately.”
From beside Sieun, Seongje scoffed loudly, his mouth curling into a bitter smirk. “Don't worry, Sieun-ah, they won't dismiss our mate like that.”
Sieun sat frozen between them, his heart pounding, the reality of the words sinking into him. Our mate. The world tilted again and all he could do was grip the edge of his chair, trying to hold on.
The office door swung open with a soft click and a man in a neat gray suit stepped in, adjusting his glasses. His expression was calm, too calm, the kind of neutrality trained to deflect.
“I’m the legal counsel for this base,” he said evenly, setting down a folder. “Let’s keep this professional. Private Yeon, I’ll start with you.” His eyes, sharp and unreadable, shifted to Sieun. “Your blood work. Where is it?”
Sieun blinked, disoriented. “No one… no one ever took my blood.”
The counsel’s brows lifted a fraction, but his voice didn’t shift from its flat cadence. “I see. Then the paperwork was simply never filed.” He closed the folder with a quiet snap. “It was an oversight. Nothing intentional.”
Baekjin stiffened beside Sieun, fury rising hot in his throat. “Oversight?” His voice thundered, dangerous and sharp.
Seongje’s laugh was short, scoffing. “Unbelievable. Do you idiots even hear yourself?”
The counsel ignored them, focusing once again on Sieun. “Did you suspend your university admission?”
Sieun hesitated, then nodded slowly. “…Yes.”
“Which university?”
“SNU,” Sieun said, his voice still unsteady. “Medicine.”
For the first time, the man’s mask shifted, just slightly. His gaze lingered on Sieun with something unreadable, then he gave a short nod. “Perhaps, with the commanding officer’s recommendation, you might still enter this semester. It will take negotiation, but it’s possible.”
Sieun said nothing. His chest felt tight, like the air itself weighed more than his lungs could carry.
“Are we now talking about compensation?” Baekjin said, tone sharp enough to cut the air. “Your negligence put our mate through a first heat on base. Do you have any idea what could have happened?”
The counsel adjusted his glasses, unbothered. “Private Na, I understand your frustration, but settlements of this nature follow standard figures—”
“Standard figures?” Baekjin snapped. “He’s not ‘standard.’ He’s a Seoul National University medical student, admitted on merit, now carrying two Alpha bonds he never asked for because of your incompetence. His life has been altered permanently.”
The officer shifted uncomfortably behind the desk, but didn’t intervene.
Baekjin leaned closer, his voice low, steady, and deadly serious. “You will not insult him with ten million won like some rookie injury claim. We’re talking at least a hundred million, for the physical damage, the forced mating and bonding, the career disruption.”
Sieun’s head jerked up, eyes wide. “B-Baekjin—!”
But Baekjin didn’t falter.
The counsel exhaled slowly, as if dealing with an unruly client. “One hundred million won is… excessive.”
Seongje scoffed from his chair, arms crossed, grin sharp. “Excessive? That’s the price of a studio apartment in Seoul. Studio. Apartment.”
“Two hundred million,” Baekjin pressed, eyes locked onto the counsel’s. “And ongoing stipends until he resumes his education.”
The counsel hesitated. “…A monthly stipend?”
“Yes.” Baekjin’s tone left no room for argument. “Two million won per month. For as long as this hangs over his head.”
The officer pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing audibly. The counsel finally turned to Sieun, perhaps hoping for an ally. “Private Yeon, surely you don’t want to escalate this—”
Sieun flinched under the weight of his name, opening his mouth, but Seongje’s hand closed over his, squeezing firmly.
“Let Baekjin do the talking, Sieun-ah,” Seongje said, his tone both mocking and soothing at once. “They’re just scared you’ll realise how much your silence is worth.”
Baekjin’s voice was like steel striking stone, calm but relentless. “Two hundred million won, upfront,” he repeated, tone absolute. “That’s the baseline. And should it come to light over the next weeks that this... union results in offspring, the Military will be responsible for full provision. That means a living space adequate for the number of people under his care, including his mates, who forcefully bonded him on this exact base. You’ll draft a clause referencing average housing values in Seoul, Gangnam, Mapo, you pick, but I want concrete comparables in writing.”
The counsel blinked. “Offspring—”
“Yes,” Baekjin cut him off. “A freshly presenting Omega in heat who spend days with two young and healthy Alphas. Pregnancy is not hypothetical, it’s statistically probable. And if he carries, the Military will provide prenatal and postnatal care for mother and child, all expenses covered. No exceptions.”
Sieun’s stomach lurched, his face draining of all color. He tried to form words, but none came, only a faint rasp in his throat. Seongje felt it instantly, squeezing his hand under the table, lips quirking in something between mockery and comfort. “Don’t faint, Sieun-ah. Your knight in shining armor’s just securing your baby bonus.”
“Seongje,” Baekjin snapped without turning. His eyes stayed on the counsel, hard and clear. “Further—Private Yeon is not to lose his future for your negligence. He deferred his admission to serve. You will ensure he enters this semester, late, if necessary. If the University refuses, the Military compensates for every term he misses.”
The counsel shifted in his seat, a flicker of something, hesitation or maybe annoyance, passing over his face. “Mr. Na, you understand that the Military cannot simply dictate academic policy—”
“Then pay for the lost time,” Baekjin said flatly. “Tuition, lost wages, lost opportunities. All of it. He will not bear the cost of your failure.”
The counsel leaned back, studying Baekjin with narrowed eyes. “You speak like a lawyer, Private Na. Are you aware how… ambitious these demands are?”
“I’m aware how serious your liability is,” Baekjin returned without blinking. “You neglected required blood work. You stationed a Beta-registered recruit on base without confirmation and when he presented, you left him to break in an infirmary with two Alphas unsupervised. If this goes public, the headlines won’t call it negligence. They’ll call it rape under military custody. How fast do you think that headline hits the press? And whose heads will roll?”
The room had gone still, save for the quiet, impatient click of the counsel’s pen against his folder. Baekjin’s eyes burned with focus, his voice calm but cutting, every word sharpened to a blade.
“And another matter,” he said, shifting Sieun closer, as if to shield him even here. “By regulation, bonded Alphas are entitled to rut leave. You’ll grant that, of course. Private Yeon will be discharged, that much is clear. But Private Keum and I remain enlisted. And since everything happened under your... watchful eye, I demand heat leave, which means that when Sieun goes into heat, he will need his mates. Both of us. Every time.”
The counsel frowned. “You’re suggesting we remove two Alphas from active duty whenever their O—”
“Not suggesting,” Baekjin interrupted, his tone low, final. “I’m demanding it. Call it medical regulation, call it bond-stability leave, I don’t care. You know what can happen if bonded Alphas are kept away during an Omega’s heat and we're not waiting a cycle for him to get a doctor's note to attest his pain.”
The officer’s jaw tightened, but even he didn’t speak.
Sieun flushed crimson, mortified, but Baekjin’s expression was unyielding, protective to the bone.
The counsel exhaled slowly, adjusting his glasses. “This is highly irregular.”
Baekjin leaned forward, voice calm but edged like a blade. “So was allowing an untested Beta to present as Omega under your watch. And letting him burn through a four-day heat unmonitored with two Alphas. You allowed this. You’ll take responsibility. Effective immediately: Private Na and Private Keum are to be granted bonded-heat leave whenever their civilian mate, Yeon Sieun, goes into heat. With pay. Without consequences for their records.”
The counsel frowned. “That isn’t standard.”
“It wasn’t standard to throw him into heat under military custody either,” Baekjin shot back. “Do you understand what that means? You didn’t just risk his life. You created a bonded Omega in a facility with no protocol, no safeguards, and no consent. From now on, every heat he experiences will be unbearable without his mates.”
“That is not how the Military—”
“Then change it,” Baekjin cut in, sharp as a whip. “You already broke every protocol you had. This is the minimum corrective measure. And should he collapse again, you’ll shoulder the burden for medical malpractice and endangerment of bonded soldiers. Are you prepared for that headline, counselor?”
The counsel blinked, clearly rattled, though his face tried to hold its composure. “You… speak as if you’ve drafted labor codes yourself, Private Na.”
“I’ve read enough to know how loopholes get twisted,” Baekjin said coldly. “And I won’t let you twist him into another casualty statistic.”
The silence that followed was heavy. The commanding officer’s jaw ticked, his hands clenched behind his back.
The legal counsel finished the last line of his notes, the scratching of his pen finally falling silent. He closed the folder with a soft snap and looked up, expression unreadable.
“Before I draft this agreement—” he said, adjusting his glasses, “—is there anything else you want to put forward now?”
The room fell into heavy silence. Sieun sat stiffly in his chair, the blanket Baekjin had wrapped around him still clutched tight. Both Alphas flanked him like shadows, silent but watchful. Across the desk, the commanding officer’s gaze flicked between the three, waiting.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, the officer cleared his throat. “Private Yeon,” he said, quieter this time, “is there… someone who can come collect you? Family? A guardian?”
Before Sieun could answer, Seongje gave a sharp scoff, his lip curling. “Collect him? He’s not a parcel, sir. And he won’t step foot off this base until he has a place to stay.”
The counsel raised a brow. “So… where would that be, then? Do you have a residence lined up?”
Sieun shifted, throat tight. “I… I've withdrawn my registration for the dorm. So... no, I have not.”
“And your parents?” the officer pressed gently.
Sieun’s jaw clenched. He didn’t lift his eyes. “No contact.”
Silence fell again, heavier now, until Seongje sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair, one arm still draped over Sieun’s shoulder. “He'll stay at my place. My apartment is small but it will suffice until the settlement is agreed on. Then our mate will be able to look for a suitable apartment, including a potential nursery..”
The counsel glanced down at his notes, then back up. “Arrangements can be made. Private Na, Private Keum—you’ll both be granted a two week leave to escort him to Seoul and set everything up. That should be sufficient.”
Baekjin gave a curt nod, though the tension in his jaw betrayed how little he liked the brevity of the leave. Seongje only smirked in satisfaction, pulling Sieun a fraction closer as if to stake the claim right there in front of them all.
Sieun stared down at his hands. It all felt unreal. But for the first time since collapsing in the drills, he realised he wouldn’t be facing the next step alone.
The counsel’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’ll… return with a draft reflecting your concerns within two hours.” He glanced to the officer, who gave a reluctant nod.
For the first time, the counsel gave a small, humorless smile. “Private Na, I’ll admit, your ferocity is… unexpected. Most men in your position would simply accept what’s offered.”
Baekjin’s arm tightened around Sieun, his voice low, certain. “I’m not most men. And my mate’s not expendable.”
Without waiting for a response, he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
When the door closed behind him, the silence that followed was thick and unsteady. Sieun sat frozen, cheeks burning, his heart thrumming painfully in his chest.
“Two hundred million, huh?” Seongje drawled, leaning back with a smirk. “Our Baekjin’s got expensive taste in mates.”
But Baekjin didn’t smile. His arm came around Sieun, pulling him closer, protective and unyielding. “No amount of money makes up for what happened to you. But if this is the only way they’ll admit fault… then I’ll make them pay every last won they owe you.”
Sieun’s room was quiet except for the rustle of clothing and the soft thud of boxes being filled. Baekjin moved with precise efficiency, the few cloth and personal items Sieun brought with him, while Seongje hovered a little too close, eyes flicking down at Sieun every few seconds. The lingering heat scent clung to Sieun, subtle but undeniably potent and the newly presented Omega’s presence made the two Alphas’ restraint an effort in itself.
“Don’t stare,” Sieun muttered, cheeks burning as he tried to fold a shirt himself.
Seongje chuckled, a low, teasing sound. “I’m not staring. I’m… observing, making sure nothing happens to my beautiful mate.” His voice carried a husky undertone that had Sieun instinctively shiver. Being packed for and protected by two Alphas, bond marks still throbbing and being exhausted from his heat, was a sensation he had no words for.
“Put on the clothes you wore when you arrived here, Sieun-ah,” Baekjin instructed and Sieun obeyed, though every movement felt foreign and awkward.
Baekjin didn’t comment, just continued packing, his hands steady and careful, though he occasionally shot a sharp glance at Seongje, as if to remind him that subtlety was indeed a virtue.
Finally, when the last item had been secured, Baekjin hoisted a bag onto his shoulder while Seongje, still hovering just slightly too close, pressed a hand to Sieun’s back. “Ready?” he asked, voice low and teasing, but there was genuine care behind the words.
Sieun swallowed, nodded, and followed them down the hall into their rooms to gather their things for their two-weeks leave. When everything was finally packed and they went to have lunch at the cafeteria, the three of them walked in tight formation to the commanding officer’s office, Sieun in the center. Every step reminded him of how utterly dependent he was on these two Alphas now and how, despite his embarrassment, he found some comfort in it.
The commanding officer’s door opened and all three entered. Sieun noticed the brief flicker in the officer’s eyes as Seongje lingered just a fraction closer than necessary, his heat-scented presence unmistakable even through the office’s air circulation.
“Everything packed?” the officer asked, eyes on Sieun.
“Yes, sir,” Baekjin replied smoothly, voice steady.
“Then let’s review the agreement,” the legal counsel said as he placed a folder on the desk. “Here,” he said, his voice formal, careful. “It was prepared based on the demands submitted by Private Na.”
Baekjin leaned forward, eyes scanning the pages rapidly. Each clause had been written according to his specifications. He flicked through the pages, lips pressed in a thin line. “Clause one, two... all present. Correct. Housing clauses specify square meters and comparables. Contacting the university due to late entry on behalf of our mate. Rut and additional heat leave provisions intact for both Private Keum and myself. Nothing missing. Prenatal and postnatal care correctly included. Very well.”
Baekjin’s arm brushed Sieun's side occasionally as he leaned over to glance at the papers, and Seongje’s gaze lingered over the text longer than necessary, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The two Alphas’ combined attention was disorienting, but Sieun realised, even in his embarrassment, that he had never felt more protected or more claimed.
The counsel nodded. “As requested, Private Na. The draft reflects your demands fully.”
Seongje, hovering close to Sieun, smirked faintly. His hand brushed lightly over the Omega’s shoulder, Sieun shivered at the sensation.
Baekjin continued his careful review, thumbs flicking over key sections. The commanding officer’s gaze lingered on Sieun briefly, then shifted back to Baekjin. “It appears all your points have been addressed.”
Sieun stayed quiet, overwhelmed, his hands folded tightly in his lap. He felt the closeness of both Alphas, Seongje teasingly pressing near him, Baekjin methodical and precise beside him. Despite the lingering embarrassment and heat, he realised he was being shielded completely.
Baekjin finally nodded to the counsel. “This draft is accurate. I approve submitting it as-is.”
The counsel made a final note, then closed the folder. “Very well. The agreement will be formalised and sent to central administration. During your absence from base, an appointment will be made for Pr—Omega Yeon Sieun with an Omegologist in our Military Hospital in Seoul to confirm any—well. The details will be forwarded. I expect feedback to this proposal in three weeks.”
Seongje leaned down slightly, murmuring to Sieun with a teasing but reassuring tone, “Don’t worry, Sieun-ah, your mates will take care of you.”
Sieun exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest, still mortified but comforted. For the first time since the base incident, he felt truly secure, surrounded by his two unwavering Alphas.