Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples - Chapter 27.2
He never thought he’d live his life only looking at one person.
But he had to admit it. At some point, Ryan’s gaze had always been fixed on Cielo.
Whether he was working at the clinic or walking down the hallway, Cielo’s voice was clearer than anyone else’s. The moment Cielo’s name was mentioned, his ears would perk up.
“Since when had it started?”
The unease that crept in whenever he went even a single day without seeing Cielo.
“What’s the point of realizing it now?”
He was already in too deep.
Muttering to himself, Ryan took a deep breath. The thick scent of acacia clinging to his skin strangely lifted his mood.
“How wonderful would it be if I could live the rest of my life breathing in only your scent?”
The spaces Cielo lingered in always carried the rich fragrance of acacia. But it often mingled with the scents of other omegas who frequented the clinic, leaving Ryan unsatisfied.
If only he could smell nothing but Cielo’s scent, then no matter where in the world he was, that fragrance alone would lead him straight to Cielo.
“I wish I could spend my whole life inhaling nothing but your scent.”
‘I wish you were mine, and mine alone.’
The moment Ryan swallowed those unspoken words, an even deeper wave of fragrance flooded his senses despite Cielo not releasing any more pheromones.
It was his alpha instincts, unbeknownst to him, accepting the vow in his heart: I will acknowledge no omega but the one before me.
I will accept only Cielo’s pheromones.
Just like that… he had imprinted.
***
Cielo slowly opened his eyes, his breath still warm and unsteady.
The dizzying haze that had struck him like lightning whenever he inhaled Ryan’s pheromones had finally settled into calm. He could barely remember what had happened—or what he’d said—during his heat cycle. But one thing was certain: it had ended far quicker and less painfully than when he endured it alone.
“Ryan…?”
At his murmuring call, Ryan, who had briefly dozed off, jolted awake. Though he hid all traces of exhaustion, the moment he stirred, his hands were already checking Cielo’s condition.
“Your complexion is good, and your pheromones aren’t leaking anymore. How’s your heart? Any pain?”
Cielo blinked at the questions, then burst into soft laughter.
“Right now, you should be worrying about yourself before me.”
“Me? Why?”
“You look exhausted.”
Wriggling free from the thin blanket, Cielo pulled out his arm. The faint smell of sweat lingered—but given his heat had just ended, it was unavoidable. He reached up, fingertips brushing the redness around Ryan’s eyes.
“Your eyes are bloodshot.”
“…I’m fine. It’s nothing. So—tell me if anything hurts.”
“Nothing does. Thanks to you, I feel completely clear. Lighter than usual, even.”
Ryan’s eyes widened at that. Then, grinning with genuine relief, he pulled Cielo into a tight embrace.
Every previous heat had left Cielo worse off—but this method had kept him from hitting rock bottom.
Holding him close, Ryan mumbled:
“You really do smell this time. Like sweat.”
“…Then let me go. I need to wash up.”
“Want me to scrub you down?”
Cielo narrowed his eyes in silence, and Ryan laughed, playing it off as a joke. But the reluctance in his hands as he loosened his grip was palpable.
Unaware, Cielo staggered out of bed and toward the bathroom. Peeling off his sweat-drenched clothes revealed his bare skin—and a glance at the mirror made him pause.
“…You said you’d bite.”
His body was as unmarked as ever.
During the haze of pheromones, brief moments of clarity had surfaced. Each time, he’d assumed Ryan—who buried his face against Cielo’s nape—would leave him covered in bite marks.
He’d expected at least some marks. Yet not a single red trace remained.
‘…He must’ve struggled too.’
Who wouldn’t believe him, when he held back to this extent?
Back when he’d only read about heat cycles in novels, he never imagined they’d be this torturous. The descriptions of panting and exhaustion hadn’t prepared him for the reality—especially since his original world had no such thing as biological designations.
And he’d had no idea an alpha’s pheromones could smell so good.
“The Crown Prince’s were nothing like this.”
This wasn’t his first time smelling Ryan’s pheromones. Once, Ryan had unleashed them as a warning to Eli.
But this scent was different. Sweet in a way that made him crave more—soothing, comforting.
“Like wood, maybe. If I could just smell it one more time—”
He clapped a hand over his mouth, startled by his own muttering.
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