The room settled into a heavier silence.
Rin adjusted his pillow behind him, trying to ignore the soreness in his back and shoulders. Every muscle felt like it had been dragged behind a truck, and his fractured finger still throbbed beneath its bandage.
"So..." Rin muttered finally, breaking the quiet, "what's your name, anyway?"
Evgeny blinked at him, expression a mix of surprise and exasperation.
"What use is there in making introductions now?" he said, gesturing vaguely at the bleak hospital room and his own battered body like it was some cosmic punchline.
Rin exhaled slowly. Despite everything, he replied with something almost formal:
"Rin Takahashi-Kwon."
There was weight in his voice when he said it—like saying his full name grounded him. Like he was trying to remind himself that he was still him, still Rin, not some broken shell Kai left behind.
Evgeny gave a brief nod. A beat passed.
Then, almost reluctantly, he replied:
"Evgeny Popov."
Evgeny exhaled as he stood, grabbing the crutches with his one good hand. His face was unreadable, eyes dull from a lifetime of field scars, both visible and not.
"Anyway, get some rest," he muttered, turning away, voice flat.
Rin lifted his head weakly from the pillow, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
"You're just gonna leave?" Rin said. "Shouldn't we discuss our next move? Our future plans?"
Evgeny paused at the door. He didn't even look back.
"Have you not realized it yet?" he said, voice like cold gravel. "This mission was a failure."
Rin's breath hitched in his throat. Those words hit harder than he expected.
"But—"
Evgeny cut him off.
"Look, kid. We're out of chances now. HQ already gave up on us the moment they sent the wrong photo. Our 'hospital bills'—" he said it with bitter sarcasm, "—are the last favor they're willing to give us. So once you're stitched up and cleared, go home. Crawl back to whatever semblance of a life you've got left."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then, without warning, Evgeny tossed one last grenade over his shoulder:
"Oh, and by the way... looks like that psycho really liked your ass, judging from how torn that area was when we found you. Oh, and they said something about altered DNA. You should probably get that checked," he added, voice laced with an acidic laugh.
A chill ran through Rin's blood.
"Huh...?" Rin said, breath caught in his chest.
But Evgeny was already gone.
And then—
The memories came back.
Not like a gentle tide.
Not like a whisper from the past.
They crashed into him like a tsunami — full-force, vivid, brutal.
The glint of the syringe.
The click.
The cold floor beneath his skin.
The laugh.
Kai's fingers around his throat.
The pressure.
The mockery.
The violation.
Rin's vision trembled as red blurred the edges of his sight. His chest heaved, each breath shallow and sharp. His hand shot to his neck, gripping it as if he could erase the touch. His body flinched without meaning to — like it remembered before his mind could catch up.
He fucking touched me. He fucking marked me.
A sick, hot wave churned in Rin's stomach.
This wasn't just psychological warfare. This was personal. This was deliberate. He didn't just want to break me — he wanted to rewrite me. From the inside out.
Rin's fingers dug into the bed sheets, his nails leaving crescent moons in the fabric.
Then his thoughts broke.
Collapsed.
Spilled out in a scream that echoed off the sterile hospital walls:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!"
"KAI!!!"
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!"
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
His voice cracked with the last word, raw and hoarse, but filled with something deeper than rage.
FSB Headquarters, Moscow
Top floor. Private wing. Restricted access.
The Romanov office suite reeked of old money, colder bloodlines, and a kind of elegance that whispered violence.
The room was opulence defined: tall glass windows that overlooked Moscow's graying skyline, polished black marble floors, gilded emblems of the double-headed eagle, and thick mahogany shelves stuffed with classified dossiers bound in crimson and jet leather. Every surface gleamed — immaculate, sterile, as though emotions were scrubbed from the air like fingerprints.
Kaelirian Sven Romanov sat sprawled across one of the leather armchairs as if he owned the damn room — legs splayed, head tilted back, a bored sneer curling on his lips. His platinum hair was messier than usual, strands falling into his eyes, and he absently toyed with the end of a silver pen like it was a dagger he might jab into his thigh just for the thrill of it.
Then—
Siiiiiigh.
A heavy, theatrical sigh — the third in five minutes.
Across the desk, Vseslav Romanov, his elder half-brother — or more accurately, second stepbrother from their father's first marriage — pinched the bridge of his nose like he was being forced to babysit a particularly venomous cat.
"Oh my God, stop sighing already," Vseslav snapped, his voice clipped and cold as Siberian frost.
Kai twisted his body like a bored ballerina mid-collapse, dragging one leg over the other and resting his cheek against his fist.
"Hmm?" Kai hummed like he hadn't heard the first three times. Then he pouted — genuinely pouted — like a sulky teenager denied dessert.
"What now?" Vseslav said, barely hiding his irritation.
Kai's eyes glinted as he cocked his head to the side.
"I don't know," he said, tone airy, almost playful. "I just… feel it. Someone out there's definitely cussing me out right now. Like, hardcore. Screaming into a pillow kinda hate. Ugh… delicious."
He smiled faintly, leaning further back as if he could taste it in the atmosphere.
Rin's hatred, perhaps.
A phantom echo Kai could feel rather than hear.
Vseslav exhaled like a man who had long since run out of patience.
"He hardly listens to me, and now look at what he's blabbering about," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Kai to hear.
Kai didn't flinch.
Instead, he smirked wider and began humming an off-key rendition of "Lacrimosa", as if trying to summon drama from the air.
"You think this is funny?" Vseslav said flatly.
"No, no." Kai paused. "I think it's hilarious."
Vseslav stood then, straight-backed and composed, his dark suit crisp, starched, and intimidating. A man bred for command — calculated, rigid, powerful. He didn't need to yell to assert control; the room shifted when he moved.
"Father," Vseslav said slowly, "is very disappointed in you, Kaelirian."
A Kai visibly twitched, a subtle tic at the corner of his mouth.
Still, he grinned through it like broken glass in his smile.
"Tell me something new, dear brother," Kai said, voice sweet as spoiled wine. "Tell me something scrumptious. Like… I don't know... maybe Father finally dropped dead in his sleep, and the autopsy revealed a suspicious amount of mercury. Or perhaps... you're dead, Vseslav. That would make this meeting so much more tolerable."
The silence that followed was deadly.
Vseslav's jaw tightened, but his expression didn't break.
Kai, sensing the tension, simply beamed wider.
"C'mon. Don't look so grumpy. You people are always preaching about 'loyalty to the bloodline,' but which one are we talking about? Daddy dearest's bastard son with the dead Scandinavian actress?" he purred, his voice a low purr laced with knives. "Or the ones he keeps stacking up through political marriages like overpriced vodka bottles?"
"You disgrace the Romanov name," Vseslav said, finally stepping around the desk, slow and deliberate. "You act like a child. You disobey orders. You vanish for weeks. You interfere with international intelligence operations without clearance."
"Oh no, how dreadful of me," Kai said, mock gasping. "Imagine — a child with brains. A shame. What a waste."
"You're unstable," Vseslav said coldly. "And if you weren't the only one who could handle black-level assets in the underground circuits, Father would've had you scrubbed years ago."
Kai's eyes narrowed, just slightly.
"Then it's a good thing I'm irreplaceable, isn't it?" he whispered. "Useful little monster that I am."
Vseslav let out a long, exhausted sigh — one that felt like it came from somewhere deep in his bones.
The kind of sigh that wasn't just about annoyance.
It was grief, cloaked in decades of restraint.
I've been cleaning up after his mess for over a decade.
Ever since that pale-haired monster walked into their world — all blank stares and dead silences — everything had been off-balance. Like a wolf had been placed among the hounds, wearing sheep's wool stitched by a sadistic god.
It didn't matter what trouble he got himself into, Vseslav thought bitterly, as long as he didn't drag it into the family.
And for a time, Kai didn't. He destroyed outside the family. Strangers. Stray animals. Objects. Secrets.
But that illusion didn't last.
I had no idea he'd be this unhinged…
Not until the day he laughed.
Fourteen Years Ago – Romanov Estate,
Vseslav remembered the screaming. Not human — not at first. Neighing. Wild, panicked, guttural.
The stables were in chaos. Servants running. Yaroslav — the eldest — screaming orders, red in the face. They had torn apart the surrounding woods looking for Silver, his prized black Akhal-Teke stallion. It had been missing for two days.
They thought it escaped.
But Vseslav had known better the moment he saw Kai's shoes were muddy.
The groundskeeper eventually found it — or what was left of it — near the ravine.
Bleached bones. A stripped ribcage.
And nailed to a nearby tree was a sign, carved childishly into a plank of wood with a kitchen knife:
"Silver wanted to fliy."
That was how they realized what had happened. How they realized the boy had pushed the animal off the ravine and stood there as it thrashed, broke, bled out. Like a science experiment. Like a punchline.
Kai had stood in the grass, only ten years old, arms folded behind his back, watching his brothers with an almost innocent curiosity.
And then — it happened.
That laugh.
"Hahahahahahah!! Silver wanted to fly... so I made him fly!"
"You should've seen it! He was struggling so much — neighing, neighing! Then crack! The rib came out... it looked like a wing, didn't it?!"
He was beaming. So thrilled with himself. Eyes wide, glinting with something that wasn't childlike wonder — it was glory. Like he had made something beautiful.
Yaroslav went ballistic. He charged at Kai with a guttural roar, murder in his eyes.
Kai didn't flinch. Just stood there, laughing — mouth wide, arms open, like he wanted to be hit.
Vseslav had thrown himself between them just in time, grabbing Yaroslav around the chest and pinning him to the ground.
"Let go of me! I'll kill that freak!"
"No—Yaroslav, stop! You'll only make it worse!"
And then Kai stepped closer. Calm. Cold. Controlled.
His voice dropped.
"Next time… don't talk ill about my mom," he said, barely above a whisper.
Then he walked away. Just like that. Whistling.
Vseslav remembered his heart pounding. Not from fear for Kai — but from fear of Kai.
Vseslav remembered the gardener who went blind after touching Kai's "special tea." The bodyguard who suffered a seizure after brushing up against Kai's jacket. A tutor who mysteriously "disappeared" after trying to discipline him.
That was when their father made his decision.
He called in a favor. A very old favor. And aligned himself with the FSB.
"He knew what Kai was. Knew he couldn't be fixed. So he did what any power-hungry monster would do — he repackaged the problem."
"He sold his youngest son to the wolves, thinking the FSB could use him as a weapon, a wild card, an asset. Somewhere Kai's violence wouldn't be a liability — but an advantage."
"And they accepted."
They welcomed Kai like a prized hound. Groomed him. Broke him. Sharpened him.
And he thrived.
Because no one loved control more than Kaelirian.
And no one hated submission more than him.
"He's worse now."
"Not just unhinged… strategic. Unreadable. He kills, but only when it benefits him. He smiles, but only when it confuses you. He even cries, sometimes... but only if it means you'll let your guard down."
"He's no longer a child."
"He's become something else."
"A weapon we don't control anymore
"This mess you've created is making things difficult for Yaroslav as well," Vseslav began, his voice clipped. "Why would you do something so reckless — especially with the President and half the Council of Ministers present at the afterparty?"
Kai didn't even blink. He rolled his head lazily to the side, lips twitching into a grin like a cat spotting a mouse.
"Like I give a shit."
He said it with such casual detachment that Vseslav felt the vein in his neck pulse.
Kai sat up a little straighter, his gloved hand reaching across the desk and picking up the porcelain coffee mug that wasn't his.
"Oh, that reminds me…" he said suddenly, perking up like a child remembering his favorite toy. "What happened to that guy I killed?"
Vseslav narrowed his eyes. "You mean the operative you shot in the car?"
Kai's grin widened like a cut in a horror movie.
"Yeah, that guy. Pretty screams. He sounded like a squeaky toy."
"It was reported as an incident," Vseslav replied, deadpan. "Official story says the agent took you and another operative hostage. Died while fleeing custody."
Kai tilted his head.
"Who took who hostage?" he asked mockingly, swirling the spoon in the mug. He stirred with no intention of drinking. Just for the noise. The effect.
Vseslav gave him a flat glare — the "are you serious" look only someone who'd known him for over two decades could give and survive.
"Why didn't you kill the agent the moment you found out he was a spy?" Vseslav asked. "You knew for weeks. You had the clearance."
Kai shrugged, as if it were all too boring to explain.
"I considered it," he said, finally tasting the coffee. His expression soured. "Ugh. Bitter."
He reached for the sugar bowl. Dumped two spoonfuls in. Stirred again.
"He trusted me too much," Kai continued, voice light. "It was… cute. A little sad. But I thought — why end it so quickly? It wouldn't be a bad idea to play with him for a while. Keep him close. Watch him squirm. Learn how he breathes when he's lying. It's more fun when they don't even realize they're dancing on a landmine."
He took another sip. Grimaced again.
"Ugh. Now it's too sweet," he muttered, setting the cup down with a theatrical sigh of disappointment.
Vseslav's temples were throbbing.
"You caused a diplomatic ruckus for such a trivial reason?"
Kai leaned back in the chair again, arms draping over the sides like he owned the office. His eyes, pale and sharp, locked on Vseslav with a glint of something far too intelligent — and far too dangerous.
"Trivial?" he echoed. "It's art. It's theatre. The moment you pull the trigger, the show's over. But until then…"
"It's delicious watching little rats in suits run around trying to survive, watching the gears in their brains jam from panic. The sweat, the confusion, the desperation—"
He grinned.
"—that's the payoff. Killing him right away would've been such a waste of good entertainment."
Then he tilted his head thoughtfully.
"And besides," he added with a lazy shrug, "the sex was good. I think I imprinted him."
Silence.
The words settled in the air like a weapon.
Vseslav blinked. "You what?"
"Duhhh," Kai dragged the word out, rolling his eyes. "Imprinted him. I'm an enigma, remember? Alpha bloodline mutations. Enhanced pheromonal signature. Blah blah blah." He made a mocking gagging sound.
He leaned forward now, elbows on knees, voice dropping to a smug hush.
"When I imprint someone... I can change their DNA. It's not always intentional. But I think I did it to him. I mean, he passed out, then started shaking, heat symptoms were off the charts. Classic post-imprint reaction."
Vseslav's jaw clenched.
"You... violated him. Marked him. You don't even remember fully doing it?!"
Kai looked genuinely confused for a second, then chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like someone who forgot where they parked their car.
"Yeahhh... don't really care. It was fun. He's probably screaming my name ...cursing me out."
"And if he's not dead... he'll come crawling back eventually."
There was something chilling in the way he said it. Not romantic. Not hopeful. Just certain.
Like Rin was already written into Kai's script — another pawn in his endless game of dominance and destruction.
"You're playing with people's lives, Kaelirian."
"You always do."
Kai grinned wide. "No, no, no, dear brother... I play with people. Lives are just the... collateral."
Meanwhile… Back at the hospital.
He sat stiffly on the edge of the hospital bed, his knuckles white as they clenched the sheet. His back was straight, jaw tight, breathing low but rapid.
The doctor, an older woman with sharp eyes and graying hair tucked beneath a crisp cap, stood across from him with a tablet in hand. She cleared her throat delicately, eyes scanning Rin with a clinical mix of sympathy and scientific intrigue.
"Yes, Mr. Takahashi… You've been imprinted."
Silence.
Rin blinked. The words echoed in his skull like a gunshot underwater.
"Imprinted…?"
"Yes," the doctor continued, calm, as though delivering test results for a mild allergy. "It was confirmed after your DNA scan and bloodwork. There are clear enigma-level markers present within your gland profile now. The foreign pheromonal coding has fused at the genetic level. It's subtle but irreversible—unless he undoes it."
Rin swallowed hard.
"So you're saying I've… become his omega?" he asked, his voice flat but shaking under the surface.
"Not exactly," the doctor said. "You're still an alpha, genetically. But your secondary gender is now influenced by an enigma-tier bond, which supersedes your own hierarchy. In the presence of that particular individual, your body will respond as if you were his omega."
She paused, flipping to another page on her tablet.
"It's not unheard of. Extremely rare, but not unheard of. Enigmas are capable of imprinting any secondary class lower than them. And... from what we've documented, the alpha who imprinted you appears to be a full-blooded enigma-class with advanced dominance capabilities."
Rin was silent.
His breath caught in his throat, chest rising and falling too quickly. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Like his skin didn't fit right anymore.
Kai. That bastard.
His mind flashed back to Kai's voice — that teasing, sing-song tone. The weight of his body. The mocking smile. The way Rin's limbs had gone numb, the world spinning into that hellish blur.
"No... no, this can't be," Rin muttered, gripping his temple. "I'm an alpha. This—this isn't how it works. I've never even entered an omega state."
"And you won't. Not with anyone else," the doctor replied quietly, setting the tablet aside. "That's what makes enigma imprinting so dangerous. It's not just a chemical claim. It's a rewrite of your biological script. Only the one who imprinted you can dissolve it."
Rin stared at her, mind spinning, the words slamming into him like a freight train.
"So I'm stuck like this? Like his?"
"His toy? His possession? His—"
"No one's saying you belong to him," the doctor cut in gently. "But your body will only respond to him as if you do. Your vitals, hormonal shifts, neural responses—everything is now synced to his pheromonal signature."
Rin shot to his feet, dragging out the IV in his arm. The monitor beside him beeped angrily, warning of the sudden movement. He didn't care.
"This is a violation. He did this without my consent. Is there no way to undo it?! No counter-imprint? Hormonal suppression? Gene therapy?! Anything?!"
The doctor sighed, long and weary.
"There is research… experimental, dangerous, and mostly unsuccessful. The most reliable solution is..."
She hesitated.
"...asking the enigma to release you."
Rin froze.
The image of Kai's smug face flashed before him. That bastard wouldn't release him even if Rin begged. Hell, he'd enjoy watching Rin beg.
"He did this on purpose. He fucking planned it. He knew what he was doing," Rin thought, stomach twisting into knots.
The anger he'd been suppressing flared white-hot.
"He violated my autonomy. He got into my head. He marked me like I was nothing more than some disposable stray he picked up. And now I'm supposed to just accept that I'm biologically linked to him?"
He punched the metal rail of the hospital bed, knuckles splitting open on impact.
"I'll kill him," Rin muttered under his breath, teeth clenched. "No matter what this body does—no matter what he made it do—I will never be his."
"I'll burn that imprint out of me with fire if I have to."
The doctor stared, saying nothing more.