Young Master Choi: In Another Universe

Chapter 38: Into The Den [7]

The medical room within the Academy's walls was eerily silent, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the overhead lights. The sterile air felt dense, cloaked in the darkness of the late night.

The figure in the bed lay unmoving, unconscious, his face pale against the stark white of the pillow. The stillness was interrupted only by a soft rustle at the window as it creaked open.

A shadow slipped inside, moving with practised stealth. Choi Yeonjun, cloaked in a black garment, his face obscured by a thin veil, landed soundlessly on the cold floor. Behind him, another figure followed—a hesitant Sim Jaeyun.

His eyes darted nervously around the room as he stepped inside, his breathing uneven despite the calm facade Choi Yeonjun maintained.

The older man pulled a small blade from within his cloak, the sharp edge gleaming faintly under the dim light of the machines. Without a word, he handed the weapon to Sim Jaeyun, his gaze steady and unyielding.

The gesture was simple, yet it carried a weight that made Sim Jaeyun's stomach churn. The alpha hesitated, his fingers curling around the knife's hilt. He looked at the unconscious man lying before him, his breaths shallow but steady.

Slowly, Sim Jaeyun approached the bed, his footsteps almost soundless against the tiled floor. The knife trembled in his grip as he leaned closer, the tip hovering inches above the vulnerable flesh of the man's neck.

Sweat beaded on Sim Jaeyun's forehead as his hand shook violently. Before the blade could descend, his grip tightened, then faltered entirely. He withdrew his hand, his chest heaving with suppressed fear and doubt.

"I... I can't," he muttered, his voice barely audible, shaking like his hands. "This isn't it."

Choi Yeonjun, still by the window, crossed his arms, his posture relaxed as he narrowed his eyes. "Want me to do the killing?" he asked casually, his tone devoid of judgment but filled with an unsettling indifference.

Sim Jaeyun shook his head, his agitation growing more pronounced. "This isn't it," he repeated, almost to himself. "We can't kill. That's the Academy's rule."

"..." Choi Yeonjun didn't speak. He only observed as the younger male shook like a leaf. He had known it all along. He knew Sim Jaeyun didn't have the resolve, the fortitude to cross the line and sully his hands with blood.

Choi Yeonjun had anticipated his failure, the hesitation etched into every fibre of Sim Jaeyun's being. Yet, as if for his own twisted amusement, Choi Yeonjun had leaned in, his voice low and coaxing, urging the alpha to take his revenge on those hounds who had violated him.

But, of course, it hadn't taken much for Sim Jaeyun to falter. The mere weight of the knife in his palm, the whispered promise of violence, was enough to unsteady his resolve. His quivering hands betrayed him before he could even form the intention to act. Sim Jaeyun had cracked under the pressure, unable to manifest the cold determination required to kill.

Even knowing this, Choi Yeonjun wasn't done. Not yet.

He stood in the darkened corner, his brows twitching in a subtle interest at the scene laid out before him. It wasn't a measly experiment in revenge—it was an opportunity. Choi Yeonjun wanted to see just how far he could push an alpha like Sim Jaeyun, how much he could unravel him.

Sim Jaeyun was an open book, his vulnerabilities written plainly in the quiver of his hands and the way his gaze avoided the unconscious figure in the bed. Choi Yeonjun's keen eyes followed every flinch, every tremor, calculating how much further the alpha could be dragged into the depths of moral ambiguity.