Dirty Switch

“……”
Blocking out the surrounding chaos, Seo Baekhan calmly assessed his condition.

No limbs had been severed. No additional injuries. Crude as it sounded, the blade had pierced him in just one place—and cleanly at that. Above all, if he was still capable of thinking this rationally, it probably wasn’t life-threatening. Though he was bleeding quite a bit…
“Wh-what do we… Hyung…”
Joo Taehyun, who had seen him stabbed at point-blank range, couldn’t even breathe properly. All he could manage ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) was to mouth, Hyung. He was supporting Baekhan’s body, but his trembling was so intense it made Baekhan look like he was convulsing.

“I’m fine. I won’t die from this.”
Seo Baekhan tore the hem of his robe and quickly wrapped the wound. Thankfully, the knife hadn’t been large. Judging by the idiot who stabbed him, and the other one who pretended to stage a terror attack—this was probably the extent of their capabilities.
But as he inwardly scoffed at their incompetence, a sudden flicker of doubt stopped even his bleeding efforts.

Wait a second. Does this make sense?
If this had happened randomly at Moran Park, maybe. But this was inside Pyongyang University. At a high-security event attended by royal figures and senior northern officials—how could such a sloppy attack even occur?
Unless someone inside deliberately let them through, it made no sense.

Only now, after getting stabbed in the gut and staying surprisingly composed, did Seo Baekhan realize that his condition wasn’t as good as he thought. Normally, this would’ve been the first question on his mind.
“Aaagh! A knife! That psycho was swinging a knife around!”
“Someone’s been stabbed! Hurry, we need an ambulance—!”

Piercing screams finally snapped Seo Baekhan out of his daze, and he realized not much time had passed while he’d been lost in thought.
As if someone had cranked up the playback speed, the scene in front of him blurred and shifted.
Guards swarmed in to subdue the attackers, people screamed and scattered. The quiet venue was now complete bedlam. Someone yelling that an ambulance was on the way was so loud that Baekhan wanted to snap, We get it, now shut up, but he no longer had the strength to raise his voice.

“…Taehyun-ah.”
It was only thanks to the pheromones pouring from Joo Taehyun as he held him up that Baekhan was able to stay mentally grounded. The scent of forest and grass, now almost searing against his hypersensitive nerves, still soothed him gently.
“You’ll be okay, Hyung. Just don’t talk for now—there’s so much blood…”

Like a slow shutter blinking in the dark, Taehyun’s expression changed each time Baekhan opened and closed his eyes.
Pale with fear. Staring into the distance with watery eyes. Then suddenly clenched his jaw as if he’d made up his mind.
Finally, wearing an icy expression that radiated dread, Joo Taehyun raised a hand.
“…Excuse me, but it might be best to lock all exits. There could be other attackers hiding.”

“…What?”
The officials who had rushed over to help with first aid froze, exchanging baffled glances. Did this kid really just tell them to lock the doors—when his own spouse was lying on the ground?
“No, we need to shut down the entire school. This isn’t some festival—it’s an event packed with high-ranking officials. And this is the level of security? The breach started inside.”

“R-right, but…”
“Don’t you get it? This was a half-assed stunt pulled by a bunch of nobodies, because someone on the inside looked the other way!”
Even as a burning sensation began to creep around his torso, Seo Baekhan let out a small smile. That’s right, Joo Taehyun. That’s how you do it.

“A-Agreed, but…”
“If anyone tries to shift the blame later, just mention Assemblyman Seo Hongkyu’s name and lock the whole school down. Before this blows up any further. What about the CCTV?”
“Ah, we’re securing it now.”

“Check at least a week—no, a month’s worth of footage. Please also request that journalists refrain from reporting until the situation is fully assessed. And ask guests to avoid posting provocative photos on social media.”
Maybe it was only now that they noticed—the young man trying to stabilize the situation, supporting Seo Baekhan’s pale body. Seeing that, even the people who had just been watching from the sidelines finally started moving, trying to restore some order.
“Hey—hold the line properly! Someone’s gonna get seriously hurt!”

“This way, yes, just two steps at a time, please!”
“Ambulance is here! We’ll transfer the patient directly to Pyongyang University Hospital!”
At least there was a major hospital nearby, so treatment would be fast and smooth. It had been Baekhan’s first real experience with an attack—terrorist or otherwise—so he couldn’t help fumbling a bit, but considering all that, they’d been pretty lucky.

If Joo Taehyun found out he was mentally reviewing things like this, he’d probably be horrified: You’re saying that out loud? Seriously?
“…Hyung, I…”
When he heard that the ambulance had arrived, Joo Taehyun lifted his head—then swallowed hard, as if trying to steady himself. His throat bobbed, jaw muscles clenched—and strangely, Seo Baekhan found the sight deeply provocative, even in this state.

He felt like laughing, and whatever Taehyun saw in that smile made his eyes fill with a mix of gloom and pity.
“I’ll stay and help manage the situation, then come to the hospital. Others will be here soon, just until then.”
“…Alright.”

“I mean, I’m just a civilian—I can’t actually do anything. But this is Pyongyang… and I’m Seo Baekhan’s legal spouse.”
The words, growing longer and more mumbled, didn’t feel like they were meant to reassure Baekhan. They felt more like a vow Taehyun was making to himself.
“I got it. Thanks.”

A faint smile bloomed on Seo Baekhan’s face as he looked at him.
It sounded harsh, but even if people criticized him for acting like he was someone important when he wasn’t a soldier or a cop—staying put was the right thing to do. Baekhan would’ve done the same.
Even if it was all for show—there were people out there who found comfort and reassurance in this kind of clumsy pretense. So why not do it?

He’d grown up benefiting from his ancestors’ name—so doing this much was the least he could do.
Knowing that doing the right thing isn’t always easy, Seo Baekhan finally felt his young spouse truly dependable for the first time.
Setting aside the pheromones, the sex drive, all those shallow layers—this was the moment he genuinely realized Joo Taehyun was his partner.

“…Honestly.”
Seo Baekhan bit down on his lip to stop himself from laughing. He felt guilty thinking this while Taehyun looked so deathly pale—but God, he was proud of him. He really wasn’t in his right mind.
“I think I made a really good marriage choice.”

“You’re… saying that now?”
Joo Taehyun looked like he was about to shout, Are you serious right now?!, but barely managed to hold back.
The redness at the corners of his eyes released a flood of familiar, strange scent.

Ah. So that’s why his pheromones, which were never particularly seductive, had felt so comforting lately.
It was because they were only meant for him.
This humble wildflower scent that didn’t even suit Joo Taehyun—no one else could smell it but him.

“…I’ll be right behind you.”
Spotting the paramedics rushing over through the crowd, Joo Taehyun carefully helped support Baekhan.
“You’ll be okay. You’re still talking clearly, so…”

He repeated the words calmly, trying to reassure Baekhan. It’s okay. It’s nothing big. Even Seo Baekhan, who hadn’t worried much about himself, instinctively relaxed at the even tone.
But beneath the robe Baekhan had personally dressed him in, Taehyun’s body trembled faintly—something even he might not have realized.
“Just hold your ground until someone higher-ranking than the current person in charge arrives. Just until then.”

This time it was Baekhan’s turn. Instead of pointing out Taehyun’s state or teasing him, he chose to comfort him.
“…Okay.”
“Any longer, and people will start blaming you. You won’t be much help in the cleanup anyway. And more importantly—you need treatment too. Got it?”

Taehyun’s shoulders rose and fell faintly. His expression was unreadable, but by now, Baekhan could make out the words hidden in that blank face.
Right now, Joo Taehyun wanted to cry. But he was holding it back.
“Joo Taehyun—”

“Sir, you’re still conscious—can you tell me your name?”
Seo Baekhan wanted to hear what Taehyun had been about to say. But the paramedics with the stretcher were so frantic that he couldn’t afford to be stubborn.
He started to joke, You don’t know my name? but stopped when the medic gave him a stern look, and instead obediently stated his information. The others looked slightly dumbfounded—but Joo Taehyun glared at him like he was going to murder him on the spot.

“Good, looks like you’re breathing fine, but… the bleeding…”
Lying down, Baekhan turned his head just enough to glance at Taehyun. But Taehyun had already turned away, now speaking with the reporters, leaving the situation management to the officials.
“Then blood oxygen levels… upon arrival….”

So the saying “position makes the person” still held true—even in moments like this.
Now that he was officially being treated as a patient, drowsiness began to creep in whether he liked it or not. Seo Baekhan fought to stay conscious, but eventually closed his eyes—clinging to the faint trace of Joo Taehyun’s pheromone scent lingering on his body.