Clap - 45

At that moment, both of Jaemin’s hands were grabbed. Ihyun took the injured hand, while Ichan took the hand that had been holding the glass. Jaemin blinked at them in confusion.

“Are you crazy?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

The two opened their eyes so wide that their double eyelids seemed to deepen. Jaemin, startled, hunched his shoulders like a guilty criminal.

“…No.”

He rolled his eyes, watching their reactions, while Ihyun examined his hand with a serious expression. The sight of white blood-stained palms was strangely beautiful, yet it pained his heart as if it were being squeezed.

“Ichan, get the first aid kit.”

“R-right.”

Ichan hurried out of the room and quickly returned, carrying a box that was a bit too large to be called just a first aid kit. When the lid opened, a four-tiered set of medical supplies was revealed. It suited a house where two doctors lived.

As Ihyun pulled out what he needed, Ichan slipped his hand under Jaemin’s thigh and easily lifted him up. By now, Jaemin was used to being carried, so he simply clicked his tongue. He didn’t care how torn up his hand was; what really bothered him was the wasted food.

“I’ll make it again after we treat you,” Ichan said softly, noticing Jaemin’s gaze.

“…”

Jaemin looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Something felt off. His voice and tone were different than usual. Even just a few days ago, or even last night, Ichan would have scowled when Jaemin spilled food while eating greedily.

Of course, Jaemin wasn’t to blame for not being able to eat the food now, but still, how was there not a hint of annoyance on his face? And the way he said, “I’ll make it again,” felt oddly strange. It was either ticklish or sweet.

Ichan laid Jaemin on the bed, and shackles clinked like a snake wrapping around his ankles.

Ihyun approached with tweezers, ointment, alcohol-soaked cotton, and bandages in hand. Pulling a chair from the side table, he sat down close to the bed and began treating Jaemin’s hand. It was just a minor cut from glass, but his frown made it seem like the situation was far more serious.

Ichan, seated on the bed, skillfully assisted Ihyun, handing over the tweezers and ointment at the right moments. His expression mirrored Ihyun’s, and they looked nearly identical.

Jaemin glanced back and forth between the two. Their actions amused him. After all the things they had done, this was nothing in comparison. Why were they making such a fuss? They had treated him worse than a dog, but now, suddenly, they seemed to like him…

Jaemin’s eyes widened as he stared more closely, scrutinizing the two identical faces.

Even while treating his hand, Ihyun kept glancing at Jaemin. At such close range, Jaemin could even feel their breaths as they held and exhaled. Ichan, who usually only had a neutral or frowning expression, now seemed somewhat flustered too. His irregular breathing matched Ihyun’s exactly.

Jaemin’s mind, which hadn’t been working in a while, began spinning. The answer was obvious. The reason they had changed, and the only reason they could change.

“Did I manifest?”

There was no other explanation besides the manifestation they had been dreading.

At Jaemin’s question, the two men’s shoulders twitched at the same time. Jaemin let out a hollow laugh. Their broad shoulders had moved so obviously that it was impossible to ignore.

So, it finally happened. He had truly manifested. He had finally become an omega. So what now? Could he get pregnant? Jaemin’s eyes twitched strangely. Pregnancy? Just saying the word made his tongue feel heavy. He had never even dreamed of getting married, so he had never thought about having children either.

Moreover, him being pregnant? With the children of these psychotic lunatics? He imagined them cutting open his belly like a zipper to take the baby out when he was full term. Jaemin’s face turned pale at the thought. He’d rather die. Just die.

Jaemin clenched his lips and pressed his elbows tightly against his sides. He felt an even stronger urge to escape. He could sense that things were about to get even worse. He had to run away before it was too late. Even if it meant cutting off the foot shackled to the bed, he would rather live on crutches for the rest of his life.

“Let me go home.”