* * *
“What kind of aftereffects should I be looking out for?”
“Well… ‘Aftereffects’ might sound dramatic. Think of it more as an adjustment phase. Like I said earlier, he could become sensitive or irritable. There might be temporary sensory overload, unstable abilities, physical weakness, or… he might sleep more. There are so many possibilities, it’s hard to list them all.”
Ben mentally checked off the list:
Sensitivity?
He used to be way worse—skip.
Power instability?
That was before, but now Haimar seemed more stable—skip.
Sleepiness?
He’d always had trouble sleeping, but lately he’d been sleeping well.
That had to be a good thing—skip.
From what Ben had seen, there wasn’t anything he could call an aftereffect just yet.
Sure, Haimar might just be adjusting quickly, but even so, bridging a gap of over a decade in just a few days wouldn’t be easy.
Like someone going through physical rehab after breaking a bone, Haimar would need time to recover his full strength.
Of course, nothing happening at all would be ideal—but as Moria said, there was no harm in staying vigilant.
Ben resolved to watch Haimar’s condition carefully.
“I just hope we don’t have a full-blown incident if something goes sideways.”
“Liri! That’s totally rude to Mr. Ben. Apologize!”
“Sorry. My bad. I was just being reasonably cautious. Don’t take it personally.”
Moria, mid-bite, stopped and sharply rebuked Liran’s comment.
Liran did apologize, though the words lacked any genuine regret.
Irritated, Moria raised her voice.
“No! I’m a doctor, and I say this with full confidence—I’m absolutely! Totally! Not worried!”
But the way she tore her olive ciabatta apart in her hands made her words… less than convincing.
They say strong denial is a form of strong affirmation—maybe this was that.
As the ciabatta crumbled, wobbling sadly on the table, Ben decided to just nod in quiet agreement.
Ben didn’t misunderstand the point of their concerns.
He got it.
But more than worry, what he really wanted was to see Haimar free—completely free—from the control device.
Haimar had probably spent every day feeling like his own body didn’t belong to him.
That kind of constant discomfort must’ve been suffocating.
Above all, Ben was curious about the completely unfiltered, unbound Haimar Eilec, now with the last of the restraints removed.
“I’m really not worried. Seriously. And not because I’m a researcher, either…”
“Shouldn’t have brought it up. They’ll figure it out themselves, Momo. Right? You’ll handle it, right?”
The answer was obvious.
All that was left was for her to say it out loud…
Unable to smooth out the wrinkle in her brow, Moria floundered in the awkward situation she herself had created.
Seeing this, the one who had tossed her into this mess in the first place—Liran—demanded the expected answer outright.
Normally, this would’ve been when Moria would scold Liran, but her face had gone pale instead.
Feeling a bit sorry for her, Ben gave a quiet, reassuring nod.
They say that most worries are born from things that haven’t even happened yet.
In other words, there’s no need to stress yourself over something that might never come to pass.
“Alright then. Okay, Momo. Time to get back to work. You said you were only going to rest for 30 minutes in the break room.”
“Wait, wait, can I just finish this campagne real quick?”
“Nope. You’re already cutting it close. Finish your work first. I’ll buy you some gâteau au chocolat later.”
Maybe Ben’s nod had been reassuring enough, because as Liran tossed her empty cup straight into a trash can across the room, she also managed to break the tense mood.
Moria, who had already demolished half of her olive ciabatta—with the other half in crumbs—reached out stealthily for the campagne bag again, dragging it toward her.
But Liran easily snatched it away, tossing a new bait instead—and Moria took it hook, line, and sinker.
“Uuuugh… Fiiine. It’s not like I’m going because of the chocolate. I was gonna go work anyway.”
Anyone could tell the gateau au chocolat had changed her mind.
But for the time being, at least Ben and Xenon decided to play dumb.
Still, Moria’s eyes clung longingly to the confiscated bread bag, reluctant even as she slowly got to her feet.
“I’ll see you later, Mr. Ben, Mr. Xenon.”
“Yes, I’ll be in touch.”
“Ah, goodbye!”
Leaving behind the sweet taste of rest, Moria’s reluctant steps back to work were no different from any average office worker’s.
But Liran was merciless.
She grabbed Moria’s slow-moving arm and dragged her out through the break room door, disappearing in a flash.
“Phew…”
Like a brief, unexpected shower, the whole commotion passed as quickly as it had come.
With the room finally quiet, Ben and Xenon opened their laptops again.
The screen, still on, displayed the brightly colored ads for adult products they’d been looking at before Moria and Liran had barged in.
“Shall we get back to what we were doing?”
“Yes…!”
They went back to trimming down the selection—adding and removing items from the cart again and again.
Slowly but surely, the end came into view.
After a long, careful process of elimination, only two or three finalists remained, waiting for final judgment in the shopping cart.
From here, the last decision was up to Xenon.
Ben had done just about all he could to help.
“Shall I leave the rest to you, then?”
It felt like the right time to leave.
Ben had been planning to check in on Haimar anyway, and he didn’t want to be questioned later for showing up late.
Judging by the way Xenon smiled and waved, he didn’t need Ben’s help anymore either.
“Yes…! I’ll let you know which one I picked later…!”
At first, it had seemed like an overwhelming task—too much to even touch.
But somehow, things had worked out.
People really do manage when they’re pushed into a corner.
Feeling a wave of relief, Ben made a mental note to thank the twins for their huge contribution, then quietly left the break room, leaving Xenon behind.
But really, Ben should’ve stayed just a bit longer—at least until he saw what Xenon actually paid for.
If he had known what was about to happen, of course Ben would’ve stuck around.
But how could he have known?
How could he have guessed that shy little Xenon Pinaca, who wanted so badly to thank Ben in his own way, would actually buy the bunny ears set and check out with it?
∗ ∗ ∗
Sleep.
A state where consciousness fades and activity halts.
To Haimar Eilec, sleep was both familiar and foreign—a state of complete defenselessness.
A moment when his hypersensitive senses, sharp as razors, would dissolve like ink in water.
A moment when he had to let the fine grains of desert sand—clutched tightly in his palm—slip through his fingers.
Sleep was just a series of such moments.
Which is why, for someone like him who always had to keep himself in check, sleep had never been a pleasant thing.
It was an uncomfortable necessity.
“……”
Haimar Eilec opened his eyes.
With a slow blink, pale winter morning light slipped through the blinds above his head.
Bit by bit, his sharpened senses returned to clarity.
Birdsong drifted faintly through the cold air, mingling with the rhythmic beat of a heart that wasn’t his own, softening into the silence.
He swept a hand across his eyes, as if wiping away the sunlight, and listened to the quiet, steady breathing next to him.
Warmth filled his arms.
The scent of skin pressed against his own lingered at the tip of his nose.
And strangely… he wasn’t uncomfortable.
For once, sleep hadn’t been unpleasant.
The change came from the one sleeping in his arms.
That presence made Haimar’s rest feel astonishingly calm and peaceful.
He moved a hand to peel back the thick down comforter, revealing hazelnut-colored hair.
The soft texture sifted through his fingers, and Haimar let himself savor the comfort and slowness of the moment.
They say you don’t notice your clothes getting soaked in a drizzle.
Somewhere along the line, it had become hard to imagine a day without Ben Plaskun.
In the past, he’d just been curious—how far could this man go, what could he do to Haima?
It was nothing more than amusement born from his fickle moods.
But agreeing to Ben’s proposal had been… a surprisingly good decision.
He could now admit it—his past self, who thought Ben was dispensable, had been foolish.
The pristine platinum-haired beast had no desire to go back to a life without the man now curled in his arms.
Once something came into his possession, it should remain his completely.
A foreign, possessive impulse—one he’d never known before—surged in him. It wasn’t just about owning something.
It was deeper than that, something he couldn’t fully explain with words.
Imprinting.
A thought he’d never cared about or considered before flitted through his mind.
He remembered the brief flicker of hesitation Ben had shown when the twins had brought up the subject.
It still irritated Haimar that he couldn’t read Ben’s thoughts—his power didn’t work on the one person he truly wanted to understand.
Looking at Ben filled him with a sense of fullness… and yet left him endlessly thirsty.
Not the thirst for release or freedom from suppression—it was a thirst for the man himself.
A craving that didn’t lessen no matter how close they got.
Would imprinting satisfy that need?
If he pushed Ben down, rutted into him until he was red all over and filled him to overflowing with his seed—if he demanded imprinting like that—Ben would probably nod without even understanding.
Sure, maybe Ben had rubbed off on him a little.
But unfortunately, Haimar hadn’t lost his original temperament—or his rough edges.
Still, he chose to let go of those dangerous thoughts.
There was no way he could bring himself to ruin that look of quiet trust—the one Ben only showed to him.
It was a kind of happiness he never wanted to destroy.
And besides, it was far sweeter to hear Ben’s awkward, embarrassed confessions in his own words, no matter how shyly spoken.
Change, and change again.
More and more, the standard for what was meaningful and interesting in his life… was becoming Ben Plaskun.
* * *
