Little Pink Starfish

When Lu Taipan received the news, Su Liang was already fast asleep.

The young Omega had gone through far too much today. From the Golden Night banquet to the confrontation with Lu Zhizhao, and even the call from his sister Su Nuan—his mind had been stretched taut all evening. Add to that the relentless “torment” he’d suffered at the hands of a certain high-level Alpha in the hovercar… it had wrung every last drop of energy from his body.

Now, Su Liang’s breathing was calm and even. He had clearly fallen into a deep sleep. But even asleep, his body seemed to remember the “bullying” he’d endured. Normally a still sleeper, tonight Su Liang had instinctively curled up in a corner of the bed, huddling into the blanket as if to distance himself from a dangerous creature.

The slender boy looked so pitiful… and so terribly adorable.

Lu Taipan exhaled slowly, reluctantly shifting his gaze away from Su Liang to the communicator in his hand.

In some ways, Bai Nian’s death was not unexpected.

Of course, if the former med-officer from Laia had been smart, he would have followed the escape route Snake Den had provided and obediently gone into exile, laying low and making no waves.

If he had done that, he would’ve had a difficult life, yes—but not a dangerous one. After all, Snake Den’s invisible ships had been shadowing him the entire time, prepared to intervene if necessary.

But anyone who had the guts to betray Snake Den in the first place clearly wasn’t one to learn from mistakes.

After leaving Earth Federation territory, Bai Nian had rerouted his flight plan without authorization and, under someone’s instructions, headed toward the unregulated edge of the star system—right into a zone plagued by high-intensity electronic storms.

And whether by luck or misfortune, a massive storm broke out just as he entered, allowing his ship to vanish from sensors for several hours.

By the time Snake Den’s operatives reestablished contact, Bai Nian had already died—his body found aboard his vessel in a bizarre and gruesome state.

“A classic case of being silenced,” the steward said crisply through the earpiece.

“The exiled Bai Nian must’ve passed valuable intel to the illegal contacts he made. Once he gave them what they wanted, his value was gone. And when someone has no more value to them… well, this is how they ‘tie up loose ends.’”

“What did he give them?” Lu Taipan asked suddenly.

His gaze lingered on the contorted, gray-blue face of Bai Nian on the report’s floating screen. His expression was grim.

In theory, there was nothing to worry about. All the data Bai Nian had taken with him was fabricated in advance—decoys designed by Snake Den.

But the image of Bai Nian tearing his own throat open haunted Lu Taipan.

His instincts told him—something was off.

The steward quickly pulled up a recorded transmission.

The recording had been made during the electronic storm. The interference had badly damaged the surveillance equipment, making the audio extremely poor.

[—zzzzt—… that blood sample… showed no signs of artificial modification… you actually managed to acquire a—zzzzt—]

The person speaking to Bai Nian had used heavy voice masking—completely unrecognizable, grating like a malfunctioning machine.

Lu Taipan’s face remained emotionless as he listened.

[Tell me his name—zzzzt—you’ll get what you want.]

[Yes… I really should thank you… otherwise we never would’ve realized the one we’ve been chasing—zzzzt—is already inside Snake Den.]

Bai Nian said little.

Only at the end did his tone turn excited—twisted and manic, even through the static.

[If I give you the information you want… what do I get? No, I don’t want a new identity or your promised riches…]

[If you really mean it, then make sure… use him—use him as a research subject. I don’t want him to survive.]

The recording ended.

Lu Taipan’s eyes were cold as ice.

The steward’s tone was emotionless, but the report that followed was swift and efficient.

“Former medic Bai Nian used covert methods to extract information about Su Liang and deliver it to illegal researchers. Our analysis suggests that even back then, he believed Young Master Su had used some unknown method to modify his body, and that’s why you were so interested in him.”

“I’m sorry, Master. It’s likely Su Liang’s information has already been leaked.”

Lu Taipan was silent for a moment.

“I should’ve killed Bai Nian,” he said quietly. “He never should’ve walked out of Snake Den alive.”

It had been his arrogance—his overconfidence—that created this situation.

My treasure… is now being coveted by others.

Even though any sane scientist would dismiss the Sigma classification as a myth… Su Liang, with his unique traits, came dangerously close to that legend.

And those inhuman researchers wouldn’t hesitate to dissect him like a specimen.

The idea that his carelessness had put Su Liang in danger made Lu Taipan feel physically ill.

In the dark, the Snake Master felt as though the blood in his veins was freezing—as if some ancient curse were crawling beneath his skin.

His mental instability stirred, and the long-dormant symptoms of his pheromone dependency disorder crept back to life.

His nerves screamed in pain.

Driven by instinct, Lu Taipan reached toward the bed’s corner, toward the sleeping boy.

Like a possessive dragon drawn to its treasure, wanting to coil its spiked tail around it and hide it beneath its wings forever—he yearned to claim Su Liang utterly.

But the moment he moved, Su Liang shifted slightly in his sleep.

The loose collar of his sleep shirt slid down, revealing a deep bite mark on his shoulder—still stained with a faint trace of blood.

Lu Taipan froze.

He remembered biting Su Liang too hard that night—so hard the boy had trembled in pain, his voice cracking with sobs:

“Master Si… it hurts… please… stop…”

Su Liang had been genuinely afraid.

And all Lu Taipan had felt at the time was ecstasy, desire—so overwhelming he nearly lost control.

If he hadn’t snapped out of it at the last second, he didn’t know what he might’ve done.

He withdrew his hand.

Maybe it was Su Liang’s heat cycle. Maybe it was his own dependency disorder. Or maybe it was just his twisted, inherited obsession.

He knew one thing—he had lost control tonight.

At the very least, he shouldn’t go near Su Liang again—he might hurt him.

And then…

He felt a small, warm hand gently hold his own.

“Master Si…? Is it happening again…?”

Su Liang’s voice was heavy with sleep, nasal and soft.

Lu Taipan looked up, startled, to see Su Liang’s bleary eyes half-open.

He hadn’t really woken. It was pure instinct—his body responding to the man’s mental chaos.

His pheromones—sweet, warm—seeped into Lu Taipan’s skin.

That gentle “white snake” twined around his spiritual core, soothing him.

Without even knowing it, Su Liang had already begun to bond with Lu Taipan.

The air smelled sweet and rich.

Lu Taipan groaned softly, clutching the bedsheet beneath him.

His eyes were bright.

Logic screamed at him to pull back.

But in the end, he didn’t.

He buried his face in Su Liang’s shoulder.

They held each other tightly, bodies pressed close.

Su Liang, still half-asleep, stirred slightly.

“Master Si… no… we have a medical check tomorrow… they’ll scold me…”

“It’s okay. Sleep.”

Lu Taipan’s voice was hoarse but gentle.

And Su Liang, trusting him utterly, drifted off in his arms.

But he didn’t know—once he’d fallen asleep, Lu Taipan didn’t stop.

When a dragon’s treasure is threatened, it reacts in two ways: it bares its fangs… and it marks what’s his, over and over again.

---

Next Day – Snake Den Medical Center

Su Liang rubbed his neck and sat before the doctor with a faint grimace. As he sat down, he hesitated slightly.

Aside from the soreness that still buzzed like electricity in his limbs, something about his thighs… didn’t feel right.

Actually, even his chest felt weird. His shirt—which usually fit fine—now brushed against his skin uncomfortably. He winced.

“I’m here for my routine check-up,” he mumbled, not meeting the doctor’s eyes.

He was already full of regret. Last night had really gone too far.

The ache in his body hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Getting out of bed that morning had been a battle.

Everything felt off. He had no strength. And worst of all—today was exam day.

The older Beta doctor studied him with a frown.

Su Liang noticed the gaze and blushed.

The atmosphere was awkward. Su Liang wanted to disappear.

After all, the doctor had explicitly told them to keep things under control—to stick to pheromone therapy and not “go too far.”

Yet aside from not crossing the final line… Lu Taipan had definitely gone all the way.

Seeing Su Liang so squirmy, the doctor sighed.

The usually talkative man had only helpless resignation now.

“Take off your shirt. I need to check your development.”

He didn’t make Su Liang feel worse. He just turned calmly and began preparing the scanner.

The soft rustle of clothes sounded behind him.

Then he turned back—only to freeze mid-step, expression darkening.

“What’s wrong?” Su Liang noticed the hesitation and turned his head slightly.

The doctor couldn’t hold back.

“…Master Si went too far.”

He said it flatly, disapprovingly.

“He was… too rough with you.”

Su Liang couldn’t see it—but the doctor could.

The delicate skin of his back was covered in bite marks and deep red lines—stretching all the way down his spine.

Marks of possession. Brutal, territorial, inescapably Alpha.