NPC Fell onto My Bed C30

Chapter 30

A flicker of panic crossed Noah’s face. He had walked aimlessly for hours, following wherever his feet carried him—and now he didn’t know how to get back home. At twenty-six years of age, he was, quite literally, lost.

Then, a thought struck him like lightning—almost too simple.
“Excuse me.”
“I’m not taking flyers—huh?! Wh-what’s wrong?”
“May I borrow your phone?”

Iron, do you happen to have a phone?
No, mine’s gone—but I know where Jeonghyeok’s is.

He remembered. He’d once seen Jeonghyeok’s phone number up close, when he’d borrowed it by accident—and somehow he had memorized it. If he could just call him, perhaps help would come.

It wasn’t difficult to borrow a stranger’s phone. Noah thanked the startled passerby politely and typed in the numbers clumsily—both thumbs pressing down like a novice.

Before long, the call connected.

“—Who is this?”
“Mr. An Jeonghyeok, right?”
“…Wait—hold on, is this Hilde?”

Relief filled Noah’s chest at being recognized so easily. He opened his mouth, ready to ask for help—

“Holy fuck, Hilde—where are you?! Taeheon’s lost it! He’s—augh!”

A crash. Something fell hard. There was shouting, chaos—and then silence.

Through the hush came a deep, low growl curling into Noah’s ear.

“Noah. Where are you.”

Just hearing his name spoken like that made Noah’s throat lock. Gu Taeheon sounded angry—furious, even. Of course he was; Noah hadn’t been home all day.

He needed to explain that he was lost. But somehow, saying it outright felt dangerous—as though he might be scolded harshly for it. A strange memory stirred, of being reprimanded by senior priests for disobedience.

Then the voice over the line softened—almost deceitfully calm.
“I’m not angry.”
“…You sound angry.”
“I’m not. Just tell me where you are.”

If he didn’t answer, then he’d be angry—Noah could sense it instantly.

Trying to stay composed, he read aloud the words etched onto the nearby sign as best he could. When Taeheon understood where he was, his reply came short and decisive.
“Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

The call cut off immediately after.

Noah blinked, dumbfounded. He hadn’t even managed to say he was lost—that it was an accident. But judging from the tone, Taeheon intended to come for him himself.

Noah had half a mind to disobey, to run before Taeheon arrived. He didn’t want to see him angry—not again.
But if he fled, the rage waiting later would be unthinkable.

So he sighed and politely handed back the phone.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Ah, sure… Wait, uh—could I get your number?”

“Number?” Noah asked, puzzled, then remembered—phone number.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a phone. That’s why I borrowed yours.”
“Then—should I give you mine?”

Before Noah could decline, the stranger had already pulled out a pen and notepad from his bag, scribbling his digits before thrusting the paper into Noah’s hands.

So Noah stood there, in the middle of the street, clutching a piece of paper bordered by dozens like it. And the problem—he didn’t realize—was that he was standing dead center in one of the most notorious pickup zones in the entire city: the Han River Park.

One invitation led to another. People passing by slowed, stared, then approached—most assuming his stillness was an invitation itself. Papers kept changing hands. Smiles. Greetings. Flirtations.

By the time nearly twenty scraps had gathered in his palm, a sharp breath sounded beside him.

A hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

“Mr. Taeheon?”
“Haah… ha…”

Panting, dripping sweat, Taeheon met his gaze. He had run—the whole way. No car could reach here through the crowds. From afar, he’d seen Noah surrounded by several women handing him stacks of notes like business cards.

Noah, oblivious to the storm brewing in that glare, simply smiled.
“Did you come running?”
“What’s that.”
“Pardon? These papers? I’m not sure—strangers handed them to me. Maybe it’s a custom here?”

He held up the handful of numbered slips proudly—as though showing off a collection.

Taeheon inhaled through his nose, slow and sharp, then exhaled.
“Give them.”
“You need them? Of course.”

Without hesitation, Noah placed all the notes into his outstretched hand. Taeheon crumpled them into his palm and stuffed them deep into his pocket. Then Noah, as if remembering something, reached for his own pocket.

“Would you like more? I still have some here.”
“Give them too.”
“Yes.”

He obediently handed them over until nothing remained. Only after confirming every scrap was gone did Taeheon’s hand unclench.

“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“…Home,” Taeheon muttered, voice low, steady, dangerous.

He gripped Noah’s wrist—not harshly, but firmly—and guided him out of the crowd. Noah followed in quiet compliance, unsure what emotion had overtaken him but trusting it anyway.

Trailing a few steps behind, he watched Taeheon’s shoulders—broad, still tense from exhaustion—and realized the man had run this entire way. Even as his breath hitched with fatigue, his stride stayed strong, his legs steady and sound.

“Your leg… Are you all right?”

Taeheon didn’t look back.
“Yeah. I ran like hell and not a damn joint hurt.”
“Still, don’t push yourself too hard. You’re not fully healed yet.”

At that, Taeheon turned his head. His gaze landed on Noah’s face; Noah met it, hesitant, expecting a reply. When it didn’t come, he finally spoke again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you… what?”
“Whether you worry because you’re a priest—or because you care about me.”

“…What?”

“Are you afraid for my pain because you’re checking how effective your healing was? Or because you actually give a damn?”

Their footsteps slowed until both stopped amid the quiet heart of the park, away from the murmuring crowds. The air carried only distant echoes of water lapping the river.

Noah halted first; Taeheon, one step beyond, turned when he noticed. The look on Noah’s face was unusual—not his gentle smile, not his calm grace—but something stripped bare, unreadable.

“Do you need me to say it?”
“…”
“Must I put it into words?”
“I want to hear it.”

Taeheon’s answer was immediate—razor sharp, leaving no hesitation. Fear didn’t touch his expression.

“Hearing it won’t change anything.”

Noah’s voice trembled faintly. Even if he confessed his feelings now, even if he told the truth, neither of them could escape what they were—the priest and the man caught between devotion and desire. Knowing would only make it harder.

Still, Taeheon didn’t flinch.

“Then I’ll tell you something first,” he said. His throat flexed, raw.
“You know how I said it didn’t hurt? That was a lie.”

Noah blinked, startled.

“I ran ten kilometers this morning trying to clear my head—because you rejected me, and I swore I could outrun it. But the more I ran, the worse it got. My knee—it started to throb.”

The thought of pain made Noah rush forward, worried, hands lifted as if to heal. But Taeheon caught his wrist before he could.

“But when I heard where you were, I just… couldn’t stop running.”

“Mr. Taeheon…”

“I didn’t care if I tore it again, if I couldn’t do judo or even walk. I just ran. Because you were here.”

His breath came faster, ragged, unsteady—fueled less by exhaustion than emotion.

“So… Noah… help me,” he said, voice breaking.
“Help me live.”

“…”

“What do you mean nothing changes? If you said what I think you want to say—if you said it—I’d have a reason to live again.”

To live—for him.

Noah’s breath hitched. He had healed countless people—heard pleas for mercy, survival, forgiveness. But never that. Never someone saying, You make me want to live.

“Mr. Taeheon, I—”
“Ha…”

The air caught heavy again; Taeheon’s breath suddenly faltered, breaking in short, harsh bursts. And with those breaths came something else—heat flooding under his skin, spreading dangerously fast.

Noah froze. Something was wrong. Those gasps weren’t mere exhaustion.

“Mr. Taeheon?”
“Noah… wait—just… ah…”

Taeheon staggered, gripping his forehead. Noah rushed forward to support him. The second their bodies touched, Taeheon went rigid—eyes snapping open, expression twisting.

“Noah… stay back.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”

But Taeheon already knew the truth. The shallow gasps, the pounding pulse, the surge of fever in his blood—all of it was unmistakable.

He hadn’t overheated from running.

His rut had begun.

Footnotes:

Rut (러트) – A biological mating cycle experienced by Alphas, marked by heightened instincts, physical warmth, and overpowering desire.