Chapter Text
The pristine white hallway outside Room Four erupted with the heavy, echoing sound of hurried footsteps. Taki’s ears popped from the sudden spike of adrenaline, his inner omega instantly recognizing the sharp, terrifyingly familiar notes of crushed mint and smoky vetiver bleeding through the heavy wooden door.
Maki was already here. He hadn't just received the notification; he had been close enough to sprint to the hospital.
"Mr. Byun?" Dr. Shimizu blinked, turning back from the printing station with a glossy black-and-white sheet in her hand. "Is something wrong? Your heart rate on the monitor just spiked to—"
"I need a bathroom," Taki whispered, his voice cracking into a desperate, breathless plea. He scrambled off the examination table, his knees buckling slightly as he yanked the hem of his oversized cream sweater down to cover his stomach. "Please, Doctor. Someone is out there who shouldn't see me. I can't—I need to hide."
The sheer, raw terror radiating from Taki’s pale face was undeniable. Dr. Shimizu, trained to handle high-stakes elite family drama where privacy was a matter of literal life and death, didn't hesitate. She pointed a sharp finger toward the heavy frosted-glass door tucked into the corner of the examination room. "In there. Keep the light off and lock the door."
Taki didn't look back. He snatched the freshly printed ultrasound photo from the counter, bolted into the private staff restroom, and turned the deadbolt with a soft, metallic click.
He pressed his back against the cold tile wall in the pitch darkness, clutching the sonogram tightly against his chest. His heart was hammering so violently against his ribs it felt like it would crack them. He forced his hand over his mouth, biting down on his own knuckles to stifle the frantic, ragged gasps escaping his throat.
Thump.
The main door to Room Four swung open with a heavy, authoritative thud.
"Mr. Hirota," Dr. Shimizu’s voice instantly shifted into a smooth, unbothered professional register. "We weren't expecting you to arrive in person. This is a private examination zone."
"Where is he?" Maki’s voice was deeper than usual, laced with a frantic, breathy edge that told Taki he had run all the way from the elevator bay. The scent of mint was overwhelming, pressing against the bottom crack of the bathroom door like a physical entity. "The intake log said Card #0094 was swiped twenty minutes ago. Is Euijoo alright? Is the baby okay?"
Behind the door, Taki’s eyes welled with hot, burning tears. Hearing Maki use that deeply protective, desperate alpha tone—the one he had dreamed of hearing for his own sake—directed entirely toward the phantom image of Euijoo was like a slow twist of a knife in his gut.
"The patient is perfectly fine, Mr. Hirota," Dr. Shimizu lied smoothly, standing firmly between Maki and the small restroom door. "We were just conducting a routine emergency screening. The fetal heartbeat is strong at 155 beats per minute, and development is fully on track."
Maki let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders visibly dropping as the intense, territorial panic finally began to drain from his posture. He ran a hand through his silver hair, looking around the empty examination room, his brow furrowing as he noticed the discarded paper sheet on the table and the lingering, sweet trace of a scent in the air.
It didn't smell like Euijoo.
Because Euijoo hadn't been in the room, the overwhelming scent of the clinical lavender hadn't fully masked the trace Taki had left behind—a faint, ghostly whisper of sweet, maternal yuzu.
Maki’s inner alpha gave a sudden, violent twitch. He took a slow, deep breath, his dark eyes instantly tracking toward the locked restroom door in the corner. "If he’s fine... why isn't he out here? Why is the room empty?"
"He is currently freshening up in the restroom," Dr. Shimizu said, her tone hardening just enough to establish professional boundaries. "Mr. Hirota, even with your executive clearance, medical privacy laws still apply to our patients. I must ask you to wait out in the reception area while the patient dresses."
Maki didn't move. He stood frozen in the center of Room Four, his eyes locked onto the frosted glass of the bathroom door. A strange, suffocating sensation was tightening around his chest. Every logical piece of data in his brain told him that Euijoo was behind that door, hiding out of embarrassment or fear of the Hirota name.
But his instincts—the ancient, primal wolf pacing standard circles in his chest—were violently rejecting the logic. The yuzu scent in the room was calling out to him, pulling at his core with a magnetic, agonizing gravity that made him want to rip the bathroom door off its hinges.
"Euijoo?" Maki called out, stepping closer to the restroom, his voice dropping into a low, questioning rumble. "It's me. Nicholas isn't here. You don't have to hide from me. I just came to make sure you were safe."
In the pitch black of the bathroom, Taki squeezed his eyes shut, a fresh wave of tears slipping down his cheeks. He pressed the ultrasound photo harder against his sweater, right over the tiny, perfect heartbeat he had just heard. He wanted to scream. He wanted to open the door, throw himself into Maki’s arms, and tell him the truth.
But the memory of Nicholas’s warning echoed in his head: The Hirota elders would lock you away... wipe your name from the registry... it’s brutal.
Taki stayed completely silent, holding his breath until his lungs burned, a ghost hiding in the dark.
Maki waited for three agonizingly long seconds, his hand hovering just inches from the brass door handle. The silence from inside the room was deafening. Finally, with a tight, frustrated click of his jaw, Maki backed away.
"Fine," Maki muttered, his mint scent turning bitter with a mix of rejection and confusion. "Tell him... tell him the private driver is waiting downstairs to take him back to the dorms. He doesn't need to take the train in his condition."
"I will relay the message, Mr. Hirota," Dr. Shimizu said firmly.
Maki turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
The moment the scent of mint faded from the hallway, Taki collapsed onto his knees on the bathroom floor. He buried his face in his hands, his small frame shaking with violent, silent sobs as he clutched the sonogram of his baby. He had survived the closest encounter yet, but as he looked down at the tiny shape on the glossy paper, Taki knew the clock had just run out. Maki’s instincts were waking up, and the false shield Nicholas had built was starting to crack from the inside out.