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Chapter: 3
Hadam always wondered where Yuna got that sharp sense from.
Yoonseong was popular for his neat appearance and good grades. To adults, he was like a moral textbook, the epitome of a model student.
He had a good personality too, earning favor from everyone. Kind and gentle, yet not weak. Laid-back but considerate, with a strong sense of responsibility.
It seemed completely natural that Yoonseong had held the class president position throughout elementary, middle, and high school.
Yet, despite all this, he would act mean to Hadam for the most childish reason imaginable.
It was all because of “Byeoljubu-jeon”, that miserable folktale.
The story goes: a turtle, sent by the ailing Sea Dragon King to fetch a rabbit’s liver, tries to escape after the rabbit cleverly outsmarts him. While the endings vary across different versions, the core remains the same: a clever rabbit overcoming challenges.
When Hadam first read the folktale as a child, he could only marvel at the rabbit’s quick thinking.
But just as people’s taste in food differs, so do opinions on a folktale.
“The turtle’s the worst here.”
“Yeah, mom says that’s cheating.”
“Whoa, that’s bad behavior!”
“Huh? But isn’t Yoonseong the turtle?”
“Let’s not play with our Yoonseong.”
Children, lacking discernment, could be downright cruel. Not only that, but perhaps due to a desire to belong, their solidarity was impressive. No matter how much teachers explained that it was just a story, the children wouldn’t listen.
They weren’t interested in playing with Yoonseong; instead, they pointed fingers at him as the “mean turtle.”
Young Hadam felt as if it were all his fault. So he followed Yoonseong around, trying to talk to him.
“Sorry, the rabbit did wrong.”
“……”
All he got in return was a cold expression.
Repeatedly facing that coldness, Hadam eventually stopped reaching out to Yoonseong.
Over time, Yoonseong’s natural charm helped him perfectly restore his friendships—but Hadam was never part of that circle.
In fact, Yoonseong would seize every opportunity to tease Hadam verbally.
“Stupid rabbit, dumb rabbit, foolish rabbit, troublemaking rabbit, annoying everyone rabbit, messy fur-shedding rabbit…”
Compared to the wounds Yoonseong had suffered as a child, those words barely hurt Hadam as he grew older. They were merely annoying.
Once, Yuna, unable to hold back her anger while listening, made a motion as if to throw a book at Yoonseong.
“Byul Yoonseong, that’s enough.”
“I’m a mean turtle. I don’t know what ‘enough’ means.”
Yoonseong laughed lightly, and Hadam had to struggle to take the book from Yuna’s hands.
He thought that things would quiet down once they reached middle school or high school, so he tolerated it often.
But that was a huge misconception.
On the day “Byeoljubu-jeon” came up in classical literature class, Yoonseong would provoke Hadam all day as if waiting for it.
Eventually, Hadam came to genuinely dislike Byul Yoonseong.
The funny thing was, despite all that, he didn’t entirely hate him.
Perhaps it was a sense of moral responsibility. As long as the folktale existed, the label “the foolish, bad turtle outsmarted by the clever rabbit” would persist for generations.
Many folktales had vanished, yet why had this one survived so long?
Sigh.
Hadam let out a long breath as he endlessly ruminated on the past.
And at the same time, he returned to human form.
“Your breathing is stable. The principal was right. Just coming to the institute had this much effect.”
“Yes, for the time being, there’s nothing to worry about. Iggyeol, rest comfortably. I’ll come back.”
A familiar hand gently stroked his right shoulder.
He wanted to open his eyes and respond, but just keeping his consciousness barely intact was exhausting.
He heard the dragging of slipper heels across the marble floor, followed by the click of a latch on the door handle.
Fresh air immediately reached his nose.
Somewhere in the room, an air purifier seemed to be working diligently. The humidifier was running generously, keeping his face cool.
His body felt slightly cramped.
The wires on his chest, the thick needles inserted into his veins. He must be in quite bad shape this time.
Iggyeol listened quietly to the regular beeping of the machine. The sound had no warmth, yet paying attention to it made his mind unusually calm.
He could think of nothing.
Nothing at all…
But what was that?
A faint scent wafted in from outside.
The first pheromone he had ever sensed.
Or was it really the first time?
Hadn’t he sensed it somewhere before?
If so, where?
He frowned, trying to recall, but his mind was in chaos.
Some fragments of the past existed in Iggyeol’s mind only as fragments.
“I didn’t know you kept a diary.”
“I wanted to leave something behind. By the time I pick up a pen, it’s already all forgotten, so it’s pointless. Teacher, will I live like this forever?”
“…I’m sorry. The teachers are trying to find a way, so please endure a little longer.”
The gentle touch on his head made young Iggyeol feel like crying.
“Always maintain your composure, Iggyeol.”
He knew that.
“If you lose control, you’ll only suffer more.”
He knew that all too well from experience.
“What if I can’t control it despite trying?”
“Then take this medicine…”
He struggled to reach out to the vision in front of him.
White pills scattered in the air.
He felt his blood rushing faster and a wave of heat rising.
It was a lifelong sensation, yet instead of becoming familiar, it became more unbearable.
Why did that familiar pheromone keep coming to mind in this painful moment?
Unlike real animals, he knew humanoid pheromones were useless, yet he strangely thirsted for it.
What was this thirst trying to fill?
Just once more, if he could smell it again, he felt he would understand.
The thoughts kept chaining, and a sharp headache began from the back of his skull.
It was a very bad sign.
Iggyeol gritted his teeth.
There was a metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
“I can’t do this anymore, Teacher.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Then, with a loud crash, the hospital room shattered in an instant.
Hadam widened his stride as much as possible.
His gaze fixed on the watch on his left wrist.
He had set ten alarms but hadn’t heard a single one.
Even as a rabbit beastman!
By the time he barely opened his eyes, hurriedly got ready, and came out, it was already past 8 a.m.
He wasn’t even going to have breakfast or morning assembly, just aiming not to be late for the class starting at 8:30.
The grassy schoolyard looked huge today.
Even rushing from the dorm to the main school building would take at least ten minutes, and the classroom was on the 4th floor.
Fortunately, they had installed an elevator at the end of the hallway two years ago.
“Surely the elevator wasn’t installed just for Sun Hadam? I heard he has a weak heart.”
Considering all the perks he had received so far—clothing boxes, pet doors—it was a reasonable suspicion.
“If the school had that much budget left, they could expand the parking lot.”
Despite parents’ grumbling, construction proceeded smoothly. The principal was very determined.
Considering he had struggled up and down the stairs with his heart rate, this was a relief.
Hadam repeatedly pressed the elevator button, hoping it would arrive quickly.
When the doors opened with the announcement, “4th floor,” it was already 8:22.
He hurried quietly down the corridor and carefully opened the back door of Class 3.
Luckily, it opened without noise.
But as soon as he peeked in, a voice immediately called out:
“Are you Sun Hadam? Sit down quickly.”
“Y-Yes!”
Startled, he answered but couldn’t take his eyes off the new homeroom teacher.
A middle-aged man, easily over 180 cm, with muscles straining his shirt and a prominent scar on his left cheek.
He reminded Hadam of the famous actor Madon.
Did the school really have a teacher like that…?
Hadam, bewildered, looked for Yuna.
Yuna, sitting near the back door, tugged at Hadam’s school jacket.
Hadam immediately sat in the empty seat beside her and silently mouthed:
“Who is that?”
Yuna nodded toward the blackboard.
