The smoke hadn't cleared yet.
But the stale sandalwood scent from the elevator shaft's bottom was choking—thick and cloying with an unsettling sweetness that made my stomach turn.
Lord Jun, who three minutes ago had been perched on his divine pedestal looking down on mortals like ants, now sprawled in the rubble without a shred of dignity.
He was clinging to my leg like his life depended on it.
Those hands that should have been reserved for stroking ancient instruments were bone-white and nearly transparent, desperately clutching the hazmat fabric of my pants as if it were the only piece of driftwood in a drowning man's ocean.
This wasn't affection.
This was physiological collapse triggered by withdrawal.
"Give... give me..."
Jun tilted his head back, long hair tangling around my dust-covered military boots. Those narrow phoenix eyes were wet and glassy, all former arrogance evaporated, leaving only the pathetic hunger of a beast begging for scraps.
"Smells so good... don't leave..."
I adjusted my wire-rimmed glasses with clinical detachment.
The reflection hid the disgust in my eyes.
Looking down at this oversized human attachment on my leg, I studied him like examining a piece of mold that had grown wrong in a petri dish.
At the edge of my vision, livestream comments scrolled frantically, red text blurring into streaks:
**[Live Chat - 2,847,293 viewers]**
→ @ChaosWatcher: HOLY SHIT! Is this the same Jun who kills without blinking?!
→ @FeralForThis: He's rubbing against the doctor's leg! Actually RUBBING like a cat on catnip!
→ @ScreenshotKing: Screenshot button is BROKEN! Proud flower falling from grace into a clingy pervert—who can handle this gap moe?!
→ @TouchHimPlease: Doctor just pet him already! The poor baby's breaking apart!
*Pet him?*
My mouth turned downward.
I pulled out a pocket calculator with one hand, thumb flying over the buttons.
"Beep. Beep. Beep."
The crisp button sounds echoed starkly in the dead silence.
"N95 medical mask, damaged. Fifty federal credits."
"Double-layer nitrile gloves, contaminated. Twenty."
I tugged at the pants leg Jun had wrinkled, voice cold as surgical lighting: "And this—military-grade hazmat suit, original price three thousand. You got it dirty."
Jun couldn't hear any of these numbers.
Once an S-rank Alpha's mating instincts activated, rationality became a joke. His cerebral cortex had only one directive left: *mark him, possess him*.
"Ngh..."
Jun released a needy whimper.
His arm muscles suddenly bulged.
Caught off guard, I stumbled as that brute force yanked me forward.
Before I could regain my footing, scorching wet breath closed in.
Jun summoned his last reserves of strength, mental projections forming invisible tendrils that locked around my waist, using the leverage to prop up his torso.
That pale, beautiful face suddenly filled my vision.
*Too close.*
Close enough to see the blood vessels spreading madly through his pupils.
Jun's nostrils flared as he buried his face greedily in my neck hollow, searching through the heavy protective gear like hunting for prey's throat—or worshipping a sacrificial offering.
"Let me... bite once..."
Scalding breath sprayed against the gaps in my suit's collar.
Even through multiple filter layers, I felt phantom stinging across my neck. That sandalwood pheromone was invasive, drilling into every pore.
**[Live Chat EXPLOSION]**
→ @KissingScene: HE'S ACTUALLY GOING FOR IT!!
→ @FreeContent: Is this what I get to watch without paying?! Where's the head-pushing squad?!
→ @ForceMarkMe: Doctor don't dodge! Let him bite! I want to see S-rank forced marking!
→ @VoiceOfReason: Wake up people! That's JUN! One bite and the doctor's neck snaps!
Of course I wouldn't dodge.
As a medical professional with top-tier expertise and severe germaphobia, my response was machine-precise.
The instant Jun's burning lips were about to touch my collar—
**"Snip."**
A crisp metallic bite. Clean and decisive.
Jun froze.
He looked down in confusion at his right hand. The expensive sleeve embroidered with cloud patterns, worth a fortune, had been neatly severed.
I held gleaming medical dissection scissors, looking down with cold indifference.
"Too dirty."
I casually tossed the severed sleeve and its dust into a corner. "Since you won't learn to let go, I'll help you."
Jun stared blankly.
The millions of livestream viewers stared blankly too.
*This is your solution?*
*Cutting ties literally?*
But I wasn't finished.
Taking advantage of Jun's half-second of shock, my left hand flipped, producing a pre-prepared syringe.
The needle flashed coldly.
*Strike like a viper.* Precise insertion into the major vein at Jun's neck.
Push the plunger.
Withdraw.
The motion flowed like water, fast enough to leave only afterimages.
"Since you like clinging to people so much, learn to be a quiet specimen first."
*High-potency muscle relaxant.*
*The same dosage veterinarians use when castrating aggressive bulls.*
"You..."
Jun's pupils dilated as his arms—previously locked around my waist—instantly lost all strength. He slid down like melted wax, collapsing helplessly on the cold floor.
Those beautiful eyes, right until they closed, were filled with the hurt of abandonment.
I stepped back in disgust, peeling off the contaminated gloves and tossing them in the trash.
Opening my medical kit, I pulled out a roll of yellow biohazard collection bags—the kind normally used for amputated limbs.
"No..."
Jun's throat produced a weak whisper.
"Shut up."
My movements were expertly efficient. I flipped the limp Jun face-down, used restraint straps to bind his hands and feet together, and stuffed him into the translucent yellow bag with only his head exposed for breathing.
Finally, I pulled out a barcode sticker and—**slap**—placed it squarely on Jun's smooth, full forehead.
**[Status: Sedated]**
**[Classification: Medical Waste/Awaiting Disposal]**
After completing this process, I dusted off my hands, finally feeling the air was fresh again.
The livestream fell into five seconds of dead silence.
Then a flood of "???" and "HAHAHAHA" completely buried the screen.
**[Live Chat]**
→ @WasteManagement: I'M DYING! Is this royal treatment?! Medical Waste Jun!
→ @DevilDoctor: Doctor are you Satan? That packing technique is terrifyingly professional!
→ @JunSimp: Jun: I treated you like my wife, you treat me like hazardous waste?
→ @AbsDestroyed: Can't handle it, that barcode on his forehead is too genius, someone save my abs!
Just as I was dragging the "packaged" Jun to leave this pile of rubble—
**BOOM!!!**
A massive crash came from the ceiling above, as if some enormous creature was violently ramming the floor.
Dust rained down, hitting my protective visor.
A violent aura reeking of blood pressed down like a tsunami even through three layers of reinforced concrete, making the portable detector on my wrist flash red alarms frantically.
"ROAR—!"
An inhuman bellow penetrated the floors, exploding directly on everyone's auditory nerves.
**"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS... OFF HIM!!!"**
That voice was filled with world-ending jealousy and the fury of violated territory.
*Subject 01. Zane.*
*S-rank monsters have insane territorial instincts. Even locked on Sublevel Three, he could smell it.*
*That damn blind bastard Jun had gotten the scent of HIS doctor on him.*
I paused, looking up at the constantly trembling, dust-shedding ceiling.
"Still has energy to demolish the place?"
I frowned thoughtfully, muttering to myself: "Seems last time's sedative dosage wasn't enough. Need to double it next time."
**"Hiss—"**
The heavy blast doors above the elevator shaft finally opened.
Dozens of high-powered flashlight beams instantly flooded down, illuminating the dark shaft bottom bright as day.
Warden Adam-01 descended with a fully armed guard squad.
Even Adam, who'd seen everything, froze mid-motion when he saw the scene before him, his civilized cane suspended in air as his eye twitched involuntarily.
*Center of the ruins.*
*That seemingly fragile Beta doctor with zero combat ability was single-handedly dragging S-rank prisoner Lord Jun by the collar like hauling a bag of kitchen waste.*
*And that noble fallen royal was trussed up like a dumpling, the barcode on his forehead reflecting the searchlights.*
"Dr. Gu."
Adam's expression behind his monocle became extremely complex, fingertips tapping lightly on his cane's dragon head. "You always manage to... *surprise* me."
I released my grip.
Let Jun hit the ground with a dull **thud**.
Ignoring the black gun barrels surrounding us, I walked straight to Adam and held out my palm.
"Bill."
My tone was flat, as if discussing dinner plans.
"This protective suit is ruined, plus mental distress compensation and high-temperature hazard pay for shaft work. Five thousand federal credits total. Cash on delivery."
The surrounding guards sucked in sharp breaths.
*Anyone who dared talk to the Warden like this would have grass two meters high on their grave.*
Adam fell silent for a moment.
He looked down at my eyes—fearless even under harsh lighting. No flattery, no terror, just pure respect for money.
"Heh."
Adam suddenly chuckled softly.
"Money isn't a problem."
He waved his hand. Guards immediately stepped forward, carefully carrying away the mummified Jun.
A black-gold magnetic card appeared between Adam's elegant fingers, extended toward me.
"Your unlimited credit card."
Adam looked at me meaningfully, his voice becoming somewhat viscous: "Since you're so skilled at 'handling' clingy things..."
My heart skipped a beat.
Simultaneously, beautiful system notifications chimed:
**[Ding! Account credited: 5,000 construction points (auto-converted to cash)]**
**[Livestream donations received: Premium hazmat suits x10, stored in system warehouse]**
*Seeing money, my tense expression relaxed slightly.*
I took the card, pinching it between two fingers and sliding it into my breast pocket with practiced efficiency: "Speak. Who's next."
Adam turned, his civilized cane pointing toward the corridor's end.
There stood massive double doors. The specialized soundproofing material vibrated slightly, yet still couldn't contain the bone-chilling giggles and arguments seeping through.
*Like two people fighting, or one person having a schizophrenic conversation with themselves.*
"The Twins. Subject 05."
Adam's voice echoed in the empty corridor, carrying the pleasure of watching a good show.
"Lucian and Damian. They've been fighting over separation lately, arguing about digging each other out of their shared body."
He turned to look at me, lips curving into a cruel arc:
"I think, Dr. Gu, since you're so skilled with scissors, you should be excellent at... completely separating things that are stuck together?"
I stared at those doors.
My right eyelid twitched twice frantically.
*An extremely ominous premonition arose.*
*Stuck together?*
*In the physical sense?*
"I'm a doctor."
I pushed up my glasses, voice carrying deep exhaustion and disgust.
"Not a bomb disposal expert, and definitely not a conjoined twin separation surgeon."
I paused, adding:
"If surgery's required, that's a different price."