"The White Dove & The Ceremony"
PREVIOUSLY:
In the sterile, high-tech halls of the White Dove, Min Joon paused mid-instruction, his gaze momentarily drifting to the scarred skin of his knuckles. He remembered the cold winds of Seoul and the warmth of Baekhyun's hands.
"I can't wait for you to come home," Baekhyun had whispered back then, his voice a promise that Min Joon had been forced to break when the White Dove called him to the Philippines.
Min Joon shook the memory away, his eyes hardening as he looked back at Ethan. He was training the man who now occupied the world Baekhyun moved in—a strange, circular twist of fate.
"Focus, Ethan!" Min Joon barked, his voice echoing. "If you're thinking about your life outside these walls, you're already a corpse. In this world, love is a tether that gets you killed."
Back in the city, Akihiko stood outside the bar, his hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage made from his own handkerchief. The blood was seeping through the white fabric, but it wasn't the pain that bothered him—it was the heat. His blood felt like it was boiling.
"The Hiroshi clan," he whispered to the empty street.
Every word Daisuke had said felt like a lead weight in his stomach. He wasn't just a man looking for his friend; he was the "Last Kitsune." He realized now why he and Ethan had always been so drawn to each other. They weren't just two lonely men in a coffee shop—they were two ends of an ancient, supernatural spectrum.
He pulled out his phone, his vision blurring slightly. He scrolled through his contacts until he reached a name he hadn't called in years: Auntie Yuki. If anyone knew about the Hiroshi name, it was the woman who had raised him after his parents died in that "accident."
Meanwhile, the mansion doors creaked open. Kaito stepped out into the night, wearing the expensive charcoal suit Maverick had bought for him. He looked like a wealthy CEO—except for the white, fluffy bunny ears perched firmly on his head.
"Remember, My Lord," Maverick whispered from the shadows of the porch. "Don't kill anyone too publicly. We need to stay under the radar."
"I am a King," Kaito replied, his eyes glowing a faint, dangerous purple. "Kings do not hide. But very well, I shall play this 'human' game. I can smell the Kitsune blood in the air. It's fresh. It's close."
Kaito began to walk toward the heart of the district, his presence causing birds to fall silent and stray dogs to whimper. He didn't see the black SUV parked a block away, where Jin Ae sat with her laptop, her thermal sensors picking up a massive, nine-tailed heat signature that shouldn't exist.
"Baekhyun," Jin Ae said into her earpiece. "I've got something. A massive energy reading near the bar district. It's... it's moving toward Aki."
THE CONTINUATION:
Baekhyun's thumb hovered over his phone screen, the light reflecting in his tired eyes. It had been two weeks of silence from both Min Joon and Ethan—two weeks of unread messages and calls that went straight to voicemail.
"Min Joon, where are you?" he whispered to the empty room. "Please... just call me back."
Closing his eyes, Baekhyun let his mind drift back to that final night at the hotel. The memory was so vivid he could almost smell the scent of the sheets and feel the heat radiating between them.
In the memory, Baekhyun leaned in, pressing a feverish kiss against Min Joon's lips. He felt Min Joon's hand slide beneath the waistband of his briefs, his touch a welcome spark against Baekhyun's skin. Baekhyun was already aching, his pulse drumming a frantic rhythm.
"He missed you," Baekhyun murmured against Min Joon's ear, his voice thick with desire.
He guided Min Joon down, the tension thick enough to touch. When the fabric of his briefs finally gave way, the cool air hit his skin just before the warmth of Min Joon's touch replaced it. Baekhyun let out a ragged gasp, his head falling back as Min Joon took him in.
"You're so good," Baekhyun groaned, his fingers tangling in Min Joon's hair.
"You missed this, Love?" Min Joon looked up, his eyes dark with a mix of mischief and longing.
"Yes... God, yes."
Baekhyun pulled him back up for a searing kiss, trailing his lips down the column of Min Joon's throat to the firm heat of his chest. He worshipped every inch of him, his hands wandering lower until they found the soft heat of Min Joon's inner thigh. As Baekhyun began to prep him, a sharp, needy cry escaped Min Joon's lips.
"Baekhyun!"
"Tonight," Baekhyun promised, his voice a low growl, "I'm not letting you go."
He moved behind him, the intimacy of the moment reaching a breaking point. When he finally pushed forward, seeking that total connection, Min Joon gripped the headboard, a sharp cry of overwhelmed pleasure and pressure breaking from his throat.
"It's... you're so big," Min Joon panted, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
"I've got you, Love. Just breathe for me," Baekhyun whispered, beginning a steady, rhythmic pace that drove the world away until there was nothing left but the two of them.
The friction built until they were both breathless, names tangled together in a chorus of moans. As the end drew near, Min Joon arched his back, seeking every bit of him.
"Inside," Min Joon pleaded, his voice breaking. "Give it all to me."
With one final, powerful surge, Baekhyun collapsed against him, a wave of warmth filling Min Joon as they clung to one another in the quiet aftermath.
The White Dove Council
Inside the sleek, high-security halls of the White Dove, the council observed the training monitors with keen eyes.
"Ethan's progress is undeniable," noted the woman in the crimson dress. "Min Joon has proven to be an exceptional mentor, sharpening the boy's instincts like a blade."
"I have no complaints," the elder added. He sat with a dignified posture, his Barong Tagalog stark white and crisp, his Salacot resting on the table like a crown. "The results speak for themselves."
Min Joon stepped forward, gesturing toward the young man on the screen. "He reached the Golden State form with startling ease. The blood of Lucas runs strong in him."
"Inspector Cristine," Min Joon acknowledged as the woman in red stood to meet him. "I didn't realize you had arrived."
"I wouldn't miss this, Min Joon," Cristine replied, her gaze fixing on the first Bellator. "Good work. Lucas was my best friend; seeing his son ready to face the creature that took his parents... it brings me peace."
Min Joon bowed his head slightly. "I've studied the records. I finally understand the weight of being a Bellator."
"We are more than mere hunters," Cristine said, her voice echoing with authority. "We are the scales that balance peace and harmony among all creatures. Lucas taught us that even in war, kindness is our greatest weapon."
Min Joon took a breath to pivot the conversation. "In regards to my request about—"
"The Choi family?" Cristine interrupted, her expression souring. "I've heard the rumors. The grandson is already preparing to hunt the Sigbinan. They may call themselves Bellators, but their beliefs have become distorted, twisted by old shadows."
"I believe in Baekhyun," Min Joon countered quickly, his voice laced with a quiet protective edge. "He isn't his ancestors. He is something different entirely."
"For all our sakes," Cristine whispered, "I hope you're right."
The Choi Mansion:
While the White Dove spoke of peace, the air inside the Choi family dome felt thick with something much older and darker.
"Where did all these people come from?" Catherine whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the rows of silent, robed figures.
"I don't know," Jin Ae replied, her eyes darting around the massive structure her grandfather had commissioned. "Lolo is a billionaire, but this... I've never seen these people in my life."
"It feels like a cult," Jasmine murmured, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms. The dome, hidden deep within the estate, felt cut off from the rest of the world.
"Jin Ae! Baekhyun!" Their grandfather's voice boomed. He stood at the altar, draped in a heavy, traditional Hanbok that seemed to swallow his aged frame.
The siblings stepped forward. Mr. Choi lifted a silver basin, his eyes shining with a fanatical light.
"With the sacred water of the Euphrates, I cleanse you," he declared, pouring the liquid over their heads. The water was ice-cold, trailing down their faces like tears. "You are now officially the Bellators of the new generation."
As the water hit the floor, the members of the congregation fell to their knees in a synchronized vow. Baekhyun stood frozen, the "sacred" water dripping from his chin, feeling less like a hero and more like a prisoner.
The Hidden Inspector
Back at the White Dove headquarters, the tension of the training floor began to settle. Ethan was catching his breath when a shadow fell over him. It was Inspector Cristine. She didn't approach him as a superior, but with a warmth that felt startlingly familiar.
She reached out, taking both of his hands in hers. Her grip was firm yet gentle. "Ethan," she said, her voice soft enough that only he could hear. "I can't tell you how happy I am to finally speak with you in person. Your father and I... we were inseparable since we were children. Best friends doesn't even begin to cover it."
Ethan looked at her, stunned by the sudden intimacy. "Thank you, Miss Cristine."
She tilted his chin up slightly, examining his features with a nostalgic smile. "You have your mother's face—you look so much like Calista. But those eyes? Those eyebrows? Those belong entirely to Lucas." Her expression flickered with a brief, sharp pain. "If they were here today, Ethan, they would be beaming with pride. Please... tell your grandmother I said hello."
She gave him a knowing wink, a gesture so casual it felt out of place in this cold, military environment.
Ethan squinted, the gears turning in his head. The way she smiled, the cadence of her voice—it was nagging at him. "My God," he whispered, his eyes widening. "You look exactly like her favorite news anchor... Joanne."
Cristine didn't flinch. Instead, she pressed a single, gloved finger against her lips. A playful, secretive glint danced in her eyes as she leaned into his ear.
"Sshh," she breathed, her voice a ghostly thread of sound.
Before he could ask another question, she straightened her red dress, turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving Ethan standing in the silence of his father's legacy.
While the others plotted in the shadows, Akihiko decided to tap into his ancient bloodline.
"If I am truly a Kitsune," he whispered, his eyes glowing with a faint, golden light, "then Ethan can't stay hidden forever."
He reached into his bag and pulled out one of Ethan's worn t-shirts. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of cedar and rain that belonged to his friend. Suddenly, the air shimmered. A strange, luminous thread manifested in the air, rooted in the fabric of the shirt and stretching out into the distance like a glowing pulse.
"Found you," Aki murmured. Without a second thought, he began to follow the spectral trail through the winding city streets.
On the other side of the city, the atmosphere was far less magical. Kaito had finally agreed to leave the mansion, guided by Calista and Daisuke. Every corner of the modern world was a puzzle to him, and his regal ego didn't help.
Kaito stopped in his tracks, pointing a finger at a stray cat sitting on a dumpster. "I am the King of this world! Vow to me, you lowly creature!"
The cat blinked, let out a bored yawn, and began licking its paw.
"Lord Kaito, please come here," Calista sighed, pulling him away.
"Why does this beast not tremble in my presence, Calista?" Kaito demanded, looking genuinely offended.
Calista caught the judgmental stares of passersby and gave them a nervous, apologetic smile. "Excuse him, please. My brother is... special."
Kaito beamed, adjusting his collar. "That is correct, Calista. I am special."
While Kaito was distracted by the mall, Maverick and Daisuke had found a much more private way to spend their time.
The heat in the room was stifling, the air thick with the scent of sweat and pheromones. Maverick was positioned over Daisuke, his muscles tensed and glistening.
"Mavy... you're so big. God," Daisuke gasped, his back arching as Maverick drove into him with a relentless, heavy rhythm.
"You're so tight," Maverick growled, his voice low and guttural. "I can't stop... I'm not going to stop."
The friction built to a fever pitch, the sound of their skin meeting mingling with their ragged breaths. Maverick's movements became more frantic as he felt the familiar pressure building at the base of his spine.
"Here it comes... I'm coming for you again!" Maverick let out a jagged moan as he pulled back, his release painting Daisuke's skin.
Daisuke didn't miss a beat. He reached up, his eyes dark with hunger, using his fingers and tongue to taste Maverick's heat. "You're so hot," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Maverick looked down at him, his chest heaving. "That's the third round... and I'm still not done with you."
Daisuke leaned in, his lips brushing against him once more. "Round four, then, horsey. Let's go."
TO BE CONTINUED...