Wooheon scanned the closed doors along the hallway with a sharp gaze.
Three were firmly shut, leaving only one option: his own bedroom, its door slightly ajar.
“It’s obvious.”
Wooheon stepped into his room, his footsteps quiet yet deliberate.
Beneath the bedcovers, a small, trembling lump gave itself away.
The weasel was in plain sight the moment Wooheon entered the room, but he chose not to say anything.
Crossing his arms, he glanced at the phone in his hand.
The timer continued to tick down—only 2 minutes and 12 seconds remained.
‘Does he really not know I’m here?’
It was clear Wooheon had entered the room, yet he made no move.
The weasel lay as flat as possible under the blanket, his nose twitching nonstop.
The rapid movements of his nose drew in the scent of the blanket.
‘...Oh. This smells good.’
The scent clinging to the blanket was unmistakably Wooheon’s.
‘It’s not the smell of a black mamba—is it his cologne?’
