Vol. 1 Chapter 1.5

Han-geon let out a dry laugh at Yeha’s words, which were more than assertive, bordering on reckless.

“Alright, then. I’ll ask again. Are you an omega?”

“No.”

“…”

“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

“No. Secretary Seong doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Then why ask?”

Han-geon’s brow furrowed deeply. He loathed conversations that were unproductive, unprofitable, and uninformative, conversations that were nothing but a waste of time.

A small, insignificant omega with no tact, no sense of self, and even audacious. He felt something akin to displeasure. It was a rare occurrence. No one ever dared to upset Han-geon.

Han-geon put down his tablet and leaned forward, closing the distance between himself and Yeha. His coldly hardened eyes resembled those of a predator.

“Is being insolent your natural personality, or is it rebellion?”

But Yeha didn’t look at Han-geon. He picked up the largest of the knives lined up and tapped it against a wine glass, creating a jarring noise. It was a petty act of defiance. The unpleasant sound clashed with the elegant violin melody.

“Both. With a little hatred and disgust mixed in.”

“…”

“I heard you’re giving me a hundred million credits? Do you want me to give birth to an alpha that badly?”

“…”

“Or are you a little lacking in ability? Who was it… Choi Tae-seong? Oh, you know. Your brother. Are you worse than him?”

At Yeha’s incessant chatter, Han-geon slowly closed and opened his eyes. Choi Tae-seong. He never imagined he’d hear that man’s name here.

Han-geon rubbed his brow with his index finger. It was difficult to suppress his pheromones when he was angry. But he usually tried to restrain them. It wasn’t a pleasant sight to see other species in the same space writhing and fainting.

“Shall I tell you why an alpha is needed?”

Han-geon whispered as if sharing a secret. A faint smile even played on his lips. It was a twisted smile. His handsome face was smiling, but an eerie atmosphere lingered.

“It’s because things like this are possible.”

His eyes flashed. At the same moment, an alpha’s pheromones washed over Yeha like a torrential downpour. It felt like being caught in a typhoon. Every muscle in his body contracted. His internal organs twisted instantly, inducing nausea.

“Ugh…”

Yeha turned pale, as if he had been dropped into space without a spacesuit. Raw, unfiltered pheromones exuding such murderous intent.

This was violence.

Han-geon, emitting pheromones intensely, was filled with nothing but malice. A vicious intent to subdue Yeha. The expensively bought item was unnecessarily insolent. He felt as if he had been scammed, fooled by the glossy exterior. An omega with no scent. The only thing worth looking at was his pretty face, but even that was tarnished by his constantly sour expression.

Naturally, he was displeased. ‘Rebellion,’ ‘rejection,’ and ‘loss’ were all foreign concepts to Han-geon. And, of course, unacceptable.

“What… is this…”

Yeha waved his hands aimlessly. His body swayed to the side as if drunk. The wildly shifting center of gravity made it difficult to stay seated. His face flushed red. It felt as if someone had stuffed him into a cauldron and lit a fire.

Han-geon, watching Yeha’s dazed eyes, sneered.

“You are an omega, after all.”

Unable to overcome his disoriented mind, Yeha slumped to the side. The ceiling with its ornate chandelier plummeted downwards, and the ground rose. Thud. His body hitting the floor felt foreign.

Even the best things can become poison in excess. Pheromones were originally used to entice a partner during mating, but pouring them out like this was akin to murder.

Han-geon’s sleek shoes shimmered before Yeha’s eyes. Han-geon remained sitting upright, looking down at Yeha.

Whether he liked Yeha sprawled on the floor or not, he was quite satisfied that the chattering mouth was finally shut. Han-geon leisurely picked up his tablet again.

“Let me tell you about a clause not in the contract. Don’t be insolent. And don’t mention Choi Tae-seong in front of me.”

“Ugh, ugh…”

Yeha, convulsing, curled up into a ball. It was an instinctive defensive posture. Han-geon’s breathing echoed like the beating of a drum. Besides that, the sound of his fingers brushing, the rustling of his fine hair, and the fluttering of his clothes imbued with his scent. So many sounds filled his ears that his ear canals felt congested.

“No, just don’t say anything at all. That would be better.”

Over Han-geon’s low voice, the sound of footsteps echoed. Not Han-geon’s, but the footsteps of the chefs bringing in the completed dishes. They flinched, their shoulders trembling, when they discovered Yeha crawling on the floor.

“Are you, are you alright?”

One of the younger male chefs dropped his plate as if throwing it away and approached Yeha. The beautifully plated dish was crushed under his feet. Yeha looked up at him as if he were a lifeline.

“Save me. Please. Get that man away from me.”

He asked for help, unaware of his place.

Just as his fingers were about to touch Yeha’s shoulder, a gleaming knife grazed past his ear. “Aah!” The chef screamed and collapsed to the floor.

“Uh-oh.”

“…”

“I only ordered a meal.”

Han-geon warned with a pleasant smile. He meant not to do anything he hadn’t asked for. Another chef pulled him back and hid him behind his back. Then, without a word, they began to fill the table with delicious-looking dishes.

Yeha bit his lip. It was miserable. Hide me too. I’m human too.

“Haa, ugh, heuu…”

His breathing became rapid, as if he had been running at full speed. He wanted to catch his breath, but the air was filled with Han-geon’s pheromones, making it impossible to breathe properly. His pheromones, swirling like a thick fog, seeped into his skin.

Yeha’s eyes rolled back intermittently. His slender fingers scratched the floor for no reason. The spotless floor, free of even a speck of dust, didn’t allow Yeha to hold onto anything.

As Han-geon’s meal was placed on the table, the chefs began to place Yeha’s portion on the table as well. Han-geon briefly turned his gaze away from the hologram.

“The person who’s going to eat is over there. Why are you putting the plates here?”

At those words, the chef flinched. She licked her dry lips once and slowly bent her knees. Soon, dishes she had never seen before were neatly placed on the cold floor. But Yeha couldn’t even pick up a fork or put his face to the plate.

Not even a scream escaped his lips. Only hot breaths, for reasons he didn’t know, were emitted sporadically. His body was becoming so sensitive that he could feel the air brushing past his ears.

Yeha glared at Han-geon with bloodshot eyes. That was all the resistance he could muster. Han-geon met Yeha’s gaze steadily. His red lips moved slowly, up and down.

“If you want to sit and eat,”

“…”

“Learn how to shut your mouth first.”

Until you learn, eat there.

He turned his gaze back to the tablet and picked up his spoon. And Yeha had to be crumpled under the table until he finished his meal.

* * *

Yeha had no relatives from birth. Since his dad had no relatives, it was only natural. So when his dad disappeared, the only person he could ask, “Do you know where my dad went?” was the landlady. But the landlady looked at Yeha strangely, asking why he was asking her that.

The day his dad disappeared, leaving only a pair of white sneakers on the old folding table. That day, Yeha ran around the neighborhood with narrow alleys stretching like spiderwebs for a long time.

He might have gone to work. Or he might have gone grocery shopping. Or he might be meeting a friend. Or, or… what else could it be? Reasons why dad wouldn’t come home. While predicting various situations, Yeha vaguely knew.

That day, his dad had disappeared.

After running around the neighborhood for a while, Yeha entered the house again. And stood in the tiny entryway for a long time. Staring at the sneakers dad had left behind.

The sneakers approached Yeha. Treading, treading, as if an invisible person was wearing them.

‘Yeha.’

Dad’s voice echoed in the sky. At the same time, the sneakers that seemed to be walking began to run at full speed. The run was so fierce that Yeha took a step back without realizing it.

‘Don’t go out.’

The sneakers slammed the ground with their heels. Yeha, who had already fallen backward, looked at the sneakers in fear.

‘You mustn’t go out.’

You told me not to go out. Where did Dad go? Did you run away? But why did you leave me behind? It’s such a terrible world that even Dad couldn’t endure. You should have known that it wouldn’t be any different for me.

Yeha clenched his lips and put strength into his knees. Then, he stubbornly put his feet into the sneakers. The sneakers moved as if they had been waiting. In that state, Yeha didn’t know if he was wearing the sneakers or if the sneakers were wearing him. He ran somewhere far away. Very far away.

Then, he crashed into a bright light. Panting heavily as if struck by lightning, he woke up from the dream.

“Haa, haa…”

His whole body was numb. He was sweating, and his lungs ached. He couldn’t remember how he had fallen asleep. But the dream, which was difficult to distinguish between a nightmare and a recollection of memories, vividly came to mind without missing a speck of dust.

Yeha swept the cold sweat from his damp forehead. And looked around with a dazed expression.

Splendid. That was the first thought that came to mind after scanning the space that seemed to be a bedroom. The black bed floating in the air by itself, the smooth beige marble, the lights hanging like fruits at regular intervals. There was nothing out of place or added, but it was splendid.

The night view of Seoul poured in through the window that had been made by piercing through an entire wall. He was dazzled by the brilliantly shining hologram advertisements, the rapidly flying transitions, and the logos of various companies.

How high up was he? The buildings looked as small as they did from the rusted Namsan Tower decades ago (of course, Yeha had never been up that tower).

After staring out the window in a daze for a long time, Yeha finally recalled the memory just before falling asleep, or rather, passing out.

Kidnapping. President Song. Dad. Contract. Secretary Seong. Restaurant. And Choi Han-geon.

If that memory wasn’t a hallucination, then where he was now must be the main residence of the Hanho Group. A room as empty and spacious as this, with no decorations, wouldn’t be used as a guest room. There was only one person who fit this image, Han-geon. He could tell just by the strong scent embedded in every corner of the furniture.

Yeha twisted his stiff body and got out of bed. His body, which had been soaked in Han-geon’s pheromones, wasn’t quite right, but he had something urgent to do.

Escape.

He had been carefully laid down in the bedroom, even in Han-geon’s bedroom. The reason for that, and the situations that would unfold later, were obvious, so he couldn’t just lie there foolishly.

Yeha, lifting his heels as much as possible, crept towards the door. The smooth door without a handle seemed to be an automatic door, but even when Yeha got as close as possible, waved his hands, or even stuck his cheek to the door and listened for signs of life on the other side, it showed no signs of opening.

“Agh…”

Yeha, who had been trying to force his fingers into the seam, gnashed his teeth at the door that wouldn’t budge. And then, he kicked the door.

“Ouch!”

He had completely forgotten that he was barefoot. It felt like his toes had been crushed. Yeha, who had collapsed to the floor, grabbed his foot and rolled on the floor. Screaming with curses mixed in.

After rolling on the floor for a while, he jumped up and searched his surroundings. The only doors that opened were the door to the spacious bathroom, which he wondered if it was even a bathroom, and a small closet containing pajamas and a bathrobe. He couldn’t even smell the outside air.

Yeha’s gaze, which seemed to burn everything it touched, caught on the window. Along with the terrace beyond the window, which was equipped with a one-person sofa, a table, and even a mini-bar.

That’s it.

Yeha strode towards the window. He intended to get outside first, no matter what. Just as he was about to touch what he didn’t know was a window or a door,

Beep, beep, beep.