“If it’s really okay with you… could I keep staying here?”
After much hesitation, Jung Haon finally spoke, each word carefully measured. The corners of his mouth, pulled up in an attempt to mask his nerves, quivered faintly. There was still so much he needed to say, and that was a problem.
“It doesn’t have to be for a whole year and a half. Just a few months would be enough. I’ll help out however I can.”
If it came to housework, he was willing to do anything whenever it was needed. Honestly, he wasn’t the best cook, but he could make a mean kimchi fried rice—so good, in fact, that Seong-gu hyung once said he could eat it every day and never get tired of it.
Clink.
Seo Inho had picked up his coffee cup but set it back down without a word. No reaction. Had he changed his mind overnight? Even if that was the case, Haon figured he couldn’t blame him. Just letting him stay over the weekend had already been more than enough. He didn’t feel bitter or disappointed at all. He was genuinely—
“Or if it’s better, I can leave today—”
“Why?”
Inho’s voice cut in sharply as he unconsciously clenched his fist. How could Haon suddenly change his mind after saying he’d stay longer? Just like flipping a switch. The excitement that had shot up toward the ceiling was now crashing back down.
“You said you’d stay. Why are you taking it back?”
“Well, you didn’t respond…”
Had he not? Inho was certain he had answered. He’d tried to respond calmly, but apparently, the words had only echoed inside his head. It was only after Haon pointed it out that he realized.
“Make yourself at home. You can stay the full year and a half if you want—just be comfortable, that’s all that matters.”
He repeated himself with a smile and lifted the coffee cup again. If he kept speaking without thinking, Haon would no doubt get overwhelmed and bolt. To keep his eagerness in check, Inho took a sip of coffee to shut himself up. Strangely enough, the bitterness was completely gone now.
“There’s actually something I need to tell you.”
Under the table, Haon rubbed his palm against his thigh. His hand was clammy with sweat. It wasn’t even that serious, but the more he tried to speak, the stiffer his body became.
“My heat cycles… they’re irregular.”
“That’s fine. It doesn’t bother me. I’m not that affected by pheromones.”
As a dominant Alpha, Inho wasn’t easily swayed by an Omega’s pheromones. Even if an Omega in heat threw themselves at him completely naked, he wouldn’t so much as flinch.
“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll step out.”
Or he could help deal with it, too. Swallowing the rest of that thought, Inho observed Haon’s face, waiting to see where this conversation would go. Haon kept smiling softly, rocking his upper body slightly back and forth as if hesitating. Was he debating something?
“I manifested as an Omega just last year.”
Haon dropped his gaze as he began to share his story. His voice trembled, and he hadn’t quite managed to conceal it. Still, perhaps thinking he’d done a decent job, he shrugged and tried to look nonchalant.
“My manifestation came late, so my heat symptoms are a little different from others’. As you’ve probably noticed… I feel really hungry.”
This was only the third time Jung Haon had ever confessed his symptoms to someone. And yet, this time felt the hardest to get the words out. It was because he was afraid of the reaction he might receive.
“If I see food—any kind of food—I’ll try to eat it all.”
Haon just hoped the man wouldn’t find his heat symptoms entertaining like the others had. If he laughed, it would leave behind a bruise in his chest far deeper than any pain he’d felt before. Somehow, he had the sense that being hurt by this man would sting more than anything else.
“I just didn’t want to catch you off guard later. That’s why I’m telling you.”
He’d heard it was disgusting. Most Omegas in heat looked flushed and sexy—pretty, even. But he ended up crawling on the floor, trying to eat things others had thrown away. It was humiliating.
Every Alpha who’d come and gone had said something similar. They emphasized how they only helped because they felt sorry for him, because no one else wanted to be near him. Strangely enough, they all said the same thing.
And every time, naive little Haon had bowed his head and thanked them. He didn’t know what else to say—and a part of him really had been grateful. They’d made him feel that way.
“What would you like me to do?”
The man had been listening silently, but now he spoke. Haon, whose gaze had been fixed on his empty bowl, looked back up at him.
“Should I give you some space?”
He wasn’t smiling.
“Or would you prefer I stay with you?”
His obsidian eyes were cool, almost serene. But they didn’t feel cold. No one who could say something so gentle could ever come off as cold.
“Whatever makes you feel comfortable, Haon. That’s what I’ll do.”
He was asking Haon to tell him everything—and in response, Haon answered in a voice barely above a whisper. Unsure if this was really okay, still debating it silently in his mind.
“Stay… with me. Please.”
A smile touched the corner of the man’s eyes.
***
Since moving to Seoul, Haon couldn’t remember a single day he’d properly rested. Except for the times when he was bedridden from illness, nearly every hour had been spent working. He had always thrown himself into endless labor, and he intended to keep living that way.
But recently, a big shift had occurred in Haon’s daily life.
He lay sprawled across the bed, patting his flat belly with a dull thump, thump as he searched for the TV remote. With nothing better to do, he figured he might as well watch a drama or something.
It felt strange, turning on the TV during what would normally be peak working hours on a weekday afternoon. But here he was, doing just that. It had been a week since he’d started staying at Seo Inho’s place—and Haon was wholeheartedly enjoying the rare peace and quiet.
Originally, Haon had planned to look for a new job during the weekdays. Even on the day he rode with the man to the goshiwon to pack his things, he was constantly checking his phone in search of short-term gigs. He scrolled endlessly through job apps, eyes practically burning, hunting for any decent temporary weekday work—but nothing promising turned up.
“How about working at my place?”
The man, who had been silently observing him from the sidelines, brought it up casually.
“Doing what…?”
“The house is too big for me to clean on my own.”
“Ah, then I’ll just take care of all the cleaning.”
Even without being told, Haon had already decided to handle all the chores. It was only right—he wasn’t even paying rent. Cleaning the place was the least he could do. But the man shook his head firmly.
“No. I want you to do it properly—and get paid for it.”
When Haon said he could do a good job even without pay, the man told him to take the money and do an even better job, hiring him on the spot. An hour later, he even brought out a written contract, thoroughly outlining working hours and household responsibilities.
The official work hours stated in the contract were from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., but the man said Haon was free to leave once he finished his tasks. He only asked, as a small courtesy between housemates, that Haon send a message whenever he planned to go out or had any appointments—though he emphasized it wasn’t an obligation.
Since the man had made it clear that the request could be refused, Haon promised he’d definitely let him know. That much was easy to agree to.
He was being paid that much—of course he should at least do that.
Haon, who had been sprawled out lazily, suddenly sat up straighter. The numbers from the advance deposit in his bank account flashed through his mind. It was way too much money to be just lying around doing nothing, so he got up and stepped out of the bedroom.
It was still only three in the afternoon. Though there was time left in his official work hours, he had already finished everything, leaving him with nothing to do.
The man had told him to mop the floors only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On the other days, it was just light dusting, grocery shopping, laundry, and dishes. Aside from the two mopping days, everything else was usually wrapped up before 2 p.m.
Even though the contract allowed him to leave after finishing his tasks, Haon felt too guilty to slack off. He was being paid more than most full-time jobs—taking it easy didn’t sit right with his conscience.
“I should at least do something…”
Mumbling to himself, he wandered into the living room and, as if magnetized, gravitated toward the sofa. He perched lightly on the edge of the wide couch, scanning the spacious house around him. Since it wasn’t his home, he felt awkward just trying to look for more chores to do.
Haon’s body slowly slumped against the tall-backed sofa. At first, he’d thought it was a little stiff, but after sitting on it a few more times, it started to feel surprisingly comfortable.
‘It’d probably be even better if I lay down.’
Draping himself over the backrest, Haon pressed his cheek against the soft, velvety fabric. The couch smelled faintly of the man—it was the spot he often lay on. Haon stretched his arm out and lightly poked the part of the sofa where the man probably rested. But he didn’t have quite enough nerve to lie down himself.
Just then, his phone chimed with a notification.
“Ah—geez, that scared me…”
The sudden ping of a text alert startled him upright. He didn’t even need to check to know who it was from.
[Is there anything you’d like for dinner?]
As expected, the message was from the man. Every day around this time, he sent a text asking the same question. Even though Haon replied each time that there wasn’t anything in particular he wanted, the man never failed to ask again anyway.
[How about Western food? Pasta or steak.]
Today was no different—when Haon responded that he couldn’t think of anything, the man, like always, suggested a meal he’d already had in mind.
“Pasta, steak…”
Haon murmured the words aloud, reading the text with wide, round eyes. Even though he wasn’t particularly hungry, the thought of those dishes made him subconsciously lick his lips. All thanks to the man’s incredible cooking skills.
Haon had dinner with the man almost every evening. It had been a week since his heat ended, and he could finally eat again. He still didn’t eat much, but at least he wasn’t picking at his food. He ate enough to feel satisfied.
The man prepared every meal himself. Haon’s role was to simply enjoy what was made for him—and he was doing that part just fine, thanks to the man’s talent in the kitchen.
‘What kind of delicious food will he make today?’
With a quiet flutter of anticipation, Haon grabbed a dishcloth and headed to the kitchen table. As he started wiping down the already-spotless surface, his mind filled with the familiar image of the man efficiently preparing ingredients and pulling out utensils.
It amazed him every time.
People who lived in huge, luxurious houses like this—at least on TV—usually had someone else cook for them. But this man looked completely at home in the kitchen. Skilled enough that Haon wouldn’t be surprised if he worked at some high-end restaurant.
Haon still knew next to nothing about him. His age, his job, his upbringing—none of it. Not a single detail had been clearly shared.
Maybe that lack of information was exactly why Haon found himself thinking about the man more and more since moving in. He spent most of his alone time just lost in thoughts of him.
‘What kind of work does he do? Why does he live in such a big house all by himself? What about his family?’
‘And how could he possibly be okay living under the same roof as someone like me… an Omega?’
“There’s no way he really is…”
Today again, Haon found himself drifting into a tangled mess of thoughts as he carefully folded the dishcloth and walked over to wipe down the display cabinet. Truthfully, the cleaning was just a pretense—he was drawn there to look at the picture frames inside.
He’d already seen them all before, but his eyes kept returning to them.
Inside the small frame were children even smaller than himself.
