He wanted to quit work altogether and escape somewhere quiet, like the mountains. But since he already had appointments booked, he had no choice but to go to the workshop.
Even after arriving at the shop, his mind remained fixed on one thing.
Kim Kang-woo.
At this point, he didn’t even know what he himself wanted anymore. Rationally speaking, the right choice was to distance himself from the kid—but his body kept moving against his brain.
Yesterday, he had even frightened him.
After sending Kwon Jun-seo away and realizing that his condition wasn’t good, Seok-ho closed the shop early. While driving back to the officetel, his eyes happened to land on a truck selling fish-shaped pastries.
Normally, he would have passed by without a second thought. But at that moment, he suddenly remembered Kim Kang-woo, who liked eating those pastries so much.
Before he realized it, he had already pulled the car over to the roadside.
He had intentionally kept his distance from the kid for several days. Because if he stood in front of Kim Kang-woo again—like that day, when the kid had said he liked him—he couldn’t be sure what he might end up doing.
Holding the bag of still-warm pastries, Seok-ho called the elevator.
How could he give these to Kim Kang-woo without making it awkward?
He had done something unnecessary and now found himself stuck in an awkward situation.
Even during the ride up to the twelfth floor, he kept thinking about it. And even when he stood in front of the door, he hesitated for quite a while before finally making up his mind and unlocking the door.
But the only thing that greeted him was pitch-black darkness. No one was home.
For a moment, a chill ran down his spine. A kind of fear he had never experienced before seized Seok-ho. Without even thinking to turn on the lights, he headed straight for Kim Kang-woo’s room.
“Kim Kang-woo.”
When he faced the empty room, it felt as if his mind went completely blank. It was like the circuits in his brain had been cut—he couldn’t think at all.
Seok-ho quickly looked around.
The black cap Kang-woo always wore was lying on the desk beside his scarf.
He walked to the wardrobe and opened it.
The suitcase and bag the kid had brought with him were still there. He hadn’t left the house. If he had, his belongings wouldn’t still be here. He probably just went to the supermarket.
Kim Kang-woo only had a few places he ever went.
Trying to calm his pounding heart, Seok-ho sat down on the bed. Unpleasant thoughts began creeping into his mind.
What if something had happened to Kim Kang-woo? He had already collapsed outside once before.
His hands clenched with anxiety. He pulled out his phone—then shoved it back into his pocket. He would wait quietly here without rushing him. Until Kim Kang-woo came back on his own.
Seok-ho believed that Kim Kang-woo would definitely return to his home.
No.
He wanted to believe that.
Because he had finally realized something—He couldn’t live without that kid by his side anymore.
How long had he been sitting there?
At some point, he faintly heard the sound of the front door opening.
During the time he had been waiting, Seok-ho had felt like he was slowly burning alive. Even when he heard someone enter, he couldn’t immediately lift his head.
The light above him turned on, and a pair of feet in white socks came into view. When he raised his gaze, Kim Kang-woo was standing there—perfectly fine.
“Where were you?”
Relief filled him, but the words that came out were sharp and interrogating.
And the longer the conversation continued, the more tangled his emotions became instead of loosening. Their voices grew louder, each of them only saying what they wanted to say.
Seok-ho found it difficult to accept Kim Kang-woo’s sudden change of heart. And Kang-woo saw all of Seok-ho’s actions as excessive interference.
Seok-ho felt his emotions gradually boiling over. He was struggling with how to stay beside the kid while maintaining some distance.
Meanwhile, the kid seemed to be thinking only about leaving this place.
Yes. If he really wanted to, Kim Kang-woo could disappear from his life at any time without a word.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Seok-ho felt as if the brakes inside him had vanished. Starting from his heart, a chilling sensation spread through his blood vessels.
It was a strange feeling he had never experienced before. As if anger had condensed into his bloodstream.
And when he looked into the trembling eyes staring back at him, Seok-ho could easily read the emotion there. It was unmistakably fear.
What had Kim Kang-woo seen in him at that moment? Had he been reminded of someone who used to torment him? Had Seok-ho himself looked like one of those people?
Only after hearing the small cry of pain did Seok-ho finally snap back to his senses.
Why am I acting like this? There’s no reason to get this angry.
Lowering his gaze, Seok-ho looked at his palm. The same hand that had been gripping Kang-woo’s arm as if he might break it.
Bzzzt—bzzzt—
Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly noticed a vibrating sound. Seok-ho reached for the phone on the table.
Park Jeong-ho was calling.
“Yeah.”
—What’s with your voice? Why do you sound like that? Are you sick?
The moment he answered, Park Jeong-ho voiced his suspicion. Even over the phone, Seok-ho’s poor condition must have been obvious from his voice.
“I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
Pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, Seok-ho opened his eyes.
“Did you look into what I asked?”
—Yeah. That’s why I’m calling.
Park Jeong-ho immediately got to the point.
—I organized everything nicely and sent it to your email. Take a look.
“Alright. Thanks.”
—If you’re grateful, buy me a meal sometime.
“Sure. Let’s pick a date later.”
Just as Seok-ho was about to hang up, thinking the call was finished, Jeong-ho stopped him.
—By the way, Yoon Jeongwon.
“Yeah.”
—Are you planning to bury someone?
Seok-ho raised an eyebrow at Park Jeong-ho’s words.
Bury someone?
“What do you mean?”
—I mean, you told me to dig up everything about a guy named Baek Kyung-wook. But this little punk—he’s young, yet there’s quite a bit about him that’s suspicious. So I figured maybe you were planning to use this stuff for some kind of justice crusade.
Jeong-ho’s voice was filled with curiosity.
A crusade for justice? Seok-ho had no interest in anything that grand. But if it was someone who could harm Kim Kang-woo…
After a moment of silence, Seok-ho spoke slowly.
“We’ll see.”
After ending the call with a brief thank-you, Seok-ho immediately sat down in front of his laptop.
He opened his email and clicked the message at the very top. While staring at the attached file, he tapped lightly on the table before finally opening it.
A document filled the screen. It contained Kim Kang-woo’s personal information, listed in meticulous detail from beginning to end.
Seok-ho quickly scanned through it.
Basic information like name, age, and schools attended he skimmed over—until his eyes stopped at one section.
[Family Relations]
Kim Kang-woo came from a single-parent household.
His mother had died fourteen years ago due to a chronic illness, and his father had raised him alone without remarrying. Currently, his father ran a mid-sized broadcasting equipment sales company.
Seok-ho stared coldly at the man’s photograph.
The stubborn look in his eyes stood out.
Even at a glance, the man seemed extremely concerned with appearances. His face practically radiated greed and ambition. Unlike someone else he knew with a clear, gentle expression.
Without much thought, Seok-ho reached a conclusion.
Both externally and internally, Kim Kang-woo had clearly taken after his mother.
He turned the page. Next he looked at the people around Kang-woo. Just as expected, Kang-woo’s social circle wasn’t complicated. Only one acquaintance was listed.
[Baek Kyung-wook]
Seok-ho’s gaze sharpened.
He had found the guy irritating from the start, but he hadn’t held any personal grudge—until Kang-woo himself mentioned being bullied by him.
After hearing that, curiosity had arisen.
What exactly had happened between Kim Kang-woo and Baek Kyung-wook?
The results were surprising. The two had known each other since childhood. In simple terms, they were childhood friends.
In fact, Kim Kang-woo and Baek Kyung-wook had been in the same class throughout all of high school. And not just high school—elementary school and middle school as well. It was almost as if someone had deliberately arranged for them to stay together.
Considering their current relationship, it was hard to call them childhood friends. There had to be some kind of turning point where things fell apart. If it had simply been differences in thoughts and beliefs as they grew older, they could have naturally drifted apart. But Baek Kyung-wook had kept Kang-woo close—while tormenting him.
Additional information about Baek Kyung-wook seemed to be attached in the following pages.
For now, Seok-ho was more concerned with the parts about Kang-woo. As he slowly read through the document, Seok-ho’s gaze stopped again.
One word caught his attention.
[Trait: recessive Omega]
Seok-ho frowned.
…Kim Kang-woo was a recessive Omega?
There was no way the information was wrong. Park Jeong-ho never made mistakes with things like this.
Below that were pheromone records and medical treatment history confirming the fact. All the prescribed medications were clearly listed as Omega suppressants. Then he noticed the name of the hospital.
[Baekyeon Hospital]
A deep crease formed between Seok-ho’s brows.
Baekyeon Hospital—that was where Jung Young-wan worked. It was also the hospital Seok-ho regularly visited for checkups. The pheromone department where Young-wan worked was especially strict among doctors about maintaining patient confidentiality. Secondary traits were extremely sensitive personal information. So it wouldn’t be strange if Young-wan didn’t know Kang-woo. Unless he was the attending physician, he wouldn’t know every patient visiting the hospital. Especially if the patient was an Omega, which required even stricter confidentiality.
Omegas had to rely on suppressants unless they formed a bond with an Alpha. Alphas did have rut periods, but they could still restrain themselves rationally. Omegas were different. During a heat cycle, self-control was impossible from the start. For that reason, many people in modern society compared them to animals. Occasionally, there were incidents where an Omega in heat sexually assaulted a Beta. Because of that, some people viewed them as potential criminals.
The opposite situation also existed. Simply being an Omega made them easy targets for various crimes. People threatened them by exploiting their trait, and in severe cases they became victims of sexual exploitation. Even if they reported it to the police, the perpetrator could simply claim that the Omega had seduced them during heat.
Under the subject of “Omega,” debates about human rights had constantly surfaced. A group that could not control their sexual urges without medication—like beasts. Was it truly right to treat them the same as ordinary humans?
Because of this, most Omegas lived while pretending to be Betas. Male Omegas were especially rare compared to female Omegas—and faced even harsher discrimination. Which meant Kim Kang-woo had probably had no choice but to hide his trait.
Omegas and Alphas each possessed their own natural scent. Then what kind of scent would Kim Kang-woo have? Seok-ho had no way of knowing. He was a Beta, someone who couldn’t smell Alpha or Omega pheromones. If he had possessed a special trait, he might have been able to smell it.
The thought wandered in a direction he had never imagined before.
Even Seok-ho himself was surprised that he didn’t feel any particular disgust at the fact that Kang-woo was an Omega.
His negative view of secondary traits came from countless experiences throughout his life.
Ever since his secondary sex characteristics had manifested, strangely enough, Omegas in heat had frequently approached him. He had never actually been assaulted—but the memories remained deeply unpleasant.
And the thing that had taken his mother’s life had also been that very trait.
She had been a Beta. But after a single night with the man who was his father, she conceived Seok-ho—and that same night she manifested as a recessive Alpha.
It was an extremely rare case. Normally, trait manifestation occurred together with puberty. Because her manifestation came so late, the manifestation pain was far more severe and merciless. On top of that, she had been pregnant. The manifestation pain, accompanied by high fever and numerous symptoms, became even more deadly.
And to make matters worse, her circumstances didn’t allow her to receive proper treatment. In a situation where terminating the pregnancy would have been the sensible choice, she stubbornly endured the pregnancy.
As a result, Seok-ho had no memories of his mother. The woman who gave birth to him died that very day. The only way he could learn anything about what kind of person his mother had been was through what others told him.
“Hyung, what do you think about Omegas?”
Suddenly, Seok-ho remembered Kang-woo asking him that question. And he vividly recalled the pale face that had stiffened after hearing his answer. As well as the faintly bitter smile that followed.
“Because of that one thing—because of that one prejudice—you drew a line and never once accepted our affection sincerely.”
The moment a sharp pain pierced his chest, Seok-ho realized something. Once again, his own rash judgment had hurt someone.
