* * *
After hurriedly taking a shower and putting on a large gray t-shirt and checkered pajama pants that I grabbed, I came out to the living room where the air had already turned chilly.
Unlike during the day, the air felt dry and cold against my skin, so I immediately closed the window. When I opened the refrigerator, I saw its predictably meager contents.
Inside the large built-in refrigerator, which came standard with the apartment, there was only a pack of beer cans and two bottles of water.
After 15 years of living alone, from the moment I realized I wasn’t someone who ate at home, my refrigerator had always been in this state. Even the old man who used to stock food for me eventually gave up, saying, “Just eat out.”
He figured that would be better than using the refrigerator as a food waste bin.
I took out a can of beer from the lifeless refrigerator, roughly dried my hair with a towel, and headed to the sofa. Then, out of habit, I turned on the television and pressed the power button on the laptop that was on the table.
While the laptop was booting up, I checked my phone notifications, but as expected, it was quiet.
The few messages I had were from friends concerned about whether I was really getting married, and from Yoonho hyung, my company representative and college sunbae.
[Yoonho hyung: I clearly warned you that you would regret this.]
Although we hadn’t known each other long in terms of time, this warning from the only man who could clearly see into my head was more powerful than any nagging I had ever heard.
We had been distant sunbae-hoobae in the same college club, but somehow I ended up working at his company, and despite our unintentional connection, he knew me too well.
That’s why he made me uncomfortable. To be precise, I think I was uncomfortable with him reading my thoughts.
[I’m already regretting it. But what’s done is done, and now I need to fix it.]
After quickly typing and sending the message, I took another sip of beer when the doorbell rang.
[Mountain Ginseng.]
I immediately pressed the call button at the faster-than-expected call.
“Yes. Have you arrived?”
– Just now.
“The passcode is 1104. Press 19011104 and come in. The front door password is also 1104. I’ve turned off the intercom, so just press it and come in.”
– Why the intercom?
“My father keeps sending people over, so I completely disconnected the wire.”
– …At least open the door for me?
“Why bother with something so annoying?”
– I’m coming up now, so turn on the intercom and open the door.
“You’re strangely fixated on this, hyungnim.”
– Normally, people don’t give out their home password to someone they’ve only met twice.
“That seems like a strange thing to say from someone who proposed marriage to a person they’ve only met twice, don’t you think?”
– We need to separate business from personal matters.
Junghyun immediately agreed with this statement that clearly drew a line—we’re nothing but business.
“That’s true. Come on up. I’ll turn on the intercom.”
After saying this and hanging up, Junghyun opened a text program on the now-booted laptop and took another sip of beer. Just as he was about to get up, he noticed a handkerchief on the small dish used for keys on top of the otherwise empty living room cabinet.
The handkerchief stood out precisely because there was nothing else around it. Junghyun quickly put it in a drawer.
Then he went straight to the entrance and turned on the intercom, and as if on cue, the bell started ringing.
Perfect timing.
Hearing the entrance bell sound for the first time in a while, he went to the door and opened it to find him standing there in the same clothes as earlier in the day.
He was dressed in a dark navy suit, with his jacket draped over one arm and his shirt sleeves rolled up—a natural look.
He appeared to have let down both his guard and tension. Perhaps because of this, his pheromones felt somewhat stronger.
While I was dazed by that strangely familiar, even intimate scent, the skin under my short sleeves began to tingle.
But trying to act normal, I greeted him, and as he entered the hallway, he gruffly spoke.
“Move aside.”
His tone was somewhat sharp, as if something had happened. I politely stepped aside with both hands, gesturing for him to come in, and he looked down at me as if in disbelief.
It was that familiar look that said, “What the hell is wrong with this guy?”
I shrugged at that look—the one everyone has to go through to get close to me—and he clicked his tongue softly as he entered, warning:
“You need to fix your manners in several areas.”
“Isn’t my lack of manners why you want to marry me?”
He couldn’t refute that and just looked back with an annoyed expression. Seeing his attitude that suggested he didn’t want to deal with me anymore, I grinned shameless, and he turned his gaze away again, went to the sofa, placed his jacket beside him, and sat down. As he loosened his tie, I immediately approached his side and asked:
“I’d like to offer you something, but my refrigerator is completely empty. Your options are water or beer. For reference, I don’t have coffee either. I really only sleep at home.”
“It’s fine. I’ve had enough to drink already.”
“That’s good. I was too lazy to get anything out anyway.”
“Sit down. Let’s finish this conversation quickly.”
“Sure thing.”
As he naturally gestured to the seat across from him like it was his own home, I pulled up a stool and sat opposite him. Jaehyuk, who had been following my gaze, suddenly frowned.
“Let me confirm one more time. You’re really not an alcoholic?”
To his question about whether I was drinking throughout the baseball game and then drinking again at home, Junghyun smiled nonchalantly as if he was asking something obvious and casually lifted his beer can.
“Actually, I’ve never been diagnosed, so I don’t know. As long as I don’t get diagnosed before the marriage, isn’t that fine?”
“That’s true. If possible, get the diagnosis right before the divorce.”
He was already convinced that I was an alcoholic.
But Junghyun didn’t bother to refute it. In truth, he might already be in the early stages.
“That’s a good plan. If I really am an alcoholic, no one would question it.”
“Yes, that’s fortunate in that sense. Now, before we talk, let me confirm a few things.”
“Go ahead.”
Saying that I’d answer anything since we’d agreed to this arrangement anyway, I took a sip of beer, and he quickly continued with his questions.
“Any other diseases?”
“You’ve seen my health records.”
“I mean things that wouldn’t appear in records.”
In the marriage market, exchanging health records is standard, so people with hereditary diseases or conditions that could be disadvantageous for marriage often don’t use their real names as a precaution.
Lee Jeonghoo was such a case.
“I have no other diseases. I’ve been healthy since childhood. That’s why my father couldn’t give up on me.”
Omegas generally have weak constitutions by nature, and many live with various chronic conditions due to suppressants and various medications from childhood, and contraceptives after becoming adults. In contrast, I was very healthy.
Both mentally and physically. That’s why my father couldn’t give up on me.
A healthy omega is in high demand just for being healthy.
“You look it. What about mental health?”
“As you can see, very healthy.”
“…Honestly, it’s hard to believe, but as long as there’s no record, it’s fine. As long as there’s no medical record.”
“I hardly have any hospital records at all. I don’t even get hormone prescriptions often, so I probably have the fewest hospital records among omegas.”
“By not getting hormone prescriptions often, you mean…?”
“My heat comes once every six months, for about a week. My heat symptoms and pheromone reactivity are also relatively mild, so I can manage without medication. And I don’t react much to others’ pheromones either. It’s the only merit of being a recessive omega.”
Generally speaking, in sociological terms, a dominant individual strongly exhibits the characteristics of their sex. Naturally, the more recessive one is, the less sexual uniqueness they display, so recessive alphas and omegas are closer to betas, if you had to describe it.
If beta is considered the baseline, the more dominant one is, the further they move from beta, their potential becomes more specialized, and their fertility increases. However, dominants are rare because even between two dominants, there’s a high probability of producing recessive offspring.
By that logic, what’s sociologically considered a dominant trait should biologically be considered a recessive gene.
Furthermore, the reason I’m healthy is that my heat cycle is long and my heat state is mild, so I don’t need to take suppressants.
Of course, it’s also partly thanks to Uncle Juwon making me do all kinds of exercise from childhood due to his own weak constitution.
“…Really?”
“It should have been in my health records?”
“Records and reality can be different.”
“There’s nothing special about me. I don’t like hospitals, so I rarely go.”
After pondering something else briefly, he nodded at my honest answer.
“Alright then.”
“That’s not all. That’s me, but what about you?”
“…Me?”
“STDs?”
