“I don’t even know why I’m acting like this, but I can’t stop thinking about you. The day after I sent you home to rest… you came back with another Alpha’s scent on you. Alexander’s pheromones.”
That day.
The day Yeon Yiseo had received a pheromone dose from Alexander.
He hadn’t imagined that the scent would still linger.
Maybe it wasn’t just a light brush—maybe it had been stronger than he’d realized.
Yeon Yiseo opened his mouth, scrambling for something to say, but what came out wasn’t words.
“……Agh…”
Ethan was gripping his arm so hard it felt like the bone might snap. The pain drew a raw groan from his throat.
“It would’ve been weird not to go crazy.”
“Wait, CEO—sir, wait—”
Pheromones began to pour out of Ethan.
Pheromones so powerful that even an Alpha might be brought to their knees—let alone an Omega.
They spilled from him like water from an overflowing spring—intense, overwhelming, and impossible to resist.
Extreme-dominant Alpha pheromones.
Yeon Yiseo’s strength drained away.
“Why Alexander of all people?”
The pressure from those aggressive pheromones was suffocating.
It wasn’t the kind of sensual, alluring pheromones meant to entice an Omega.
Sure, even those would’ve provoked a reaction—but this wasn’t that.
This was oppressive. Suffocating. Miserable.
All Yeon Yiseo could think about was getting away.
“Anyone else would be bad enough, but not Alexander.”
Breathing became impossible.
Yeon Yiseo broke into a fit of coughing, gasping for air.
He tried to steady himself, tried to plant his feet, but his legs kept buckling.
He raised one free hand to shield his mouth and nose, but it did nothing.
“You remember the story, right? Ethan’s inferiority complex toward Alexander.”
A conversation he once had with Seo Eunwoo flashed through his mind.
It was finally happening—Ethan’s pent-up jealousy had erupted.
And Yeon Yiseo? He was the one paying for it.
Why him, and not Alexander?
But even that thought vanished beneath the wave of physical torment.
Ethan’s pheromones were blatantly stimulating him.
His erogenous zones were pulsing, as if overflowing.
Yeon Yiseo had never once thought of Ethan that way—yet now, his reason was slipping.
The urge to throw himself at Ethan kept surging harder and harder.
His lower body went weak and useless.
In a desperate attempt to stay grounded, he bit down on the inside of his cheek.
Hard.
Hard enough to taste blood.
Extreme-dominant Alpha pheromones were nearly impossible for a recessive Omega like Yeon Yiseo to resist.
He wanted to surrender.
He wanted to throw his arms around Ethan and just let go.
To drown in the pleasure and the pheromones.
But what ultimately held him back, was the memory that he’d never once felt romantic attraction toward Ethan.
“Sir, your pheromones… please, stop…”
Even breathing was agony now, so Yeon Yiseo begged.
And maybe—maybe that reached Ethan.
Because the torrent of pheromones stopped.
Yeon Yiseo nearly collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
But somehow, he managed to stay upright—barely avoiding complete humiliation.
“……Haa… ha… gasp…”
Clutching his throat, Yeon Yiseo tried to steady his ragged breaths.
And through the blur, he saw Ethan staring at him with an expression of shock.
Like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.
And honestly, who could blame him?
Yeon Yiseo had only been working under Ethan for about six months, and not once had he seen him lose control like this.
Ethan had always been composed.
Always precise.
Which made the contrast now all the more jarring.
Ethan grimaced, clearly distressed.
His lips parted slightly, as if to speak—but instead, he just let go of Yeon Yiseo’s arm.
Finally free, Yeon Yiseo clutched his still-throbbing arm and instinctively stepped back.
It was meaningless, really.
The office wasn’t large enough to actually get away.
But instinct didn’t care about logic.
Ethan’s face twisted as he realized—Yeon Yiseo was afraid of him.
That fact hit him like a slap.
While Ethan stood there, frozen, Yeon Yiseo’s breathing slowly began to steady.
If he hadn’t known the story from SickVill, he would’ve bolted without looking back.
But he did know.
He knew Ethan’s tragic upbringing.
And he pitied him.
That’s what made it so hard to walk away.
Ethan had spent his childhood being abused, raised in a household where being compared to the brilliant Alexander was a daily torment.
But that didn’t mean Yeon Yiseo wasn’t furious.
Ethan wasn’t a child anymore.
Happily-ever-afters existed in fairy tales—not real life.
Everyone had their own share of pain.
He wasn’t trying to compare who had it worse, but still—
You grow up.
You take responsibility for yourself.
And Ethan—Ethan wasn’t lacking the means to do so.
It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford therapy or time off or whatever else.
And yet here he was, taking it out on someone else.
Taking it out on him.
That was not okay.
Still, Yeon Yiseo couldn’t say that out loud.
Not to his boss.
This was how it was when you worked under someone.
If he could afford to quit, maybe it’d be different.
But he couldn’t.
“Sir, I’m fine. So, please…”
He was about to say, You don’t have to worry.
But then—
A line from the game came to mind.
“Ethan. You love your brother, don’t you? It’s okay. Alexander probably already knows. And if your heart ever feels like it’s going to burst, you can let it out with me. Everyone needs someone like that—just one person is enough.”
That was Seo Eunwoo’s line.
The one where he pierced straight through Ethan’s walls and named the truth he’d never spoken.
It was also the moment Ethan’s heart shifted—
The reason he fell for Seo Eunwoo.
But that scene didn’t happen in this version of the story.
Now that Yeon Yiseo had taken his place as the Engaged Player, Seo Eunwoo never said those words.
That one critical line—the one that could change everything—was left unsaid.
Which was probably why Ethan and Seo Eunwoo had remained just friends in this timeline.
Yeon Yiseo wanted to comfort Ethan.
Truly, he did.
But if he said something even remotely close to that… it would be a disaster.
Especially now, when Ethan was in such a vulnerable state.
Any word of “comfort” would only tighten the emotional noose between them.
Ethan would cling harder.
So Yeon Yiseo had to draw a clear line.
Keep his distance—and his boundaries.
His mind raced to find the right words.
Finally, with lips pressed into a firm line, Yeon Yiseo met Ethan’s eyes and said—
“Are you done speaking, sir?”
The question landed like a blow.
Ethan’s expression cracked.
“…What?”
“If you have nothing else to say, may I leave?”
“Wait. Are you just going to pretend this didn’t happen?”
“If that’s what you want—am I fired?”
His heart was pounding, but he stared Ethan down.
Extreme-dominant Alpha pheromones had a way of tearing through instinct.
Which meant it took everything he had for a recessive Omega like Yeon Yiseo to hold Ethan’s gaze.
But he had to.
He couldn’t afford to lose this job.
He’d fought too hard to get here—survived too much.
No way was he letting go now.
Ethan’s face twisted with conflict.
“It’d be better if you did quit this damn job,” he muttered.
“Are you firing me?”
Yeon Yiseo asked flatly, pushing for a real answer.
Ethan let out a long sigh.
Then, a crooked smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“I’m not that much of an asshole.”
“……”
“I’m not firing you. That’s a promise.”
Yeon Yiseo exhaled—relieved.
Good. That was good.
In the U.S., same-day terminations were perfectly legal.
If Ethan wanted to replace him, he could do it with a snap of his fingers.
That made his words matter.
Of course, Ethan could still change his mind overnight and have Yeon Yiseo’s desk cleared out by morning.
But surely, he wouldn’t be that reckless.
“…In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”
With that, Yeon Yiseo turned and left the office.
And the moment he stepped out, his body began to tremble.
His hand slipped as he tried to close the door, forcing him to try again.
The shaking was that bad.
Nothing had happened, and for that, he was grateful.
Because if Ethan had chosen to pin him down with pheromones, Yeon Yiseo wouldn’t have been able to resist.
And that terrified him.
The idea that, regardless of his will, his body could be dragged toward someone by a flood of chemicals.
What scared him even more was not knowing whether his reactions came from actual emotions, or from a purely physical response.
Looking back, he couldn’t even remember what possessed him to press Ethan on the firing issue.
Maybe when you’re too far gone, your brain actually clears up.
It would explain Ethan’s dumbfounded reaction, at least.
Yeon Yiseo grabbed his bag and walked out of the building.
The wind brushed across his cheek.
His fingers trembled as he clutched the strap tighter.
