[Kim Bo-jin: Sent a video.]
[Kim Bo-jin: XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD]
The KakaoTalk screen looked fucking ominous. With trembling hands, I clicked the play button.
And by the time the video was nearing its end, I had decided to jump out the window. But the balcony was too damn cold. With truly no other choice, I naturally shut the door and returned to my bed.
Do Jihoon wasn’t a devil. That bastard was a fucking angel. Even after seeing that kind of chaos, he didn’t even bring up breaking off the engagement. If it had been me, I would’ve thrown a full-blown fucking fit.
I need to correct what I said earlier. Do Jihoon was truly an alpha among alphas, possessing the breadth of mind and composure worthy of a main gong in a novel.
***
The days I spent trembling in fear over what Do Jihoon might make me do passed one by one, and before I knew it, time had flowed into early February—the day of the graduation ceremony.
All the students of Gye-myeong High School had gathered in the auditorium, listening to the principal’s address. It was cold as hell, yet the speech had no end. I passed the time counting the sparse strands of hair growing here and there on the teacher’s shiny scalp.
After the address came the award ceremony. Among the various awards, there was only one I remembered—the Academic Excellence Award, given to the top student in the entire school.
“Class 3-2, Do Jihoon.”
Because that award belonged to the main gong. Do Jihoon strode up to the podium, flaunting his superior physique. Wearing an utterly insincere smile, he accepted the certificate and stepped back down.
After that, nothing special happened. Officially, the ceremony ended once everyone returned to their homerooms and exchanged final farewells with their homeroom teacher. I could hear a few kids sniffling and crying. They said their last goodbyes to the teacher and then went off in small groups to find their friends in other classes and head outside.
I grabbed Kim Bo-jin, who was trying to bolt out first.
“Hyung. What’s with you? You’re scaring me.”
“I’m feeling sentimental. Can’t we at least take one photo between us?”
“Ah, you want to take a picture?”
Only then did his tense expression relax into a grin.
“Hey! Anyone who wants a photo, get over here! Let’s take one here!”
Kim Bo-jin was definitely an insider. The moment he shouted, over a dozen kids came rushing over. We struck matching poses, did the thing where we shoved our faces toward the camera to make one person look better, and happily wrapped up our photo session.
Just as we were about to part ways, a wave of pheromones I had never once smelled in the East Building came flooding in.
“Hey. Don’t you smell alpha?”
“You catch a cold? There’s no way an alpha’s in the East—… wait. I really do smell it?”
It wasn’t just me. The others started flailing in confusion. I looked at Kim Bo-jin, who didn’t show even 1% of surprise, and asked,
“It’s alpha pheromones, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re weirdly calm about this.”
“Ah, didn’t I tell you? The spring break ceremony dates for first and second years are different from the third years’ graduation date.”
According to Kim Bo-jin, Gye-myeong High School—known for perfectly separating alphas and omegas into the West and East Buildings—lifts that restriction for one single day: graduation day.
“Why are you only telling me this now…?”
“No, I mean. You have a noona too, right…? Oh. Your noona went to Hanguk High, didn’t she?”
Unlike Kim Bo-jin’s older brother Kim Gye-jin, who graduated from Gye-myeong High, my noona had gone to Hanguk High, so she hadn’t been able to tell me about Gye-myeong’s traditions.
“Anyway, so alphas are coming into the East Building right now?”
“Yeah. And omegas are heading to the West Building.”
“It’s basically Animal Planet in here….”
“Agreed.”
As if venting three years’ worth of suppression, the students invaded the territory of the opposite trait the moment they graduated—openly releasing their pheromones.
The problem was that Yeon Yuri’s body was quite sensitive to pheromones.
Which meant that once the familiar omega pheromones mixed with unfamiliar alpha pheromones, a wave of nausea hit me instantly—just like when I’d gone to the club not long ago.
I grabbed Kim Bo-jin’s arm.
“Hey, let’s get out of here. Now.”
“Why? I’ve got a lot of people to meet.”
Kim Bo-jin was a recessive omega, so he seemed less sensitive to scents. With no other choice, I tried to make my way out alone, bracing myself against the wall.
Then, amid the unfamiliar alpha pheromones, a familiar heater-like scent suddenly wrapped around me. A sense of comfort washed over me. This was Do Jihoon’s pheromone. And sure enough, he was standing firmly in front of the back door.
With a hypocritical mask on his face, Do Jihoon was accepting each greeting directed at him one by one. I forcibly suppressed my brain, which was once again threatening to strike due to cognitive dissonance, and walked toward him.
“Do Jihoon. What are you doing here?”
As I spoke to him, I could hear my classmates whispering.
“Do they know each other?”
“Seriously, that’s wild.”
“What, so dominants only meet other dominants? The world’s so unfair. Ugh.”
At the sound of me calling him, Do Jihoon looked at me. A crooked smile briefly passed over his lips before disappearing.
“Your stomach okay?”
“…Yeah. Thanks for worrying.”
“What for? Between us.”
Suppressing the boiling sensation in my gut, I grabbed the sleeve of his clothes and tugged. Surprisingly, he followed without resistance. Only after we escaped the now jungle-like building did I stop walking.
“Why did you come?”
“Yuri’s gotten a lot colder while I haven’t seen you.”
“What’s your point?”
“To take a picture with you.”
Lately, I thought maybe my hearing was going bad. I dug at my ear and asked again.
“I’ve got hearing loss these days. What?”
“…Chairman Do told me to take a picture with you.”
“So your father told you to?”
“How many times do I have to say it? Yeah, Yuri. Can’t hear well? Want me to open them up so you can?”
“No, sir. I can hear perfectly well.”
Apparently, being the main gong in a novel didn’t guarantee good character. I let out a deep sigh that could’ve sunk the ground and called out to him.
“Hey. Come closer.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him in. Holding my phone in one hand, I adjusted it so both our faces fit in the frame.
“I’m taking it on three. Smile nicely.”
“…You’re asking for a lot.”
“You’re the one who wanted it.”
While I was staring at him in disbelief, Do Jihoon moved his finger and pressed the shutter button.
Click—
The photo of us was saved to my phone. As the victim of the ruthless violation of my portrait rights stood there stunned, Do Jihoon kept pressing his finger down. Now my phone was going clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.
“You crazy bastard! You’re gonna break my phone!”
“Don’t worry. It won’t break that easily.”
“It’s not even your phone.”
“Yeah. It’s not my phone.”
“……”
Do Jihoon was fucking shameless.
“Let’s at least take one proper shot. I need to send it to your father.”
“Wow, actual human words coming out of your mouth for once.”
I couldn’t be bothered to respond to every provocation. The photo Chairman Do wanted would probably be one fitting for two people promised in engagement. I grabbed Do Jihoon’s cheek and pulled him toward me. The bastard was unnecessarily tall, so even when I stood on tiptoe, he had to bend down to match our heights.
When our cheeks touched, Do Jihoon’s eyes widened. I didn’t miss that moment and fired off the shutter in rapid succession.
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick—
Having succeeded in my revenge, I smiled brightly in triumph.
“Hey, you smile too.”
At my words, the corner of Do Jihoon’s mouth tilted upward. Unlike the angelic smile he’d shown my classmates earlier, this one was slightly mischievous.
Click—
Our photo was captured on my phone. The last photo of high school.
“Let’s look at them.”
I opened the gallery to check the pictures we’d taken. There were over fifty photos with Do Jihoon alone. Crazy. A laugh slipped out of me.
In the first photos, I looked like an idiot. In the next ones, Do Jihoon’s eyes were wide in surprise. The only normal picture of both of us was the last one we took.
“We just need to send this one, right? I’m not sending the rest.”
I pressed the share button in the gallery and sent the photo to Do Jihoon’s KakaoTalk. Until the message Photo has been sent appeared on the screen, Do Jihoon didn’t say a word. I looked at him curiously.
“Do Jihoon?”
He was wearing an expression I had never seen before. At a glance, it seemed almost like he was angry. But as I kept looking, he seemed vaguely confused—or maybe flustered. The emotions hidden beneath his still face were truly varied.
“Hey.”
I nudged him. He flinched. Afraid of whatever bullshit he might spout, I hurriedly added,
“I didn’t hit you hard, okay? I tapped you lightly. You were the one spacing out.”
