Even though Ha-jin was clearly displeased, Kwak Mari continued speaking as if nothing were wrong.
“Even if you’re not one of them, you know those Alphas who flirted with you and ended up paying triple the penalty fee.”
Ha-jin gave an awkward laugh. Considering how much trouble she’d gone through with all the broken contracts, he really didn’t have a leg to stand on.
Still, one thing was for sure: Cheon Tae-seong wasn’t going to be like that.
“There’s something I’d like to clarify—why did you go through so many Alpha clients, Mr. Lee Ha-jin?”
“Go through…? It was the Alphas who came on to me one-sidedly. That’s why things ended.”
He was practically being dragged into signing when he gave that answer—just being honest, really. But suddenly, Cheon Tae-seong burst into loud laughter.
He wore a look that said, What kind of fuckery is this guy? and grinned wide enough to show off all his canines, staring at Ha-jin for an uncomfortably long time. His tongue moved inside his mouth, making one smooth cheek bulge and then sink. Watching that made Ha-jin’s lips feel dry for no reason.
“I-I’m telling the truth, though.”
A wave of indignation surged inside him.
An Omega with no scent? The question had come from a coworker, lamenting Ha-jin’s string of broken contracts. Honestly, he’d wondered about it himself. Why do they all fall for me like that?
Quite a few dominant Alphas who received pheromone management from him seemed to like his looks. Actually, almost all of them did. Even the most recent one, professional golfer Choi Chan-hyuk, whose arm Ha-jin had just twisted—he’d flared his nostrils the moment they met, and immediately lunged like he was ready to strip off his belt.
Every single damn Alpha kept coming on to Ha-jin—even though he didn’t emit any pheromones—which ruined his work history and made stable income almost impossible. In his past life, he’d forced himself to endure and scrape by, so he hadn’t expected every client in this life to act like this.
Pheromone managers typically went through a week-long adjustment period, then signed year-long contracts. If things worked out and both sides felt comfortable, the manager would often stick with a dominant Alpha through their rut cycles—sometimes even until they got married.
Someone like Ha-jin, with his rare mutation, was especially valued. And since pheromone management wasn’t romantic in nature, people generally preferred long-term, stable arrangements.
Once the rut cycles stabilized, managers could even juggle multiple Alpha clients, adjusting their schedules. Some managers made a ton of money that way.
So for Ha-jin, losing work because of ridiculous confessions or outright harassment was a huge financial blow.
“Ha-jin, I can’t see you as just my manager anymore.”
“Lee Ha-jin, I think you’re the reason my rut is getting worse. My pheromones are going haywire—take responsibility.”
“I think… I’m falling in love with you.”
Ha-jin shuddered at the memories that suddenly came flooding back. Cheon Tae-seong let out a mocking snort through his nose and said,
“…Guess you’ve only run into Alphas with really weird kinks.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“The thing you’re worried about won’t happen, Mr. Lee.”
Once that last concern was cleared, Cheon Tae-seong’s eyes lit up as he pushed the contract toward him—and just like that, Ha-jin ended up signing it without even realizing what he was doing.
Like Kwak Mari said, it was the best deal he could ask for, and the Alpha had zero interest in him. It should’ve been perfect.
But still… was Cheon Tae-seong really just someone sent to find him by the hands of fate?
What should I do now? There’s no way I’m going to walk straight into death like I did last time.
Kwak Mari had piled a generous serving of meat onto his plate—ribs with thick, juicy flesh clinging to the bone—but Ha-jin felt like he was going to get indigestion before he even took a bite.
***
The building, designed by a famous architect, was just as he remembered it from his past life—huge, tall, and gleaming with luxury. The company headquarters, a gift from the I&CH Holdings chairman to his only grandson, Cheon Tae-seong, was as flashy as its recipient.
I can’t believe I’m standing here again…
Maybe because it was the weekend, the entire corporate complex was eerily quiet. Tae-seong’s house, nestled deep inside the massive grounds, was located at the very back. Not a single soul, not even an ant, appeared on the long walk to the entrance. Maybe it would’ve been better to choose a busy weekday as his first day.
It wasn’t even that hot, but sweat had beaded on his forehead. Ha-jin wiped it with the back of his hand and clenched the strap of his backpack tightly.
“You’ve got this. Breathe, Lee Ha-jin.”
He used to come here like it was his own home before he died. There was no reason to be nervous. If he did it once, he could do it again—easier, even. Just avoid the landmines. He kept repeating that to himself as he slowly stepped into the lobby.
“You’ve got this…”
Maybe he was chanting about landmines too much. Without realizing it, he headed straight for the elevator that led to Cheon Tae-seong’s penthouse, like muscle memory. Digging in his pocket for a security key that no longer existed made him look undeniably suspicious.
“Excuse me, sir. Sorry to bother you, but may I ask what brings you here today?”
Startled by the voice calling out to him, Ha-jin turned around and froze at the sight of a security guard in a black suit. His shoulders jumped reflexively, only adding to the sketchy vibe. The guard’s polite smile vanished in an instant. Naturally, Ha-jin’s tension shot up even higher.
“Ah, I… I’m here on behalf of CEO Cheon Tae-seong. He hired me personally.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“It’s not business-related. It’s a personal matter.”
Trying to calm down, Ha-jin took slow breaths and showed the message he’d received from Tae-seong’s secretary. The guard still looked skeptical but pointed him toward the reception desk.
The receptionist’s face was familiar. Noticing the name tag, Ha-jin let out a subtle breath of relief and gave a hesitant smile. Lee Jung-min. Someone he used to greet every day on his way in and out of the building in his past life.
“You said you had a personal appointment with the CEO. Hmm…”
Lee Jung-min frowned slightly as he checked the monitor.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t received any directives about this. I’ll double-check—would you mind waiting a moment?”
“Of course. Take your time.”
There was no way Cheon Tae-seong would forget about the appointment. It didn’t make sense—but all he could do was nod.
“It seems the secretary hasn’t checked their messages yet. I’ll try another contact. Would you mind taking a seat and waiting?”
“Sure.”
As Lee Jung-min made call after call, his expression shifted subtly with each one. Growing more anxious, Ha-jin checked his phone again and again to confirm the appointment details.
Sunday, 6 PM. It was definitely correct.
He’d stayed over at Tae-seong’s house before when a rut was imminent, so with a security card, he could practically navigate the place blindfolded. He started recalling where Tae-seong’s bedroom was inside the mansion that had seven bathrooms, which rooms he spent the most time in, and how he used to look in his past life… when—
The elevator in the center of the lobby opened, and out came another bulky figure.
Kim Dae-hong, the head of security, came down personally.
As if he’d read Ha-jin’s thoughts, Kim Dae-hong’s gaze flicked to him and then away. The man’s suit looked far too tight for his massive frame—stretched to its limit. It might’ve looked comical on anyone else, but the only person who dared laugh at him was Cheon Tae-seong.
Kim Dae-hong exchanged a few words with Lee Jung-min before walking straight toward Ha-jin.
“How much did the CEO offer you?”
“Pardon? Offer me… what?”
Ha-jin, who had just begun to relax at the sight of a familiar face, was taken aback. The lack of even a basic greeting and the bizarre question caught him off guard.
Without taking his eyes off Ha-jin, Kim Dae-hong pulled out his wallet and, without warning, shoved a thick wad of cash into his hands—bundled bills, a mix of cashier’s checks and 50,000 won notes, clearly over 2 million won.
“What…? Why are you giving me money?”
“Not enough? Then leave your bank account info. We’ll transfer the rest.”
“My bank info’s in the contract I gave to the CEO. And if you’re planning to pay me in pieces like this…”
Even as he frowned, Ha-jin instinctively counted the money. The crumpled, worn edges of the bills irked him. Cheon Tae-seong had always handed him crisp, fresh 50,000 won notes, aligned perfectly, sealed in a pristine white envelope.
This wasn’t him. No way. But the money hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Two million, three hundred thirty-seven thousand won. I’ll need a receipt.”
Kim Dae-hong, watching him count the bills, scowled when Ha-jin mentioned a receipt.
“The CEO’s in a bad mood right now. Just take the cash and leave. However expensive you are, we’ll wire you the rest, alright?”
“He’s in a bad mood—that’s why I’m needed.”
“Hah…”
Kim Dae-hong suddenly let out a heavy snort like a bull. Ha-jin flinched when he saw the man’s forearms revealed under his rolled-up sleeves, but he didn’t back down. He didn’t know what the misunderstanding was, but one thing was clear—if he lost this power struggle, he was getting hit.
Ha-jin instinctively raised his guard and braced himself.
Kim Dae-hong let out a short, derisive laugh.
“I let too many Omega whores through the door, and now they all think they can walk right in, huh?”
“You’re making a mistake right now.”
