Just as Kim Dae-hong’s hands—broad as pot lids—clenched into fists, his phone started ringing loudly from inside his suit. The volatile atmosphere fizzled out in an instant. Still staring Ha-jin down, Kim fished out his phone and answered.
“Yes, sir. It’s Dae-hong.”
As he continued talking, his eyes shifted above and beyond Ha-jin’s head. Ha-jin followed the gaze instinctively—and spotted a CCTV camera pointed directly at him.
“H-hit him? N-no, sir! Absolutely not! That was my mistake.”
Watching Kim Dae-hong bow apologetically toward the camera, Ha-jin quietly lowered his guard. After a few more words, Kim hung up the call, and the look in his eyes was noticeably different from before. With his face stiff and unreadable, he silently extended an arm and pointed to the elevator leading to the penthouse.
“Let’s go. The CEO is expecting you upstairs.”
“Shouldn’t you start with an apology first?”
“…”
“You did call me an ‘Omega whore,’ didn’t you?”
Kim Dae-hong hesitated for a second, then threw another glance toward the CCTV. Finally, he bent at the waist in a deep bow.
“I didn’t realize you were the CEO’s guest. I apologize for my careless and disrespectful behavior.”
“Thank you—for the apology.”
After holding Ha-jin’s gaze for a moment, Kim stepped aside and motioned once more toward the elevator. Ha-jin followed him in without protest. In the elevator mirror, Kim Dae-hong’s reflection was locked on the changing floor numbers, his mouth tightly shut.
Ha-jin caught himself wondering whether the man was offended. Then, with a shake of his head, he dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter whether the apology had been forced by Cheon Tae-seong. He couldn’t afford to be underestimated from the very start—there was still a long road ahead.
Cheon Tae-seong’s home spanned three full floors up to the rooftop and hadn’t changed a bit. Still as opulent and extravagant as ever. The only thing different now was that Ha-jin no longer marveled at it the way he had the first time.
Once Kim Dae-hong bowed and left, Ha-jin followed the directions he’d been given and walked down a long, straight marble hallway. At the end, the bright lights gave way to a dim, shadowy living room. With blackout curtains sealing off every sliver of sunlight, the space resembled a vast, dark cave.
In one corner of that cavernous room, Cheon Tae-seong was reclining sideways in front of a massive TV, bathed in a faint blue glow. As he noticed Ha-jin’s presence, he tilted his head in acknowledgment.
At that moment, the blackout curtains began to open—slowly and silently. The orange hues of the setting sun crept in through the widening slits, outlining Cheon Tae-seong’s silhouette like it was being sculpted out of light. As if that light itself carried a scent, something warm and fragrant began to unfurl like a blooming flower.
“You’re here?”
Ha-jin was helpless against that smile. He didn’t respond right away, simply standing there, frozen. Tae-seong patted the couch beside him.
“Well? Come sit down. Let me see your face.”
You already saw me on the CCTV. Was it just a prank, not telling the staff I was coming? Ha-jin couldn’t read his intentions, and his cautious steps reflected that.
“Ah—!”
So when Tae-seong suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled, Ha-jin let out a stupid little yelp. He tumbled onto the sofa, and Tae-seong leaned in close like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“Did Dae-hong hit you?”
His voice had shortened with the distance between them.
“W-what? No. Not at all.”
Ha-jin instinctively leaned back, trying to escape the hand that reached for his face. Tae-seong’s fingers brushed his cheek before pulling away, and for some reason, he smacked his lips afterward. Ha-jin, a bit unsettled, turned his head—and his eyes landed on the TV screen.
Tae-seong wasn’t someone who watched much TV, so naturally, Ha-jin grew curious. As his gaze locked on the screen, Tae-seong turned up the volume for him.
The scene playing was oddly familiar—a documentary produced by the BBC, one of Yushin’s favorites. Ha-jin remembered being told how vividly it portrayed animal behavior, and that it had even won several awards. Yushin had said all that.
[The alpha male’s rut period lasts about a month. During this time, he neither eats nor sleeps. He continues mating with the entire pack of females until every one of them is confirmed to be pregnant.]
[If the mating isn’t to the females’ satisfaction, they may become aggressive and bare their teeth in warning.]
[And once the rut ends, another danger begins. Fur falls out, and their hollow horns break. That marks the start of the alpha’s greatest trial: the successor’s challenge. A younger male with budding horns comes to take his place.]
“Felt kind of relatable. That’s why I kept watching.”
Ha-jin turned at the sound of Tae-seong’s voice. Their eyes met directly—he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’d been observing Ha-jin’s reaction. On the contrary, he smiled playfully and gave a teasing squint.
“When I go into rut, I feel like I was born solely to get an Omega pregnant.”
“…”
“And it’s a shitty feeling. Like everything I’ve built up means nothing—just reminds me I’m still just an animal.”
Ha-jin silently agreed. Dominant Alphas didn’t lose their fur or snap their horns, but if they spent their rut with an unintended partner, the penalty could be just as devastating.
A single misstep could lead to pregnancy, and no matter how successful or stable they were, Alpha or Omega, it could wreck their life in an instant.
“Should we start with a pheromone reading?”
Unable to come up with a response, Ha-jin shifted the subject and opened his bag. Tae-seong didn’t say anything, which he took as agreement.
He pulled out a blood test kit, pricked Tae-seong’s finger, and collected a sample. When he glanced up, Tae-seong was grimacing.
“Do we have to draw blood every time?”
“No, not every time, but…”
Halfway through his automatic response, Ha-jin suddenly remembered—there was a question he needed to ask.
“Is this your first time hiring a pheromone manager?”
It was the same question he’d asked on his first day managing Tae-seong in his past life. But this time, the question carried a layered meaning. It was almost like asking, “So you’re really not reliving the past like I am?”
Just as Ha-jin hoped, Tae-seong nodded and answered casually.
“I’ve handled it illegally until now. But I hit a wall. That’s why I came looking for you.”
The same answer again.
Most likely, he’d been sleeping with Omegas who absolutely couldn’t get pregnant, even from a dominant Alpha’s rut. Technically, pheromone disposal was mandatory and a natural part of it all—but still, something about it left a bitter taste. Maybe it was the documentary.
It hit him differently than it had in his past life. A mix of relief and disappointment washed over him as he replied:
“Don’t worry. I keep all client information strictly confidential.”
“Drugs.”
“Drugs?”
Ha-jin looked up at him. Tae-seong smiled with that same curve of his eyes.
“I dealt with it using drugs. Illegal injections.”
“…”
“Judging by that face… what were you imagining?”
Wait, what? That’s new. Ha-jin couldn’t hide his surprise.
“My face? I—I wasn’t imagining anything.”
“You’ve got a vivid imagination, huh, Ha-jin?”
Tae-seong crinkled his nose playfully.
“Guess I’ll have to explain everything from now on.”
“There’s no misunderstanding here. Nothing to explain, really. I don’t… I don’t make assumptions like that—”
He meant to say he was a professional and didn’t judge his clients, but under that relentless gaze, his tongue kept getting twisted. Just then, the test device lit up pink—his pheromone level displayed clearly.
“…The number’s high.”
“I’m about to go into rut.”
Tae-seong’s voice overlapped with that line in Ha-jin’s head—echoing as if spoken aloud.
“Aren’t you going to put a bandage on me?”
The sudden appearance of those long fingers in his view startled Ha-jin. The bleeding had stopped long ago, and only a tiny red dot remained. When he said a bandage wasn’t necessary, Tae-seong’s eyebrows drooped dramatically.
“Then should I suck on it?”
“Y-yeah? Wait, no! That’s not—”
But the man didn’t wait. He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked, loud and deliberate. The sight made Ha-jin look away, discomfort rising in his chest.
“This whole pheromone reading process is kind of a pain.”
“It’s only until I get a baseline average. After that…”
Mid-sentence, Ha-jin suddenly stood and placed a hand on Tae-seong’s shoulder. Then he leaned down, bringing his nose close to the pulse in the man’s neck.
“Once I know what your pheromones are like at this level, I won’t need to draw blood every time.”
“…”
As he counted the seconds, Tae-seong remained still, silently offering up his throat. The one losing focus now… was Ha-jin. His gaze kept drifting to the bob of the man’s throat—strangely entranced.
“Ah—if that made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”
Realizing Tae-seong’s expression had turned stony, Ha-jin quickly backed off and offered an apology. But before he could move far, Tae-seong grabbed the hand still resting on his shoulder.
“No, I wasn’t uncomfortable. What comes next?”
