Ch 3

Episode 3

Eight months earlier (2)

Eunho reviewed the week’s schedule, organized by the senior secretary, as he walked down to the basement garage. About ten minutes later, Yoonjae slid into the car, leaned back against the headrest, and unbuttoned a collar that had been pressing against his throat.

It wasn’t the same suffocating pheromones as on interview day, but his presence was no less commanding. Eunho murmured quietly that they were setting off and eased the car into motion.

Yoonjae spoke little. There were no casual questions about how Eunho found his first day, whether the team had been welcoming, or whether he was adjusting from his old workplace. For someone said to look after his staff, the silence felt oddly contrary.

Glancing in the rearview mirror to check a car behind, Eunho froze as his eyes locked with a piercing gaze. He didn’t know when it had begun, but Yoonjae was watching him unblinking, steady and direct.

Eunho quickly averted his eyes. Sweat gathered on the hands gripping the steering wheel. Each time he looked into the mirror, that lightning-bolt gaze struck him again.

“We’ve arrived.”

When Eunho parked in the KG Asset headquarters lot in Yeouido and turned back, Yoonjae straightened from the seat as if nothing had happened, buttoned his shirt, and adjusted his tie.

“It’ll take about an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Wait in the lobby café.”

His eyes traced Eunho’s movements slowly—from the crown of his head to the hands unfastening the seatbelt. The stare was so blatant, so unshielded, Eunho felt almost stripped bare.

Only belatedly did it cross his mind that he should open the back door. He scrambled out of the driver’s seat, but Yoonjae, moving faster, was already out and heading toward the building entrance.

The suit draped over his frame flowed with each step, lines forming and smoothing in rhythm. Even his walk carried discipline and boldness. Eunho stood staring until Yoonjae disappeared through the lobby entrance, then snapped back to himself and gathered the laptop.

It wasn’t the time to relax just because it was his first day. Ordering a cup of coffee, Eunho set his laptop on the table and scanned the flood of emails, his eyes moving swiftly. The joy of his twenty-percent salary bump had already faded; seeing the workload, he understood why they paid so generously. Clicking his tongue, he thought he should have negotiated for more.

Yuseong Venture Capital had invested in over twenty venture firms. Real estate, bonds, stocks, raw materials—and even film and publishing, no field untouched. Four divisions handled these matters, plus two dedicated to public offerings and angel funds.

Eunho would have to oil his rusty mind and force it to grind. It was exhausting, but he didn’t dislike the long-forgotten taste of tension. He worked without noticing the time until someone tapped his table.

“Lot to go through?”

“Ah… no.”

Had it already gotten this late? When Eunho checked the clock on his monitor, he saw that Yoonjae had come out a good ten to twenty minutes earlier than scheduled. The alarm he had set for the one-hour mark was useless now, since Yoonjae had appeared far too soon.

“Do you have plans after work?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then let’s have dinner together.”

When Yoonjae held out his palm, Eunho blinked, unsure what it meant. Yoonjae let out a faint snort and said flatly, “Car keys.” For a moment, Eunho thought he’d misheard, but when he pulled the keys out of his pocket and looked up again, Yoonjae simply snatched them without another word and walked straight out of the building. Stunned, Eunho hurried to pack up his laptop and return his empty mug at the counter before following.

Even though Eunho rushed after him, Yoonjae walked so quickly that by the time Eunho reached the car, Yoonjae was already behind the wheel. Flustered by the unexpected behavior, Eunho hesitated, wondering if he should really take the passenger seat.

‘He said we’re having dinner together, so I suppose I should. If not, I can just laugh it off and get out.’

When Eunho slipped into the passenger seat and buckled up, Yoonjae still didn’t spare him a glance, only then pressing the accelerator with unhurried ease.

The place he took Eunho was a well-known Korean fine-dining restaurant in Pildong. Years ago, Eunho had stopped by once to check the location for a meeting his former executive director was hosting with figures from the legal world. Entering now as a diner felt both unfamiliar and strangely nostalgic.

As soon as Yoonjae stepped inside, a manager dressed in traditional hanbok greeted him with a bright, welcoming smile. On the way to a private room, Eunho looked around with curiosity.

Yoonjae ordered a course he apparently always had. Catching the name, Eunho sneaked a look at the menu and winced at the price before setting it down with an awkward smile. A single meal here cost as much as a night at a hotel.

“Oh, wait.”

Something came to Yoonjae’s mind; he quickly called the manager back before the sliding door closed. The older man returned with a gentle smile.

“Change the appetizer to pine mushroom porridge.”

“For both guests?”

“Yes.”

Eunho checked the menu to see what had been switched. The original starter was crab-and-abalone porridge, served with salad. When he lifted his head, his eyes met Yoonjae’s deep brown gaze.

“Did I overstep?”

“…No. Thank you.”

He had thought he only needed to avoid marinated crab at a place like this, but even the porridge had crab in it. If Yoonjae hadn’t changed it, Eunho would have agonized over whether to eat it or not. He had a shellfish allergy, ever since mistakenly eating a poorly stored lobster as a child. Even a small amount of crab, lobster, or shrimp would bring out rashes, swelling, or worse—breathing difficulties. Since then, he avoided not only shellfish but most seafood whenever possible.

‘So crab-and-abalone porridge isn’t that great after all.’

Thanks to Yoonjae’s intervention, Eunho enjoyed the appetizer without worry, curling his lips slightly in time with the gentle gayageum music drifting through the room.

Despite his cool, unyielding demeanor, Yoonjae’s gaze carried a strange melancholy that clung to Eunho’s mind. It was oddly memorable. Each time their eyes met, Eunho felt the weight of that long, unbroken stare and quickly looked away.

‘Is he just looking after me as the new hire, or is it some shallow personal curiosity? Or could it be… is he teasing me because I’m an omega?’

Normally, when a senior invites a junior out to dinner, the scene is one of casual conversation, a chance to talk about this and that. But Yoonjae seemed to have no such intention. Since the atmosphere wasn’t unfolding the way he expected, Eunho filled the silence with exaggerated exclamations, trying awkwardly to keep things light. His comments—“It’s my first time tasting this,” “It’s so delicious,” “I’d love the recipe,” “The vegetables are so fresh”—sounded more like cheap online reviews, and he wanted to crawl into a hole from embarrassment.

“You must be tired, it being your first day.”

“I’m fine.”

Was Yoonjae really that short on things to ask? Or simply uninterested? Yet he still pinned Eunho with that relentless stare—what was it supposed to mean?

Eunho couldn’t read him at all. He had thought having a superior closer in age would make things easier, but it was the opposite. The tension weighed on him, suffocating, like indigestion.

“…It’s raining.”

Heavy drops struck the window, bursting into beads that slid down the glass. It looked like a passing shower, but not one that would clear quickly. As the rain intensified, maple leaves clinging to the branches were torn free and scattered across the ground. Autumn’s abundance was being swept away in the storm.

“Where’s your place?”

The deep, resonant voice pulled Eunho from his reverie. He turned his head and found himself staring into Yoonjae’s symmetrical eyes. Yoonjae sipped the cinnamon punch brought as dessert, then frowned slightly at the sweetness.

“It’s raining.”

The words were tossed out casually as he set a napkin down on the table with his long, broad-knuckled fingers.

Could he mean… to drive him home? In four years as a secretary, Eunho had never had a superior personally drop him off. Tilting his head, he wondered if he’d misheard.

“I’ll take you.”

Yoonjae rose, pulling on the charcoal-gray blazer from the coat rack.

“It’s all right. I should check your place first to calculate tomorrow’s commute time—”

But Yoonjae clearly had no intention of listening. He picked up the bill and strode out without a word. Flustered, Eunho let out a heavy sigh through his nose. Only then did he remember Yoonjae still had the keys.

Yoonjae walked briskly through the downpour toward the parking lot. Eunho borrowed a long umbrella from the attendant and darted after him, shielding his head and Yoonjae’s shoulders just enough. Though Yoonjae’s hair and blazer were slightly damp, Eunho managed to protect him. Watching Yoonjae slip wordlessly into the driver’s seat, Eunho couldn’t bring himself to ask him to move over. He returned the umbrella to the attendant with a bow of thanks.

“…Unbelievable. Totally does as he pleases.”

Did he have no thought for how difficult it made things for his subordinate? The man seemed picky in more ways than one. Eunho grumbled under his breath as a black sedan glided to a stop beside him.

“Address.”

The moment Eunho got in, Yoonjae repeated the same question without giving him a chance to breathe. Eunho silently keyed the address into the navigation. Refusing would only be pointless against a boss this stubborn.

Raindrops streaked down the windshield, swept away by the wipers, only for more to fall and paint the city in their colors. The cool evening air, now heavy with rain, chilled into a damp cold.

The ride passed in silence. Eunho appreciated the thought behind Yoonjae’s offer, but the execution was wrong. Without conversation, the oppressive quiet was more uncomfortable than if he’d simply gone home alone. When Yoonjae bypassed the street-level entrance and pulled straight into the underground parking of Eunho’s apartment complex, Eunho unfastened his belt, ready to step out.

“Thank you.”

“Get home safe.”

Only then did Yoonjae’s stern expression ease. The faint smile that appeared left Eunho momentarily speechless. He turned only after the car had vanished completely from view.

“How on earth did he make it to Executive Director?”

His people skills were abysmal. Eunho had lost count of how many times he’d been treated like an inanimate object in a single day. It was too soon to judge, but if Yoonjae continued acting this way, it wouldn’t be wrong to conclude he was severely lacking in social graces.

 

***

 

After graduating from high school in the United States, Eunho chose to move to Korea on his own. His parents had settled faster than expected in a foreign land and had even expanded their business enough to live without difficulty. Even so, they did not oppose their youngest son’s sudden decision to go to Korea—on the contrary, they understood and respected it.

Eunho was the youngest of three brothers and the only omega in the family besides his mother. His two older brothers were alphas. Having lived with alphas all his life, he held less hostility or fear toward them compared to most omegas.

But being Asian—the race most often looked down upon—and on top of that an omega, he had dreaded going to school. In the U.S., every year, there were at least one or two cases of suicide in each school, not because of academic despair but because of despair over being omega, or rape. The victims were always omegas.

Fortunately, Eunho’s manifestation had come late, toward the end of high school, and he had avoided any major incidents. But he didn’t want to endure both racial and secondary-gender discrimination for the rest of his life. Thankfully, Korea was more tolerant toward omegas than the U.S. A strong social awareness to protect the weak existed there, so as long as he took his suppressants and managed his cycles properly, there was no problem.

Now in his ninth year in Korea, Eunho was used to living alone, but he was also prone to loneliness. That was why the first thing he did upon entering his home was to turn on the TV or play music. It had become a fixed habit—when it was too quiet, he grew sensitive, retreating into himself as if digging a cave. To fill the silence, he often binge-watched drama series and movies. It was his own form of therapy against loneliness.

Eunho longed to build a warm family of his own as soon as possible. Seeing close-knit households made him envious to the point of madness. That yearning to fill his emptiness only grew stronger after he met Hyunjun, who carried similar feelings.

He must have fallen asleep while watching a long American series, unable to even turn the screen off, because he woke to the familiar jingle of a fast-food commercial. The night before, he had rambled endlessly to Hyunjun about his first day at work, only to get scolded before hanging up.

Having spent over two years preparing for the civil service exam, Hyunjun now often acted like a hedgehog bristling with spines, as if standing on the edge of a cliff. “Just five more months,” Eunho told himself. He made every effort to understand Hyunjun’s heart.

After showering, he took a washed apple from the fridge and bit into it as he opened his wardrobe. Tossing a freshly laundered, still-wrapped shirt onto the bed, he chewed on the crisp fruit while slipping his laptop into his briefcase.

Choi Yoonjae’s home was about thirty minutes away by bus from Eunho’s officetel. Once he got off at Hannam Ogeori and walked into the residential area, he was met with rows of high-walled houses.

Standing before a heavy cast-iron gate, he tapped the security card a secretary had given him. With a weighty sound, the gate swung open.

“Hello.”

Breath caught in his throat as he faced the vast garden and the modern one-story house that was far too large for a single person. He wondered if there was any real reason to live so inefficiently in such a place, even if money overflowed. Eunho gave a polite bow to the elderly man cleaning a car and crossed the garden.

He suspected that all the household staff here must be betas. As soon as he opened the front door, a flood of pheromones nearly made him dizzy, yet the woman emerging from the kitchen looked completely unaffected, her expression serene. Her face showed no sign of being under the sway of an alpha’s influence.

“Hello, I’m Yoo Eunho. I came because of the spare shirt…”

“Secretary, I’m here.”

Just then, Yoonjae stepped out of his room, neatly dressed. The moment their gazes met in the air, Yoonjae noticed Eunho’s pale, stricken face and quickly drew back his pheromones. Having only ever dealt with beta staff before, he had been carelessly leaking pheromones—and Eunho’s reaction seemed to catch him off guard.

Eunho immediately stepped back outside. Taking a deep breath, he let the crisp autumn air strip away the scent clinging to his clothes. The pheromones had been not only alluring but dangerously overwhelming. Encountering them during a heat cycle would have left him clinging and begging, utterly vulnerable.

Once freed from the alpha’s scent, Eunho regained clarity. He accepted the car keys from the house manager and got into the driver’s seat. Before long, the back door opened and Yoonjae slipped inside.

“The reports from the Bond Management Division and the Real Asset Investment Division are compiled for your ten o’clock meeting. I confirmed with the Finance Team that they’ll be sending out the shareholder list for the third-quarter dividends within this week. Also, the Product Strategy Division plans to form a TFT next week to prepare a roadmap for the seventeenth Yuseong Funding Group project, scheduled for the first half of next year.”

The sheer volume of information to absorb at once was overwhelming, so Eunho focused on quickly relaying what needed to be handled this week. His calm, precise delivery showed a solid grasp of the material, and Yoonjae, catching on, allowed a faint smile to curve his lips, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“You picked it up quickly.”

“If there are any shortcomings, please point them out as we go. I’ll do my best to improve.”

“Just reminding me is enough to do well. Don’t be so tense.”

Perhaps impressed by Eunho’s fast learning, Yoonjae’s eyes narrowed with amusement as he idly touched his sharp, straight brows, then met Eunho’s gaze through the rearview mirror.

“Oh, and…”

“……”

“In the future, if I slip up like earlier, tell me.”

“……”

“Most people close to me can’t feel pheromones well, so I tend to forget.”

“Yes.”

For the first day, Yoonjae seemed unusually talkative—almost as if he had been wary at first but was loosening up. Eunho quietly parted his lips and let out a small, unheard breath. As he reached for his seatbelt, a faint vibration buzzed against his waist. He pressed the ignition button and checked his phone.

[Sorry for being touchy last night. 8:01 AM]

It was a message from Hyunjun, sent with obvious hesitation. A bitter smile tugged at Eunho’s lips. He understood the stress that came with an uncertain future, but last night’s words had cut deep. He quickly typed a short reply—It’s fine—and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Boyfriend?”

“What? …Yes.”

Eunho turned sharply at the sudden, blunt question, meeting Yoonjae’s eyes. The other man let out a faint, derisive laugh and muttered something incomprehensible.

“Same as back then.”

Eunho wanted to ask what he meant, but the words stuck to the tip of his tongue, never leaving his mouth. The gulf created by their hierarchical positions was too wide. He erased the thought, turned the wheel, and drove toward the exit. Then Yoonjae spoke again, his words no easier to grasp.

“…Don’t trust your boyfriend too much.”

It didn’t sound like a joke—Yoonjae was far too meticulous and grave for that. Yet taking it seriously only made it sound more absurd. Eunho brushed it off with a quick “Okay,” cut the conversation short, and pressed gently on the accelerator.