* * *

Dismissing it as a mere coincidence was impossible.

Too many things didn’t add up.

Five years ago, at the age of twenty, he suddenly recalled the strange homeless man he had encountered at death’s door.

“Think about it. Your dad, your brother, your cousins, your whole family—they’re all Alphas. Not just any Alphas, but dominants. Now, how do you think it feels that you’re the only Beta?”

The next moment, the voice of Kang Haeseong overlapped with that memory.

“I just love Betas like Yoo Junhee here. Ones who don’t know their place and act up. They’re the most pitiful and adorable in the world. Kind of reminds me of someone annoying.”

Words he’d brushed off casually were now clicking into place, fitting together like a perfectly cut puzzle.

The 5 million won he’d given the homeless man, money he’d intended to throw away anyway… their conversation now resurfaced vividly.

“Alright. I’ll pay you back for sure. You can even collect it a hundredfold from my brother.”

“Do you even know who your brother is?”

“Yeah, that lunatic. If you hold onto this, he’ll come looking for you. My brother’s name is…”

…Ki Taeryu.

The final piece of the missing puzzle snapped into place, and everything aligned like a vivid panorama.

“Fuck…”

Could it be that Ki Taeryu approached him just to find his brother?

If so, since when?

From the very moment he first sought out Leeum?

That must have been why he said those absurd, ungrounded things.

“Then think carefully about what you can give me. There must be something.”

Rage boiled up like wildfire, and his lips quivered uncontrollably.

Betrayal, humiliation, and hatred swirled together, twisting Junhee’s insides into a chaotic mess.

“Urgh…!”

Junhee bolted to the bathroom and retched.

Since deciding to live again at twenty, he’d resolved never to trust anyone.

That steadfast determination had never wavered.

He remained wary of anyone who approached him.

He doubted the sincerity of anyone offering kindness.

It was lonely, but safe. Quiet.

A small yet sturdy world he could hold within his arms.

But somehow, without even realizing it, Ki Taeryu had invaded.

He had dismantled the barbed wire fences Junhee had meticulously erected around himself, barged in as he pleased, and thrown everything into disarray.

His situation hadn’t changed at all, whether it was five years ago or now.

“Junhee, it’s Mom… Can we just talk for a moment?”

In the end, he would be abandoned.

A damn god had set his fate that way.

Someone was always destined to abandon, and someone to be abandoned.

Someone would forget, and someone would be forgotten.

Junhee had always been the latter. For one simple reason.

“A recessive Omega.”

“…What?”

“You asked for the condition, didn’t you?”

Because he was a damn recessive Omega.

That alone was the sole reason he was always discarded.

The reflection in the mirror sneered at him.

---

“Assistant Manager Yoo! The team leader said we’re going out for lunch today. You’re coming too, right?”

Returning to his desk after a meeting, Junhee was approached by Jiyeon.

“I’m fine. You all go ahead.”

“Oh, come on, join us!”

“Yeah, come with us. The team leader said he’d treat us to coffee too.”

Even the youngest team member chimed in, trying to persuade him.

“Honestly, my stomach’s not feeling great.”

“You’re sick again, Assistant Manager Yoo? You’ve been unwell a lot lately. Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

“Should I stop by a pharmacy on my way back for you?”

Leaving his concerned teammates behind, Junhee sat down at his desk and waved them off.

Once the four couples of the team left, silence quickly enveloped the office.

Junhee let out a deep sigh, took his eyes off the monitor, and fiddled with his phone.

“Ki Taeseong’s phone…”

Several days had passed, yet it still felt unreal.

It had been five years. Why now? For what purpose?

The phone itself was nothing more than an empty shell—a useless old device devoid of contacts, photos, or files.

“Could it be that app…?”

But there was no way Taesan’s goal was something as trivial as an app.

The app’s only function was calculating matching rates.

Unless someone was a couple manager like Junhee, it held little to no practical use.

Whatever Ki Taeryu’s reasons for approaching him, Junhee knew nothing of Ki Taeseong’s whereabouts.

They’d only met once in their lives, shared drinks for about two hours, and that was it.

The mere idea that Taeryu thought Junhee knew Taeseong’s location was absurd.

“…Ki Taeryu and Ki Taeseong.”

What kind of relationship could two half-brothers possibly have, for one to be running away and the other to be chasing?

“That man also said he was ostracized from the family for being a Beta.”

But who could’ve guessed that family was the Taesan Group?

Ki Taeseong, the only Beta in the Taesan family.

It was understandable why the homeless man had run away from such a household, but it didn’t stop Junhee from cursing under his breath.

“If they want to fight, they should keep it to themselves. Why drag me into it? What? Collect it from my brother? A hundredfold?”

Five hundred times a hundred. How much was that?

Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? A million? Ten million? …Five hundred million?

“Five hundred million?”

Momentarily tempted by the figure, Junhee shook his head at the thought of Taeryu’s shameless face.

“Being chased by a lunatic like that for life, for only five hundred million? …Now, fifty billion, maybe.”

Yes, fifty billion might be enough to consider it a price for enduring a lifetime of misfortune all at once.

Five hundred million wasn’t even enough to secure a modest rental property in Seoul, let alone fulfill his dream of owning a home.

“Rent… That’s my next goal anyway.”

If it were in a decently accessible suburban area, he could even dream of owning a small place.

“…No, stop thinking about it. There’s no guarantee Taeryu would pay up anyway.”

That was assuming he even knew Taeseong’s whereabouts, which he didn’t.

There was no certainty in anything.

Why Taeryu was searching for his brother, or whether he truly thought Junhee knew his location.

Even if he did, would he actually pay the money?

Amidst his scattered thoughts, one thing was clear.

“Assistant Manager Yoo Junhee.”

“…Yes?”

“Don’t even think about running. One person I want to kill is more than enough.”

Remembering that chilling gaze sent shivers down his spine, his palms damp with sweat.

If Taeryu discovered the connection between Junhee and the homeless man, he’d undoubtedly change his approach.

And Junhee knew for certain—whatever came next would not be in his favor.

“Damn… the Ki family.”

Whichever way this played out, they were clearly trying to use him.

Junhee clenched his fists, pressing against his throbbing temples.

He hadn’t slept well in days, his mind weighed down with these thoughts.

Some nights, he’d bolt awake and block Taeryu’s number, only to unblock it after dreaming vividly of him storming to his front door.

Even on his way home, he’d unconsciously take roundabout routes and flinch at the sight of expensive cars in his neighborhood.

A few days ago, he’d even printed a resignation letter.

Filling out his name, position, and department, he paused when it came to the “reason” section.

‘Ki Tae—’…

He began writing the name, only to erase it.

He then mulled over whether a more tactful expression might suffice and tried “Alpha-phobia,” but erased that too, repeating the process several times.

In the end, he printed out a blank resignation letter, leaving one copy in his office drawer and another at home.

And today was finally the day.

‘First, I need to get a new phone.’

Today was payday, which included his travel reimbursement from the previous month—a perfect opportunity to replace his phone.

When it came to his connection with Ki Taeseong, there were only two things that tied them together:

‘Five million won, and… this obsolete phone.’

The five million won was long gone, and there was no way to retrieve it.

The only thing left was this gray phone.

Now that he knew the device belonged to Ki Taeryu’s older brother, continuing to carry it around felt both unsettling and risky.

Returning it seemed like the logical choice, but the thought of doing so willingly left him bitter and resentful.

This back-and-forth indecision only added to Junhee’s inner turmoil.

‘Ha…’

After all the swirling thoughts, what was left was only frustration.

Junhee exited the empty office he had been guarding alone and headed to the break room—a communal space for employees on the same floor, though he knew it would be empty at this hour.

He figured a cup of coffee might help ease his fatigue in place of lunch, but someone else had already arrived ahead of him.

“What? Is that true? Are you sure?”

A voice suddenly rang out from the slightly ajar break room door, making Junhee halt in his tracks.

The conversation continued between two voices.

“I’m telling you, it’s true. Do you think I’d make this stuff up?”

“Wow, that’s wild. Seriously… When did she build up such walls against Manager Park? And now this? Hilarious. She looks so reserved, but behind the scenes, she’s doing everything she wants.”

“Exactly! Pretending to be all innocent while blatantly flaunting her relationship. And hurting innocent people in the process? That’s straight-up emotional torture.”

Two faces floated into Junhee’s mind as he listened: a couple among the five teams sharing this floor.

They often greeted him with smiles when passing by, though their names didn’t come to him immediately.

What he did remember, however, was what Jiyeon had once whispered ominously after one such encounter:

“Assistant Manager, you must never, ever share personal stories with those two.”

“…Why?”

“Well, you’re not one to talk about your private life anyway, but just in case—you should know they’re like the office rumor mill. If something reaches their ears, you can bet the entire department will know by the end of the day.”

Jiyeon had stressed this with such urgency that Junhee couldn’t forget it, though he wasn’t sure why it surfaced in his mind now.

Either way, meeting them here could only lead to awkwardness.

Junhee turned to leave but froze after barely taking two steps.

“Come to think of it, isn’t Team 4 all in on this too? Jiyeon told me herself that Yoo Junhee doesn’t have a partner.”

* * *