* * *
Joowon, a third-year in the business department, was the president of the film club.
The business building was far from Yoonwoo’s art department, but Yoonwoo had already heard his name more than once—on anonymous forums, through gossip—his reputation preceded him.
He was well known on campus.
A sharp yet graceful jawline, intelligent and deep-set eyes, a perfectly straight nose, and lips that always wore an effortlessly relaxed smile—he was striking by anyone’s standards.
His tall height and broad shoulders further emphasized his presence as a naturally dominant alpha.
People constantly surrounded him.
During club meetings, even one word from him could set off laughter or draw everyone’s attention.
Some omegas were especially blatant in their interest, throwing him glances or finding excuses to get close.
Even other alphas acknowledged his leadership and followed his lead.
He was the kind of person who shone at the center of any crowd—like the sun.
Joowon ran the film club exceptionally well.
Before and after screenings, he led discussions, encouraging members to speak up, and used his sharp insights and humor to keep the atmosphere lively.
Yoonwoo observed Joowon from afar, never letting down his guard.
He couldn’t deny Joowon’s sharp mind and eloquence, but he was certain—someone so seemingly perfect wouldn’t ever notice a beta like him.
A person like that belonged to a completely different world.
There was no way their paths would ever cross.
But the truth was, Joowon had already noticed him—ever since the very first day Yoonwoo walked into the club.
Even in the dim lighting, that pale skin of his seemed to glow.
The messy hair, the delicate side profile, the beauty mark under his eye like a piece of art—and most of all, those eyes… a strange mix of sorrow and fierce intellect that made them unlike anyone else’s.
It was a pull Joowon had never felt before.
Something raw and intense.
That clichéd saying about love at first sight?
For the first time, it felt real.
No matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept drifting toward Yoonwoo, and every time they did, he found himself holding his breath.
He wanted to talk to him so many times, but could never find the courage.
There was always an invisible wall around Yoonwoo, something fragile and tense.
A sense that if he made a wrong move, Yoonwoo would shut himself off completely.
So instead, Joowon simply watched from a distance during every club meeting—observing what movies Yoonwoo liked, what kind of expressions he made, what he seemed to enjoy or dislike.
Then one day, after a club screening, in the usual noisy buzz of people chatting in little groups, Joowon finally gathered his courage.
He walked over to the corner, where Yoonwoo sat alone.
At his sudden approach, Yoonwoo instinctively tensed.
“Hey. You’re the new member, right? Did you enjoy the movie?”
Joowon’s voice was pleasantly low, and his smile had that easy warmth that could disarm anyone.
Yoonwoo just gave a small nod in response.
His heart was beating a little faster, for no reason he could understand.
“What did you think of today’s film? Personally, I thought the character psychology could’ve been portrayed better. Especially in the final scene, the protagonist’s decision felt kind of…”
As he spoke, Joowon subtly studied Yoonwoo’s face.
His gaze lingered a little too long.
It felt like more than just a casual conversation about the movie.
Yoonwoo could feel his eyes trailing over his face—his eyes, his nose, his lips.
Reflexively, Yoonwoo swallowed dryly.
And in that moment, he caught the subtle flicker in Joowon’s gaze.
As if Joowon was choosing his next words carefully.
“Um… I hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way. I’ve just been really curious.”
He gave a slightly awkward smile and continued.
“Are you… an omega, by any chance?”
And with that question, Yoonwoo felt something inside him snap.
Again. It was always the same—his designation.
People always reacted to that first.
Before who he was, they’d get excited, disappointed, jump to conclusions. Joowon was no different.
Whatever emotions had been in his eyes—curiosity, attraction, anything else—it didn’t matter.
In the end, what he saw wasn’t Seo Yoonwoo.
It was just someone who might be a beautiful omega.
In that moment, the voice of the doctor he’d heard at fifteen, the faces of his parents frozen in disappointment, his younger sister’s shame-filled expression, and the way his friends had turned away from him—all flashed through Yoonwoo’s mind like a panorama.
A surge of anger rose, mixed with deep disappointment.
Joowon’s question had been like a sharp needle, tearing open an old wound Yoonwoo had desperately wanted to forget.
Yoonwoo’s expression instantly turned icy.
Without a word, he slammed the film materials he was holding onto the table and walked right past Joowon, leaving the clubroom.
He didn’t spare a glance at Joowon, who stood there flustered and unsure what to do.
All that filled Yoonwoo’s mind was the reaffirmed thought that Alphas couldn’t be trusted.
After that, Yoonwoo began avoiding Joowon completely.
If he saw Joowon in the clubroom, he wouldn’t go in.
If they crossed paths in the hallway, he’d deliberately take a longer route to avoid him.
Joowon tried a few more times to talk to Yoonwoo, but each time he was met with cold eyes and unwavering rejection.
Eventually, he had no choice but to back off.
He realized he had made a serious mistake—and regretted it deeply.
It was frustrating, even for him, how one careless question had shattered the connection he’d felt—an inexplicable pull, a curiosity that had once drawn him to Yoonwoo.
A few days later, Yoonwoo was organizing his project in front of the design department building when Seoyeon, who happened to be passing by, spotted him and called out.
Right beside her was Joowon, looking even more nervous than he had a few days ago.
As it turned out, Seoyeon and Joowon were in the same year and had grown close after being paired for a liberal arts assignment they happened to take together.
Despite not being particularly interested in films, Seoyeon had joined the film club purely because of Joowon’s persistent persuasion—he was the club president, after all.
“Yoonwoo~ There you are!”
Seoyeon spoke first, and Joowon awkwardly cleared his throat when his eyes met Yoonwoo’s.
“Why are you avoiding him so much lately? He’s been looking for you.”
Seoyeon nudged Joowon playfully and looked back and forth between Yoonwoo’s frosty face and Joowon’s restless fidgeting.
Then, with a knowing expression, she said,
“Hey, Cha Joowon. What the hell did you say to get someone this mild-mannered so pissed off? I don’t know the details, but you must’ve done something. Just apologize already, will you?”
Joowon looked even more flustered at her scolding.
Seoyeon gave him a look of exasperation, then turned to Yoonwoo, gave him a little wink as if to say ‘Go easy on him,’ and left them alone.
Once Seoyeon walked away, an awkward, heavy silence settled between them.
Yoonwoo quickly began gathering his things, clearly wanting to escape the situation.
But then Joowon stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
When Yoonwoo looked at him questioningly, Joowon gave a sheepish smile and held out a cup of warm lemon tea.
“…Here. I thought you liked this.”
Yoonwoo hesitated.
He didn’t want to accept Joowon’s gesture.
But in his eyes, he saw something different—an honest, careful regret that hadn’t been there before.
Yoonwoo stared down at the lemon tea, steam rising gently from the cup.
That sweet-tart flavor and comforting aroma—during his grueling part-time jobs, this had been his rare treat, a small luxury he allowed himself once in a while.
It was his favorite drink, one that brought a surprising amount of comfort in his harsh reality.
But how did Joowon know?
He was fairly certain he’d never mentioned it, even in passing.
With a slightly surprised look, Yoonwoo glanced at Joowon.
Then, slowly, he reached out and took the cup.
The warm heat from the cup spread pleasantly across his palm.
Seeing Yoonwoo accept it, Joowon’s eyes lit up a little with courage.
He bowed deeply.
“About last time… I was really out of line. I’m sorry.”
His voice was sincere.
“I didn’t think it through. No matter how curious I was, I had no right to ask something like that. I judged you based on how you look, your vibe—and if that hurt your feelings, I’m truly, honestly sorry. I hope… you can accept my apology.”
His repeated, respectful apology—and the warm lemon tea, something he’d never told anyone he liked.
Yoonwoo was briefly at a loss for words.
He had never met an Alpha who apologized like this: properly, thoughtfully.
There was no sense of pretense or ulterior motive. Just a simple, genuine wish to atone for his mistake.
But even so, a heart that’s closed off doesn’t open so easily.
“…It’s fine.”
Yoonwoo replied curtly, his voice still cold, and turned his gaze away, clearly wanting nothing more to do with him.
A brief flicker of disappointment crossed Joowon’s face, but he quickly forced a small smile and said,
“…Okay. Well, take care.”
Joowon didn’t try to stop him anymore and turned to leave.
Watching his retreating back, Yoonwoo quietly stared down at the warm lemon tea in his hand.
Somewhere inside his frozen heart, something stirred.
He wasn’t ready to lower his guard just yet.
But it felt like a small stone had been dropped onto the thick, frozen surface of his heart—creating a faint, almost imperceptible crack.
Maybe… just maybe, this guy was a little different.
* * *
