* * *
After receiving Joowon’s apology, Yoonwoo’s heart had softened to some extent, but that didn’t mean his guard had completely come down.
He still didn’t trust Joowon—or any Alpha or Omega, for that matter.
However, the heartfelt sincerity of Joowon’s apology and his considerate gestures gave Yoonwoo the impression that he was somewhat different from others of different traits that he had encountered.
Since then, Joowon stayed close to Yoonwoo’s orbit, careful never to cross any lines.
Rather than approaching Yoonwoo directly, he expressed his presence and interest in subtler ways.
He would leave behind DVDs of films by directors Yoonwoo liked, or rare design books on his usual desks in the design studio or reference library.
Sometimes, he’d drop off lemon tea from a café with a tiny, clumsy note saying, “Don’t overdo it.”
Every time Yoonwoo found these, he would either pretend not to notice or reluctantly drink the tea and immediately toss the note.
Joowon’s persistent attention felt burdensome—but Yoonwoo couldn’t deny that his clumsy, yet sincere gestures were slowly thawing the frozen surface of his heart.
It was a dangerous kind of warmth.
Yoonwoo tried hard to ignore the feeling.
Then, one evening, Yoonwoo stayed late at the central library working on a project.
He became so engrossed in searching for references amid the massive archives that he lost track of time.
As night deepened, more and more students packed up and left, and the library was soon nearly deserted, lit only by the cold glow of fluorescent lights.
As Yoonwoo walked down the corridor with the materials he had gathered, he heard familiar voices coming from a nearby lounge area by the windows.
Members of the film club.
They must’ve also stayed late for their assignments.
Huddled together, they were giggling quietly, as if sharing some inside joke.
Yoonwoo tried to walk past them toward the archives—but then he heard his name and froze mid-step.
A sense of foreboding dropped into his chest like a stone.
“Hey, isn’t it hilarious? That Beta from the design department—Seo Yoonwoo.”
“Oh, the one Joowon-sunbae’s been looking after lately? Why? What’s weird about him?”
“Right? Apparently, even though he’s just a Beta, he acts all stuck-up. Word is, he keeps acting cold even though Joowon-sunbae’s gone out of his way for him.”
“For real? What a sly fox. Just because he looks kind of pretty, like an Omega, he must think he’s something special.”
“So what if he’s top of the class? He’s still just a Beta. Think someone like him could land a job at a real design firm? Yeah, right. He’ll just end up doing grunt work under some Alpha or Omega.”
“No kidding. I don’t get Joowon-sunbae either. Why waste time on some boring, cold Beta? He should be nice to someone like me—an actual charming Omega.”
“Pfft, calling yourself charming? Please. Go sniff your own pheromones before you say that.”
“Still, I’m better than Seo Yoonwoo, who doesn’t even have pheromones. Am I wrong?”
Their cruel and mocking words flew at him without warning, stabbing deep into Yoonwoo’s chest like knives.
His face flushed hot with shame, but inside, his heart went cold.
No matter how hard he tried to break free, no matter how much he proved himself with skill, he could never escape the label of “Beta.”
Everything he had accomplished—the top marks he had earned through blood and sweat, his hard-won design talent, which was everything to him—meant nothing in the face of their rigid standards.
To them, Yoonwoo was just a delusional, ungrateful Beta with no future.
The voices from his past, voices that once tormented him, seemed to echo all at once in his ears.
It became hard to breathe.
Yoonwoo bit his lip.
His fingers felt ice-cold, and his body trembled.
He wanted to scream at them, to run over and shout, ‘What do you know? Don’t talk like that about me!’
But his legs wouldn’t move.
His past had already taught him—speaking out would change nothing.
It would only bring more ridicule, more pity.
He didn’t want to be hurt again.
He felt pathetic for walking away without saying a word, but it was all he could do.
Overwhelmed by the helplessness of having his very existence denied, Yoonwoo turned and hurried off.
He just wanted to get away.
His eyes were already brimming with tears.
But just as he turned to leave, he saw a familiar figure in front of him.
It was Cha Joowon.
He was leaning against a pillar in the hallway, silently watching Yoonwoo, who had frozen in place.
How long had he been standing there?
Judging by his expression, he’d heard everything.
Seeing Yoonwoo’s pale face and tear-filled eyes, Joowon’s brow furrowed darkly.
Joowon had come to the library to give Yoonwoo some lemon tea, only to stumble upon that cruel scene—those vile, mocking voices coming from the lounge, Yoonwoo frozen in place, trying to hide his pain but unable to conceal the depth of despair in his expression.
Rage surged through Joowon like wildfire.
The idea that someone he had already hurt with his own careless words was now being subjected to such low, vicious humiliation again—he couldn’t bear it.
Yoonwoo, ghost-pale and devastated, tried to hurry past Joowon without a word, as if desperate to escape.
Seeing how fragile he looked, Joowon’s jaw clenched.
He no longer hesitated.
With a face calm but filled with cold fury, he pushed off the wall and walked straight toward the lounge.
“What’s so funny?”
His voice rang out—low, even, but laced with an icy rage.
The group’s laughter died instantly.
They turned in shock to see the source of the voice—and their faces drained of color when they saw who it was.
It was Cha Joowon, president of the club and a well-known figure on campus, staring at them with cold eyes.
“O-oh, sunbae! We were just…”
One student began to stammer a defense, but Joowon cut him off.
“If I didn’t mishear, you were just talking pretty damn rudely about one of my club members. A fellow student.”
Joowon crossed his arms and looked them over, one by one.
Under his piercing gaze, each of them involuntarily lowered their heads.
The atmosphere around Joowon grew heavy, suffocating.
“When did our school’s standards drop this low? You think it’s funny to mock someone for their secondary gender? Their future?”
His voice remained calm, but with each word, the air around them grew colder, like frost settling over the room.
Some students swallowed hard.
Others looked away.
A few clutched their chests or coughed dryly, as if suddenly short of breath.
It was unmistakably the oppressive aura of an Alpha in anger.
“O-of course not! We were just joking—”
One student tried to explain with a trembling voice.
“A joke?”
Joowon’s voice turned sharp like ice.
At the same time, the air around the students grew heavier, pressing down on them.
One student staggered and reached for the wall to steady himself.
“Because you’re a Beta, you won’t get hired by a real design firm. Once you’re out in the world, you’ll just be a grunt working under some Alpha or Omega. You think that sounds like a joke?”
He repeated their exact words, hitting the mark precisely.
“Is your secondary gender really the only thing you have to brag about?”
A cold sneer formed at the corner of Joowon’s lips.
The students, now nearly choking, could hardly breathe.
They simply looked up at Joowon with terrified eyes.
“You think design skills depend on secondary gender? Don’t fool yourselves. That Beta you’ve been belittling—Seo Yoonwoo—is not someone you lowlifes have the right to speak about so carelessly. He’s not just talented; he works all night while you lot are out drinking and goofing off. That’s how he became the top student in the entire year. You have no right to insult his effort or his ability.”
His firm words were like a declaration.
Joowon paused briefly, glaring coldly at the struggling students below him.
“And you say Betas can’t get jobs?”
Joowon’s voice rang out again.
Every word he spoke seemed to tighten around their throats.
“That’s the kind of garbage only people like you, rotting with prejudice, would say. People with real skills get recognized no matter where they go. You, wasting time tearing others down—I wonder if any of you will even manage to find a place in society.”
Finally, Joowon shot them a last, ice-cold look and delivered a warning:
“Don’t you dare speak carelessly about Seo Yoonwoo ever again—not in front of me, not anywhere. If I hear something like that one more time, this won’t end here. Keep that in mind.”
The instant those words left his mouth, the oppressive pressure that had been radiating from Joowon disappeared as if it had never been there.
The students finally coughed and gasped for breath, exchanging nervous glances but not daring to meet Joowon’s eyes.
They scattered in utter silence like mice.
In an instant, the lounge was empty.
Only Joowon—and Yoonwoo, who had quietly watched everything from the hallway—remained.
* * *
