* * *
It was unexpected—too direct.
Joowon’s handsome face was tinged with red, and his gaze was fixed solely on Yoonwoo.
His eyes were unwavering, sincere… and full of longing.
“From the moment I first saw you in the club, I was drawn to you. The quiet strength in your eyes… and that rare smile you show sometimes. You kept staying on my mind. Regardless of your secondary gender, it’s just you—Seo Yoonwoo. I know I hurt you with my careless mistake… but my feelings haven’t changed.”
He stepped closer, looking straight into Yoonwoo’s eyes.
He was so near that Yoonwoo could feel his warm breath in the cold autumn night.
“Would you… go out with me?”
The moment Yoonwoo heard Joowon’s confession, his heart began to race uncontrollably.
A sudden rush of emotion, almost like his chest would burst—something like excitement—briefly washed over him.
‘That he liked me, just as I am. Seo Yoonwoo.’
It was what Yoonwoo had always longed to hear.
But almost immediately, that feeling was swallowed by a cold, sharp fear.
Joowon was an alpha.
Someday… he might instinctively be drawn to an omega with pheromones.
Yoonwoo, being a beta, would never understand that kind of deep pheromonal connection.
Even if what he felt now seemed sincere, that feeling might fade over time—and eventually, Yoonwoo would be left alone again.
Just like how he was abandoned by his family when he failed to meet their expectations.
In the face of the primal bond between alphas and omegas, someone like him—a beta—would never truly belong.
That deeply rooted fear wrapped itself around his entire being.
No matter how different Joowon claimed to be… he was still an alpha.
One day, he might change.
And Yoonwoo would be abandoned again.
“I… I can’t…”
Yoonwoo barely managed to speak, his voice trembling.
He couldn’t meet Joowon’s eyes and lowered his head.
“I’m… scared of alphas. In the end… you’ll go to an omega because of pheromones… right? I don’t want to get hurt again…”
With those words, Yoonwoo turned and ran off into the darkness.
Joowon, stunned by the unexpected rejection and fear in Yoonwoo’s voice, couldn’t bring himself to stop him.
He just stood there, frozen in place.
The chill of the autumn night settled heavily between them.
After Joowon’s confession, Yoonwoo spent several days in deep turmoil.
Joowon’s sincere apology and the way he had fiercely stood up for him that day continued to shake him.
His firm defense, the way he’d gently handed him lemon tea—those gestures felt undeniably genuine.
But the deep-rooted fear Yoonwoo held as a beta wouldn’t go away easily.
He couldn’t bring himself to reject Joowon completely… but he couldn’t accept him either.
So he maintained a shaky, uncertain distance.
Joowon, seemingly aware of this, no longer pressured Yoonwoo for an answer.
Instead, he simply stayed nearby, watching over him with the same warmth—but now with a deeper, more careful gaze.
His quiet willingness to match Yoonwoo’s pace gave Yoonwoo a sense of comfort amidst his fear.
But it also stirred a new anxiety—how long could Joowon wait?
On a Friday evening as autumn deepened, the film club held its regular screening event.
Unlike the smaller, casual gatherings, this was a quarterly event that most members attended—a fairly big occasion for the club.
The film selected for this month’s club screening was a classic noir by a director Yoonwoo personally admired.
Normally, he would’ve avoided the club’s group activities, but thanks to Seoyeon’s persistent persuasion and his own excitement about the movie, he finally decided to attend.
The club room was already buzzing with students.
As the room grew crowded, the number of scent signatures increased too—alphas and omegas were more distinctly noticeable than usual.
Avoiding the crowd, Yoonwoo slipped into a quiet corner of the room.
Joowon, the club president, was busily preparing and organizing the screening.
Then, as the film began, he casually took the seat right next to Yoonwoo, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Yoonwoo’s heart skipped a little faster, but he forced himself to focus on the screen, pretending not to notice.
The club room used for the screening was a small, windowless space.
With blackout curtains drawn, it was perfect for movie-watching, but as more people gathered, the air quickly grew stifling.
On screen, the signature dark and tense atmosphere of noir cinema played out, and everyone watched in breathless silence—until a sound suddenly broke through the darkness.
Ragged breathing.
At first, Yoonwoo thought it was just an intense sound effect, but the noise grew louder, more erratic.
“Haa… Hnn… Hhht…”
A few seats away, an omega boy was curled up, gasping for air.
Even in the darkness, the sheen of sweat on his body was faintly visible.
A heat cycle—sudden and unanticipated.
At that moment, a subtle but unmistakable ripple spread through the room.
The back of a male alpha sitting right in front of Yoonwoo stiffened noticeably, and from another side came the low growl of someone who quickly clamped their own mouth shut.
Several alphas were visibly restless, struggling to suppress their instincts as their bodies unconsciously leaned toward the omega.
Even Yoonwoo, a beta, could feel it—the dense, heated air of the small, enclosed room quickly turned dangerous, thick with the omega’s unstable pheromones and the alphas’ rising tension.
Yoonwoo’s heart sank coldly. He didn’t even dare turn to look at Joowon sitting next to him.
He was afraid.
Afraid of seeing Joowon consumed by alpha instincts.
Especially in a space like this, sealed tight with nowhere to run—if Joowon caught even a whiff of that strong omega scent… he might not be able to resist either.
All the apologies and considerate gestures Joowon had shown before—what if they crumbled in the face of raw instinct?
But then, Joowon moved first.
He immediately grasped the situation and firmly tapped the shoulder of the vice president, a beta seated in front.
“Sunmin, turn on the lights. You and the other betas—help that student out of here and take him to the infirmary. Contact them on the way. As for the rest of the alphas—heads down and hold your breath. Now.”
Joowon’s voice was low, firm, commanding—imbued with the authority of a leader and the calm of someone in control.
The vice president moved quickly, flicking on the lights, and together with other beta members, began escorting the distressed omega out of the room.
Even while issuing orders, Joowon found time to check on Yoonwoo.
His gaze, when it met Yoonwoo’s, showed no trace of instinctive agitation—only clear concern.
Once the chaos had settled a bit, Joowon spoke quietly to him.
“Yoonwoo.”
He whispered in a voice low enough that only Yoonwoo could hear.
His tone was surprisingly calm.
“Are you alright? You don’t look so good.”
Even in the darkness, it seemed he had noticed Yoonwoo’s pale face and anxiety.
“The air in here’s terrible. It’s suffocating, right?”
He gently tightened his grip on Yoonwoo’s arm.
“Let’s step out for a bit?”
Yoonwoo couldn’t say anything.
He saw.
He heard. He felt it.
The other alphas had been visibly shaken, struggling to hide their instinctual reactions.
But Joowon—right there, in the very center of those potent pheromones—was deliberately suppressing his instincts.
He was the first to respond, the first to take control of the situation.
And afterward, he checked on Yoonwoo.
He was prioritizing him—above his instincts, above everything—in this small, dark room.
It was a clear choice.
A choice to value his feelings and care for Yoonwoo as a beta more than yielding to alpha impulses.
And even Yoonwoo, a beta, could feel how remarkable and how incredibly difficult that must have been.
Something warm surged in Yoonwoo’s chest.
Not sorrow.
Not anger.
But overwhelming relief and emotion.
Like a towering wall collapsing—or a long-shut door of his heart finally swinging open.
A wave of trust and gratitude toward Joowon crashed over him.
Maybe this person really is different.
No—he was different.
He was someone willing to fight his instincts—for him.
Slowly, Yoonwoo raised his head and met Joowon’s eyes in the dim light.
They were still filled with concern for him.
Without realizing it, a faint smile touched Yoonwoo’s lips.
And in a quiet voice—much steadier than before—he replied:
“…Yes. Let’s go, sunbae.”
It was the first time he’d ever called him that.
The word ‘sunbae’ came out awkwardly, but it was proof that Yoonwoo had finally taken a small step toward him.
At that, Joowon’s face lit up with a bright smile.
He gently helped Yoonwoo to his feet, and this time, Yoonwoo didn’t pull away.
Letting himself be supported by Joowon’s warm, firm hand, Yoonwoo left the stifling, dark screening room and stepped out into the quiet hallway.
The shadow of fear that had long weighed heavily in his heart was finally beginning to lift.
And deep within him, a tiny, cautious hope began to bloom—maybe this alpha named Joowon was someone he could trust.
* * *
