* * *
The video posted on the “Beta” account was similar to past ones: the same room, the same setup, and the same act of self-pleasure.
But as someone who consumed Beta’s content religiously, Sejun could tell something was different. The movements were rougher, more frustrated than usual.
‘This feels more like an Alpha. The kind that lives up to every Alpha stereotype.’
His body was remarkable—lean and muscular, as though carved by discipline.
Sejun swallowed hard, his attention glued to Beta’s strained voice.
At one point, Beta stood, bracing himself against the desk where his phone was perched, and moved his hips as though he were with an unseen partner.
He even reached out into the empty air, as if seeking someone to hold.
Something about it seemed… bittersweet.
Was it because of the one-sided crush Sejun had built up?
Or was it Beta’s desperation that tugged at his heartstrings?
‘Does he have someone he’s pining for? A married lover, maybe?’
It was hard to imagine any Omega turning down an Alpha like that—a man so perfectly built, oozing confidence and charm.
Were they not made to be each other’s counterparts?
Sejun shook his head, scolding himself for spinning a romantic narrative around someone’s anonymous account.
After all, he’d once been chided for expressing such thoughts aloud.
One of the Omega nurses at the clinic (not the one he disliked, but a younger, fresh-faced hire) had scolded him: “Director, you can’t say stuff like that around younger people these days. It’s a big no-no.”
That moment had been a rude awakening for Sejun, who still thought of himself as part of the younger, more progressive generation.
Still, the habit persisted.
That night, under the guise of sticking to his bedtime routine, Sejun let himself indulge in a private release before falling into a deep sleep.
By Saturday afternoon, Sejun and Juwan were texting more frequently.
He still didn’t know what Juwan did for a living, but as long as it wasn’t something shady—like being a gangster, a conman, or worse—it didn’t matter.
Juwan: Did you get off work early today? I saw your car while I was out.
Sejun: Really? Where?
Juwan: At the 00 intersection.
Sejun: OMG, that was me. You should’ve honked!
Juwan: I did. And you were speeding, too, lol.
Sejun: Should I call the cops on myself? 😭
Juwan: LOL.
‘Why does he feel like someone my age—or even younger?’ Sejun mused.
Age differences didn’t usually matter much, but for someone like Sejun, who had so few friends, the dynamic was oddly fascinating.
Later, Juwan sent a photo of his dinner: two eggs and an apple.
‘Can he even function on this?’
Yet Sejun found his eyes drawn to Juwan’s hand holding the cup in the background.
It was large and well-defined, like the rest of him.
Come to think of it, Juwan’s hands on the steering wheel had seemed unusually big, too.
Tall men with big hands—why did that feel so familiar?
So… endearing?
Maybe it was his growing affection—or simply the comfort of their budding connection—but sometimes Sejun felt like he’d known Juwan forever.
‘Why is Beta even hanging out with that annoying Omega friend?’
Sejun pondered this often.
Was that friend even a real friend?
Me: What’s your ring size? Just curious all of a sudden.
Juwan: Is there something strange about my fingers?
Kwon Juwan sometimes had this kind of issue.
As if a life lived under strict control wasn’t enough, he seemed to feel the need to manage even his appearance meticulously—or rather, it felt more like he was constantly conscious of others’ opinions.
So, seeing reactions like that after casually saying something was something he’d gotten used to by now.
At first, he’d tried to reassure him seriously, but after it happened a few times, Sejun just started speaking more freely.
Me: Your fingers are sleek and well-shaped, though?
Juwan: Then… are my nails dirty? I haven’t had time for upkeep lately.
Me: Wait, do you go to nail salons?
Juwan: Occasionally.
It wasn’t easy to get the image of Kwon Juwan with fancy nail decorations out of his head.
Trying hard not to tease him for his quirks, Sejun decided to steer the conversation back to the original topic.
Me: So, what’s your ring size?
Juwan: Oh, my left ring finger is around size 20. It might’ve changed, though. I’m not sure about the other fingers.
“Left ring finger, size 20? And you don’t know the size for any other fingers?”
Considering how he looks and his gentle personality, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have dated before.
Still, since Sejun found his lack of confidence somewhat endearing, he couldn’t help but feel oddly betrayed.
Juwan: Are my fingers too thick? Would thinner ones be better?
Whether your fingers are thick or thin, it doesn’t benefit or harm me in any way.
Seeing how fixated he was on his appearance, he figured long-term relationships might’ve been hard for him.
That thought gave rise to an unspoken bond of sorts between them: a shared camaraderie between “guys who are too handsome for their own good.”
Me: Are you secretly a model or something? Most people don’t pay that much attention to the details.
Juwan: Sorry, I keep…
Me: It’s not something to apologize for.
He really made his life harder for no reason.
But that was part of his charm—his endearing ridiculousness.
And “charming” was a feeling that came from looking down on someone.
Yeah, Juwan was cute.
At first, Sejun thought having a good-looking beta friend would be convenient and comfortable since he wouldn’t notice my pheromone problem.
Sejun even considered dating a beta just to see how it might go, but he didn’t want to reveal how bad he was at relationships.
Still, with someone as clueless as Juwan, maybe they’d be on the same level.
When Sejun compared their “levels,” it seemed unlikely he’d get rejected.
That thought played a role in his growing feelings for him.
The way they’d meet, eat, grab coffee, and go for drives wasn’t something friends typically did.
Most of all, Juwan, who initially seemed reluctant, began initiating contact more often.
At first, Sejun wondered if he’d been wary, thinking that Juwan might think of him as some kind of cult recruiter.
The one-month trial he’d proposed passed smoothly.
Sejun even had a folder on his photo app now, just for pictures Juwan sent him.
They’d become regulars at a diet-friendly restaurant nearby, having lunch or dinner together almost daily unless something special came up.
“Hey, Sejun, if you skip the company dinner, who’s going to drive me home?”
“Hyung—or should I say, Director—you should act your age. Just don’t overdrink.”
“Look at this guy, acting smug just because he has a lover now.”
Sejun adjusted his tie and shrugged.
He wasn’t my boyfriend yet, but there was potential, so there was no need to argue.
Recently, he’d been jumping to conclusions, even buying new underwear just in case.
It had been ages since Sejun didn’t mind the boldness of a store clerk assuming he had a lover.
He’d even chosen a cologne—not the kind meant to put clients at ease but one designed to accentuate his charm.
Getting all dressed up to go to a salad restaurant was ridiculous—and he loved it.
* * *
