* * *
On the day of his university entrance ceremony, he received an envelope from his father with just a few bills—barely enough to be called an allowance under the pretense of “living expenses.”
“From now on, your life is your responsibility.”
Leaving behind only those cold words, his father turned away.
His mother and Yeonhee didn’t even come to see him off.
That moment marked, in truth, the end of his relationship with his family.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t hurt.
But he had already given up on expecting anything from them.
He didn’t look back.
He left home that very day, blindly seeking out a realtor near the campus and settling for a goshiwon—an extremely cramped studio room with the cheapest rent and no deposit.
A musty-smelling room with barely enough space for a bed and a desk, lit only by a faint sliver of light through a tiny window.
That was where he shoved in his only possession—a worn-out suitcase.
Compared to the warm, spacious room in his family home, it was night and day.
Ironically, though the space was uncomfortable, he felt strangely at ease.
The thought that he no longer had to constantly watch his back around people who communicated through pheromones loosened the tension in his body.
It was his complete break from family.
The campus buzzed with excitement and anticipation—an atmosphere full of youth and fresh starts.
But for Yoonwoo, it was just another cold, unfamiliar world.
His classmates, dressed brightly and laughing with their friends, felt like beings from another planet.
He was utterly alone among them.
His college life was nothing short of a brutal survival story.
The coursework in the design department was far more intense than he had imagined.
All-nighters became a regular occurrence.
To afford the expensive materials, he had to juggle multiple part-time jobs alongside his studies.
As soon as lectures ended, he’d rush off to a noisy restaurant kitchen to wash dishes, and at dawn, he’d nod off behind the counter at a convenience store.
On weekends, he handed out flyers on the streets without a moment’s rest.
He barely had time to sleep, and most meals were either skipped or replaced by cheap triangle kimbap from the convenience store.
Even though he worked tirelessly without a day off, the money he earned was never enough.
A single day’s earnings would vanish the next day on a few paints and sheets of paper.
Gradually, he began to skip more meals, often subsisting on instant ramen for days on end.
His bank balance was always on the edge.
His body, worn thin from chronic sleep deprivation and poor nutrition, grew visibly gaunt, with deep dark circles under his eyes.
Sometimes he was so exhausted he’d wear the same clothes to school for days without showering.
Yet, he never showed a hint of struggle to anyone.
No—there was no one to show it to.
He lived entirely on his own, and his loneliness only deepened with time.
His past wounds pushed him further into isolation.
He kept his distance from everyone, especially Alphas and Omegas.
To Yoonwoo, they felt like people from a world entirely different from his own.
He didn’t attend MTs (membership training retreats), nor did he join any clubs.
While his classmates laughed and mingled in groups, Yoonwoo sat silently at the very back of the classroom, listening to lectures.
As soon as class ended, he would avoid eye contact and hurry out to his next part-time job.
To him, the Alpha-Omega couples sharing pheromones and creating their own unique atmosphere looked like something out of another world.
Occasionally, someone would show interest in his talent or striking looks, but Yoonwoo dismissed it as superficial—just like his past friends.
Before they could get too close, he would shut them out.
He was sure they’d be disappointed once they learned he was a Beta.
If anyone talked to him, he’d respond briefly and avert his eyes.
He always had an excuse ready to decline invitations for meals or drinks.
He didn’t want to be hurt again.
He didn’t want to open up to someone, only to be rejected once more because of his classification.
Time passed.
Having completed his military service and returned as a student again, a small change came into Yoonwoo’s lonely and precarious college life.
There was a Beta woman in his department, two years his senior, named Kang Seoyeon.
She had sharp eyes and a clear, no-nonsense way of speaking—practical, assertive, and ambitious.
Rumor had it she was one of the top talents in the department and planned to open her own studio after graduation.
Their first meeting came after a class presentation.
Yoonwoo, having been worn to the bone from consecutive night shifts and all-nighters, was barely able to keep it together.
His presentation was a mess, his voice cracked with exhaustion, and his thoughts jumbled.
After barely making it through, he tried to slip out of the lecture hall—but Seoyeon blocked his path.
“You’re Seo Yoonwoo, the one who ranked top in the department this semester, right?”
Arms crossed, she looked him up and down and said:
“Then what the hell was that presentation today? You better get your act together. If you’re just gonna coast on talent and half-ass it, might as well quit. Your designs deserve better.”
Seoyeon had been keeping an eye on Yoonwoo.
Despite being aloof from his peers, he consistently turned out impressive designs.
His talent was undeniable, but he looked like he was self-destructing, and that troubled her.
Normally, Yoonwoo would have shut down at such harsh words.
But strangely, he wasn’t offended.
There was no malice or mockery in her voice—just a sharp, realistic critique from someone who had truly seen his potential.
Maybe, just maybe, she was the first person who truly saw him.
After that, Seoyeon began to occasionally speak to Yoonwoo.
She didn’t pry into his past or offer cheap sympathy.
Instead, she gave him blunt, practical advice.
“That professor’s notorious for grading hard. Focus on your portfolio instead. I’ve got the A+ materials from last year—I’ll send them to you.”
“You should enter this design competition. You’ve got the skill, and there’s even a cash prize. The deadline’s close, so start prepping now.”
Sometimes, when he looked completely spent from an all-nighter, she’d walk over and tap a cold can of coffee against his forehead.
“Here, drink this. Wake up.”
Or when she saw him surviving off convenience store meals for days on end, she’d grab his arm and say,
“You’re gonna end up with full-on malnutrition at this rate. I’m buying you dinner. Don’t argue—just come.”
Then she’d buy him a hearty kimchi stew meal packed with meat from the student cafeteria.
“You’ve gotta eat to live. Design’s a battle of stamina too.”
She clicked her tongue at him as he ate like it was medicine.
At first, Yoonwoo found Seoyeon’s casual concern overwhelming.
But as she continued with the same calm and consistent demeanor, he slowly began to let his guard down.
The fact that she was a Beta, too, also helped dismantle his defenses.
Like him, she was someone trying to survive fiercely in a world dominated by Alphas and Omegas—especially in the cutthroat design industry.
Now and then, when they stayed up all night on projects, they’d share bitter laughs and complaints.
“In the end, us Betas only have stamina to rely on. So eat properly, will you?”
“I’ve been eating a lot these days. At this point, I think I’m overeating.”
“Alpha or Omega—what’s the big deal? From what I’ve seen, you’re better than most of them anyway.”
“Still… sometimes it feels unfair. Getting ignored or missing opportunities just because of my designation. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get a job after graduating…”
Those conversations, while tinged with sadness, also gave him a deep sense of comfort—that he wasn’t alone.
For the first time, through his time with Seoyeon, Yoonwoo was able to open up, even just a little, about his complex feelings around his designation.
She listened to his complaints with sincerity, got angry with him when he needed it, and comforted him with realistic advice.
Seoyeon was honest in acknowledging Yoonwoo’s exceptional design sensibilities.
Yoonwoo, in turn, came to respect Seoyeon’s practical judgment, drive, and leadership.
They became a kind of team—complementing each other’s weaknesses like comrades.
To Yoonwoo, Seoyeon was the first friend he could truly open up to, a senior he could trust and rely on.
“You’re gonna waste away doing nothing but design work.”
One day, seeing Yoonwoo with a tired face after another all-nighter, Seoyeon clicked her tongue.
“Design is great, but you need to take a break sometimes. Meet people. That’s how new ideas come to you.”
She paused, then suggested,
“Our university’s film club is actually pretty nice—why don’t you try going? You like movies, don’t you? I’m in it too.”
Movies.
The only world aside from design that Yoonwoo could fully immerse himself in.
In his lonely, cramped goshiwon room, watching films on a beat-up laptop, he could forget about the weight of reality for just a while and lose himself in another world.
But a club?
He hadn’t joined any group since entering university.
He instinctively avoided places with alphas or omegas.
It felt like there was an invisible wall between him and their world, and he didn’t want to force his way past it.
He was always the one who got hurt in the end.
Yet because of Seoyeon’s heartfelt encouragement… and maybe a faint, barely-there hope that this time could be different… and maybe just from the boredom of always watching movies alone… he mustered up a great deal of courage.
He hesitated, but in the end, he stepped up and knocked on the door of the film club.
The moment the door opened, lively chatter spilled out.
Inside, students from various departments were gathered in small groups, talking and laughing.
They leaned on each other comfortably, teased each other, smiled brightly.
And in the middle of all that liveliness, Yoonwoo once again felt out of place.
Quietly, he slipped into a seat in the farthest corner, pressing his back to the wall—hoping no one would notice him.
And that’s when he first met Cha Joowon.
* * *
