Even though the weekday evening rush hour had passed, the lane connecting Yeonhui-dong to the Donggyo-dong intersection was narrow, and red taillights stretched ahead of us in a long line. It looked like we'd have to wait through at least two or three more light changes before we could make the right turn.

"We're almost there and now we're stuck."

Juhan hyung muttered, resting his elbow on the window frame, sounding bored. He and I were on our way home right after delivering a piece to a client's residence in Yeonhui-dong.

"You could drop me off here, though..."

"We're almost there. Are you in a hurry?"

"No. I'd have to wait for hyung and nuna to finish anyway... I can just walk slowly from here."

"We're headed down that way anyway. Aren't you getting treated to dinner because you were sick?"

I managed an awkward smile in response and shifted my gaze out the window. The days had noticeably gotten longer, and shops were just beginning to light up their signs. A Korean barbecue restaurant had set up makeshift tables and chairs on the sidewalk out front.

At Phantom, everyone thought I had been sick. While my body had briefly malfunctioned due to mental shock, strictly speaking, I hadn't actually fallen ill. The Director, however, was resolute.

The following day, around late afternoon, he drove me to the Manager's residence himself and advised me to take two more days off. Although it was phrased as a suggestion, it was practically an order. He said that if I came to work, it would only make others worry, and that I needed to rest fully until I had completely recovered—I had no right to refuse.

Yuni nuna and Juhan hyung seemed to think I had fallen ill from overexertion, having helped with gallery work and then the shoot for Old Future that day. I made excuses several times—that the hamburger I forced down had probably upset my stomach—but neither of them seemed to believe me.

For one reason or another, I felt embarrassed, wondering if I had inadvertently acquired an image of frailty. In reality, my body was perfectly fine—nothing broken.

Well. Maybe it wasn't entirely fine.

After my first sexual experience with another person, my body might have changed from before. Each time I revisited that night—lying in his bed, that version of myself I barely recognized—I felt like I understood what it meant to be human less and less.

It was my first time having sex with someone else, so naturally it was also my first time observing my own reactions to it. But even so, the boldness of it fell far outside any range I had ever anticipated. I, who even when masturbating had only ever focused on reaching climax quickly and efficiently, as though dealing with an unavoidable physiological function... to have done that...

I let out a sigh without realizing it and rested my forehead against the window. I felt Juhan hyung's gaze flicker over to me, but no question followed.

Even if I harbored feelings or curiosity toward him that were slightly outside the ordinary, that remained purely my personal matter. Between the two of us, that incident was settling into place as something akin to a first-aid situation.

That night, I was far from my right mind due to severe shock, and he had simply taken special measures to help me forget everything and rest—not unlike pricking a finger to relieve indigestion, though the emotional reality was far more complicated. He was disconcertingly his usual self, yet it was precisely that attitude that had allowed me to regain my balance.

Sometimes, lying alone and retracing the events of that day, I would rub my ear as if I could still feel the warmth of his breath against it. That was all that remained—along with the lingering scent, that powerful fragrance that had enveloped my entire body from beginning to end that night.

Perhaps because I was thinking about it, even though I wasn't alone in bed now, my shoulders twitched as if he were whispering in my ear again, asking me to say something obscene. Flustered by the reaction that rose up in the confined space with someone else present, I rubbed my warm ears with my palms. The phone resting on my knee vibrated.

I looked down. An unsaved number. I silenced it so it wouldn't ring and turned my gaze back out the window. Our car was still in front of the barbecue restaurant.

"Wasn't that your phone? Aren't you going to answer?"

Juhan hyung pointed toward it with his chin and asked.

"I hardly ever answer numbers I don't have saved."

"Ah... because of the elopement?"

Juhan hyung said playfully, tapping the bottom of the steering wheel lightly with his fist. Then he added,

"To be precise—the elopement, plus Seo Ihyeon?"

"......"

"I didn't mean to sting you. Don't look so down, man."

I knew that wasn't his intention, so I wasn't exactly deflated—but it was true that for the three of us to make it to Seoul as Morae nuna and Juhan hyung's elopement, I was the one who had to bow out.

"That still hasn't been resolved? You still have to be careful?"

When I nodded, Juhan hyung fiddled with the piercing on his lip and furrowed his brow.

"Most parents would forgive something like this by now. Then again, I'm still in a cold war with my own parents."

He chuckled lightly, touching on his own pain in passing.

"Turns out 'no parent can win against their child' only goes so far."

As the car ahead finally started moving, Juhan hyung released the brake and added indifferently.

I agreed with that. Not every parent necessarily put their child above all else. Some parents might find strength in their child's existence in extreme situations—and perhaps most did—but there were also parents in this world who simply couldn't.

I knew that intellectually. I had even held the arrogant thought that I might be able to understand my father, even if I couldn't forgive him. But the reaction my body had shown in the Director's living room told me that had been a complete delusion.

It wasn't the right phrase for this kind of situation, I knew—but my body was honest. That was the reaction my body showed before the phantom of the past, symbolized by that painting. Proof that the past hadn't been sealed away—that it still held dominion over the present.

If just two more cars had cleared the intersection, there would have been a gap to turn right—but we had to wait for the light one more time. This time, we stopped in front of a charming little bakery.

Juhan hyung looked out at the shops and remarked that this neighborhood had lost all its former quietness. His expression was the same as always, but just because he didn't constantly lament his wounds didn't mean he had overcome them. A wound inflicted by one's parents wouldn't simply disappear just because you left home and stopped seeing them.

The light changed again, and after we made the right turn, it was only a short drive to What Happened in Bali. Juhan hyung leaned his upper body over the steering wheel, scrutinizing the old single-story building where the café was, and spoke.

"So this is it. It wasn't even registered on the GPS, so I had no idea where it was."

The owner didn't want the place filled with transient customers who only came to snap photos for their social media, so she hadn't listed What Happened in Bali on any search portals either.

"Juhan hyung, if you don't mind, would you like to come in for a bit? I could at least treat you to a drink."

He seemed to consider it, fiddling with the piercing on his lip for a moment and glancing toward the café.

"I'd like to, but... I have plans with the guys from my old band. I'll come by with Baek Yuni next time."

"Please do. I'll treat you to a meal then too. The nasi goreng is delicious."

Since it was a narrow residential alley, he couldn't leave the car parked for long. I thanked him for the ride and got out, and Juhan hyung quickly drove off down the alley.

"Seo Ihyeon!"

I turned around. Morae nuna stood at the front of the café, smiling, hands tucked into her apron pockets. It had been almost a week since I'd last seen her.

"Who was that?"

Morae nuna came up beside me and pointed toward the retreating rear of Juhan hyung's car. It wasn't his personal car—it was one of Phantom's company vehicles, the kind used for business or deliveries.

"A hyung I work with at the gallery."

"He drove you all the way here? You should have invited him in for some punch before he left."

"I did suggest it... but he said he had plans."

"Next time, make sure you come together. He works with you, so I should make a good impression."

Morae nuna bumped my shoulder with hers and grinned.

On the surface, things were peaceful—but as Juhan hyung had said, we were still in a position where we had to keep a low profile. I trusted the Phantom crew, but hearing Morae nuna so unsuspectingly suggest inviting them to What Happened in Bali sent a sliver of anxiety through me. I felt she should have been more cautious.

I didn't mention any of that, though. I said I understood and followed her inside. The call from the unknown number still lingered at the back of my mind, but I didn't bring that up either.

Nothing would happen. Even if someone tried to dig up my personal information, the sharp-witted Phantom crew would handle it cleverly. And the call from that unknown number was probably just a telemarketer—water purifiers, phone plans, loan products—or a wrong number. I buried the anxiety like a mantra, repeating it over and over.

If I made up my mind and pushed for it, Morae nuna and Yeehan hyung could leave Seoul soon. I just needed a little more time. Until then, I hoped this precarious peace could bear the weight of my anxiety.

It was Friday evening, so the café was nearly at full capacity. The owner, who had recently returned from Bali, greeted me warmly from the kitchen alongside Yeehan hyung. A new board had been added to one wall of the café—something the owner must have brought back.

It felt like a pressing notice urging me to make a decision, so I pretended not to notice and quietly set my bag down at my usual spot by the counter.

"We're closing at ten tonight, so stick around. The owner brought back a lot of interesting things from Bali—I'll show you."

Morae nuna, who had been taking an additional order from another table, ruffled my hair before moving behind the bar to prepare drinks.

Did hyung and nuna buy you dinner because you were sick?—Juhan hyung had teased. But I hadn't told Morae nuna or Yeehan hyung anything about what happened that day, or about the two days I'd been absent afterward. Today was a combination welcome-back party for the owner's return from Bali and a staff gathering, and since it was Friday, Morae nuna and Yeehan hyung had invited me to come see everyone and eat together. There was no need to bring up something that would obviously make them worry—and besides, I wasn't ready to speak aloud about the shock of that day yet.

The practice notebook I always used like a sketchbook whenever I came to the café had been replaced with a new one. The sight of it made me think of the previous notebook, almost full—and naturally, the memo about the surfing school written inside came to mind. It felt like another demand notice had just landed on my imaginary desk.

I shoved the imaginary notice into an imaginary desk drawer and flipped through the new notebook until I found a blank page. As with all doodling, my hand moved unconsciously, without any particular plan for what to draw.

Inside, as always, light and leisurely music played—string instruments, a ukulele somewhere in the mix—and the sounds of conversation blended into it, creating just the right level of ambient noise to concentrate.

Without any sketch underneath, I completed the facial lines first, then drew the torso, dressed in a vest over a shirt, with pants. The long ears were those of a rabbit, but the face and body proportions were human.

I was so absorbed in detailing the ruffles on the shirt—like the swirled cream frosting on a cake—that I didn't notice the phone ringing at first. When I happened to shift my gaze, I found the call screen lit up on my phone sitting on the table. I had switched it to silent in the car earlier and forgotten to set it back to vibrate.

Fortunately, this time it was a number I recognized. It was Inwu hyung.

The interior was a little too noisy for a comfortable conversation, so I grabbed my phone and stepped out into the alley in front of the café. I leaned against the utility pole next to the entrance, hiding myself slightly, and answered.

[Why didn't you answer earlier?]

"Pardon me?"

As soon as the call connected, Inwu hyung launched right into a question.

[My phone battery died and I couldn't find anywhere to charge it. I borrowed someone else's phone to call you, but you weren't picking up.]

"Oh..."

So that had been Inwu hyung. A wave of relief washed over me and I let out a small laugh. I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets and scuffed the soles of my sneakers against the curb.

[I heard you weren't feeling well. I wanted to see your face once you were better, so I called.]

I had no idea the news had reached Inwu hyung too. I'd been hearing nothing but concern from everyone around me all week due to my absence—it was almost more than I deserved.

"The Director told me to rest, so I took the days off, but it was just a slight stomach upset. Thank you for being concerned."

[If that cold-blooded man voluntarily told you to take two days off, it wasn't just slight.... You didn't even go to the hospital, did you? I'm a doctor. I'll see you for free, so if you're up for it, let me take a look. Where are you? I'll come pick you up.]

Even though I clearly had plans, I hesitated for a moment.

There was a question I'd been holding onto for days because I hadn't had anyone suitable to ask.

I had considered asking the Manager, but it felt like too abrupt a topic. I had thought about casually asking Juhan hyung during our delivery run, but he was too sharp, and I held back. The Alpha closest to me was Morae nuna, of course—but she rarely mentioned her own Alpha tendencies in the first place, and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable for no reason.

Inwu hyung was neither too close nor too distant, and his characteristically light atmosphere might make it easier to bring up any topic. That was what I thought.

But a prior engagement was a prior engagement. After thanking him for his concern and declining, I ended the call with Inwu hyung, who sounded disappointed.

Inwu hyung, who seemed carefree at a glance, was a more complex character the more I got to know him. His words and actions were so playful that I had to stay wary—take everything he said at face value and you might end up looking like a fool—yet sometimes it felt as though he tucked genuine sincerity inside that playfulness. It was hard to tell where the joke ended and the real thing began. He was, in a way, exactly like his own artwork.

Because the feeling I got from his paintings perfectly matched the feeling I got from him as a person, I had—somewhat amusingly—lowered my guard around Inwu hyung more than when we first met. Even if he chose to hide his sincerity behind a flirtatious tone and easy detachment, he was never the type to deny that he was hiding it while pretending to be something he wasn't.

"What are you painting? A person? A rabbit?"

When I returned to my seat, Morae nuna was standing there, looking down at my drawing sideways. I had gotten so absorbed in it that it had developed well past what could charitably be called a doodle, and feeling embarrassed, I quietly pulled the notebook closer and sat down. I had never been the type to show my paintings to others anyway. They were like a diary to me.

"It's Mr. Rabbit."

"Mr. Rabbit?"

"From Alice in Wonderland."

"Oh... that Mr. Rabbit. His sunglasses are cool."

Morae nuna sat down beside me, stretched her legs out, and hummed along to the music. She wasn't looking at the painting anymore, but I still couldn't quite concentrate. The truth was, the real reason my pen felt dull was something else entirely.

"Nuna... can we eat later?"

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"It's not that anything's wrong..."

I was surprised to find that I still couldn't let go of the regret over an appointment I had already refused—and explaining the situation with Inwu hyung was also awkward. I realized that quite a few things had piled up that I hadn't been able to tell Morae nuna since we stopped living together.

"Is it someone from the gallery?"

"Uh... no, never mind. Forget it."

"What is it... didn't you bring it up because you wanted to go?"

"It's not that I want to go..."

Morae nuna was sensitive to my feelings. She reacted with care not only to her own emotions but to the feelings of the people around her. That didn't mean she was impulsive—making life decisions on the spot based on whatever her emotions demanded in the moment.

"Hey, what are you hiding from me?"

"No, I really didn't bring it up because I wanted to go. I won't go. I don't want to go."

"Seo Ihyeon."

She deliberately draped an arm over my shoulder, pressing her weight into it.

"I'm asking you as a favor—please, meet other people. Okay?"

She pulled an exaggerated expression, like someone trying to shake off an annoying stalker.

"I'm so happy that since coming to Seoul, you're working and actually spending time with people. Is this because of what I said last time about feeling slighted or whatever?"

I used to think the same thing. That there was nothing we couldn't say to each other. What could I possibly not tell these two people who already knew about my biggest vulnerabilities?

But that wasn't true.

I hadn't told them that I had seen my painting at the Director's house. I hadn't told them that looking at those paintings had triggered a panic attack, that I had hyperventilated and woken up in his bed, because I didn't want them to worry. And I had no intention of telling anyone about sleeping with the Director.

I wasn't making the foolish mistake of thinking these changes were proof that we weren't as close as I had believed. If anything, it simply meant my life up until now had been too simple. In my twenty-two-year-old world, there had been only Morae nuna and Yeehan hyung—two people—and everything else had been empty space.

So it wasn't unreasonable that those two couldn't bring themselves to leave me behind. They just weren't capable of being that cruel.

Leaning her temple against my shoulder—which must have been wearing a complicated expression—Morae nuna tapped Mr. Rabbit on the notebook.

"I like this one. Can I hang it up in our café?"

· · · · ·

Inwu hyung had offered to come pick me up from wherever I was, but I was perfectly fine—there was no reason to put him through that kind of trouble. When I kept refusing and vaguely mentioned I was somewhere near Hongdae, he let out a sigh on the other end of the line and said to meet him somewhere nearby in a few minutes.

The meeting spot was a newly opened hotel near Hongdae. As a boutique hotel, it wasn't a stiffly formal space—but it was intimidating in its own way, all trendy and sophisticated.

Inwu hyung was waiting for me on an egg-shaped chair in the lobby. Moving through the space with the ease of someone who had been there before, he deftly found the elevator hall and took me straight to the bar on the fifteenth floor.

It seemed to be a popular place. At the entrance, there were about five or six groups waiting—roughly twenty people—for a table. Securing a reservation on such short notice must have been difficult, but a staff member in a sleek black suit that seemed to double as a uniform led us directly to the outdoor rooftop terrace.

Even the interior, which I had caught a glimpse of as we passed, was completely full. The outdoor rooftop—with its pleasant view and cool evening air—was overflowing with people as well. The customers ranged from their twenties to their forties and fifties, but regardless of age, everyone was dressed stylishly, and I found myself glancing down at my striped t-shirt and jeans the way I always did in places like this.

I wondered if there was an unstated dress code, but since Inwu hyung didn't seem to pay my attire any mind at all, I pulled my gaze away from the worn sleeves of my t-shirt. There was no way to change clothes now anyway.

"You've really lost some weight."

After ordering at my request and sending the server off, Inwu hyung leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

"I haven't..."

I felt guilty for receiving everyone's concern when I hadn't even come down with a proper fever. I fumbled at my face out of embarrassment and tried to deflect.

"I'm a doctor, you know. You've gotten gaunt. Your complexion isn't good either. Did I call you out here unnecessarily? You mentioned you were back at work the day before yesterday, and tomorrow's Saturday, so I reached out..."

"I'm genuinely fine. I was the one who said I couldn't make it and then contacted you again—I'm sorry for complicating things."

"I was the one who reached out first saying I wanted to see you. I was so disappointed when I thought we couldn't meet—and then when you messaged me again, I was so excited. But that... wasn't some kind of technique, was it?"

"......"

I tried to read his expression, struggling to work out what he meant, when Inwu hyung lowered his shoulders and let out a small laugh.

"I just meant I was glad we got to meet after thinking we wouldn't."

I couldn't tell if it was a typical joke or something sincere, so I sat there awkwardly, unable to react either way—until the wine and appetizers we had ordered were served.

Instead of the server who had taken our order, a man wearing a gold nameplate reading Manager brought the wine and food, exchanging warm greetings with Inwu hyung. From their conversation, it seemed the man had been a popular bartender at a well-known bar where Inwu hyung was a regular, and had recently been recruited to manage this place.

As these were matters from a world I had no connection to, I quietly listened as the two of them talked and nodded when Inwu hyung introduced me. When the word Phantom came up, the manager's eyes flicked over me quickly, sharp with noticeable curiosity.

I thought of the Director, the Manager, Yuni nuna, and Juhan hyung—their distinctive styles and personalities—and felt a small pang of bitterness thinking about how I must look in the manager's eyes right now.

"So, what did you want to say?"

"Pardon?"

As soon as the manager had opened the wine, poured the first glass, and departed, Inwu hyung proposed a toast—and then asked me that before I had even lifted my lips from the glass.

"You said you couldn't make it because of a prior engagement, but then you reached out again to meet. Anyone else, I wouldn't think much of it—but with you, Ihyeon-ssi, I figured there must be something you wanted to say. Did I read that wrong?"

I felt a flush of embarrassment, as though he had seen straight through why I had agreed to meet him alone—and yet, at the same time, I was relieved that I wouldn't have to struggle to find the right words to bring up the topic.

The stage was set, but I still needed a little more courage. Even just the false bravado that comes with alcohol. I picked up the glass I had just set down and took three or four more sips of wine.

"Lately... something's been on my mind that I've been curious about... and I don't really have anyone around I can ask."

Inwu hyung, seated across from me, kept a soft smile on his face, trying to make it easier for me to speak, but I felt like a client who insists their own problem belongs to a friend—this is about someone I know...

"I... haven't had much interaction with Alphas or Omegas until now. But Phantom's main clients are almost all Alphas or Omegas..."

"Hmm..."

Inwu hyung, who had been resting his elbows on the table with his hands loosely clasped beneath his chin, shifted his posture and traced the base of his wine glass with his fingertips.

"I thought knowing more about their characteristics might be helpful going forward..."

It was a clumsy excuse, but I couldn't tell him the truth. I suspected Inwu hyung would either let it slide, knowing full well I was making an excuse, or playfully push further—one of those two. Either way, I thought I could manage.

But even for all his playfulness, he didn't seem like someone who would treat another person's feelings like a joke. That gut feeling must have been what unconsciously drove me to call him back.

"Did something troublesome happen because of an Alpha or Omega?"

"It's... not like that..."

Though I denied it verbally, my gaze drifted downward on its own. Ever since I had settled on Inwu hyung as someone to confide in, I had expected that he might see through the situation to some degree. Even prepared as I was, the words wouldn't come out easily.

"Go ahead, ask. If Ihyeon-ssi is curious, then I'm happy to play the intellectual. There's far too much hearsay on the internet anyway."

Inwu hyung took a sip of wine, set the glass down, and leaned his upper body slightly forward—as if ready. But I, whose decision to come here had been entirely impulsive, needed a moment to catch my breath.

I excused myself and stood up.

I fled to the restroom to buy time, but the restroom—intensely decorated with pop-art paintings and props—did nothing to calm me. I splashed water on my face next to a group of men my age loudly debating where to go after leaving this place, then came out with nothing gained.

Meanwhile, Inwu hyung was on a call. I didn't know who he was talking to, but from the way he leaned lazily against the back of his chair, legs stretched out and one foot bobbing at the end of them, his expression radiating pleasure, whoever it was had him in a very good mood.

"He's here now. I should hang up."

Hyung, who had noticed me and was about to end the call, suddenly flashed a mischievous smile and stopped the person on the other end from hanging up.

"Ah, aren't you curious who it is? At least say hello."

After saying that to the other person, Inwu hyung immediately handed his phone to me as I was about to sit down. I took it in a daze—I had no idea who was on the other end either. But I didn't feel like arguing over the phone and keeping whoever it was waiting.

"...Hello..."

[......]

No response from the other side. I glanced over at Inwu hyung across the table, but he just gestured for me to keep talking.

"Hello?"

[Are you drinking?]

"Ah..."

A vacant sound—neither an exclamation nor a groan—escaped my lips. Come to think of it, there weren't many people Inwu hyung would switch the phone over to me for.

"Yes... just a little wine..."

I fiddled with the glass on the table, trailing off, which made it sound exactly like I was making an excuse. There was no reason for me to be excusing myself—and yet it came out that way, because his question, Are you drinking?, carried a faint note of reproach.

[It hasn't been that long... since you were sick.]

There was a long pause between sentences. After some time, he added that. I could sense a hesitation in his voice—a reluctance to bring up that day. Because we both knew I hadn't exactly been sick.

"Yes, I'm only planning to have one or two glasses."

I had assumed he would never mention that day again, so even this much made me tense.

All week at Phantom, he had spoken to me about work while looking me straight in the eye, without any hesitation, and I had noticed no change whatsoever in his attitude or tone. I had accepted it as his intention—to treat everything from that night, the Alienation, the hyperventilation, the sleeping over, as an unavoidable accident that had occurred outside the bounds of ordinary life, and leave it neatly categorized as such.

[You have a habit of drinking whatever's in front of you when you get nervous. Didn't you drink quite a bit of wine last time, too?]

On the day we went to that Spanish pub, he hadn't seemed particularly interested in our group—including me. Or so it appeared on the surface. But that was the only day I had ever drunk wine. And as he pointed out, even now I had already had more than I had planned, for no other reason than nerves.

I didn't know how to respond to him, who was repeating the same thing several times in a row—so unlike him—as though he were worried. I just moved my lips. He let out a long sigh. Even over the phone, the breath felt close enough to graze my cheek. I could picture him roughly running his fingers through his thick, dense hair.

Silence. I couldn't tell what the silence was trying to draw out of me. Though all I could hear through the phone was his breathing, my ears began to tingle again, and my shoulders felt as though they wanted to fold inward. His scent wafted to the tip of my nose, as though by reflex.

All week, I had had to endure the sudden, unannounced assaults of that scent. Even when he wasn't at Phantom, there were times I felt it brushing against my senses. And now, that scent inevitably brought to mind the sexual encounter from that night. It was troublesome.

Unable to bear the prolonged silence, I took another sip of wine. From the other end of the phone came the sound of movement, then a click, then a deep breath drawn in and slowly exhaled. He seemed to be smoking.

Behind Inwu hyung, separated from us by a high flower bed, a couple was taking their time posing for selfies. Our silence continued. After a few more puffs of his cigarette, as if having made up his mind, he spoke in a voice that sounded surprisingly light.

[Can you put Choi Inwu on?]

After all that hesitation, I hadn't expected his final request to simply be for Inwu hyung.

Can I come over there? Where is it?—At the very least, I had expected him to warn me about Inwu hyung, like he had done at the Manager's dining table last time, saying he wasn't exactly a great person to get involved with. Maybe it was self-consciousness on my part, but I had sensed a tense, loaded quality to his silence—as though he were on the verge of saying something like that.

"Yes, then."

My reply came a beat too slow because my expectation had missed the mark. A small, deflating sense of anticlimax settled over me—the feeling of having gotten ahead of myself. I bit and released my lower lip, then held the phone out to Inwu hyung, who still looked pleased.

"What do you mean, why? I told you, I called because I was curious how the art fair was going to turn out."

Whatever he heard, Inwu hyung's expression tightened the moment he put the phone to his ear. Then, an instant later, his face relaxed into a smile that seemed to be enjoying something privately.

"I wouldn't know. I'm not like some people who are obsessed with pheromones."

Inwu hyung, who had been swirling his wine glass, tipped the small remaining amount of wine into his mouth.

It might have been an overreaction on my part, but I strongly felt that hyung was deliberately provoking him. The slight smile and the teasing lilt to his voice gave that impression. The exact content of the conversation, though, I couldn't guess.

"Hey, Mr. Lau. What are you worried about? Pheromones are useless on a Beta. What's wrong with you—is this the early stages of manifestation? You act like nothing's impossible if you just have pheromones, like people will just strip off their clothes and come running at you the moment you step outside."

As soon as Inwu hyung's glass was empty, a staff member appeared from somewhere and quietly refilled it from the bottle resting in the iron basket on the table.

My hands, loosely clasped in my lap, tightened together. Beta. Pheromones. The exact topics I had wanted to ask about were already coming out of hyung's mouth. I wondered what he had said to prompt such an irritated reaction.

"Just focus on the Hong Kong Art Fair. I want to get some of my paintings into the foreign market too. Hanging up."

Without giving the other side a chance to reply, Inwu hyung ended the call as if making a quick escape, then pushed his phone to the far side of the table and shrugged.

"He's impossible."

He added that as though the person on the other end of the now-disconnected call could still hear him.

"Sorry. Did I startle you by switching like that so suddenly? I wanted to brag a little."

"......"

"About getting to meet Ihyeon-ssi one-on-one."

After saying that, his gaze locked onto mine as he brought his glass to his lips.

Bragging only works if the person you're telling is envious. If he had genuinely wanted to boast about meeting me, he had certainly chosen the wrong audience for it.

All that effort in making the call must have been wasted. I offered a faint smile and unconsciously lifted my glass toward my lips—but only touched them lightly to the rim before setting it back down.

"What you were just saying..."

After a few false starts, I finally managed to bring it up. Since the topic had already surfaced, it seemed like a natural opening.

"Betas... they can't sense the pheromones of Alphas or Omegas, right?"

He crossed his legs and leaned back loosely against the armrest.

"What do you mean?"

"Since I'm a Beta... even if my clients are Alphas or Omegas, that means I don't need to worry about pheromones and can just work normally, right?"

Inwu hyung, who had been looking across at me with a trace of a smile, leaned forward and extended his hand over the table.

"Ihyeon-ssi, would you look at me for a moment?"

His hands, naturally offered with palms facing up, seemed to be asking me to take them. Hesitantly, I placed my own hand lightly over his. His fingers curled inward, clasping my hand.

The smile gradually faded from his face as he gazed at me. Like a doctor searching a patient's complexion for signs of illness. Like a fortune-teller trying to read hints of the past and future in a client's eyes. Hyung slowly and deeply examined both of my eyes.

I couldn't discern his intention, but it was the first time I had seen Inwu hyung look so serious—I couldn't laugh or look away. There were tall planters separating each seating area, so I didn't need to worry about other patrons, but one staff member passing by caught sight of our joined hands on the table and glanced back and forth between my face and hyung's. The stare made me self-conscious and I glanced over—and at almost that exact moment, Inwu hyung let out a soft chuckle and released my hand.

Letting go of my hand in favor of his wine glass, Inwu hyung leaned against the table and smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing slightly.

"If a Beta could sense an Alpha's pheromones."

"......"

"We'd probably be downstairs right now, tangled up in the backseat of my car."

If I understood correctly, it seemed hyung had just released his pheromones toward me.

But there was nothing. Not sexual arousal—not even any particular energy different from usual. All I sensed was the refreshing early-summer breeze drifting through the fifteenth-floor outdoor terrace, and the staff member's stare: confused, curious, fading.

I had come here on impulse, wanting to cleanly resolve the question that had been nagging at me—and even that brief experiment just now seemed to offer a partial answer.

"The basics are easy enough to find if you search the internet, so you probably already know... but Alpha and Omega pheromones aren't just simple scents. They're classified as a type of 'releaser pheromone' that elicits an immediate reaction in the individual who receives them... Well, in simple terms, they're sexual pheromones."

Inwu hyung seemed to realize he was getting too technical, so he paused, rolled his eyes as if searching for the right words, and distilled Alpha and Omega pheromones into a single phrase: sexual pheromones.

That was right. It might sound a little blunt to some people, but when you really broke it down, Alpha and Omega pheromones were, at their core, sexual pheromones. Substances designed to sexually arouse the other party and initiate a connection—not from affection or interest, but for the specific purpose of sexual excitement.

Inwu hyung set down his glass and pushed it away, toward his phone. I, on the other hand, swallowed more of the dark red liquid, wetting my mouth and throat, which had tightened for reasons I couldn't quite identify.

"In other animals, pheromones are detected by an accessory olfactory organ called the Jacobson's organ, but in humans, that organ has completely atrophied. The same goes for Alphas and Omegas."

"Then..."

Hyung leaned his arms on the table, adjusted his posture, and continued speaking, cracking the shells of the nuts that had been served alongside the wine.

"Although Alphas and Omegas do detect each other's pheromones through scent, it's ultimately the result of other effects being triggered in the brain—not an action occurring solely in the olfactory system. When they smell a pheromone, something in the brain substitutes for the function of the Jacobson's organ. It uses the olfactory transmission pathway, but the reaction it produces in the brain is entirely different from ordinary smell. For a Beta, the brain is where scents are received and remembered—it's not an organ that analyzes a scent and triggers powerful secondary effects from it."

Inwu hyung completely crushed the shell of the first nut—small and almond-shaped, pale inside—then picked up the next one and rolled it around in his palm for a moment.

His gaze, angled down toward my chest, seemed lost somewhere in his own thoughts or memories. For him—an Alpha—pheromones might be a medium that calls forth all kinds of things. Experiences that Betas never need to have, that they can live their entire lives without ever consciously noticing.

"Unpleasant, pleasant, comforting... Betas have a sense of smell too, but it's hard to say that smell alone compels behavior. Smelling a certain scent and becoming so uncontrollably furious you start breaking things. Or feeling so infinitely at peace that you fall asleep as if you've taken a sedative. Or being swept up in a sexual urge so overwhelming that you want someone in a dangerous place, in a position you'd never normally consider... Scent alone doesn't produce that kind of extreme reaction in a Beta, does it?"

Having crushed the second shell as well, hyung placed the smooth kernel on the plate and rubbed his fingers together to brush off the fragments.

Meeting hyung's gaze as it traveled up from my chest to my face, I nodded in affirmation... but the confusion about being swept up in an uncontrollable sexual urge and acting in ways utterly unlike my ordinary self—that was precisely why I was here today.

But that day had been my first sexual contact with another person. I had no basis for comparison—whether passion of that intensity was simply inherent in me (it had certainly felt intense by my own standards, especially compared to how I was when alone), or whether something about that particular situation had produced a unique reaction. And on top of everything, I hadn't been in a stable state of mind.

My throat felt dry again. I reached for the wine.

"How humans can distinguish so many different scents with only around a thousand olfactory receptors—the physiological basis for that hasn't even been fully explained yet. So there's even less to say about the mechanisms behind Alpha and Omega pheromones. How it is that Betas can't even detect the scent, let alone react to it—there are only various experiments and competing hypotheses circulating. That's where science currently stands."

The media's attitude toward Alphas and Omegas was extreme.

In movies, dramas, and variety shows, they were consumed as romantic figures—beautiful, gifted, yet utterly helpless when it came to love—despite the fact that their supposed genetic superiority over Betas had been disproven long ago. Meanwhile, the news treated them as troublesome and lacking in self-control, because of sex scandals among wealthy Alphas and Omegas, and sexual crimes committed by those in more precarious social positions.

The fact that many Alphas and Omegas were socially successful didn't mean that most successful people were Alphas or Omegas. The vast majority of humanity was Beta. In a world where Betas were the norm, I had never really known how Alphas and Omegas established their identities and lived their lives.

I had never been particularly curious about their biological differences out of simple interest, nor had I given them much serious thought. Morae nuna, the person closest to me, was an Alpha—but because she never revealed that about herself, I naturally treated and accepted her as though she were a Beta. Even if she chose to live that way, and even if she were in a relationship with Yeehan hyung, who wasn't an Omega, Lim Morae was still an Alpha, and that didn't change.

As I had searched for information online, I'd encountered all manner of misleading content—curiosity-driven misinformation and rumors that read more like fiction—floating past constantly. Perhaps it was because the mechanism of pheromones remained scientifically unexplained even in the present day that Betas kept appearing to attach romantic interpretations to pheromones, or to manufacture rumors from nothing.

Hyung had gone quiet, and from the steadiness of his gaze, it seemed he was waiting for some kind of reaction. I fiddled with the edge of the coated paper coaster and opened my mouth.

"It's difficult, I think..."

"My explanation?"

I shook my head. Hyung's explanation had been so clear and considerate that even someone as unknowledgeable about Alphas and Omegas as I was could follow it without much effort.

"I understand the explanation itself... but what it actually feels like to live under the influence of those principles. It seems like it's in a realm that Betas can't easily grasp—something the word 'feeling' can't fully contain."

I didn't think they were in a worse position than Betas. It wasn't a topic anyone could judge so readily.

Hyung chuckled, lightening the gravity of what I had said.

"There's that saying, right? If women are from Venus and men are from Mars, then Betas are from Pluto, and Alphas and Omegas might as well be from an entirely different solar system. It's only natural that understanding each other is difficult. I don't really know what it feels like to live an entire life without the influence of pheromones either."

Hyung shrugged.

It was literally true. Due to structural physiological differences—and the countless divergences that stemmed from them—it was inevitable that they would struggle to fully understand each other. And even setting pheromones aside, humans were already divided into countless strata based on nationality, culture, age, income, occupation, and education, and conflicts between members of different strata were ubiquitous.

Society was structured in such a complex way that people who stood together as members of the same stratum under one standard—speaking in one voice for shared interests—could find themselves on opposite sides when measured by another standard entirely.

As I tried to reel my thoughts back from going too far afield and reached for the wine again, the phone on the table vibrated lightly. The brief duration suggested a messenger notification.

"It's fine—go ahead and check it."

There was nothing urgent waiting for me, and we were in the middle of a conversation, so I had been trying not to pay attention—but Inwu hyung pointed at my phone first and urged me to check it.

While I checked the message, hyung showed active interest. That characteristic, playful smile of his threatened to spill over the edges of his lips.

"What does it say?"

"Asking if I'll be late tonight."

"Hmm... telling you to come home early? To only drink a little?"

"No, she doesn't really touch on things like that."

I typed a reply into the messenger window while stealing a glance at hyung's face. His expression, which had been cheerful up until that moment, shifted in an instant. The disappointment was plain.

"Liu Weikun. Wasn't it?"

"Uh... it's the Manager."

Whatever basis Inwu hyung had for being so sure the sender would be him, he wore a sour, deeply disappointed expression.

While I took a sip of wine, another message arrived immediately from the Manager. After replying that I'd love to have dinner together tomorrow evening if she was free, I quietly flipped my phone face down again.

Watching Inwu hyung slump against the armrest, deflated after confirming the message hadn't been from whoever he'd been hoping for, I forced myself to speak first. I felt a strange, irrational sense of responsibility to bring the conversation back on track.

"So for a Beta, that means you can absolutely never detect pheromones, right?"

Inwu hyung shrugged once, then straightened his slouched posture.

"There are plenty of movies and dramas where a Beta exposed to Alpha or Omega pheromones describes them as some kind of blissful scent... but that's all just fantasy. According to current research findings, it is impossible for a Beta to detect pheromones or react to them. Impossible."

By repeating the word twice, Inwu hyung emphasized that there wasn't even the slightest possibility.

Although pheromones are transmitted through the sense of smell, they don't actually act through the sense of smell itself. And furthermore, a Beta's sense of smell cannot even detect the scent of pheromones in the first place. That was what most information online said as well.

However, opposing views weren't hard to find. And in the comment sections of those pieces, heated debates inevitably erupted—most of the criticism aimed at people who distorted verified facts with sentimental speculation.

"There's a study where male mice had their Jacobson's organs rendered non-functional, and they were observed afterward. The results showed they exhibited sexual behavior toward both females and males. This suggests the Jacobson's organ is what responds to female pheromones and induces courtship exclusively toward females—and it also tells us just how much influence pheromones have over sexual behavior."

Our conversation was briefly interrupted as a staff member approached to refill hyung's glass, which had gone empty again.

I cast an aimless gaze at the deep crimson liquid filling the transparent glass and recalled a few anecdotes I had come across online. Most followed similar patterns—personal experiences, or stories claiming to be personal experiences.

Whether the accounts posted by Betas online—who claimed that an Alpha or Omega in their workplace had flooded their senses with a sweet scent so overwhelming their legs gave out, causing them to cling to the other person without fully realizing it, which they could only explain as a deliberate pheromone release for seduction—were true, exaggerated, or invented wholesale, there was no denying that my own experience had been real: I had been engulfed in an extreme pleasure that lay well outside ordinary bounds, all while sensing his scent as it suddenly intensified.

Or perhaps my experience was also just another fanciful tale spun by a Beta, colored by sentimental interpretation.

As soon as the glass was refilled and the staff member left, Inwu hyung immediately tilted it back and drank it down in one go, as easily as if it were cold beer. Then he looked at me and smiled.

"If a Beta feels sexual attraction toward a certain Alpha or Omega... it's simply because they're drawn to that person themselves. Not because of pheromones."

I couldn't tell whether Inwu hyung was saying this because he had already sensed the depth of my feelings, or whether he was teasing me based on some vague premonition, or whether he had no particular intention at all and I was simply getting nervous on my own. Either way, since I hadn't been able to fully sort out or confirm my own emotions, I pretended not to notice and let the wine go down.

You have a habit of drinking whatever's in front of you when you get nervous. I had no choice but to acknowledge how accurate that observation was.

"Whether you're an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta—before any of that, you're human. When you spend time with someone, you can be drawn to them regardless of primary or secondary sex. Even between Betas, without any pheromonal influence, people can be captivated by looks and sleep together with no emotional connection. That's just how the world works. Without necessarily involving pheromones—Alphas and Betas, Omegas and Betas, Alphas and Omegas—if people catch each other's eye, they date, they have one-night stands. It happens. Because before gender, we're all the same."

He wasn't scolding me, but there was an edge of sarcasm in hyung's tone—perhaps aimed at those who treated Alphas and Omegas as nothing more than beasts driven entirely by their instincts. He popped the kernel he had just cracked out of its shell into his mouth and kept going.

"If you only felt sexual desire through pheromonal activity... wouldn't that be a bit too primitive? You'd be no different from mice that throw themselves at anything, male or female, once their Jacobson's organs stop functioning. Alphas and Omegas can also be attracted to someone independent of pheromones."

If I, who cannot detect pheromones, could be drawn to an Alpha—then the reverse must be true for them as well. But in terms of raw sexual appeal, a Beta probably couldn't surpass an Omega's pheromones.

Suddenly, Shushu came to mind.

Even without sensing his pheromones, Shushu was an attractive person in his own right. Compared to an Omega who was already sufficiently magnetic without any aid from pheromones, wouldn't even the most personally appealing Beta seem like a dull black-and-white film to an Alpha?

I was surprised at myself for making such a preposterous comparison between Shushu and me. Not simply because it was an unfair match—though that was also true—but because the comparison itself made me flinch, as though something in my feelings had been exposed.

"Ah, there's actually a prime example right near Ihyeon-ssi. An Alpha who manages his sex life entirely without pheromones."

Inwu hyung swallowed the wine he'd been drinking and lightly tapped the table. Then he added,

"Phantom's Director."

"......"

"He claims he never releases his pheromones to anyone he sleeps with. Not that I'd know—I've never slept with him. Then again, with Liu Weikun's looks, influence, and wealth, he probably doesn't need pheromones anyway. But he does have a bit of a fixation about it."

I vaguely remembered Inwu hyung talking about this on the day we first drank wine at that Spanish-style pub. Back then I knew even less about Alphas and Omegas than I did now, but I recalled him teasing the Director—saying that pheromones needed circulation to function properly, so he should try releasing his own and getting a whiff of an Omega's in return.

"He probably just wants to be different from a lab rat."

Hyung said it with an expression I couldn't quite read—somewhere between mockery and reluctant admiration for the fastidiousness—and smiled, the corner of his mouth pulling up crookedly.

"He was always a bit odd in that regard, even back in school. It was unofficially an Alpha and Omega institution, so Betas were actually the rare ones there. Most of the guys had a basic sense of Alpha entitlement and tried to coast through life on it. But this one acted as if being an Alpha were some kind of complex. A lot of people looked down on him for it—said he was just putting on airs."

I had read something similar in an article about Shushu. A special school in Hong Kong, effectively exclusive to Alphas and Omegas. From what had been said so far, it seemed the Director, Inwu hyung, and Shushu were all alumni of that school. As if reminiscing about the turbulent years of their youth, hyung stared at some point on the table for a moment before raising his head and grinning.

"But ironically, because he hated being played by his own pheromones, he put in enormous effort to master control—and ended up becoming a top-tier Golden Alpha. Even without that, his genetics had already given him strong Alpha potential, so his starting conditions were good. But control isn't something you perfect through genetics alone. Ah, is this getting too technical?"

"No. I get the general idea..."

"Kwon Juhan?"

When I nodded, he gave a knowing chuckle, then added a word of advice: if I wanted accurate information about Alphas and Omegas, I should take about half of what Kwon Juhan said with a grain of salt.

"How was it? Was I okay? As an intellectual?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his question; his chin was tilted up just slightly, a hint of self-satisfaction in the pose.

"Yes, much more helpful than Wikipedia. Thank you."

"I'm not usually someone who explains things so diligently. I was just pretending to be especially kind because it was you, Ihyeon-ssi."

I thanked him again, unable to tell whether that was a joke or something he meant. Whether he was only 'pretending to be kind' for my sake or not, the kindness itself was real.

"Anything else you're curious about?"

The doubts from that night had been resolved—there was no longer any reason to keep dwelling on them—but other lingering questions remained. I paused to consider before speaking. If not now, there probably wouldn't be another chance to ask.

"Before... why did you think I was an Alpha?"

"......"

His gaze and expression stiffened subtly. But the very next moment, a quiet smile turned toward me.

"Can I be honest?"

I nodded.

"Because I found you captivating."

He had asked for honesty, but the word still made my face flush. Captivating... It wasn't a way I had ever thought of myself—not even once.

"It's not easy to be drawn to someone when you have no information about them. Since I couldn't sense any pheromones from you, you couldn't be an Omega. So I naturally assumed you must be an Alpha. That's what I thought. Even without actively releasing pheromones, there's something between Alphas and Omegas—a kind of pull that's hard to put into words."

From our very first meeting, hyung had shown an almost embarrassing degree of interest and curiosity—but he had been so direct about it that it had felt more like a joke than genuine feeling. Even now, he was using the word captivating, and I still couldn't tell if it was real attraction or simply how he expressed having been drawn to someone. From that first meeting until now, hyung had stayed at exactly that ambiguous distance, never quite closing the gap.

"But that's just my perspective. As for why Kun felt Ihyeon-ssi was an Omega—I honestly don't know. That guy is a top-tier Golden Alpha; he almost never makes mistakes distinguishing between Alphas, Omegas, and Betas. You must be his first."

Hyung's words sounded sweet on the surface, but not everything that is a "first" carries precious meaning. Because I was a Beta, not an Omega, I would be remembered by him simply as his first mistake.

He was the partner in my first sexual experience. And come to think of it, we had each left a "first" with the other in our own way. Such a mundane thought made me laugh.

What had pulled me into that frightening, extreme pleasure near the peak that night—it hadn't felt like a simple scent.

And yet Inwu hyung's explanation, along with all the verified data, said the same thing: even if he had intentionally released his pheromones, you—a Beta—would not have been able to so much as detect the scent, let alone react to it with sexual arousal.

That was only possible between an Alpha and an Omega. A Beta cannot understand the language of those from another solar system. No—before that, a Beta cannot even hear what language they are communicating in.

What Juhan hyung had once said—that someone like the Director could cause a pheromonal reaction even in a Beta if he chose to—was nothing more than the kind of baseless rumor that floated around the internet.

And furthermore, if it was the Director's absolute rule—his fixation—to never release his pheromones to a sexual partner, then even if I had been an Omega, there was no way he would have released them that night. The bold reactions I had shown were most likely nothing more than my own passion for sex. No—by this point, instead of talking about probabilities, I should simply admit it cleanly.

For days I had been wondering whether the sensations during that time with him—the ones that drew me so deeply into it, that injected pleasure so intensely it frightened me—could have been caused by pheromones. But the truth was, even if pheromones had been responsible, nothing would have changed.

As I had already admitted to myself: whispering obscene things in his ear that night and surrendering myself to extreme pleasure had been an unexpected, unrecognizable side of me—but not refusing him when he came onto the bed had been entirely my own choice.

And now, even that supposition was unnecessary. There were no pheromones.

His scent was just that—a scent.