Chapter Text
The chandelier was glaring at me again.
Not literally, of course. But when you’ve been sitting in a starched outfit under an overdecorated ceiling for three hours, you start imagining things. This one was definitely judging me. Judging the way I sat too stiffly. Judging the empty seat beside me where, according to my mother, a perfectly bonded alpha should have been.
“You’ll be twenty-four in a week,” she reminded me sweetly, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her already perfect dress. “Don’t you think it’s time to take things seriously?”
By “things,” she meant “your social standing,” which really meant “your bondmate,” which in turn translated to “your value in this family.”
I swallowed my sigh with practiced grace and nodded. “Yes, eomma.”
“You know your ex will be at the wedding,” my sister, Yeji , added from across the room. “Try not to look too alone.”
And there it was.
My glorious, soul-crushing fate: attend my sister’s four-day wedding gala, surrounded by rich, over-scented alphas and their gorgeous omega partners, while I wade through small talk with relatives I barely know and watch my ex-fiancé parade his new omega.
All under the watchful eye of my parents and about a thousand judgemental chandeliers.
“I’m perfectly fine being alone,” I said softly, and immediately regretted it.
“Oh, sweetheart.” My mother gave me a look like I’d announced I wanted to marry a turnip. “You’re sweet, but you’ve always been… delicate. You need someone strong. Someone who can handle you.”
By "handle," she meant “dominate.” By "strong," she meant “rich.” The kind of alpha who didn’t mind an omega who blushed when spoken to too directly, or who couldn’t make it through a boardroom lunch without getting nervous.
I wasn’t helpless. I was just—me. Quiet. Soft. Shy.
And in about ten hours, I’d be standing next to my ex and pretending I didn’t want to evaporate.
---
A chime buzzed on my phone. I discreetly glanced down.
Han:
> Proceed with the plan. don’t scream.
just say yes when we call.
Another ping.
Han:
> also. you’re welcome.
Nothing good ever started with “don’t scream.”
---
Hyunjin had always been good at keeping a low profile—especially at family events, where too many cameras, questions, and eligible chaebol children liked to circle him like hawks. So naturally, the day his sister got married was the day his entire existence got flipped like a flimsy linen napkin in a gust of fate.
Then it happened.
A soft murmur. A ripple. Heads turning. And then—
“Hyunjin?” His mother’s voice, sharp as a diamond. “Who is that?”
Coming towards us —not even pretending to be subtle—was a tall, broad-shouldered alpha in a sleek navy suit, hair slicked back but a little messy like he’d just gotten off a motorbike or something equally illegal. He had the kind of gait that made people move aside. Confident. Too confident.
Hyunjin's eyes widened.
Oh no. No no no no—he actually came?!
Chris Bang. Australian. Alpha. Doctor. Allegedly charming. And—most importantly—not Hyunjin’s boyfriend.
Except… everyone thought he was.
Because Seungmin and Han were evil geniuses in pastel tuxedos.
Chris caught Hyunjin’s gaze from across the hall and smiled, like this wasn’t the most dramatic thing that had ever happened to Hyunjin in public.
He strode straight over, dipped slightly, and pressed a kiss—a kiss—to Hyunjin’s cheek.
“Hey,” Chris said softly, voice warm and low. “You look incredible.”
Hyunjin forgot how to breathe.
His mother blinked. His father stared. A champagne glass somewhere behind them cracked from sheer tension.
“You didn’t tell us,” she said slowly, “that you were bringing a guest.”
Hyunjin’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Chris, the human lifesaver, extended his hand. “Christopher Bahng. Doctor. Friend of Hyunjin’s.” He smiled, completely unbothered. “We’ve been seeing each other.”
WE’VE BEEN SEEING EACH OTHER?
Hyunjin swayed slightly.
His mother’s eyebrow twitched—then lowered. Her gaze moved between them like a hawk scanning a battlefield.
“A doctor?” she repeated, eyes narrowing. “From…?”
“Seoul General,” Chris replied smoothly. “Cardiology.”
Cardiology?!
Hyunjin was going to have an aneurysm. Right there. At the buffet table. Dead.
“Well.” His father finally spoke, voice cool. “A surprise, but… welcome.” He offered a polite bow of his head. “Please, make yourself at home.”
Chris bowed back.
Hyunjin forgot how knees worked.
As his parents drifted off, muttering in half-whispers, Chris leaned in again. “That went well, right?”
Hyunjin hissed, “You weren’t supposed to kiss me!”
Chris smirked. “It sold the bit.”
“You were supposed to blend in! Not... alpha-swag your way through the entire wedding party!”
“I can’t help it,” Chris said, somehow both teasing and sincere. “You didn’t tell me your family was so dramatic. Now I get where you get it from.”
Hyunjin groaned and hid his face in his hands. “This is a disaster.”
“Or,” Chris said, handing him a glass of champagne, “this is the best fake date storyline ever written.”
Hyunjin looked at him, suspicious. “You’re enjoying this.”
Chris winked. “Absolutely.”
---