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Chapter Text

The house smelled like home.Not in the way he wanted it to.Not in the way it used to.

The familiar warmth of marigold flowers clung to the air, sharp and grounding, a scent that had always meant safety-until now. Until it became stifling.

Minjae stood in the middle of the living room, chest heaving, his own scent thickening, spilling into the space like the deep woods after a storm-rich, damp, untamed. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms, but he didn't let go. He couldn't.Across from him, his dad stood with his arms crossed, face carved from stone, his scent steady, unwavering-but distant. It was pulling back. Retreating.

"You don't understand," Minjae's voice was raw, hoarse from shouting, but he didn't care. He had more to give. More anger, more frustration, more of the storm brewing inside him that refused to be tamed.

His dad exhaled, slow and sharp through his nose. "Minjae, this isn't some game-"

"It's not a game to me!" His voice cracked, but he didn't care. "This is my life. My dream."

"You call this a dream?" His dad's voice was quieter now, but sharper. "Running around, getting judged by strangers who will never see you as more than a product?"

Minjae's fists tightened. His scent lashed out, curling around them, demanding to be felt."At least they'll see me."

The words landed, no ,They cut.His dad's scent faltered. Just for a moment. Just enough for Minjae to see the way his fingers twitched, the way his jaw clenched.Minjae had never considered himself fragile. He had always fought back, always stood his ground. But here, with his dad's scent pressing in like a wall, like something heavy, something final-he felt small.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" His dad's voice was sharp, unwavering, slicing through the thick air between them.Minjae's scent spiked again, wild, suffocating, desperate. He knew it, could feel it curling around him like vines threatening to suffocate."I'm listening," Minjae shot back, voice low, jaw tight. "I just don't care."

His dad's face didn't change. If anything, it hardened further, like stone set in place. His scent was still controlled, still distant, like he was holding something back."So that's it?" he finally asked, voice flat. "You think you can just walk out and become some-some idol?"

The way he said it-like the word itself was filthy, like it was beneath them.Minjae's jaw clenched. "I never said it was simple."

"Then wake the hell up!"

The sudden shift in volume slammed into him, making his scent bristle-sharp, defensive, wounded.His dad never raised his voice. Not like this. Not with this kind of rage, this kind of finality.

"You have no idea what you're getting into!" His dad scent spiked, pushing back against Minjae's. Controlled, but sharp, cutting. "Do you even understand how this industry works? They will chew you up and spit you out before you even realize what's happening! And then what? What will you do when they decide you're not worth their time?"

Minjae's pulse thundered in his throat. He could feel the heat rising inside him, his body tightening, his scent thickening like a storm ready to break."Then I'll prove them wrong."

His dad let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You're so damn naive."

"Maybe I am," Minjae snapped, "but at least I'm trying! At least I want something more than this!"

The words hung there. Heavy. Unforgiving.His dad scent shifted.Minjae felt it immediately-the moment everything changed.

"You think this life isn't enough?" His voice was quiet now, but cold. Cold in a way Minjae had never heard before.his throat tightened. His heartbeat stuttered.

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"Yes, you did."

Minjae hated that his dad knew him well enough to hear the truth buried beneath his words.He felt like he was standing on a ledge. One step forward, and he would fall. One step back, and he would lose.But he couldn't take it back.He didn't want to.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I did."

His dad held his gaze for a long moment. And then-he let out a breath.Stepping back.

Minjae's scent stilled.He had expected more yelling. More anger. More anything.But this?

This was worse.This was his dad giving up on him,The scent of marigolds thinned. Fading, pulling away.Minjae's hands shook. His nails bit into his palms, grounding himself in the pain, in the feeling of something real.

His dad next words were steady. Too steady. Like something breaking, but quietly.

"Go, then."

"...I will."He turned before he could hesitate. Before he could let himself think too hard. Before he could break.And when he walked out that door, he didn't look back.His scent lingered.But the marigolds were already fading.

_____

The walls of his apartment were too thin.Thin enough to hear the couple next door fighting again-something about money, or maybe loyalty, their voices sharp like broken glass. Thin enough to hear the baby in the next unit wailing, hiccuping, then wailing again. Thin enough to hear the wind outside, howling through the narrow alley, rattling against his window like it was trying to claw its way in.

Minjae lay on his mattress, staring at the ceiling. The springs dug into his back, but he barely noticed. He had gotten used to discomfort.

His phone was in his hand, the screen dimmed, the same email glowing in the dark.

"Thank you for your application. Unfortunately, at this time, we have decided to go in a different direction."

A different direction.Minjae snorted under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face. That was a nice way of saying not you.

He had lost count of how many of these emails he had received. How many times he had walked out of a building feeling like nothing.It always went the same way.

He would walk into the audition room with his head high, wearing the best outfit he could afford-something that made him look polished, professional. Something that made him look like he had his shit together, even when he didn't.

The judges barely glanced at his file. Sometimes, they skimmed it as if they were already making up their minds.Then they'd ask him to sing. Dance. Prove himself.And he would.

Every single time, he gave everything.Sweat sliding down his back, breath burning in his throat, legs shaking from practice. He pushed through it all, ignoring the ache, the exhaustion, the quiet, creeping doubt.

But it didn't matter.Because by the end, their faces were always the same.Polite. Distant. Unmoved.

"We'll let you know."

They never did.

At first, he had waited. Checking his phone every five minutes. Waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, refreshing his inbox.But the messages never came.And when they did-

"We regret to inform you..."
"At this time, we have decided to move forward with other candidates..."
"Unfortunately, you do not fit our company's current vision..."

Minjae read them all in silence. Deleted them without replying.Then he would get up the next morning and do it all over again.

-

His forest scent was heavy in the room, curling at the edges like mist in the early morning. Normally, he kept it locked down, controlled, pressed under cheap suppressants that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But tonight, he let it spread.There was no one around to complain about it anyway.

His father had hated when his scent got too strong. "You're reckless," he used to say, voice tight with disapproval. "You need to control yourself, Minjae."

Minjae had always tried. Had always fought to keep it bottled up, to keep it neat and presentable.But now?

Now, there was no reason to hold back.

The merigold scent of home-his father's scent-had long faded from his clothes, his skin, his life. There was no trace of it left, no reminder except in his head.This was all he had now.

A mattress on the floor. A rickety desk. A chair with one leg wrapped in duct tape.And a dream that was slipping further and further away.

His stomach growled. He ignored it. He had enough money left for either food or another round of audition fees, and the choice wasn't hard.

Minjae closed his eyes.Tomorrow, he would try again.Because he didn't know how to do anything else.
____

Next day

The failures weren't what hurt the most.It was the voice in his head-the one that followed him everywhere, growing louder with every rejection.

"You have no idea what you're getting into."

Minjae sat on the cold floor of his apartment, back pressed against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His phone lay beside him, face down, another rejection flashing on the screen. He didn't need to read it. He already knew what it said.

The room was silent. Too silent. The kind of quiet that made his thoughts turn sharp, cutting through the exhaustion weighing down his bones.

"They will chew you up and spit you out."

His father had said that six months ago,Minjae had laughed back then, arrogant, sure of himself, full of confidence that he would prove him wrong.

since then,He never try to contract with him even though his dad had left bunch of massagess and missed calls but he never reply back,

But Now?Now his dad words  it felt like a prophecy.He could still see the look on his father's face that night-how his hands had curled into fists at his sides, how his scent had spiked, sharp and bitter, filling the room with something close to anger. Or maybe regret.

Minjae never figured out which.

He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, but it didn't help. His breath curled in the cold air, visible even in the dim glow from the streetlamp outside. The heater had stopped working last week, and the landlord wouldn't fix it unless he paid rent first.

He didn't have the money.He barely had enough for food.His stomach twisted, a dull ache gnawing at his ribs, but he ignored it Again, Hunger had become a familiar companion, something he had learned to push aside. His hands trembled slightly from exhaustion, but he curled them into fists, pressing them against his knees.

Just a little longer.If one company-just one-gave him a chance, everything would be fine.

He could move into a trainee dorm, eat proper meals, stop worrying about rent.

But no matter how many auditions he went to, it was always the same.

Minjae let out a sharp breath, shaking his head.
Too good to be a rookie, but not good enough to be accepted.It was a joke. A cruel, frustrating joke.

His scent was heavy in the air, curling around him-deep forest and rain-soaked bark.It spread into the empty apartment, filling the cold space with something heavy, something suffocating.

It smelled like loneliness. Like frustration.Like failure.

His phone buzzed.He grabbed it immediately, heart lurching in his chest, but it was just a bank notification.

Balance: 9,800 won.

Less than ten dollars.A sharp laugh escaped him. Unbelievable.He just needed to hold on a little longer.

Just a little longer.

_____

Minjae woke up to darkness.For a moment, he thought it was still night. That maybe he had just woken up too early, that the sun hadn't risen yet. But then he noticed the streetlights outside, their dim glow barely cutting through the blackness. The usual hum of the refrigerator was gone. The heater, too.

The electricity had been cut.A slow breath left him as he sat up, shivering. The cold had settled into the walls, the floor, into his skin. He rubbed his arms, but it did nothing to warm him.

His phone was on the floor beside him, the screen cracked at the corner. He reached for it, pressing the power button. The screen flickered weakly. 3% battery.

He stared at it, the weight in his chest growing heavier.Everything was falling apart.

His body felt like lead. His head ached from exhaustion, from hunger, from stress. His scent was faint-too faint- like something withering, fading into nothing.He swallowed hard closing his eyes for moment

His phone buzzed.Minjae flinched, eyes snapping open.For a second, he thought he imagined it. His phone was nearly dead-there was no way-
MBut then it vibrated again, the dim screen lighting up the room for half a second.

A message.

His fingers were stiff from the cold as he grabbed the phone, bringing it closer, squinting against the weak glow. His battery flashed red-1%.

One last chance to see what it was.He swiped the notification open.

Invitation to Audition – KQ Entertainment Trainee Program

His breath caught.His hands, already unsteady, started trembling.He clicked on the message, scanning the words so fast they blurred together. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, every muscle in his body locked tight.

To: Kim Minjae
From: KQ Entertainment

Dear Kim Minjae,

Thank you for your interest in becoming a trainee at KQ Entertainment.

We are pleased to invite you to an audition at our company headquarters. Please arrive Tommorow at 9:00 am for your evaluation.

Location: KQ Entertainment, Seoul

Kindly reply to confirm your attendance. We look forward to seeing your potential.

Best regards,
KQ Entertainment Trainee Team

Minjae exhaled sharply, but it wasn't relief. It was something heavier, something that crashed into his chest all at once.His vision blurred. His throat burned.For the first time in six months, it felt like he could breathe.Another chance. Maybe his last.

Maybe his first real one.The phone flickered, warning him one last time-Battery Low (1%)-before the screen went black.But it didn't matter.

The words were already burned into his mind.He had one shot.And he wasn't going to waste it.

_____

Minjae stood in front of the mirror, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt.It was his best outfit. Or at least, it used to be.

The black button-up had faded slightly, the fabric thinner than before. No matter how many times he tried smoothing out the collar, it still looked wrinkled. His jeans, once perfectly fitted, hung a little loose around his waist now. Too much weight lost. Not enough food. His body was wearing down, and he could feel it-the constant fatigue, the way his hands trembled when he wasn't paying attention.

His jacket, the one he had loved, had seen better days. The sleeves were frayed, the fabric near the zipper torn. But it was all he had.It would have to be enough.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it, but there were dark circles under his eyes, shadows carved into his skin from exhaustion. His cheekbones looked sharper than before. His complexion had taken on a faint, unnatural paleness.And his scent-his scent was barely there.

Minjae clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply, as if that would somehow make it stronger.  it was weak, diluted by months of hunger, stress, and cheap suppressants. Like autumn leaves left out in the cold, drying up.He exhaled slowly.

"It's fine."

It had to be.Minjae grabbed his phone off the nightstand, the cracked screen lighting up under his thumb. The message was still there.

[KQ Entertainment - Invitation for  trainee audition]

No guarantees. No promises. Just another chance.His stomach twisted.He had been through this before.He knew how this usually ended.

But this time-this time was different.This wasn't an open audition packed with hundreds of desperate trainees. He hadn't waited in line for hours just to get two minutes in front of a panel. KQ had invited him.

That had to mean something, right?

Minjae clenched his fists, forcing away the doubt before it could settle in his chest.

He checked his pockets. A few coins, barely enough for a bottle of water. His bank balance was still 9,800 won-not enough for a bus ticket, not enough for anything. If he failed, he wouldn't even have money for food, let alone a way back home.There was no safety net.There never had been.So, he did the only thing he could.

He walked.The cold air hit him the moment he stepped outside, slipping under his clothes, biting at his skin. His jacket wasn't enough to keep it out. His stomach ached from emptiness, his body already weak from weeks of surviving on barely anything.But he kept moving.

Step by step.His scent, faint and brittle, barely lingered in the air.But he would fix that.He would fix everything.

____

The streets were alive with the morning rush-cars honking, conversations overlapping, the steady hum of the city waking up. But Minjae barely heard any of it.

His focus was on the ground ahead, on the rhythm of his steps, on the sharp ache in his legs that he had learned to ignore.

It wasn't that far. Just a few kilometers.He had walked farther before.The cold bit through his thin clothes, sinking deep into his skin. His fingers were stiff, barely able to curl into his sleeves for warmth. His body, already weak from days of eating almost nothing, protested with every step, but stopping wasn't an option.

The crisp scent of coffee and warm pastries lingered in the air as he passed by street vendors, rich and inviting. His stomach twisted painfully, but he kept his head down, pushing the hunger aside.Keep moving.

The city blurred around him-people in expensive coats moving too fast to notice him, their scents thick and overwhelming in the air.

Sweet omega scents from passing students, tinged with soft vanilla and honey.Sharpened alpha scents from businessmen in crisp suits, cool and dominant.

Someone brushed past him, their citrusy perfume cutting through the scent of fresh bread wafting from a nearby bakery. His head spun for a second, a wave of dizziness hitting him out of nowhere.

He inhaled deeply, but his own scent was barely there.Minjae clenched his jaw, shaking the thought away.He wouldn't disappear.

Not yet.

---

When he finally saw it-the KQ Entertainment building-he stopped.It wasn't overwhelming like the skyscrapers of the bigger companies. It didn't loom over him, casting shadows that swallowed everything beneath it. But it wasn't small either.It stood strong. Steady. Unshaken.Different from what he had expected.

Minjae had never thought much about KQ before. Trainees didn't whisper about it the way they did about the big names. There was no desperate scramble to get in, no obsessive gossip about the company's scouting process.And yet-

The idols who came from here? They were good.
Their music. Their performances. The way people talked about them.It wasn't just hype. It was something deeper.Some trainees respected this company.Some even admired it.But Minjae had never cared before.

But now-standing in front of the building, his breath unsteady, he wasn't sure anymore.

Could he really-**after so many failures-**get in?

The doubt curled in his chest, threatening to choke him.No.He couldn't think like that.He had made it this far.And he wasn't going to stop now.His fingers curled into fists at his sides.Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward- And walked inside.

____

The moment Minjae stepped inside, his breath stuttered.

Scent.Thick. Sharp. Overwhelming.

It coiled around him the second the doors shut behind him, invading his lungs, sinking into his skin. His pupils dilated as his instincts kicked in, inhaling deep before he could stop himself. The scents layered over one another-alphas, betas, omegas-all tangled together like a web.

It was dizzying.It was wrong.

Every company he had ever auditioned for before smelled like nothing.Sterile. Cold. Artificially neutral.Because in the idol industry, scent suppression was the rule.

Trainees, idols, even staff-every single person drowned themselves in suppressants, covered their bodies in scent patches, swallowed high-quality blockers until they smelled like air.

Minjae had done the same.He had forced down the bitter pills despite the way they churned in his stomach, numbing his scent until even he could barely tell what he was.But this place-

KQ Entertainment smelled alive.It was thick in the air, wrapping around him like a living thing.

Unfiltered. Raw.

It hit him with a force that sent his mind spiraling back home-Back to the village he had abandoned. Back to the scent of damp earth and pine trees after the rain.Back to alphas who smelled like woodsmoke and open fire, betas who carried the warmth of the sun on their skin, omegas who smelled of honey and sweet tea, comforting and soft.Back to him-

To his father.To the scent of old books, of warmth and quiet strength, of home-cooked meals lingering in the air long after dinner was over.To the scent Minjae had spent months trying to erase from his memory.His stomach twisted violently.His throat burned as he forced the breath out of his lungs.

No.Not now. Not here.His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he willed himself forward. The weight of the scent pressed into his skull, a suffocating presence that clung to his skin, but he had to ignore it.He had to move.

The reception desk was at the far end of the lobby-sleek, modern, almost unassuming. The woman sitting behind it was dressed sharply, her posture poised but relaxed.Minjae swallowed hard as he approached, forcing his voice to come out even.

"I-I'm here for the audition."

She looked up.And it hit him again.Omega.

Unhidden.

The warmth of her scent curled around him, soft and steady, like chamomile and something faintly citrusy, subtle but unmistakable. Not cloying. Not artificial.Real.

Minjae stiffened.It had been so long since he had encountered an omega who didn't reek of chemical suppressants. His body reacted before his mind did-his scent curled protectively, instinct flaring at the unfamiliar presence.

The receptionist gave him a polite smile, either unfazed or simply used to this reaction.She picked up the phone, dialing a number with practiced ease.

"Let me confirm that for you."

Minjae barely heard her.His senses were still drowning.He had trained himself to function in scentless rooms, in artificial spaces where people smelled like nothing. His body had adjusted to emptiness, to swallowing down his nature until it didn't exist.

But here-It was like breathing for the first time.
And it made him sick.His chest tightened. His head pounded. His nails dug deeper into his palms as he tried to ground himself, but his mind was already slipping.Back.

Back to the wooden floors of his childhood home.

Back to that night.To the yelling. The shattered glass. The moment he had turned his back and left.Swearing he would never return.

His vision blurred for half a second.The weight of memory pressed against his ribs like something tangible, like hands closing around his throat-

"You can wait here for a bit."The receptionist's voice snapped him back.

Minjae blinked, his breath shuddering as he forced himself to focus.His scent flickered-unstable, shifting-before he shoved it down. Hard.He exhaled slowly, masking everything beneath a neutral calm.Nodding once, he stepped back, sinking into the nearest chair.

The scents still lingered, thick and heavy in the air.But Minjae forced himself to breathe through it.To endure it.Because he had made it this far. And he wasn't going to let a few lingering ghosts drag him back now.

______

The lobby was quiet.But not empty.People filled the space-some seated, some standing, some moving with purpose while others lingered like shadows. The air buzzed with hushed voices, the occasional rustle of paper, the soft hum of a phone vibrating in someone's pocket.

Minjae could feel their eyes on him.Some were fleeting-quick, indifferent glances that slid off him like water.Others lingered.Too long.Too obvious.

He knew why.His clothes.His worn-out sneakers, the faded jacket hanging loosely off his frame, the slight dishevelment of his hair-like he had rolled out of bed and barely bothered to fix himself. The exhaustion carved into his face, the hollowness beneath his eyes, the sharp lines of someone who hadn't eaten enough, hadn't slept enough, hadn't rested in years.

He looked out of place.He didn't look like someone meant to be here-someone destined for the stage, someone built for the spotlight.He looked like someone who had wandered in by mistake.

Minjae felt the judgment, the unspoken assessments being made in the heads of those around him.But he didn't react.Didn't tense. Didn't shrink. Didn't let it show.Instead, he let his gaze wander-to them.

The trainees were easy to pick out.Younger. Stiffer. They sat with perfect posture, backs straight, hands folded on their laps, the nervous energy bleeding out in the way their fingers twitched, in the way their legs bounced under the seats. Some smelled faintly of nerves-anxious, sharp, a mix of deodorant and stress sweat barely masked by suppressants.

Then there were the others.Middle-aged men in dark suits, carrying the unmistakable scent of power. Their scents were buried under cologne, faint and controlled, but still there-alphas who had no reason to hide, betas who had long learned how to navigate the industry, their presences commanding without being loud.

Minjae could tell.These weren't trainees.They were the ones who made decisions.The ones who decided who was worth their time.Who was worth saving.A familiar tension coiled in his chest, creeping up his spine, settling into his ribs.

Don't think about it.

His legs ached from the long walk here, but he didn't sit.He needed to stay sharp.He needed to look ready.Even though, deep down, a voice in his head whispered:

What if you fail again?

What if this is just another door that closes in your face?

What if you walk out of here with nothing-just like before?

His fingers curled, nails biting into his palms as he forced a slow breath through his nose. The scents in the lobby pressed against him-too many, too layered, too heavy.

Some were familiar.Sweat-dampened exhaustion, the lingering traces of mint gum and cheap hairspray.The faint metallic edge of fear-shaky and uncertain, barely noticeable beneath the artificial air.And then there was something else.

Something steadier. Grounding.It took him a second to place it.Woody. A little smoky.Not overpowering, not meant to intimidate.A calm, self-assured scent.Minjae's instincts told him it belonged to someone important.

An alpha.A strong one.Not aggressive. Not trying to dominate the space. Just... there. Unshakable. It was the kind of scent that could make someone feel safe-if they were the type to look for that kind of comfort.

Minjae wasn't.But still.It grounded him in a way he didn't expect.His body adjusted, inhaling deep, letting his muscles relax-just a little.

The minutes stretched.

The weight of the past, the overwhelming scents, the pressure of the moment-it all settled onto his shoulders like a second skin.Minjae exhaled slowly.And waited.

_____

The counter worker barely looked up before flicking their gaze toward the hallway.

"Kim minjae-ssi , go straight down, last room on the right," they said curtly, voice neutral but firm.

Minjae gave a small nod, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. His steps were measured, deliberate, but his pulse was anything but steady.

Why was he nervous?

This wasn't new. He'd prepared for this moment for years. Left home, defied his appa, and forced his way into a world where he had to prove himself alone. No safety nets, no backup plans. Yet, something about this felt different.

The hallway stretched before him, dimly lit despite the bright LED panels overhead. His eyes found the sign at the end.

Vocal Coaching Room.

His steps slowed.Wait.

Wasn't he supposed to go to the audition room?

A flicker of doubt crawled up his spine. He replayed the staff member's words in his head. No, he didn't mishear. This was the place. But why here?His hand hesitated mid-air before knocking.

A second passed.Then another.A quiet voice, smooth but firm, cut through the silence.

"Come in."

Minjae exhaled, pushing the door open.Inside, two trainees stood near the piano-young, not yet presented. One had sharp, fox-like eyes filled with mischief, while the other carried a quiet, studious air. Their scents barely lingered in the room, still too faint to register properly.

Minjae barely acknowledged them.His attention snapped to the man sitting near the piano.And his first thought was: Cute.

Which was weird as hell because this was supposed to be his coach.perhaps also taking his audition

The man wasn't old-not really. Maybe his appa's age, maybe younger. But his soft features, rounded cheeks, and the unassuming way he carried himself made him seem gentler than expected. Like a house cat pretending to be a lion.But appearances meant nothing in this industry. Power hid beneath unsuspecting masks.Minjae had learned that young.

The two trainees exchanged glances before slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Now, it was just him and the coach.As soon as their eyes met-Something snapped into place.It was subtle, but Minjae felt it.A flicker of recognition in the man's face. A split-second hesitation. His fingers twitched, his scent shifting-

Coffee.Bitter, strong, but with a faint trace of something older, something worn.Minjae's instincts stirred.He didn't understand why.The coach's gaze lingered for a second too long before he finally gestured to Toward Chair "sit "

Minjae obeyed, lowering himself onto the seat with practiced composure, but inside, a small thread of unease curled in his chest.

A quiet moment passed before the coach asked, "Your name?"

"Kim Minjae," he answered formally, bowing slightly out of habit.Just as the coach parted his lips to respond, his phone rang.

Minjae watched as the coach frowned, glancing at the screen before answering. His voice was low, almost careful.He couldn't't hear the other side of the conversation, but he didn't need to.

It was in the way the coach stiffened.The way his shoulders locked.The way his fingers twitched slightly against the phone as though he was gripping it tighter than necessary.And then, the shift-his voice dipped into something almost startled. A sharp inhale. A muttered phrase under his breath, almost too low to catch-

"He shouldn't have come early today."

A pause.

"I hadn't done the pre-audition for him yet."

Minjae's spine straightened.Was he talking about him?

The room suddenly felt smaller.The scent of coffee and old sheet music lingered faintly in the air, but beneath it, something heavier settled-something uneasy.The coach exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple before lowering the phone and locking eyes with Minjae again. This time, the unreadable emotion from earlier had sharpened into something clearer.

Urgency.

"Follow me."

Minjae barely had time to stand before the coach was already moving.

---

Minjae followed the coach through the hallways, their footsteps quick against the polished floor.
His heart was steady, but his mind wasn't.

Something was off.

The moment the coach had taken that phone call, everything shifted. The slight tension in his voice, the muttered words about him not supposed to be here yet-it gnawed at the edges of Minjae's thoughts.

What did that mean?

The staff members they passed didn't even spare them a glance.That, more than anything, made something coil in Minjae's chest.They weren't ignoring them out of politeness.They were ignoring them because this wasn't unusual.The quiet urgency, the fast footsteps, the near-panicked energy rolling off the coach in waves-it wasn't new to them.

People were used to this.Used to seeing someone being dragged somewhere in a rush. Used to the panicked whispers, the uncertainty, the silent rules that no one dared to speak aloud.
Minjae's grip tightened around the strap of his bag as they took a sharp turn.He should be focused on where he was going, but his thoughts kept spiraling.

Why send him to the vocal room first? Why wasn't he auditioning with everyone else? Why did the coach hesitate when he saw him?

And most of all-

Why was the main office so far from where he was supposed to be?

They reached the stairs, and Minjae barely had time to process it before they were already climbing.By the time they reached the main office floor, his lungs burned slightly, but his thoughts burned more.

The hallway was eerily empty.There were only two people standing near the Director's Room.The moment Minjae saw them, his breath caught slightly.

The first one-Alpha.Minjae could tell immediately.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with an intimidating presence that filled the space without even trying. He carried himself like he owned the air around him, like he could bend it if he wanted to. His sharp eyes flickered toward them but didn't show a hint of surprise. It was like he had expected them to arrive.

The second man-Minjae didn't know what he was.Tall. So tall that for the first time in a long time, Minjae felt small.But it wasn't just his height.His scent was confusing.

Minjae instinctively tried to catch it-tried to determine if he was an Alpha, a Beta, or something else entirely. But it was like trying to grasp smoke. Every time he thought he had it figured out, it shifted, blending into something indistinct, something unfamiliar.It made his instincts buzz with unease.He didn't know why.
Before he could think any further-

The elevator chimed.A sharp, clean sound that cut through the tense air like a blade.The doors slid open.

Minjae stilled. because The moment the elevator doors slid open, the air in the hallway changed.

No-it thickened.A wave of Alpha woody and smoky scent  rolled out, crushing and suffocating in its weight. Not just any Alpha.

A Dominant Alpha.

It was a presence that burned through the space, swallowing up everything in its path. Every other scent in the hallway-coffee, sweat, faint traces of perfume-was immediately drowned out, erased by the sheer force of his presence.

Minjae barely had time to process anything before the figure stepped forward.He wasn't tall. Not like the two standing near the office door.

And yet, the moment he moved, it felt like the entire hallway contracted around him.Cold. Intimidating. Absolute.

His aura wasn't something that demanded attention-it commanded it. Effortlessly. The kind that made lesser Alphas fold, made Betas lower their heads, made Omegas hesitate before daring to breathe in his presence.

Minjae felt it deep in his chest.A slow, creeping pressure.Not fear.Not exactly.But something close.Because this wasn't normal.

An Alpha's scent-no matter how strong-was never supposed to completely overshadow others. Even the most powerful Alphas usually had some give, some space for others to exist. But this one?

He left no space for anything.Minjae's throat went dry.The man stepped fully into the hallway, and as if on instinct, everyone straightened.

The kind of small, automatic signs of respect that happened when a presence like this entered the room.The kind of respect that wasn't asked for. Only taken.

Minjae's eyes flickered toward the others.The three figures standing near the director's office door didn't react much.

Like they were used to this.Like this was normal.
And then-The man spoke.

A low, even voice. Sharp and cutting, yet calm. Too calm.He exchanged a few words with the three.

Jongho. Yunho. San.

Minjae took note of it immediately, locking the names into his memory.

The vocal coach-Jongho.

The tall one, the one with a strong Alpha presence-san

And the last one-yunho

Minjae barely glanced at him earlier, but now, under the presence of this Dominant Alpha, he felt it.

San wasn't just any Alpha.He was dangerous.Not in an obvious, aggressive way-but in the way he held himself, the way his muscles barely tensed when the stronger Alpha entered. The way his own presence didn't waver, even under such a suffocating scent.But none of that mattered when the Dominant Alpha's gaze finally landed on Minjae.

Minjae felt his entire body tense.A single glance.That was all it took.Not a glare. Not an expression of warning or anger. Just a look.And yet, Minjae felt it deep in his bones.The weight of it. The sharpness of it.Like a silent test. Like something was being measured, calculated.

But what?And why?

Minjae swallowed.His breath was steady, but his fingers curled slightly against his sides, He had been around Alphas his entire life. He was an Alpha himself. He knew what it felt like to be in a room with power.

But this-this was different.Because even though this Dominant Alpha was terrifying, even though every single fiber of Minjae's being screamed that this was someone he should fear-

He didn't.Not fully.The fear was there, but it was mixed with something else.Something heavier.Something he couldn't name.

His eyes flicked toward Jongho.A sharp, assessing glance, as if expecting an answer before the question had even been asked.

Jongho, to his credit, didn't immediately react.But Minjae caught it-the subtle shift in his scent, the slight adjustment in his posture, the way his throat moved as he swallowed.And then-The man's gaze flickered away, and Minjae barely had time to breathe before he spoke again.

"Who is he?"

A slight tilt of his chin-directly toward Minjae ,he barely managed to keep his breath steady.He felt the weight of that gaze, the way it pinned him down like something solid, something that left no room for movement.

"He came for the audition."Jongho exhaled softly, but his voice remained even.

Silence.Thick. Unmoving.

The Dominant Alpha didn't react at first.He just stood there.Expression unreadable.Body still, but somehow even more overpowering in its stillness.And then-

A single pause.Long enough to make something cold crawl down Minjae's spine.And then, with terrifying ease, he spoke again:

"For the audition?"

Another pause.Then-A single glance.

"Come to my office. I want to audition him myself."

Minjae's heart stopped.For a split second, his mind went blank.The words didn't register at first.But when they did-they hit like a thunderclap.

What?He wasn't sure if he had heard wrong.But the tension in Jongho's shoulders told him otherwise.

Minjae couldn't breathe.His body immediately went rigid, breath hitching.The world around him blurred, like everything else had faded into the background-because those words were for him.
Not Jongho. Not Yunho. Not San.Him.

He felt it before he could even think about it-the nervousness creeping under his skin, the sharp, unfamiliar twist in his chest.

Why?This-this wasn't normal.This wasn't how auditions worked.Why did he want him to come?
Why was he included in this? He just come For audition right ?

Why did this Alpha-someone who had no reason to care about a trainee, someone who had no reason to personally involve himself-suddenly decide to "audition" him personally?

His lips parted slightly, but he caught himself before any words could escape.Instead, he just nodded.Small. Quick. Barely noticeable.But enough.

The Alpha gave him one last glance before turning.And as he did, Minjae felt the air around him shift again-not just because of his heavy and strong woody scent, but because of the way everyone else reacted.

No one looked at him.No one questioned it.Like this was expected.Like this had already been decided long before Minjae had even stepped into this building.And for the first time since he arrived-Minjae felt truly, completely lost. as the heavy scent of Dominance lingered in the air, pressing against his skin, Minjae had never felt more out of control in his life.

Chapter Text

Minjae stood just a step inside the office, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. He hadn't even noticed how his fingers had curled into fists until he looked down. His palm was sweating, wrapped around the strap of his worn trainee bag. He let go slowly, flexing his hand once before tucking it behind his back.

The room was cool, quiet, and smelled expensive-dark wood polish mixed with the smoky pull of oud and firewood. Hoongjoong sat behind a large desk, black oak, no clutter except for a closed laptop and a stack of papers that he was methodically flipping through. He was dressed in a black-crisp shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a heavy watch on his left wrist. His shoulders were relaxed, but there was something sharp about his presence. He hadn't looked up yet.

Minjae took a slow breath through his nose, grounding himself. His own scent lingered faintly in the air now-forest-rich, green and sharp with a trace of rain-drenched earth. He tried not to breathe too deeply. Tried not to let it mix too much.His eyes flicked around the room. Couch in the corner. Large windows with blinds partially drawn. A small shelf lined with books, framed photos too far away to make out. The nameplate on the desk caught his attention last:

CEO Kim Hoongjoong

Minjae stared at it for a second longer than necessary. So this was him. He'd heard the name, the reputation. Cold. Unshakable. A former idol who walked away at his peak and now ruled KQ Entertainment like a silent storm.

"You're Kim Minjae?" Hoongjoong's voice broke into his thoughts, low and unreadable.

Minjae's eyes snapped up in an instant alert,"Yes, sir."

Hoongjoong finally looked at him. His gaze was sharp, not cruel, but... discerning. Like he was already pulling him apart and filing each piece into categories. He didn't smile. He didn't ask him to sit.

"You trained where?"

"SM for 3 months YG for 15 days And I was on my own for three years before those companies." Minjae kept his voice steady, folding his hands in front of him.

Hoongjoong nodded once, eyes moving back to the papers. "Three years total."

"Yes."

"You're applying as a vocalist or dancer?"

"Both. But... mostly vocal."

Another pause. Another page flipped.

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

"Home town?"

"Gyeongju"

His pen scratched something down. The silence felt heavier than it should've. Minjae resisted the urge to shift on his feet. He wondered if Hoongjoong could feel it too-that low hum in the air when two alphas stood in the same room. It wasn't tension exactly, but something more primal. The quiet measuring. Then came the question Minjae was dreading.

"Sub-gender?"

Minjae didn't even blink. "Alpha."

It slipped out naturally. Practiced. Simple. But he felt the lie as it left his mouth. It hit the air wrong. His own scent pulsed a little tree and rain, grounding and ancient-but he kept his face neutral.

Hoongjoong didn't look up right away. Just held still, pen in hand, eyes still on the page. And then he hummed quietly. Not a suspicious sound. Not exactly. But not believing either.

"Mm," was all he said.

Minjae's jaw tensed for a split second. He wasn't going to explain himself. There was too much history-too many stories of dom alphas in the industry being "too much." Too aggressive. Too difficult to control. People kept their distance. Companies tried to change them or shelve them completely. Being an alpha was fine. Common. But a dominant alpha? It wasn't worth it. And Hoongjoong didn't press. He just moved on.

"Why KQ?"

Minjae blinked. "Because... I want a team that doesn't just look polished, but sounds real. Raw. KQ artists always feel like they mean it. And I-I'm not pretty enough to fake it. I want it to mean something."

Another silence. Then something like the hint of amusement flickered at the edge of Hoongjoong's mouth. Almost. But it disappeared as fast as it came.

"Show me what you've got," he said simply, leaning back in the chair. His arms folded. The audition papers closed.

It was then that Minjae noticed the three people sitting quietly on the leather couch to the side of the room. He hadn't even realized they were there.

San was watching him with mild curiosity, eyebrows slightly raised. Jongho looked bored but observant, Yunho gave him a small, polite nod.

Minjae inhaled too sharply, and the earthy green of his scent deepened. He exhaled slowly, fighting the flush of surprise. How long have they been sitting there?

He looked back at Hoongjoong as he leaned back in his chair. "Sixty seconds. Sing."

Minjae blinked. "Now?"No prep? No mic? No track?

"Now?" he repeated, a little breathless.

"You think the stage comes with warnings?" Hoongjoong asked, not cruel-but close. Like he was daring him to flinch.Minjae's fists curled at his sides. His nails dug into his palms, grounding him.

"Go."

There was no countdown. No nod of encouragement. Only the clock on the wall, loud in the silence, every second crashing like a cymbal in Minjae's skull.

He swallowed hard. His throat felt dry-burnt almost.Minjae cleared his throat, took a half step forward, and dropped his bag on the floor. His hands clenched at his sides, then slowly relaxed. He could feel them watching. Feel the weight of power in the room. The weight of his own lie still hanging in the air. But he also felt something steadier now, blooming under his ribs. The challenge of it. The tension. The opportunity.

He opened his mouth.

And sang.

The first note cracked. His voice caught somewhere between panic and adrenaline. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. He didn't aim for perfection. There was no time to polish it, no melody to lean on. So he clung to something raw. Something that felt like truth instead of technique. A song he remembered from a long ago-a song he loved but never dared to perform. And somehow, that choice made all the difference.

His voice steadied by the second verse. The rasp smoothed. The pitch found its place. The emotion started to bleed through pain, hunger, and defiance. It wasn't flawless. But it was alive.

When the last note fell into silence, Minjae's chest was heaving. He didn't dare wipe the sweat from his brow. He just waited.

Hoongjoong didn't move.he didn't even don't blink. Then he tilted his head with a smirk on his damn lips "Sixty seconds. Dance."

Minjae's blood turned to ice. "There's... no music."

"There won't be," Hoongjoong said evenly, "when the track cuts on stage. When your mic fails. When the lights die. What will you do? - stop ?"

The words weren't angry. They were worse-they were honest. Minjae looked past the glass of the office. He could feel them watching-San, Yunho, Jongho.

He closed his eyes for half a second. And moved.

No beat. No tempo. Just instinct. Just the echo of his heart slamming in his chest and the sound of his breath in his ears. He hit the floor with sharp footwork, twisted into turns, arms slicing through the still air. He stumbled once-but he didn't let it break him. He let it fuel him. Each motion screamed: I deserve to be here.

He didn't dance like a trainee trying to impress a CEO. He danced like a boy with everything to lose.

When he stopped, the silence was suffocating. His heart was racing, his shirt clinging to his skin, and the room felt too small for his breath.

Hoongjoong stood slowly, walked back to his desk, and picked up a pen. The scratch of it against paper was the only sound in the room.

One second. Two.

He set the pen down. Minjae's chest rose and fell once. He didn't breathe too deeply- didn't't want to draw attention to how his heart was hammering in his ribs. He stood straight again. Hands at his sides. Eyes forward. He didn't look at Hoongjoong right away, didn't dare. then His voice came, finally. Cold. Flat. Almost like glass.

"You rushed the second chorus."

Minjae's throat bobbed. He nodded once.

"You were off-pitch during the third line. The high notes were good-unstable but good. Delivery lacked control. And the emotional depth you're trying to show doesn't fully land. It reads a little... forced." Each word dropped like a small cut. No anger. No cruelty. Just facts. Unsoftened. He could've been reading a grocery list.

Minjae's scent spiked without warning-sharp pine, like bark split open too fast. But he reeled it back in. Controlled his breathing. He could take criticism. He'd taken worse.

Hoongjoong didn't look up. He was already flipping the papers again like nothing had happened.

"Sit," he said flatly, gesturing to a single chair near the window.

Minjae moved stiffly, lowering himself into the seat.

San stretched his arms out and sat forward a little on the couch. "His vocal tone isn't bad. Bit breathy in the bridge, but he has a nice texture when he holds notes."

Jongho tilted his head. "His high notes are solid. I could feel them. He just needs polish, that's all."

Yunho nodded in agreement. "He's a strong dancer. Messy in the transitions, but his movements have an impact. He holds space well."

Hoongjoong stayed silent, still reading. Like he wasn't even listening.

San let out a low exhale. "But do we need another vocalist or dancer? We already have four vocals. Two dancers. Are we just adding people for the sake of it now?"

Jongho turned slightly toward him. "It's not about need. It's about potential."

"He's good," Yunho said quietly. "He could get better fast."

"Sure," San shrugged. "But he's also not unique. Not yet. We're not just building a group. We're building an identity. We can't carry another trainee unless he brings something we don't already have."

The argument started there. Not heated, but real. Each word made Minjae feel smaller. He didn't interrupt. Didn't defend himself. Just sat still, listening to them weigh him like inventory. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, but his ears caught everything. The weight of every syllable. Every doubt. Every hesitation. His scent stayed muted-buried under layers of instinct and pride. But the faintest shift in it betrayed him. That sharp green edge rain before a storm.

"He has a presence," Jongho said firmly. "That has to count for something."

"He has raw edges," San pushed back. "And the minute he's in front of a camera, that'll show. If he breaks under pressure-"

"I don't break," Minjae said softly.

It just slipped out. Quiet. Low. But firm.

Finally, it made Hoongjoong speak without looking up. "That's enough."

Everyone turned to him.

"I want to speak to him. Alone."

San leaned back with a sigh and stood. Yunho gave Minjae a brief glance-neutral, not unkind. Jongho gave him a small nod before following them to the door. They left without a word.

The door clicked shut with a softness that belied the tension it left behind. Minjae's back was straight. He didn't speak. Hoongjoong was still flipping a page, slow and deliberate. Then he set the file down, folding his hands on top of it. His gaze met Minjae's. He didn't speak right away. Maybe he was waiting to see if Minjae would crack first-if the silence would force a shift in his composure. If the air, thick with the scent of ego and vulnerability, would press hard enough to make him squirm. But Minjae didn't move. He sat like a stone,Like someone who'd learned long ago that stillness was the strongest armor.

Finally, Hoongjoong turned, just the quiet certainty of a man used to having his silence fill a room.

"You heard all of that," he said. Not a question. A confirmation.

"I did."

Hoongjoong nodded once, as if that was expected. He stepped closer. One stride. Then another. His shoes made no sound against the floor, but the gravity of his presence grew louder with each step.

"And?" he asked.

Minjae didn't blink. "And?"

Hoongjoong stopped just in front of him-close enough that Minjae had to lift his chin slightly to maintain eye contact, close enough that his scent-something was sharp, like cold metal and worn leather-brushed against Minjae's senses.

"What did it make you feel?"

The question hung between them, delicate and dangerous.

Minjae's lips twitched-just a little. A smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, edged with something dry and bitter. "Is that part of the test?"

A faint lift of Hoongjoong's brow. "It's part of the world you're trying to walk into. You'll hear worse things than this. Behind closed doors. Through thin walls. From people who will smile at you under the spotlight and slice you with their words when the cameras turn off."

Minjae tilted his head, just slightly. Studying. Searching him.Not for weakness-but for intention. For honesty,"I didn't care" he said voice steady.to steady unlike his heart that was beating too loudly in his chest.

"No,You didn't That's why you are still standing here," Hoongjoong agreed, and the voice was low ,

Then Minjae's voice cut through the tension quiet but clear. "So you already decided."

Hoongjoong's eyes narrowed slightly, "Maybe."

The word hung there-frustratingly vague, deliberately elusive. But in it, Minjae heard something real. Not approval. Not yet. But interest. And in this world, that was sometimes the only door that mattered.

"Why did you lie?"

Minjae blinked at the sudden change in the tone of the hoongjoong voice,

"I didn't."

"Don't insult me." Hoongjoong's voice was calm but enough to bite. But underneath it, something primal stirred. Their scents had shifted-his smoky, dominant energy circling the room like it was testing boundaries. Minjae's own forest scent pushed back subtly, not aggressively, just... grounded.

"I asked your sub-gender," Hoongjoong continued. "You said alpha."

"I am an alpha"

Hoongjoong didn't flinch. "You're a dominant alpha."

Minjae held his stare. "That's still alpha."

Hoongjoong tilted his head slightly. "You lied because you thought it would make things easier. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or did you think I'd let it slide?"

Minjae didn't answer right away. He looked down for the first time, fingers curling into his thighs.

"I've been passed over before," he said quietly. "Not for talent. Just for being... too much. People don't know what to do with dom alphas. They either expect us to lead everything or want us out of the room. I didn't want that to be the first thing you saw."

Hoongjoong's expression didn't change. "That's not how this company works," he said finally. "If you want to be part of something here, you don't get to come in lying."

Minjae swallowed hard. "I understand."

"Do you?"

Minjae stayed still. His throat felt tight.

"I'm a dominant alpha too." Hoongjoong leaned back in his chair. "I know what that label does to people in this industry. But I never lied about it. Not once. Not to the company. Not to myself."

Minjae looked away.

"You think it's strength to hide who you are? It's cowardice. It's disrespectful to the people you want to work with."

Something burned in Minjae's chest. Shame. Anger. Embarrassment. Mostly at himself.

"You want to stand in front of people, sing, perform, and lie on your application? In my company?"

Minjae clenched his jaw. "I didn't come here to be exposed. I came here to be given a chance."

"You get a chance when you give the truth."

Minjae's heart was racing. He felt it in his neck, in his wrists. All the training, all the nights spent pushing himself past limits-he had still messed it all up. "I know what this looks like," Minjae said, quieter now. "But I'm not trying to hide to deceive. I just wanted the same start as everyone else."

"You're not like everyone else."

That hit harder than Minjae expected.

A long pause stretched between them.

Then, Hoongjoong finally said, "You can leave."

Minjae blinked.

"I'll send your results by email."

Minjae bowed once. Sharply. Then turned and left. The hallway outside felt colder. His mind was loud with noise. He couldn't tell what part was shame and what part was rage.

I messed it up again.

This had been his last shot. The only company he had left the courage to face. And now it felt like everything he'd worked for was slipping away.

But he didn't cry. He just walked. Step by step, breath by breath, fighting the crushing thought that maybe this dream had never been for someone like him. The building's doors shut behind him with a cold, mechanical hiss. Minjae didn't glance back.

_____

The late afternoon sun was already tilting toward dusk, turning the streets amber and gold, but he didn't feel any of it. His steps were heavy, echoing slightly in the quiet alley as he shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his head low.

His throat burned. Not from speaking-but from everything he hadn't said. He could still hear Hoongjoong's voice in his head, sharp and clipped and infuriatingly controlled:

"You think it's strength to hide who you are? It's cowardice. It's disrespectful to the people you want to work with."

Stupid. Stupid. so fucking stupid.

He had one rule don't stand out for the wrong reasons. And he broke it the moment he stepped into that room.

I should've just said dom alpha, Not alpha,
But he had said alpha. He lied.
And that was the problem.but the worst part wasn't the Hoongjoong's tone, or the criticism, or even getting told to leave without a decision. It was how calm the man stayed. Like Minjae's outburst had been expected. Like he'd already known he'd break.

"I don't break," Minjae muttered under his breath.

But the moment the words left his mouth, they tasted like regret. He took the long way back, walking until his legs felt tight and heavy. The streets blurred-signs, lights, people talking. Everything just became background noise. All he could think about was the sharp snap of silence after Hoongjoong said, "You can leave"

He reached his apartment as the sky turned dark and numb fingers struggled with the key. When the door clicked open, he didn't bother with the lights. He kicked off his shoes, let his bag drop somewhere in the hall, and walked straight to his room.

The bed greeted him like an accusation. He dropped face-first onto it, inhaling the faint scent of detergent and his own forest-tinged musk. The kind of scent that used to bring him comfort. Today it just felt like a failure. He stared at the mattress.

That was it.
That was supposed to be it. His last real shot.
He had trained for three years. Perfected every move. Held his head high even when people whispered about his scent, about his dynamic, about how he was too controlled, too intense, too unsettling to be in a group.

He tried to play it safe today. Lied to keep the peace.And still, it blew up in his face.

You really fucked it, kim Minjae.

He flipped over, staring at the ceiling, throat tight, chest heavier than it had any right to be. his body ached in that empty, echoing way that only came when you poured everything out-and were left with nothing, And tomorrow, it would all feel worse. Because tomorrow, he'd have to figure out what to do now.But right now, he had no idea.

____

Steam clung to the walls as Minjae stepped out of the bathroom, towel draped over his neck, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead. The hot water hadn't done much-it didn't wash away the knot in his chest or the weight in his limbs. But at least it dulled the noise in his head for a while. The apartment was still dim, only lit by the faint orange glow bleeding in through the window blinds. His phone vibrated on the nightstand. Once. Then again.

Minjae barely glanced at it as he dried his hair, but the third buzz made him pause. Something about the sound of it-persistent, clipped-felt different from the usual junk notifications or chats.

He picked it up. One new email.

From: [email protected]
Subject: Audition Result - Kim Minjae

His hands froze mid-motion. The towel slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Heart slow and dull in his chest, he tapped it open.

Kim Minjae,

Thank you for attending the private audition today.

After review and internal discussion, you have been selected to proceed to the next evaluation stage. A temporary trainee placement has been approved. Further instructions regarding schedules and conditions will follow in the next 48 hours.

Welcome to KQ Entertainment.

- KQ Audition Department

He stared at the screen. Read it again. Once. Twice. His first instinct wasn't relief.
It was suspicion.

After everything he said in that room. After the way he walked out. After Hoongjoong's cold tone and measured words.

Why?

Why now?

Minjae slowly sank onto the edge of his bed, the email still glowing in his hand. His heart beat faster-not in joy, but in confusion. Wariness because This didn't feel like a victory. It felt like the beginning of something harder. Something heavier than he ever felt.

He still picked me. Minjae muttered under his breath And somehow, that made it worse. Because it meant Hoongjoong knew. Knew exactly what kind of person he was, how he reacted, what he lied about-and he still chose to bring him in.

It wasn't kindness. It was a challenge. Minjae could feel it like a scent hanging in the air: sharp, smoky, deliberate.

" He wants to see if I'll break. "Minjae leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly.

"Fine," he whispered. He didn't know what game Hoongjoong was playing-but if he was being given a place, no matter how temporary, he wasn't going to waste it.

_____

The KQ Entertainment building looked different in the morning light-sharper, quieter, almost intimidating in its silence. Minjae adjusted the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder, staring up at the sleek glass facade. A new day. A new chance. Temporary, sure, but it still counted. He had to treat it like it did.

He stepped inside. Cool air hit his skin immediately-sterile, faintly lemon-scented. The lobby was already bustling, footsteps echoing off polished floors, staff walking past with clipboards and headsets, trainee hopefuls huddled by the wall with sleep-heavy faces and thermoses clutched like lifelines. Minjae barely made it three steps inside when he collided into someone.

"Ah-sorry, I-" he looked up. Broad frame. Warm scent, like sun-soaked skin with a trace of citrus. The man turned with a blink of surprise, phone still in hand.

"Whoa, careful-oh." Yunho smiled as recognition kicked in. "You're that yesterday kid right ?"

Minjae straightened. "Kim Minjae. Yes We... met yesterday."

"Well," Yunho laughed lightly, "we sat in the same room while you got grilled by the boss, so yeah. I remember."

Minjae gave a crooked, polite smile. "Right. Sorry about that."

Yunho shrugged. "You're fine. Honestly, San's the one who always sounds harsh. He's like that with everyone."

Minjae nodded once, then cleared his throat. "Um-do you know where the trainee practice room is? They didn't tell me the layout or anything."

Yunho tapped his phone, then glanced up. "Yeah, it's on the B2 floor. Take the elevator down, third door on the right. Can't miss it."

"Thanks." Minjae gave a grateful bow and turned to go. He barely made it halfway across the lobby when he heard it:

"Hey-Minjae."

He stopped and looked back. Yunho was standing where they'd spoken, one brow raised, staring down at his phone like it had just given him a new mission. "I guess it's not time for training yet."

"What do you mean?" Minjae asked, taking a few steps back toward him.

Yunho sighed and tucked the phone into his pocket. "Come with me. Hoongjoong called. Tell me to bring you to his office."

Minjae blinked. "Already?"

Yunho didn't answer. He just stepped closer, gently grabbed Minjae's wrist, and tugged him in the opposite direction. And Minjae had no choice but to follow.

As they walked through the hallways, the sting of yesterday's conversation simmered low in Minjae's chest. He kept his eyes ahead, jaw tight, as the tiled walls passed by. Yunho didn't say anything more, just led the way like it was normal.

Minjae, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking.

Why does he always call me in like this?
No hello. No message. No schedule. Just dragged in like I'm some kind of stuff, Always making me run

Minjae exhaled through his nose, trying to will away the irritation curling in his stomach. He followed Yunho silently, preparing himself for whatever lecture-or curveball-was waiting on the other side of that office door.

The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the office when Yunho knocked and entered, Minjae behind him.

The chill inside the room seeped into Minjae's spine despite the warmth of the hallway. He tried to keep his breathing even, shoulders squared, back straight. His fingers brushed his jeans once before falling still. Hoongjoong didn't look up-he was mid-call, not even pausing as they entered.

"No, we're not shifting the mix schedule. If the composer can't keep up, we'll assign it internally." A pause. "You know how I work. Results, not excuses." His tone was razor-sharp, all business, and his fingers tapped the desk lightly with an unconscious rhythm-like a ticking clock. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, a pen tucked behind one ear. He looked like he hadn't slept much. Like he didn't need to. He didn't glance at the two alphas standing there-just waved a curt hand, dismissing Yunho silently, like they were interchangeable staff. Yunho gave Minjae a brief look-good luck, or maybe sorry-and left without a word.

The door clicked shut, and for a second the silence stretched, too loud, almost mocking. Then Hoongjoong ended the call with a quiet sigh. He set his phone aside with a soft thud and finally looked at Minjae.

Their eyes met.

"Sit."

Minjae obeyed quickly. He didn't fidget, but his fingers curled faintly in his lap. He kept his posture disciplined. He knew how to hold still-he'd had years of practice, years of hiding behind calmness. Still, his pulse pressed hard against his throat when it was hoongjoong sitting in front of him and he didn't even know why it happened.

Hoongjoong reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a clean folder, and placed it on the desk between them with practiced care.
"Your trainee contract."

Minjae hesitated. He blinked once. "Already?"

"You want the position or not?" The tone-dry, low-was more civil than yesterday, but still cool. Controlled. As if they hadn't exchanged heavy words barely 24 hours ago. As if Hoongjoong hadn't looked at him like he was nothing more than a mistake. But also-as if Hoongjoong hadn't personally auditioned him when no one else would. As if something about Minjae's voice, presence, or defiance had been enough to hold his attention in a room full of perfect people.

"...I do," Minjae replied, quieter than he meant to. He picked up the folder with both hands, careful, like it might disappear. Like it was something fragile pretending to be solid. Then he opened it.

The first page was the basic form: name, birth date, classification.

The next page-terms of training, expectations, company conduct.

His brows drew together faintly. Something struck him immediately. There was no excessive gag clause. No overbearing behavioral monitoring. No clause about public image modification. No forced scent neutrality. No degrading agreements meant to box him in and strip him bare. Everything was short. Practical. Clear.

"You'll train six days a week. Sundays off unless we're in prep for a showcase or debut if you will be in the future team, Training schedules rotate monthly."

Minjae nodded slowly, eyes scanning the paper, absorbing every word. He felt a flicker of something like...relief. Or maybe suspicion. It was hard to tell the difference lately.

"There are no limitations on personal relationships, but if it interferes with work or causes scandal, you'll be suspended or pulled."

"Fair," Minjae murmured. His voice stayed calm, but the word stayed with him. Fair. He didn't expect fairness anymore. But this... almost was.

"You'll have regular evaluations. I'll be present for some."

That made Minjae look up, surprised. "You? You evaluate?"

Hoongjoong's eyes didn't waver. "When I think it matters, And before you ask," Hoongjoong said, voice low, "yes. I meant what I said yesterday."

Minjae's throat tightened. He didn't speak. His mouth wanted to form words, but none would rise without breaking something.

"You lied. You covered your sub gender. In my company." Hoongjoong said that it tasted bitter. "And I don't care what your reasons were."

Minjae's jaw tensed. His hands curled tighter in his lap. "I wasn't trying to manipulate anyone-"

"I didn't say you were," Hoongjoong cut in Sharp, Like he'd drawn a line. "But you knew the risk, and you still chose to pretend."

The guilt hit Minjae like a second heartbeat. He looked down at the contract. Shame wasn't unfamiliar-but the way it settled in his chest under the Hoongjoong's voice made it heavier.

"This company is built on transparency, not theater," Hoongjoong added. "Don't test that."

"I'm not trying to," Minjae said quietly. "I just... I didn't think I'd even get a chance if I said the truth." There it was. The simplest, rawest version of why. Not an excuse. Just what it was.

Hoongjoong didn't answer immediately. But something in his gaze shifted-like he heard it. Not agreed what minjae said just now. But he heard that is enough.

"Send me your rut calendar by tonight."

Minjae blinked. The shift felt abrupt, but he caught up quickly. "Okay."

"You'll be given time off during your cycle. But if you show up in the building while you're unstable, you're done. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You are not allowed to take scent blockers or suppressants inside the company building. The only exceptions are public schedules."

"...Got it."

"If I find out you're using them secretly-Minjae-I won't hesitate."

"I understand." He swallowed hard, the taste of iron and adrenaline thick on his tongue.

"One last thing," Hoongjoong said. "You'll be assigned a team manager. You'll report to them day-to-day. But for anything concerning your condition, or emergency leave-contact me directly."

Minjae blinked. "You?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Minjae exhaled slowly. "Okay. I will."

Hoongjoong stood, the chair legs brushing the floor softly. "Read through the contract today. Sign it and bring it back tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."

"You can go."

Minjae stood, bowed lightly, then turned and walked out with the contract held against his chest like a shield.

The hallway felt warmer. Or maybe his chest just did. But it wasn't comfortable. His chest was tight. Yesterday he thought he'd lost it all. Now he was holding a contract in his hand. And still unsure whether it was a real chance... or a test he'd already started failing.

Minjae stood outside the practice room, hand still resting on the door handle, unmoving. From the small strip of mirror inset in the metal, he could see shapes moving inside-young figures stretching, adjusting their clothes, shifting in place. The muffled hum of music leaked through the door, then cut off.

He didn't move immediately. He closed his eyes and inhaled softly. Eight scents filtered through-some strong, some faint, some still forming. Most of them are young. Very young. And then there it was. That quiet trace of something floral and thin, carefully tucked away, like a thread woven into a jacket lining.

Omega.

His eyes opened. He hadn't even stepped inside yet, and already, the knot in his stomach tightened. He knew that scent-knew what it meant in an industry like this. Knew the kind of cruelty someone like that could face. Had faced.

He's just a kid.

Minjae slowly pushed the door open.

Instant silence. Eight heads turned toward him. Some stared outright, others just glanced and looked away again too quickly. Their scents recoiled-confused, instinctively bracing.

Minjae didn't say anything. He walked in slowly, trying to keep his scent low, warmer, less forceful. But it was always there-no matter how much he softened the edge. That quiet dominance that sat in his body like a weight. He felt it in the way the air shifted when he moved, how their shoulders pulled tighter. He glanced across the room and saw him.

That omega...a male omega ?

The source of the floral scent. Standing still near the mirror, hands folded in front of him, gaze downcast but not unaware. He hadn't flinched like the others, hadn't moved at all-but Minjae could tell. The fear sat behind his scent. Not panic, just tension. The kind of guarded reaction that came from experience. Minjae averted his eyes first. Subtle. Intentional. He stepped a little further away from him, putting space where he could. It wouldn't erase the discomfort, but it was something. He didn't look again.

The rest of them were still watching him. Someone cleared their throat. The youngest-looking one, maybe-Minjae didn't know their names yet. He straightened his spine and inclined his head, polite and formal.

"...Minjae," he said, low. "I'll be training here for a while."

Silence stretched again. Then-

"Sumin. Alpha." Flat. No effort. The boy's tone wasn't rude, exactly, but it held distance-intentional. His eyes didn't linger on Minjae. Didn't even try to smile.

It was clear. He didn't want him here. The next came slower, uneven.

"Jinsik. I'm Beta," said the one next to Sumin, voice quiet but not unfriendly.

A soft "Hyunwoo. I'm Omega." came next, barely audible. Minjae didn't look, but he heard the pause in his voice-just a beat too long before the word fell.

"Hunter. Uh-alpha-no, I mean- I'm not present yet " The boy fumbled, then cleared his throat. "Hunter. Just... yeah."

"Junghoon," came from his right.

"Seeun."

"Yechan," another added, sharp and short.

"Yujun." A little softer.

Minjae nodded once. And that was it. The room stayed quiet. The kind of quiet that came with uncertainty-when no one was quite sure what came next. When people were watching for what kind of person you were without asking directly.

He stood there, feeling every glance that flicked toward him and away again. He noticed the way Sumin kept looking through the mirror instead of at him. The way Hyunwoo hadn't shifted his stance even once. The way the others huddled more closely together now, like the warmth of familiarity would cancel out the unfamiliar weight he'd brought in. The room hadn't moved on. No one started warmups again. They were all just waiting.

Minjae turned toward the wall quietly and began stretching without a word. Then The door opened again. Minjae turned instinctively, shoulders stiffening. Another new face-older this time. Not one of them. Authority in the way he walked, in the set of his jaw, in the clipboard tucked under his arm. His scent hit first. Omega.

Minjae blinked. That... was impossible. Or at least unheard of. A male omega? In a visible role? In charge?

The man paused in the doorway the moment his eyes landed on Minjae. His steps faltered, just a fraction. His expression shifted from focused to confused to... something quieter. Like something caught in his memory.

Minjae didn't move. Didn't speak.

Then the man blinked hard, as if pushing something down. The hesitation in his face flickered and smoothed over like it had never existed. "You must be Minjae," he said, voice even, light but clear. "I'm Wooyoung. Trainee coach."

Minjae bowed slightly. "Yes, sir."

Wooyoung gave a faint huff-amused or just dismissive. "Don't 'sir' me. Makes me feel old."

But the air didn't quite relax. The others hadn't moved much. Still quiet, watchful. None of them dared to stand too close, though Yechan and Hunter kept stealing glances when they thought Minjae wasn't looking. Even Junghoon had gone quiet, lips pressed in a thin line, fingers tapping against his thigh.

Wooyoung noticed. Of course he did. His eyes scanned the room, then landed back on Minjae, softer now. "Hoongjoong mentioned you'd be joining."

Minjae said nothing. The mention of that name stirred something tight in his chest again-his talk with Hoongjoong still fresh in his mind.

Wooyoung stepped in fully now, standing more in the center of the room. "Alright," he said lightly, looking at the group. "We're not going to hover like strangers all day, right?"

A few of the trainees looked away. One of them made a half-noise that sounded like a laugh but wasn't.

"Come on," Wooyoung said, clapping once. "He's not going to bite. He's just like you. New, uncomfortable, probably wondering what the hell he signed up for."

That earned a faint smile from Jinsik. Yujun looked toward Minjae but quickly turned away again when their eyes met.

"I know it's weird when someone joins late. I know it feels like an intrusion. But it's not. He's here. He's one of you now."

Minjae stood perfectly still, feeling the weight of eyes on him. Suspicion ?Curiosity ?Something else too-maybe pity ? Maybe wariness ?He wasn't sure which one he deserved more.

Sumin didn't react at all. And Hyunwoo... Minjae didn't look at him again, but he could feel him. Could feel the way the omega's scent had tightened just slightly, pulled in like a breath held too long. Minjae had softened his own scent as much as he could, but it wasn't enough. Not for someone unpresented. Not for someone who already smelled like fear.

He kept his distance by taking one more step back .Wooyoung didn't miss any of it. But he didn't say anything either.

"Alright," he said, finally. "Warm-up routine. Same as yesterday. Let's go."

As they moved, as bodies stretched and scattered, Minjae exhaled slowly and moved to the far corner of the room, quiet and unbothered.
The room shifted. Like something unlocked. The kids-because they were kids, no matter how sharp their eyes were or how clean their postures-moved. Not fast, but together. Automatically. Muscle memory. Jinsik started rolling his shoulders. Sumin followed a second later, still tense around the jaw. Junghoon was the last to move, glancing between Minjae and Hyunwoo before joining in.

Wooyoung moved around the group like he belonged there-because he did. He corrected postures with a gentle tap to a shoulder, a hand to the back. His voice shifted, professional now, but always threaded with something softer. Not indulgent. Not coddling. Just... care. Measured, deliberate care.

"Yechan, spine. You're arching again."

"Yujun, you're locking your knees. You'll pass out."

"Hunter, eyes up. The stage doesn't live on the floor."

He paced. Encouraged. Sometimes joked, but only to loosen the edge in the room. There was still tension in the air, hanging like static, but it softened under Wooyoung's presence. Not completely-but enough.

And Minjae stayed back. He followed their movements carefully, matching the routine after a beat. He didn't draw attention to himself. Didn't want to. His body knew how to move, but it wasn't the choreography that made his stomach twist. It was how distant he felt from the room-like someone walking through someone else's dream. But he watched. And he noticed.

Sumin was all sharp lines and restraint. Not unskilled-actually, painfully precise-but too careful. Like he was holding his breath around Minjae.

Hyunwoo... Minjae felt him before he even looked again. That quiet, unmistakable omega scent, lingering in the air like bruised petals. Soft and pulled in on itself. Controlled. Minjae knew that control too well. Knew what it cost. And He made sure to give him space. Never turned too fast in his direction. Never stepped too close. Even when their shoulders angled in parallel, Minjae stayed rooted far enough not to crowd him. Still, he caught it. The way Hyunwoo flinched -barely -when their scents passed too close. He said nothing, of course. Didn't even glance his way afterward. But Minjae noticed and he hated how much he understood.

He felt Wooyoung's eyes on him a few times.Not judging-just... studying. Like he was comparing what he'd been told with what he now saw.

After warmups, Wooyoung circled them into a half-group. Minjae stayed slightly outside, not assuming a place but not removing himself either. Wooyoung didn't single him out, didn't call attention to the separation. But when he spoke next, he let the silence build first.

"You all know this path isn't easy," he said, voice quieter now. "And I'm not going to sugarcoat anything-because out there?" He motioned vaguely, toward the studio walls. "It's worse. People won't care what you're going through. They'll eat you alive. Especially if you don't look the way they want you to. Or move the way they expect you to. Or smell the way they think you should."

Sumin's arms crossed tighter over his chest. Hyunwoo looked down.

"But here?" Wooyoung tapped the center of his chest. "This room is the only place you get to control how you grow. How you stand next to each other. And how you treat people."

He looked around the group, gaze lingering briefly on Minjae.

"So," he said after a beat. "You can be tense. You can be awkward. You can even be scared. That's fine. But you don't get to be cruel. Not here. Not in this company"

No one spoke. But something subtle moved through the room. A breath held, then slowly released. A few shoulders eased. A glance passed between Junghoon and Seeun. Yujun's hand brushed against Hunter's arm, grounding.

Wooyoung smiled-small, but real. "Alright," he said, stepping back. "Let's get to work. We've got formations to clean, and I'm not going to let you embarrass yourselves in front of cameras just because you're busy avoiding eye contact."

That got the first real laugh-a breathy one, from Jinsik. Even Minjae felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Just barely. It was still a room full of strangers. But it didn't feel as impossible as it had ten minutes ago.

_____

Minjae hadn't expected anyone to talk to him during break, especially not after how tense the day had started. He stayed seated against the mirrored wall, towel over his shoulders, the faint hum of the speakers still in his ears, cooling breath by breath. He was half-focused on the water bottle in his hands, tracing the label with a thumb, when Yechan shuffled closer again - no longer hovering, just standing there like he was trying to look casual and failing.

"You used to train somewhere else, right?" Yechan asked suddenly, not looking at him. "Before here?"

Minjae's eyes flicked up. The kid wasn't looking for gossip, it didn't feel like that. It felt more like he was mapping something out.

"Yeah," Minjae said simply. "Different company. Left a few months ago."

Yechan nodded like that explained something, then crouched down without being invited. "Was it... hard?"

The question wasn't said lightly. It sat there, quietly, more honestly than Minjae expected from a seventeen-year-old. He thought for a moment before answering. "Yeah. It was."

That seemed to settle something. Yechan didn't push more, but he stayed there, quiet beside him, like just sitting was enough for now.

Then Junghoon crept closer, arms crossed tight like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be there. "Do you write lyrics?" he asked.

Minjae blinked surprised. "Sometimes."

Junghoon glanced toward Sumin, who was sitting farther away, leaning against the opposite wall. "He says writing's the hardest part."

"Sometimes it is," Minjae said, voice low. "Sometimes it's not about writing well. Just about writing what you need to say."

Junghoon looked like he was going to ask something else, but Seeun called his name, so he gave a small nod and stepped back.

A few beats later, Yujun spoke up from the side. "Your scent was really strong. In the morning" he said, not rude, just stating something like he couldn't help it. "You-uh. Are you usually like that?"

Minjae let out a breath, rubbed the back of his neck. "Not always," he admitted. "Sometimes it gets stronger when I'm anxious."

That seemed to confuse Hunter, who was watching from where he sat nearby. "Why would you be anxious? You're older. You're, like... already trained, right?"

Minjae met his gaze. "Being older doesn't mean it's easy."

That seemed to quiet everyone for a second. Not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. Then, Hyunwoo - who had been silent the whole time, sitting a little apart - finally glanced over. His eyes met Minjae's for just a moment before he quickly looked down again, but this time, it wasn't fear in his body. Just carefulness. Minjae didn't move or say anything. He just offered a small, respectful nod. I see you, it said. That's all.

The air was still not warm between them, but it wasn't cold anymore either. Just... figuring itself out. Sumin hadn't joined at all. He kept his distance, arms folded over his chest, eyes flicking across the room now and then but never landing on Minjae for more than a second. That was fine. Minjae didn't expect everyone to be friendly. Especially not someone who clearly didn't want to be. Still, the rest of them? For all their hesitations, they were trying.

______

Training wrapped up quieter than it started — not because they were tired, though they were, but because something had shifted in the room. The weight of unfamiliarity still lingered, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore. Minjae noticed it in the way Yechan offered him a towel when he couldn’t find his, in the way Junghoon hesitated less before asking a question. Even Sumin, distant and stiff earlier, hadn’t left the moment practice was over.

Wooyoung clapped his hands once, sharply. “Alright, that’s it for today. Go cool down, drink water. Good work.” He glanced around the room with the familiar gaze of someone used to herding pups. “You can all go.”

The boys scattered quickly, already tugging on hoodies or shouting for someone to wait up. Hunter bumped into Hyunwoo on his way out, and the two left with Seeun hanging off their shoulders. Junghoon waved a quick goodbye to Minjae before Yechan dragged him off.

Sumin didn’t say anything as he left, but his glance toward Minjae was no longer sharp. Just unreadable.

Minjae bent to grab his things, ready to leave too, but Wooyoung’s voice called him back.

“Minjae, hang back for a second.”

He straightened up, quietly alert, unsure if he was in trouble or—

Wooyoung waited until the door closed behind the others. Then he sighed and leaned against the edge of the mirrors, arms folded. There was nothing threatening in his posture. Just the calm ease of someone who knew how to read a room.

“You did alright today,” he said.

Minjae blinked. “Thanks.”

“I know it wasn’t exactly the smoothest landing,” Wooyoung added, watching him. “The kids were tense. So were you.”

Minjae didn’t answer. He knew it was obvious. He still hadn’t really unclenched his shoulders.

Wooyoung offered a small smile, a little sideways. “They’ll open up. Trust me. They’re chaos. They can’t stay quiet or stiff for long even if they try.”

Minjae glanced toward the door the kids had disappeared through. “They seemed a little... scared.”

“They were,” Wooyoung admitted freely. “You’re a little scary, you know. Big alpha energy, serious face, quiet like you’re gonna snap.”

“I’m not gonna snap,” Minjae muttered.

“I know. But you walk in like you’ve got something to prove and a scent like that doesn’t exactly say ‘let’s be friends.’” Wooyoung gave a small shrug. “But that’s okay. The first days are weird. They’ll adjust. You will too.”

Minjae nodded faintly, remembering how chaotic they'd been at first, and how tightly they seemed to hold on to each other underneath the noise. There was something about that closeness that stayed with him.

Wooyoung's voice broke through his thoughts. "It'll take a few more days. Let them feel you're not here to judge or push. Just... exist with them. You'll see the difference."

Minjae looked up. "They listen to you."

"I've been here a while," Wooyoung said with a small smile. "And I don't just train them - I care about them. You will too. Just give it time."

Minjae let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A small nod. He appreciated the clarity.

"Go home," Wooyoung added, pushing off the mirror with a stretch. "You've done enough for day one."

Minjae didn't smile, but his shoulders eased as he grabbed his bag and bowed slightly. "Thanks, coach."

Wooyoung waved it off like it was nothing. "See you tomorrow."

After his talk with Wooyoung, Minjae lingered for a moment in the now-empty training room, letting the silence wrap around him like a thin, cooling mist. His shirt clung to his back with the last traces of sweat, his body still thrumming with the effort of the day. His hands tightened slightly around the folder in his grip — the signed contract papers Hoongjoong had handed him this morning.

He had almost forgotten about them. Almost.

The hallway outside was dimmer, quieter, as if even the building itself knew that venturing toward Hongjoong’s office meant something weightier. His footsteps felt too loud, echoing off the clean floors as he made his way through the familiar halls. By the time he reached the office door, his pulse had picked up again. He swallowed the tightness in his throat, raising a hand to knock.

Three short raps.

“Come in,” came Hongjoong’s voice — calm, clipped.

Minjae stepped inside And saw him sit behind his desk, posture sharp, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the heavy silver watch on his wrist. He didn’t look up.

Minjae stood there a moment longer than he should have, then quietly placed the folder on the desk.

“ here , I  Signed it ” he said, voice low.

Hoongjoong nodded once, flipping the folder open with the edge of a finger. He scanned the front page, eyes flicking with precise rhythm.

“Good,” he said flatly. “You’ll receive your training schedule for the week tomorrow morning. Wooyoung will oversee your placement.”

A pause.

Minjae waited. Maybe for something else. A glance. A question. Anything. But Hoongjoong didn’t lift his head. He didn’t meet his eyes. Just the slow turning of pages, the rustle of paper, the cool scent of nothing sharp enough to read into.

“You can go.”

Minjae hesitated for half a second — not long enough to be noticed, but long enough to feel. Then he nodded once and turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind him, and only then did he let out a slow, steady breath.

The hallway outside Hongjoong’s office was quiet — dim with late afternoon light bleeding in through the narrow windows. Minjae walked slowly, each step heavy with thoughts he couldn’t quite name.

He hadn’t expected anything to come easy. Not here. Not anymore. But still, something about the way Hoongjoong had barely looked at him, barely spoken outside necessity, sat wrong in his chest. A sharp edge he couldn’t dull.  He exhaled through his nose, trying to shake it off. He had signed the papers. Trained for the first time in over a few months. Met the kids — the ones who might be his teammates, if he was lucky. If they wanted him. If he deserved it. He wasn’t even sure if this was leading to a debut spot or just another long road that would end in nothing. They hadn’t told him much. He hadn’t asked.

Still. He had something. A schedule. A studio. A floor to dance on. People, even if they were strangers right now — even if they eyed him from a distance, unsure and tense.

He remembered the way Hyunwoo had flinched slightly at his scent, how Sumin hadn’t even tried to hide the stiffness in his shoulders. The others too — curious, cautious. Like they didn’t quite know what to make of him. And honestly, Minjae didn’t know what to make of himself either.

But he had moved. He had danced. He had lasted the day. He hadn’t run. And for now — for now, that was enough. it was something.

And that was better than nothing.

Chapter Text

Vocal training was nothing like dance. The moment Minjae stepped into the room, the air thickened. It wasn't just the padded walls or the microphone stand waiting like a silent judge, but the expectation sitting in the corners. In dance, movement could hide mistakes, adrenaline could burn through fear. Here, everything was naked. The sound of yourself with nowhere to run.

San's cedarwood scent already hung in the room, steady and sharp, an invisible line everyone had to cross to enter. Jongho's scent of warm coffee sat beside it, less forceful but still present, like a quiet watchman.

"Morning," San said, eyes flicking over the group-Minjae, Sumin, Jinsik, Hyunwoo, Seeun and Junghoon. Yechan, Yujun and Hunter had vocal training later. "Everyone warm up."

They moved immediately. Lip trills, humming scales, shoulders stretching. The room filled with the sound of effort, but Minjae heard it like background static. Hyunwoo's floral scent drifted faintly nearby, a soft contrast that always made Minjae ache a little-Hyunwoo still carried himself so carefully, as if trying not to offend the air. Sumin's spiced-smoke scent burned sharper, his confidence wrapped in heat and a warning edge.

Minjae warmed up quietly in the corner. His own scent-forest air-sat heavy but steady, like deep roots. He tried to keep it restrained, but he knew it always leaked. He hated how obvious it was, some part of him longed to blur into the background, but alphas like him rarely blended in. He could feel eyes even when no one looked.

Sumin's sidelong glance caught him. Hyunwoo hovered near Seeun-not out of fear anymore, but a cautious kind of comfort.

"Minjae," San called.

It landed like a stone in Minjae's stomach. He stepped forward, shoulders square, breath slow. He imagined the forest under his feet, soil anchoring him, and began to sing.

A safe line, mid-range. His voice came out steady, filling the room but not cutting through the weight of cedarwood and coffee pressing at the edges. It felt like singing through water. He hated how aware he was of every inhale. When he finished, San's gaze stayed sharp.

"Better than last time. Still holding tension in your jaw."

Minjae bit the inside of his cheek. Always tension. Always something clenched that he couldn't unclench.

Jongho's voice followed, calm as his scent. "You're breathing too high in the bridge. Again."

Minjae bowed his head slightly. He told himself he'd take their words, fold them into himself, work them out later. He couldn't let his frustration show,it always read as arrogance when he did.

The others sang one by one. Sumin first-confident as ever, his smoke curling sharper with his voice, making Minjae both admire and resent the ease. Hyunwoo next, softer but pure, his floral scent weaving almost shyly into his tone. San's cedar edges softened, just a fraction, as he gave feedback. Seeun stumbled and forgot lyrics, cheeks burning, but San's words were calm. "It happens."

Minjae listened not just to the voices but to the body language-the way Jinsik's nods were steady, Junghoon's eyes narrowed, Yujun's determination like a pulse under his skin. He thought about how each one had a place carved here already, and how he was still trying to find where to stand without suffocating anyone.

When the last voice faded, San moved. A stack of lyric sheets landed on the center table. The paper's shuffle cut through the quiet like a blade.

"These are your assigned songs for this month," San said. "They're not official tracks-just pieces we think will help each of you stretch your vocals. Pay attention to the range and style."

Minjae stepped forward with the rest, fingers brushing paper as he collected his sheet. His heart dropped slightly. A slow ballad, falsetto-driven. The kind of piece that asked for more than technique-control and something he wasn't sure he was ready to give.

"This is your focus piece," San continued. "You'll be working on this in your individual sessions. If it's too hard, speak up. But I'd rather you try and fail than stay safe."

"Also-next week is Monthly Evaluation. Cover a song. One minute. Any genre, any artist. Just make sure it shows what you can do." Jongho's voice stayed steady.

The air shifted instantly. Even without scent, Minjae felt it-the tension of a countdown starting, everyone's nerves tightening. His stomach tightened with it.

"Use studio hours wisely," San added. His cedar scent sharpened faintly as his eyes landed on Junghoon, who nodded quickly. Then on Minjae.

"I will," Minjae said. His voice was calm, but inside he felt like a taut string. He rooted himself deeper, forest under his ribs.

San didn't smile, but something in his stance eased. Jongho's coffee scent warmed faintly as his pen scratched against paper.

The session wound down, cooldown exercises fading into tired chatter. Bags lifted, water bottles exchanged. The scent-heavy air thinned as the members trickled out, leaving exhaustion behind with quiet pressure.

"Minjae," Jongho called as he reached the door. "Stay back for a second."

San scoffed-his cedar scent cutting sharp as his footsteps carried him out of the room, not once looking back.

"...He's impossible," Jongho muttered under his breath, not really to Minjae. The warm curl of coffee filled the room more clearly without San's weight.

"Minjae," Jongho said again, "You need to do well in this evaluation."

Minjae straightened. The forest inside him steadied, but his chest still felt tight. He was tired of proving himself but didn't know any other way.

"I know it's your first Evolution here," Jongho continued, "but if you want to gain trust and respect-you'll have to earn it. Especially in this environment."

"I know. I can't make everyone like me here. And... we both know the reason." His tone didn't waver even though a knot tightened in his chest. "I appreciate your worry, seonsaengnim. But I've been receiving this kind of treatment ever since I presented, so... it's totally okay for me." He dipped his head slightly, a small ritual of control.

"And I will do my best on Evolution Day. You have my word."

Jongho studied him for a second, coffee still steady in the air, before giving a short nod.

"Have a great day," Minjae added gently. Then he turned, his forest scent trailing faintly behind him as he stepped out into the hall-carrying the weight of expectation like a second skin, but also a quiet promise to himself that he wouldn't let it break him.

_____

The hallway was dim, lit only by the flicker and low buzz of the overhead fluorescents. Late-day quiet had settled over the trainee floor like a heavy blanket. Minjae rounded the corner, lyric sheet still folded in one hand, Jongho's words circling in his head like echoes he couldn't shake. Do well. Earn trust. They sat under his ribs like stones. That's when he saw them.

Seeun was sprawled across the floor like he'd staged a nap scene-long legs stretched out, phone in hand, tapping at the screen with lazy focus. Yujun leaned against the wall a few steps away, a hoodie half-zipped, earphones hanging loose around his neck as he sipped from a bottle of flavored water. Yechan sat with his head tilted back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, headphones in, mouthing along to a song Minjae didn't recognize, Beside him, Jinsik stood with arms crossed, a can of coffee in hand, gaze flicking toward the hallway like he'd been keeping watch, Jinsik always smelled of roasted beans and cool night air. They weren't talking. Not really waiting either. But none of them had left.

Minjae slowed, unsure. His forest scent held steady, deep and cool, but he didn't know if he should approach. Why are they still here? He was used to walking out of rooms alone. Then Seeun looked up, lips curling into a smirk.

"Took you long enough, grandpa."

Minjae blinked. "...What?"

"You heard me." Seeun stood, brushing off the back of his pants with exaggerated flair. "Your voice isn't bad, but your walking speed? Awful."

A flicker of warmth broke through Minjae's chest, but he masked it with a neutral face. They're teasing me?

Yujun rolled his eyes, brushing Seeun's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Ignore him. He's been whining for ten minutes about being hungry."

"I was not-" Seeun started, indignant.

"You were," Jinsik said quietly, lifting his coffee slightly like a small verdict. "And you said your soul was leaving your body."

"I was being dramatic for effect," Seeun shot back, then turned to Minjae with loose arms crossed. "Anyway. We thought you'd come out faster."

"You... waited?" The words slipped out before Minjae could catch them. His stomach tightened. Yechan tugged an earbud free, blinking at him slowly. "You're part of the team. Aren't you?"

It was so simple. Just like a fact.

Minjae froze for a heartbeat, something tugging sharp inside his chest. He hadn't expected anyone to wait. Not for him. Not yet. They still fell quiet when he entered rooms, still left spaces in their conversations where he didn't belong. But... they had waited. They noticed me enough to stay.

"Come on," Yujun said, pushing off the wall. "Let's eat before Seeun collapses from blood sugar."

"I told you guys I wasn't-"

"Yeah, yeah. We believe you," Yechan cut in with a yawn, already sliding his earbud back in as he followed.

Minjae lingered one beat longer, fingers tightening on his lyric sheet. Then he stepped forward. His footsteps fell into line with theirs-not centered, not trailing behind either. Just there. His forest scent mixed with their lighter notes, softening at the edges. No one asked what Jongho had said. No one mentioned San. They didn't pry or push. Maybe this is what normal feels like.

When they passed the vending machines, Jinsik wordlessly held out a canned drink.

"Your throat must be dry," he said, voice calm, almost absent.

Minjae accepted slowly. "Thanks." His fingers brushed the cold can and, for a second, his chest eased.

Seeun spun around to walk backward a few steps, arms wide. "Okay, so who's paying for dinner? It's your turn, right?"

"Whose?" Yechan asked.

"Minjae's."

"What?!" Minjae blinked, caught off guard for a second.

Seeun only grinned. "Just kidding. But not really. You owe us for waiting."

A small laugh escaped Minjae before he could stop it-the kind of sound he hadn't expected from himself today. His shoulders eased, tension uncoiling at last. They didn't act like best friends. They didn't force anything. They just walked beside him. The silence, when it came, wasn't heavy. And when Seeun cracked a bad joke, Yujun groaned like it hurt him, and Yechan muttered something half-asleep and completely unrelated-Minjae didn't feel like a stranger anymore. He felt the edges of belonging, faint but real, like the scent of forest after rain.

____

The days blurred together. Same drills, same meals, same exhaustion. It was routine, but not smooth-more like rough edges grinding down, leaving him raw without him even noticing. Minjae had been used to the quiet, to standing at the edge of rooms. That was where he felt safest, But lately the air around him felt different.

Seeun noticed first-or maybe Seeun just didn't know how to stay quiet. One afternoon, he stumbled into the practice room after Minjae, hair sticking up, sweatshirt sliding off his shoulder.

"You again?" he muttered, throwing his bag down. "Don't you ever... like... come late?"

Minjae hesitated. He never knew what the right answer was for things like this. "...No."

Seeun stared at him for a beat, then barked out a laugh. "Man, you're hopeless." He flopped down on the floor like the conversation hadn't just died in the middle.

Minjae lowered his eyes to his water bottle. Hopeless. He'd heard worse. Still, the word didn't sting the way it used to. It sounded... normal. Like something brothers might say. He didn't know what to do with that.

Later, during water break, Yechan sat next to him without asking. Their knees knocked together.

"You always sit by the wall," Yechan said suddenly.

"...Yeah." Minjae kept his gaze forward. He liked the wall, it made his back feel safe.

"It's creepy," Yechan added, then immediately frowned. "I mean, not creepy-creepy. Just... you know. You should sit with us."

Minjae blinked. His chest gave a small, confusing tug. "..." He didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded once.

The next day, when he did move closer, nobody said anything. But Yechan grinned into his bottle like he'd won something. Minjae caught the grin in the corner of his eye and felt something soft bloom in his chest-a quiet, unfamiliar warmth.

Yujun hovered the most, full of nervous energy. He sat cross-legged in front of Minjae, fiddling with his water cap.

"Hyung, do I... uh... sound too nasally when I sing? Be honest."

Minjae hesitated for a second,He didn't like giving opinions, it always felt like stepping into someone else's space. "...Not really."

"Not really? So kinda?" Yujun laughed at his own panic, then brightened anyway. "Okay, I'll fix it. Thanks!" He leaned back, still smiling.

Minjae watched him, unsure why such a small exchange made his throat feel tight. He had never been someone others came to for reassurance. He didn't know how to carry it-but he wanted to..

Jinsik's efforts were quieter. He never forced conversation, but Minjae realized there was always space left beside him-at the table, on the bench, even during cool-down stretches. Not obvious, but intentional. And whenever Seeun's teasing edged sharp, Jinsik would cut in with some unrelated question that made everyone switch topics. Awkward for sure but it worked.

Minjae noticed. He noticed everything. He just wasn't used to people noticing him back.

Hyunwoo was slower. his floral scent soft at the edges. But one evening, after a long drill, Hyunwoo passed Minjae his towel without being asked.

"You forgot yours," he said simply, eyes steady.
It was small, but it was more than before. Minjae didn't miss it. He held the towel a second longer than necessary, inhaling the faint clean scent of fabric and Hyunwoo's soft floral trace. His heart gave an unsteady beat.

Junghoon was... odd. Not in a bad way, just in the kind of way that made Minjae question his life choices whenever he opened his mouth. One afternoon while Minjae was lacing his shoes, Junghoon plopped down beside him and, without warning...

"Be honest. If there was a zombie apocalypse, you'd be the guy who dies in the first five minutes, right?"

Minjae blinked slowly. "...What?"

Junghoon nodded like he'd solved a math problem. "Yeah. You've got the face of someone who'd trip over a chair and get eaten instantly."

The room went silent for a beat, then exploded with laughter. Minjae stared at him, trying to decide if he was being insulted or recruited into some strange inside joke.

Junghoon just sipped his water like nothing happened. "Don't worry. I'd avenge you. Probably."

Even Minjae couldn't stop the small, unwilling laugh that slipped out. It felt strange in his mouth, like a language he'd forgotten but still remembered the taste of.

Hunter, always sharp under his quiet, began aiming his dry humor Minjae's way. "Your forest smell gets stronger when you're annoyed. You should work on your poker face, hyung."

It was delivered with that blank expression, but Seeun nearly choked laughing, and Yechan barked out, "That's savage!" Minjae shook his head, but They noticed his scent. They were teasing him about it. It should have felt exposed, instead, it felt... like belonging.

And then there was Sumin. Always there, always sharp-edged. Smoke in the air that didn't soften, no matter how the others warmed. He never aimed words at Minjae unless necessary, never spared him a glance longer than required. Minjae didn't push. He wasn't expecting warmth from everyone. Some distances were deliberate. Some walls chose to stay walls.

But Piece by piece, the lines are blurred. They didn't pause when he entered the rooms anymore. They didn't watch from a distance. They teased him, corrected him, leaned on him without thinking. Seeun calling him hyung grew normal. Yechan tossing him headphones during breaks. Yujun tugging on his sleeve just to share a song. Even Junghoon's strange mutters felt less like judgment, more like part of the weave.

Minjae could feel himself changing. Not loudly. Not in a way anyone else would see. But under his skin, the edges that had been sharp for so long were softening. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like a shadow pressed into the corner of the room. He felt like someone who could stay. And it scared him-how much he wanted to.

_____

Minjae came early. He almost always did. Coming into an empty practice room felt like stepping into a quiet church. The air was cool and untouched, the mirrors showing only his own reflection. For a few minutes, he didn't have to measure himself against anyone. For a few minutes, he could just breathe. But today someone was already there.

"Morning," a calm voice drifted across the room.

Minjae looked up. Yunho was stretching near the mirrored wall, his broad shoulders moving slowly. The alpha's citrus scent hung faint in the air-bright and crisp, like sunlight on glass. Not heavy. Not pressing down on him. It filled the space without taking it over.

"Didn't expect to see you before me," Yunho added with a small smile.

Minjae bowed. "I wanted to warm up early."

"That's good. But don't push too hard. No injuries," Yunho replied, voice gentle but firm. He tossed a towel onto the bench and crossed the room in even, unhurried strides-confident but never overbearing.

Minjae nodded, pulling his own scent low. One by one, the others drifted in. Footsteps, yawns, the sound of bags hitting the floor With each arrival, the air changed a little,

Hyunwoo came first, his omega scent soft and floral. He was quiet, setting his bottle near the speaker, rubbing at his eyes. Jinsik followed, the muted roasted beans and cool night scent trailing after him, a beta scent that barely touched the air. Seeun and Yechan arrived together, arguing about dance shoes. Sumin entered last. Yunho greeted each of them by name. Minjae noticed how deliberate it was-the simple warmth of saying someone's name out loud. A small thing, but grounding. He wondered if the others noticed too.

Then Yunho clapped once. "Alright," he said. His voice bounced easily off the mirrored walls. "We're starting with floorwork and transitions today. You'll thank me later."

The room answered with groans.

"Yunho-seonsaengnim, you say that every time," Seeun complained, dropping onto the floor dramatically. "And we never thank you!"

Minjae didn't speak, but when his gaze met Jinsik's, the quiet beta was already hiding a small laugh behind his coffee. Minjae's lips twitched before he could stop them. It felt strange but good-his body reacting before his brain could doubt it.

Yunho arched a brow. "That's because you haven't earned the thank-you moment yet."

The door swung open with a slam.

"Yeah, yeah, save the inspirational monologue for your TED Talk," Wooyoung muttered as he strolled in. His omega scent rolled into the room, soft but strong-peppermint laced with cinnamon, sweet warmth edged by quiet power. It demanded attention without effort. He popped his gum as he passed Minjae. Instinct made Minjae stiffen just slightly.

Wooyoung lingered a second too long, leaning in close enough to catch a breath. His brows lifted faintly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Forest, huh?" he murmured low, just for Minjae. Then the grin widened. "Figures."

Minjae blinked. He hadn't expected that. Omegas usually kept their distance from him-caution by default. But Wooyoung didn't flinch. He stayed close like there was nothing unusual about it. It unsettled Minjae and steadied him at the same time. With a wink, Wooyoung turned to the others. "Anyway. Don't let Yunho's lullaby voice fool you. His routines will break your spine."

"Thank you, Wooyoung-ah," Yunho deadpanned.

Wooyoung smirked, gum cracking between his teeth. "And me? I'll break your soul. Let's go."

____

The dance session lasted two hours. Yunho was all discipline-form, precision, breath control, safety. Every movement carried intention. His corrections came with firm but respectful hands, touches that guided without pressing, never pushing Minjae's scent out of balance. He let Minjae exist without bristling against him.

Wooyoung was a different kind of energy. Sharp, playful, impossible to ignore. His corrections landed like jokes but taught better than lectures. He broke rhythm into feeling, forcing them to dance emotion instead of counting beats. When Minjae stumbled on a tight floor spin, he braced for criticism. Instead, Wooyoung clicked his tongue and flicked his wrist lightly.

"Too stiff. You're not fighting a bear. Relax."

Minjae blinked at him. Later, when Yunho adjusted his shoulders during a kneel-to-rise transition, Minjae allowed it. He even found himself joking quietly with Jinsik after Seeun tripped mid-slide and dragged Hyunwoo down with him in a pile of limbs and swearing.

The room broke into laughter. Even Wooyoung barked out a laugh. Yunho only shook his head with fond exasperation.

During break, they collapsed along the edges of the room, shirts clinging with sweat, water bottles cracking open. The cool floor against Minjae's legs was the only relief after the constant movement.

Hyunwoo groaned, tossing his head back. "We're not even halfway through the day."

"You sound like an old man," Junghoon muttered, dragging his shirt across his face.

"Then what does that make you?" Yechan shot back. "You've been dragging your feet since warm-up."

"I'm preserving energy," Junghoon said flatly.

Seeun flopped to the side, poking Minjae's calf with his socked foot. "You're weirdly good at floorwork."

Minjae blinked. "I used to b-boy. A little."

That earned looks.

"For real?" Yechan leaned forward. "That explains the body control."

Even Yujun gave a nod. "Your turns are clean. You don't look like you're fighting gravity."

Minjae only shrugged. "Well," Seeun groaned, rolling onto his back. "Now I feel worse about my floorwork. Guess I'll fake an injury and get out of practice."

"No one's stopping you," Jinsik replied dryly. "Yunho-seongsaengnim will just drag your corpse across the floor for demonstration."

"Don't give him ideas!" Seeun sat up fast, eyes wide.

That drew laughter. Even Junghoon cracked a smile. Yujun snorted. Jinsik glanced at Minjae and murmured low, just for him, "They're warming up to you. Can't shut up now."

The smallest smile tugged at Minjae's lips. Yeah. He felt it too. Across the room, Sumin sat by the speaker wall, earbuds in, scrolling through his phone. He hadn't said a word all break. Hadn't looked Minjae's way once.

"Break's over." Yunho's voice carried easily. "Hydrate and reset-we're moving into transition drills."

Groans filled the room. Towels were tossed aside, water bottles capped. Minjae stood with the rest, rolling his shoulders. Seeun bumped his shoulder lightly. "Don't forget to breathe during those rolls. You're holding tension."

Minjae blinked at him. "Are you... giving me corrections now?"

"I've learned from the best," Seeun shot back smugly. "Which is obviously not you. But still."

Yechan laughed. "Ignore him. He's been annoying since birth."

Minjae shook his head as they drifted back to the center, the room buzzing again.

_____

The cafeteria was loud the way rehearsal breaks always were - trays sliding, chairs scraping, someone's ringtone playing over the speakers. Warm food smells mixed with the faint tang of body wash and sweat from training. Minjae followed the line with the others, the heat of the kitchen clinging to his skin. His own scent - damp pine and cool earth - stayed low in his chest, the way he'd learned to keep it. It was like breathing through a cloth, holding back something he didn't want spilling into the room.

Jinsik had already loaded his tray, balancing a plate of cutlets and two cartons of milk.
"You're gonna explode if you drink both," Hyunwoo said, poking at one of them.

"It's protein," Jinsik shot back, grinning.

Junghoon slid in beside them with a pile of rice bowls. "We're basically fuelled by carbs at this point."

"Not basically. Completely," Seeun said, grabbing chopsticks as he passed. Yujun and Hunter trailed behind, still talking about footwork from earlier practice.

Minjae took a seat at the end of the table, letting the chatter roll over him. He still caught himself noticing everything-the clatter of chopsticks, the soft smell of soy and sesame, Hunter's laugh. It amazed him sometimes how normal it sounded. A month ago he'd been on the edge of it, unsure where to put his hands, counting seconds until he could leave. Now he could sit here and not feel like an intruder. He could almost believe he belonged. He looked up after a moment. "Where's Sumin and Yechan?"

"Rap session," Jinsik said through a mouthful of rice.

Minjae blinked. "Rap session?"

"Yeah," Hunter nodded. "They're working on their verse for the evolution day."

Junghoon caught Minjae's expression and laughed. "You didn't know?"

"I... didn't think they were rappers," Minjae admitted. In his head Sumin and Yechan were steady dancers, Seeing them in a booth with headphones, spitting verses - the picture wouldn't form.

Hunter leaned over. "We get it. It's hard to believe at first. They're good at everything."

"sumin writes like three songs a night," Yujun added. "And yechan's hooks are insane."

"Wow," Minjae said softly. He felt a small tug in his chest - envy, admiration, a kind of wonder. He'd spent years keeping his own edges hidden, they seemed to shine without trying. He hesitated, then asked, "Do they show you guys what they're working on?"

"Sometimes," Junghoon said. "Last week sumin played me a demo. It sounded like it could already be on the charts."

"I still can't believe he's only nineteen," Seeun muttered.

"They make it look easy," Hyunwoo said, reaching for the soup. "But they work like crazy behind the scenes."

Minjae nodded, pushing his rice around with his chopsticks. A quiet thought flickered: Maybe one day I'll show them what I can do, too. It surprised him enough that he almost smiled.

The table's talk shifted back to food.

"Hyunwoo, stop hoarding the kimchi," Seeun said, reaching across him.

"It's on your side of the tray," Hyunwoo replied calmly.

"No, it migrated." Seeun tugged the plate back dramatically. Junghoon cracked up. Hunter started imitating Seeun's voice. Yujun rolled his eyes. Jinsik was busy emptying his second milk carton like nothing was happening.

"Don't spill that on me," Hunter said, leaning away from Jinsik. "Last time it smelled like sour milk for an hour."

"That wasn't me!" Jinsik protested. "It was Junghoon."

Junghoon put a hand on his chest, fake offended. "Excuse me? I am neatness itself."

"Sure," Yujun murmured. "You're basically a walking rice bowl."

Minjae chuckled quietly, letting himself sink back into the noise, answering Jinsik's jokes, batting back Seeun's mock complaints. Then, like a shift in wind, a different scent threaded through the cafeteria air - sharp wood, a faint smoky scent Minjae's senses caught it before his eyes did. He turned instinctively toward the entrance.

Hoongjoong.

He hadn't expected him here. A CEO in a trainee cafeteria felt like a paradox. Yet there he was, tray in hand, walking in quietly like any other staff member. The sight surprised him, the scent made something low in his chest stir. Not attraction - a pull, like gravity. Recognition without memory. The way a cliff edge calls to you even when you're safe behind the railing.

For a heartbeat their eyes met across the room. Hoongjoong's gaze was steady, but not cold. Minjae held it until the man looked away, moving toward the staff table. The agarwood scent lingered even after, mixed with the cafeteria's heat and noise. It was like a thread brushing across his skin.

"Earth to Minjae," Seeun teased, waving chopsticks in front of his face. "You're zoning out."

Minjae blinked, pulling himself back. "Just thinking," he said, reaching for his rice.

"Thinking about what?" Hunter asked, grinning.

"About Sumin and Yechan, probably," Jinsik said. "He looked shocked."

"Or maybe about my singing," Junghoon added dramatically.

"That you all eat like you've never seen food before," Minjae repeated, this time with a little smirk. More laughter broke out. Junghoon nudged his shoulder again. "He's teasing for real now."

"Soon he'll be stealing my lines," Seeun said.

"Maybe he already is," Hyunwoo murmured.

Minjae let himself laugh with them. The noise at the table was still going, chopsticks clinking, trays sliding, Seeun arguing with Yujun about the last dumpling. Minjae tried to focus on his food, but the agarwood-and-smoky scent from the staff side of the room kept brushing against the back of his nose. It sat there like a thought he couldn't quite form. Before he could stop himself he blurted, "Does... Hongjoong-ssi always come here?"

The table went quiet for half a beat. Jinsik blinked at him. "Wait, our CEO? You mean him?" He tilted his head toward the staff side.

"Yeah." Minjae kept his eyes on his rice, a little embarrassed. "I didn't think someone like him would eat in the trainee cafeteria."

Junghoon's mouth fell open in mock shock. "Look at you, noticing the boss. Planning a secret meeting?" His grin was wide, definitely teasing

Minjae gave a small huff of laughter. "No. Just surprised. I didn't even know he came down here."

"Honestly, same," Yujun said, leaning in a little. "First time I saw him I thought I was hallucinating from hunger."

"Yujun.. don't scare him," Seeun said, but he was grinning too. "It's true though. He's kind of a mystery. We don't see him a lot."

"But he's nice. He Remembers names. He Asks how training's going. No scary CEO vibe at all."Hunter's voice stayed calm

"Yeah, he's like... normal," Jinsik added. "I heard he trained himself once. Maybe that's why he eats here sometimes."

Yujun rested his chin on his hand. "It's hard to believe, right? Someone who can run a company but still hangs around with us. Makes him feel less like a suit."

Minjae listened, the chatter softening into a warm blur. He could still see Hoongjoong in his mind, neat shirt sleeves, tray balanced, the steady wood scent that didn't belong to anyone else. It felt strange, trying to match that image to the words "kind" and "normal." He'd built an entirely different picture of the man in his head.

Junghoon nudged him with his elbow. "You're awfully curious, hyung. Crush?" His tone was joking, eyes bright.

Minjae rolled his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "No. Just curious."

"That's how it starts," Seeun sang under his breath, and the table cracked up. Even Minjae let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Relax," Hyunwoo said with a small smile. "He's good to us. That's all we really know."

_____

The last beat of the track faded, leaving only the sound of breathing in the practice room. Sweat glued their shirts to their backs. The mirrors were fogged at the edges. For the first time all afternoon, silence settled heavy and real.

Wooyoung stretched his arms overhead with a groan. "Yunho, let's end it here. My legs are dead."

Yunho laughed, tossing a towel over his shoulder. "You're always dead first."

The two of them left still bickering, their laughter echoing down the hall until the door clicked shut.

Minjae dragged his sleeve across his forehead. His forest-earth scent was low, muted, like it always was when he tried not to take up space. He felt his pulse still hammering from the choreography, but there was a strange calm under it.  Jinsik broke the quiet first. He wiped sweat from his forehead and turned toward Minjae. "Hey... thanks."

Minjae blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"

"For not pointing out my mess-ups earlier." Jinsik's smile was sheepish but genuine. "You could've, easily said it to the couches, But you didn't. You just... adjusted yourself instead. That meant a lot. I would've lost confidence if you called it out."

"You're... actually like Sumin-hyung that way," Yujun added absently, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kind but strict. It feels similar, sometimes."

The second the words left his mouth, the air shifted. Sumin froze. His jaw tightened, and when he turned, his gaze locked onto Minjae like a blade drawn from its sheath.

"Don't... Ever....Compare him to me."His voice was soft, almost mocking, but venom laced through it.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Hyunwoo's floral scent tightened at the edges. Yujun swallowed hard. Even Jinsik went silent.

Sumin took a step closer, tone cutting like glass.
"You think just because you can dance clean and keep your mouth shut, that makes you someone worth respecting? You think it makes you like me? Don't make me laugh."

Minjae's throat tightened. Three weeks. He'd only been here three weeks, and every word from Sumin still came sharpened. He swallowed down the instinct to react, to bare his teeth. Not now. Don't give him the satisfaction.

Jinsik stepped forward before the tension could thicken. "Sumin-ah, that's unfair. He hasn't done anything wrong since he's been here."

"That's enough." Sumin's eyes never left Minjae. His scent spiked bitter, dominance flaring. "Don't pretend you don't see it. Everything about him reeks of arrogance. He stands there like he's above us. Like he thinks we should bow to him."

Minjae curled his fists at his sides. He forced his voice even. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Shut up." The hiss was sharp, humiliating. "Every time you open your mouth, it's like you're daring me to rip you apart. You want to be seen as a leader? As someone with authority?" His laugh was cold, joyless. "You're nothing but freaking dominant alpha"

Jinsik bristled, standing firmer now. "Sumin.. listen to yourself. He hasn't even been here long, and you're already trying to cut him down. Do you realize how it sounds?"

"Oh, so now you're taking his side?" Sumin's voice dripped with scorn. "You've known him what-days? Weeks? And you're ready to throw yourself in front of him like you know who he is?"

"Because I see him," Jinsik shot back, jaw tight. "I've been practicing with him. Talking with him. He hasn't once acted the way you claim. NOT ONCE. Isn't that worth something?"

Sumin's laugh cracked like a whip, but there was strain underneath it. His jaw worked as though he was holding something back, his chest rising with a rough exhale. "You don't get it, Jinsik. You don't know him."

"Then tell us," Jinsik demanded. "If you know something, say it. Don't just keep stabbing him with those harsh-words."

Sumin hesitated. His mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes flicking toward Minjae then away. For a heartbeat it looked like he might stop. But the silence pressed heavy, his scent burned sharper, bitterer, until finally the words tore out.

"Fine," he spat. "You want to know why I hate him? Why I'll never trust him? Because this bastard took advantage of an omega in heat."

The word hung heavy in the air. Seeun, half-lacing his shoes, froze mid-motion.
"What... what do you mean, hyung?"His voice wavered in shock

Minjae's chest constricted. He knew. He knew what was coming. Cold spread through him like water on stone. Again. Always the same damn lie.

"Don't you dare play innocent," Sumin snapped, stepping closer. His scent flared bitter-sharp, filling the room like smoke. "All of you want to know why I can't stand him? Why every time I see him, it makes me sick? That's why."

Silence slammed down heavier than any beat they'd danced to. Every pair of eyes turned to Minjae - shock, disbelief, confusion. His own body froze. His throat was dry, pulse sharp. He'd spent months swallowing rumors he never deserved. But This time something cracked.

Sumin stalked toward Jinsik and grabbed his wrist, tugging him back as if shielding him. His glare never left Minjae. "You ....stay away from my members," he hissed. "I won't let you use them too."

Jinsik ripped his wrist back, anger flaring now.
"Stop it, sumin! You don't get to throw accusations like that without proof. You think tearing him down protects us? It doesn't. It just makes you look like you're blinded by your own hatred."

Minjae's nails dug crescents into his palms. Fury, humiliation,anger, all the swallowed months rose up. His voice came out low and steady.
"Sumin."

The alpha stopped, shoulders stiff, back tense.

Minjae's scent, usually restrained, slipped free - heavy, forest-strong, pressing into the air like weight on their lungs. Hyunwoo shivered, Yujun's hand twitched at his side, Seeun lowered his gaze without meaning to.

"I don't know what kind of filth you've heard," Minjae said slowly, his tone almost calm, almost mocking, but it held power "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Maybe the world painted me black because it was easier than looking in the reality But I'll tell you this, Sumin-"

His eyes, dark and unwavering, locked on the elder. "I have never done what you accuse me of. And I never will. I can be many things - cold, brutal, even heartless if I have to - but I am not that. I will never be that."

Sumin let out a scoff, but the sound faltered under the weight of Minjae's dominance flooding the room.

Minjae stepped forward, voice dropping lower, crueler. "So go ahead. Hate me. Spread your venom. Tell them stories that make me a monster. But understand this-" his eyes bore into Sumin, unflinching, "-when I decide to bare my teeth, you'll know exactly why I'm the dominant alpha here."

The silence afterward was suffocating. He didn't raise his voice, didn't let his scent waver, though the air was heavy with Sumin's sharpness. He only adjusted his bag strap, movements calm, almost too calm, before speaking in that low, even tone of his.

"Whether you trust me or not... it makes no difference. I'll still give my all. That's all I have to say."

He bowed his head slightly - polite, but not submissive - and walked out without waiting for a reply. His footsteps faded, leaving the room thick with silence. Inside, his chest still burned, but on his face there was only calmness.

For a long moment, no one dared to move.

"I don't know everything about him," he admitted, eyes fixed on the floor. "But I know myself. If there was any danger... if there was anything to fear... I'd feel it. An omega's instincts never lie."
Hyunwoo finally spoke, voice steady but carrying a weight that settled deep in everyone's chest. He looked up, gaze calm yet unshakable

"And mine have never once felt uneasy around him. Not even for a second. So I trust him."

Sumin's jaw clenched, his glare sharp enough to cut. He didn't argue - he only grabbed his things, anger radiating off him as he pushed past and stormed out, the door rattling behind him.

The remaining members sat in the stillness, no one daring to echo Hyunwoo's words, no one daring to contradict them either.

_____

The practice room was empty. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but Minjae couldn't bring himself to leave. The mirrors showed only him now, his breath fogging faintly against the cold air. Sweat soaked through his shirt, hair plastered to his forehead. His legs felt heavy, but he kept moving. He couldn't stop.

Every beat pounding from the speakers felt like a demand. A warning. Evolution was coming soon, and he refused to let anyone whisper that he only got this far because he was born an dominate alpha. People had been saying that since day one. They saw the title first, never the work. Never the hours. Never the bruises or the sleepless nights.

He wanted them to see him - not just the scent in his blood or the strength in his body. He wanted them to see his talent, his voice, his effort. He wanted them to know he earned the right to be on that stage.

His muscles burned. His lungs felt like fire. His reflection blurred as sweat ran down his temple, but still he moved. Every line had to be clean, every turn sharp, every breath on the beat.

"Again," he muttered, his voice hoarse but steady. His chest heaved, but he didn't hesitate. Because for him this wasn't just about debuting. This was survival. In the quiet of the practice room, only his footsteps and the thudding of his heart answered him.

Down the hall, Hoongjoong walked with his phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and clipped through the Bluetooth mic. His scent clung faintly to the air - smoke and wood, threaded with a cold sharpness that matched the edge in his tone.

"No, I already told you. The investors won't wait until next quarter. We need a draft proposal ready before the showcase. I don't want any excuses," he said. His polished shoes clicked evenly against the floor as he paced. The sound carried that weight that made people scramble on the other end of the call.

The building was quiet this late. Hoongjoong liked it this way - silence pressed in close, broken only by his voice and the faint hum of the city outside. Then, something slipped into the quiet. Music Muffled but steady, bleeding through a door ahead of him. Not just noise, but rhythm.

He slowed down, brows drawing together. He stopped outside the door and looked through the small glass pane.

Minjae.

The boy's body cut through the air with brutal precision, muscles tight, shirt damp with sweat. Every turn sharp, every stomp like he wanted to break the floor. It wasn't an empty repetition. It was fighting.

Hoongjoong didn't realize he'd gone silent until the voice on the phone faltered, asking for confirmation. He blinked, pulled his eyes from the glass just long enough to mutter, "Send me the file by morning. We'll talk then." He ended the call without waiting for a reply.

His gaze shifted back immediately. Minjae's scent carried faintly into the hall - forest, damp and grounding. But tonight it was different. An edge, sharp and bitter, like bark splitting or smoke smoldering under moss. Frustration or  Maybe anger.

Hoongjoong frowned. He wasn't the type to notice, much less care about scents. But this he couldn't ignore.

Inside, Minjae moved like he was punishing himself, each line harder, each breath rough through clenched teeth. For a moment Hoongjoong almost forgot he was looking at a trainee. It looked like someone who already belonged on stage, burning through everything in his way.

Hoongjoong glanced at his watch. Past ten. Well past when Minjae should've left.

His jaw tightened. How could minjae still tearing himself apart. He exhaled slowly through his nose, the faint burn of smoke lingering in his chest. He rolled his shoulders back, arms crossing over his chest. Cold composure slid over him like a second skin. But his eyes stayed on the glass.

Inside, Minjae's head pounded with every beat. His vision swam a little. He felt the pull of his scent - forest sharp and restless - heavy in his chest. He was so tired. His muscles trembled as he tried to hold another line. He drove his body harder, like maybe he could shake it off. Like maybe he could sweat out the word "alpha " until all that was left was Minjae.

When the door clicked open, he felt it before he heard it. His body froze mid-movement, sweat dripping down his temple, the forest scent around him thick with strain. He turned his head and met Hoongjoong's eyes. Everything inside him stopped. For a few seconds, silence stretched. Then Minjae bowed, deep and slow, before reaching over to stop the music.

"Minjae-ssi," Hoongjoong said, voice calm but heavy. It made Minjae's chest tighten.

"Yeah...?" His voice was thin.

"What are the trainee rules you read in your contract?" The tone was even, almost quiet, but sharp under Minjae's skin. It left him shivering without knowing why.

Minjae swallowed and recited carefully.
"Not wearing scent blockers... always be respectful and humble... never late..... no skipping meals... always report injuries... and-" he hesitated, voice low, "-and no overworking past assigned hours."

Hoongjoong's brow barely moved. "So what time is it now?"

Minjae glanced at the clock. His voice cracked slightly. "One-twenty, CEO-nim."

The agarwood in Hoongjoong's scent edged sharper, a faint bite under its usual steady strength. He folded his arms, eyes fixed on Minjae. "Then you already know that  you're breaking rules."

Minjae kept his head lowered. "Yes, sir."

"This is the last warning I'm giving you," Hoongjoong said, calm and controlled-yet the weight in his tone pressed down heavy. The wood scent flickered with something underneath-frustration maybe, or worry he would never name.

"If you keep pushing yourself like this, what do you think will happen on Evolution day? You won't last five minutes on that stage if you can't even prioritize your health now." His words were strict, but the way they cut through the silence felt more like a barrier than a blade.

Hoongjoong stepped forward once, just enough for Minjae to feel his presence. "In this company, the body comes first. Without health, talent means nothing. I don't want to see you fainting in front of everyone, collapsing mid-dance because you were too stubborn to rest. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, CEO-nim," Minjae answered quickly, though his voice was barely steady. His forest scent wavered, sharp edges softening in embarrassment and a touch of shame. Inside, his thoughts raced, I can't stop now. If I stop, I'll fall behind. If I fall behind, I'm just another alpha trainee who wasted a chance.

Hoongjoong's eyes didn't leave him. "Good. Then listen carefully-if you keep breaking rules, I will kick you out. That's not a threat,it's a final. This is the last warning you'll ever get, Minjae."

The air felt heavy, woody scent pressing down firm, while Minjae's forest scent twisted low with guilt. Yet beneath Hoongjoong's cold words there was a steadiness - a kind of care that only showed itself through severity. Minjae felt it even as shame pricked at his eyes. He wanted to say I'm scared. I just don't want to fail. But all that came out was a soft, "Yes, sir"

_____

Yunho hadn't meant to stop. He was only walking past the practice rooms to grab his charger when Hoongjoong's voice cut through the cracked door-colder than usual. He froze, one hand still in his pocket.

"Pack your things and go home."

Yunho blinked. Hoongjoong never raised his voice like this. Firm, yes. Final, yes. But this tone-this wasn't the usual CEO he knew.

Inside, Minjae hesitated, voice low, almost pleading. "C-CEO-nim, I can still-"

"No." Hoongjoong's reply sliced clean. "No more excuses. You're done for today."

Yunho's lips parted before he caught himself. "...That's harsh," he muttered under his breath, though he didn't move. Something in the air pinned him there-the weight of hoongjoong scent, sharp and bristling. He knew Hoongjoong's scent well, it was usually steady and grounded. But now? It wavered. Uneven. Almost protective.

Yunho frowned. Protective? From Hoongjoong?

His eyes followed Minjae's bowed head, stiff hands clutching at his bag as he obeyed. Hoongjoong's gaze stayed hard until the boy slipped out of the room in silence.

"Go," Hoongjoong had said again, quieter this time, though Yunho swore it landed heavier than before.

Minjae's chest ached as he walked past them, his bag strap biting into his palm. The forest scent around him dulled, heavy with guilt and exhaustion.

Yunho swallowed, shifting where he stood. He should've left already. But his feet wouldn't move.

"That's... not him," Yunho whispered to himself. He'd worked with Hoongjoong long enough to know his coldness was deliberate, practiced- never messy. But what he saw just now wasn't control. It was something else bleeding through. Something Yunho didn't recognize. His citrus scent spiked without meaning to, sharp with unease.

This wasn't the CEO he worked with. Not the man who always carried authority like an iron wall. This was someone different. Someone Yunho didn't know how to place. And for reasons he couldn't explain, that thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

Hoongjoong straightened when he turned and caught sight of the tall figure leaning near the door.

"Yunho." His voice was low, sharp in the way it got when he was caught off guard but refused to show it.

Yunho blinked, eyes widening slightly before he rubbed the back of his neck, citrus scent faintly spiking with nerves. "Ah-uh, I wasn't... I didn't hear anything."

Hoongjoong's stare lingered, The kind that usually made trainees freeze. Yunho knew that silence wasn't empty-it meant Hoongjoong didn't buy a word of it.

"You didn't?" Hoongjoong asked,

"Nope." Yunho's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, softer, almost muttering, "Well... maybe a little. But I wasn't trying to."

Hoongjoong exhaled through his nose, a sound halfway between annoyance and something else Yunho couldn't place. He was about to respond when his phone vibrated, screen lighting up. The sound cut into the moment, sharp.

He glanced at it,and his  jaw tightened. Yunho shifted, scratching at his wrist. "Work?"

"Always," Hoongjoong said dryly. He answered the call, voice flattening into professional ease as he spoke a few quick words.

While he talked, Yunho leaned against the wall, watching him. He should've just walked away, but something in him stuck. The agarwood in Hoongjoong's scent was steadier now, pulled back into its usual rigid lines. But Yunho couldn't un-hear what he'd heard earlier, couldn't un-feel the shift that made his stomach twist.

Hoongjoong ended the call with a quiet click, slipping the phone back into his pocket. His face was unreadable, the kind of mask that left nothing to pick apart.

Yunho stayed leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely. "You know," he said, casual but edged, "for someone who lectures about overwork, you're the last person following it. Always overworking yourself "

It wasn't just about Hoongjoong. The words carried something unspoken, an echo that hung heavier in the air.

"If I don't, things fall apart."Hoongjoong's eyes cut to him,

"That's what you always say." Yunho shrugged, but his gaze stayed steady. "But sometimes it sounds like an excuse."

Hoongjoong's jaw tightened. "You think I don't know my own limits?"

Yunho tilted his head, a faint humorless smile tugging at his lips. "I think you pretend not to."

Silence stretched, taut but not hostile. The weight of Hoongjoong's scent stayed firm, clipped into lines of control, while citrus flickered around Yunho, restless but grounded.

Finally, Hoongjoong spoke, "It's not about me."

"Right." Yunho's tone softened, less a challenge now, more like he was letting it drop. He pushed off the wall, uncrossing his arms. "It never is with you."

For a second, the corner of Hoongjoong's mouth twitched like he might reply. But instead he just turned away, muttering, "Go home, Yunho."

Yunho exhaled a laugh and walked off, citrus trailing sharp in the air.

He knew it wasn't nothing. And he knew Hoongjoong knew it too.

______

Minjae lay sprawled across his bed, the sheets cool against his overheated skin. The forest scent clinging to him - damp moss, pine, and a bitter edge of exhaustion - hung heavy in the small apartment. His hair was still damp from a quick shower he'd taken as soon as he got home, but even clean water couldn't rinse away the way Hoongjoong's words had lodged in his chest.

"If you keep pushing yourself like this, what do you think will happen on Evolution day? You won't last five minutes on that stage if you can't even prioritize your health now."

The sentences repeated in his head like a low drumbeat. the whole scene was replayed in sharper colours, Hoongjoong's voice, steady and cold,the smoke of his scent, tight and bristling; the way his eyes had pinned Minjae in place.

Minjae rolled onto his side and stared at his phone on the nightstand. His hand twitched before he finally reached for it. He typed Kim Hoongjoong into the search bar.

Dozens of headlines filled the screen. Old photos. Grainy clips. Minjae scrolled, his thumb moving slowly.

"ATEEZ: The Boy Group That Changed the Industry"
"Twenty Years Later: How ATEEZ Redefined Performance"
"The Fall and Silence of a Global Phenomenon"

He scrolled slowly. He'd known the name, of course - they were impossible not to know - but the details blurred.

Another headline opened under his thumb:

"ATEEZ Announce Sudden Disbandment"
"After years of success, the group has unexpectedly disbanded. Neither the company nor the members gave clear reasons. The leader, Kim Hoongjoong, declined to comment, only saying: 'Some endings are not endings at all. Some are just silences we must accept.'"

He scrolled again.

"The Ghost Years of Kim Hoongjoong"
"Following the group's disbandment,Hoongjoong disappeared from the public eye. For five years, Then suddenly, he reemerged as head of a new KQ entertainment ,His leadership style is described as brilliant but cold, strict but visionary."

Minjae stared at the words. The room was filled with his scent now - pine and damp earth - thicker than he wanted it to be.He remembered Hoongjoong's face from training, the weight of his voice,  He dropped the phone onto the blanket, then pushed himself upright, swinging his legs off the bed. The cool air hit his damp neck, making him shiver. He ran a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts, but the articles clung to him like static.

Minjae let the phone fall onto his chest. His forest scent curled around him, sharper now with restlessness.

Why did it matter? He was a trainee. Hoongjoong was his boss. Whatever mystery surrounded the man wasn't his problem. He should sleep, get up tomorrow, and train harder. He needed to prove himself on his own merit.

But lying there, the ceiling was a dull grey above him, he couldn't shake it - the sense that Hoongjoong wasn't just strict. He was carrying something. Something heavy enough to carve a man into stone.

Minjae's chest tightened. He didn't even know why he cared. He only knew that when Hoongjoong had spoken to him tonight, behind the wood and smoky scent there'd been a flicker of something else - a warning, maybe Or a kind of worry. But a part of him - the part still breathing in the faint ghost of woody smoke - had already decided to watch more carefully.

Because Kim Hoongjoong wasn't just a CEO. He was a locked door, and Minjae had a feeling he'd already touched the handle without meaning to.