Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Monday morning. The alarm blared incessantly beside him. Lazily, he stretched out his hand to turn off the noisy device. Once he succeeded, he couldn’t help but think about staying in the comfort and warmth of his bed. Yet he knew from experience that once he woke up, falling back asleep was impossible. He slowly sat up, rubbing one eye with a hand while stretching the other upward. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on his bear slippers. They were really cute, a gift probably from Hwiyoung, who insisted they suited him perfectly.

He walked slowly to the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and took a quick shower, washing away the sleep and the scent of his bed. Then he returned to his room, got dressed, and made his bed.

The apartment was silent. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old building could be heard. There was no TV on, no coffee brewing, not even an open window. Jongho lived alone, and it showed.

He prepared his breakfast automatically: a cup of black coffee and toast with jam, no butter. While the coffee bubbled in the machine, he checked his phone. A message from Hwiyoung:

“This Friday we’re drinking. No excuses. I already got the expensive bottle.”

He barely smiled and set the phone aside. Then came the usual message from his mother, every Monday:

“This Sunday, you have a date with the son of the Han family, a respectable alpha, also a doctor. Don’t embarrass me again.”

Her words were as cold as always. He hadn’t replied for the past three weeks, but he knew that wouldn’t stop her.

He dressed in the same combination as always: white shirt, gray sweater, black pants. Moderate, proper, invisible. He grabbed the keys to his car—a basic gray sedan but well cared for—and left his small apartment.

School was thirty minutes away by car, a trip he always made listening to music, though never out loud. Sometimes, if he was in a good mood, he would hum a melody. It wasn’t the same as in his conservatory days, but it reminded him that some of his passion for singing still remained.

He arrived as always: first. Parked in the same spot, gave the guard a small nod, and walked to his classroom. The air was still cold, the hallway silent, which he liked. He turned on the lights, arranged the chairs, and organized the desk. Nothing new was expected.

Gradually, the classroom filled with beta, omega, and alpha students, who greeted him politely before taking their seats. The initial silence soon turned into chatter and excited murmurs. Everyone was talking about their weekend and the places they had visited. Not surprising, considering it was a high-end school, so whispers about trips to France or paradisiacal destinations were common.

The murmur stopped when the clock struck 7:00 a.m. Jongho stood up from his seat and closed the classroom door. Immediately, everyone went silent. The senior beta stood tall, and with that gesture, class began.

The first hour passed without incident: universal literature with the third-year group, a review of The Odyssey that only a handful of students seemed to follow closely. Jongho expected nothing more; he already knew who submitted their work on time and who would feign surprise when he announced a test.

When the bell rang, he ended the class. He took advantage of the empty hallways to catch his breath. He didn’t talk much with other teachers, aside from exchanging greetings or brief comments about school activities. His social circle existed outside school: Hwiyoung and Bang Chan, with whom he occasionally drank, and that was enough.

At lunchtime, the teacher’s lounge was half full. He took out his lunch: rice, grilled chicken, and steamed vegetables. Nothing spectacular, but sufficient. While eating, he checked his phone.

A message from his mother:

“I’ve made the reservation for Sunday. See you at 7 at Utopia. Don’t be late, or there will be consequences.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored it.

Another message from Hwiyoung:

“Tell me you’re coming Friday. Chan already booked a table. We need to get that grumpy beta out of his cave.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

After lunch, he returned to his classroom to prepare the material for the last class. Everything went normally until, upon opening the door, he noticed something on his desk. Closing the door behind him, he walked slowly and was surprised to discover a bouquet of red tulips, perfectly cut and wrapped in golden paper, placed atop his notes.

Confused, he held them in his hands and examined them carefully. The first thing that caught his attention was how beautifully they were arranged, but he also found it strange that someone had chosen tulips of that color. Normally, if someone wanted to impress their love, they would give red roses. It was the first time he saw someone choose tulips.

Another detail: the bouquet didn’t have the dozens of flowers wealthy students usually received. Exactly eight, arranged with a precision that seemed unusual. He searched the desk thoroughly for a note or card that might reveal the sender. Nothing.

Jongho frowned.

They weren’t fake. They weren’t part of a school decoration. They were real. Fresh. Still with drops of dew on the petals.

He held them delicately, as if they might break, glancing around. The classroom was empty.

“Probably some students’ couple. They left it and forgot to take it,” he thought.

He sighed.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Finally, when it was time to return to his apartment, Jongho slowly packed his things. As he lifted his bag onto his shoulder, he glanced one last time at the bouquet and, after a brief pause, decided to take it with him. He didn’t like wasting flowers, and besides, he doubted anyone else would come for them. Carefully, he placed them beside his bag and left the classroom.

He followed his usual routine: arrived at his apartment, prepared dinner, tidied up a few things, checked messages, and placed the tulips in a vase with fresh water. He paused for a moment, as if watching them calmed his mind before sleep. Then he turned off the light and went to bed, letting the stillness of the night fill the apartment. His day had ended, simple and uneventful.

But while he slept, the story of the bouquet had only just begun.

The classroom was empty and silent. The observers entered without making a sound, their steps light on the floor. Seeing that the bouquet they had left on the desk had been taken, a contained satisfaction ran through their bodies: a dark, collective pleasure that could not be measured in words. Their sighs carried more than relief; there was something almost ritualistic in their delight, as if Jongho’s acceptance confirmed something they had long awaited.

Their eyes glimmered in the shadows, fixed on where the small gift had been. The simple action of his arm holding the bouquet unleashed a silent current of pleasure, a shared ecstasy that no one should perceive, least of all him. No words were spoken; only glances, sighs, and the certainty that the gift had been accepted. That was enough to feed their fascination.

The classroom remained imbued with a nearly tangible silence, and the observers left with a sense of triumph. Jongho, for his part, remained completely unaware, while the tulips stayed fresh in their vase, innocent witnesses to what had only just begun.

Chapter Text

Tuesday passed with the same unchanging calm as always. Jongho reviewed his class notes, grading assignments with the precision of someone who finds security in order. Every pencil, every sheet, every folder had its place; any disorder slightly disturbed his inner peace.

He walked through the empty hallways, barely nodding to colleagues he passed, without engaging in long conversations. Every sound, every distant murmur, was noticed, but never responded to beyond what was strictly necessary. His world was small, controllable, safe. He liked it that way, with nothing to disturb his routine. In doing so, there were no surprises, no strong emotions, and above all, no need to think more than necessary.

When he finished organizing his materials, Jongho allowed himself a moment to look out the window. Sunlight filtered softly between the buildings, creating shadows that danced slowly across the courtyard floors. The breeze touched his face, creating a sense of peace and tranquility. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sunlight and air that slipped through the window. These small moments were a daily luxury he almost never allowed himself.

With a quiet sigh, he opened his eyes and adjusted his glasses. He returned to his orderly world: grading work, preparing the next class, making sure everything was in its place. Each action was an anchor that kept him in his routine, and that was enough. For now, the outside world could wait; for now, he was alone, and that was sufficient.

By six in the evening, he gathered his things and headed home.
Upon arriving at his apartment, Jongho hung his coat, took off his shoes, and put everything in its place. He prepared a light dinner and checked his phone: luckily, his mother hadn’t messaged him since Monday, giving him a small sense of relief.

He then sat on the sofa and opened the group chat with Hwi Young and Bang Chan.

Hwi Young: “You’re coming Friday, right? Chan already reserved the table 😏”
Bang Chan: “No excuses, beta. I won’t forgive you if you refuse! I’ll drag you out of the cave by force if I have to.”
Hwi Young: “Wow, how scary! The great alpha has spoken.”
Jongho: “Ha, ha. Alright, I’ll go. But don’t expect me to take care of you if you get drunk. I’ll leave you on the floor if you pass out.”
Hwi Young: “That’s the spirit! Though I know you won’t, since you love us so much!”
Jongho: “You wish, useless omega.”
Bang Chan: “Alright, alright. Calm down, you two. Fine, Jongho, we’ll try not to cause trouble. And Hwi Young… just make sure you don’t lose your wallet this time.”
Hwi Young: “B-but hyung!”

Jongho smiled slightly at the messages. They rarely spoke about anything important, but these small exchanges made him feel calm, happy. A small ray of light in his monotonous life. He replied with an emoji and closed the conversation.

He sighed tiredly, but he had to prepare his things for the next day. He quickly stood from the sofa and went to his modest kitchen. He took a small container and arranged his food. This time he prepared steamed vegetables with rice and a boiled egg—simple but to his liking.

While waiting for the rice, he decided it would be a good idea to prepare his materials for the next day. He washed his hands, removing any food residue, and left the kitchen. He dried them with a clean cloth and went to open his briefcase, which he had left on one of the dining chairs. He unclasped the latch that kept it closed and slowly began to pull out and organize the notes for his next class and the materials for upcoming exams.

As he lifted his notebook, something light fell softly beside him. Confused by the sound, he bent down to pick up the strange object. He took it and inspected it carefully. He soon realized it wasn’t just any object, but a pen—an elegant pen. Not just any pen, but a luxurious fountain pen worth millions, famous for gliding over paper like butter. The tip appeared to be silver, while the rest of the pen had a gold shaft with small Swarovski diamond inlays. It was a beautiful blend of purple and blue, highlighting its elegance.

Jongho stood from his chair, examining it again to ensure it was authentic; when he saw the Swarovski symbol, he knew it was genuine. He searched for more clues to determine the owner of this valuable treasure—an initial, a name engraved, something—but found nothing. There was no hint of its owner or its origin. Nothing.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It must have slipped in when I was packing my things. This pen belongs to one of my students. I have to return it tomorrow if I want to avoid problems.” He muttered to himself, annoyed, placing it alongside his work materials.

He didn’t want to imagine the consequences if such an expensive pen didn’t make it back to its owner. Rich kids could be a headache when they wanted, especially if it involved their whims. Sighing in frustration, he secured it in a safe spot in his briefcase and tried to downplay it; first thing tomorrow, he would go to the teachers’ lounge, report the pen, and mark it as found so its owner could claim it.

He continued arranging his other materials until it grew a bit late. Tired, he stored everything in his briefcase, brushed his teeth, and put on his pajamas. Then he went to bed and closed his eyes, sighing calmly—another day in which everything had gone according to plan. His routine remained intact and safe.

With that in mind, he fell asleep, thinking the first thing he would do tomorrow was return the pen. What Jongho didn’t know was that the pen was already with its owner, though he was unaware. Instead, it lay alone in the cold briefcase, not fulfilling its original purpose of being a gift for a routine beta. What Jongho also didn’t know was that, had he looked under the silver clip, he would have noticed a finely engraved inscription. No—if Jongho had been more observant, he would have realized it was meant for him, as a delicate message could clearly be read:

"To the owner of our heart. Eternally our love, Choi Jongho"

Chapter Text

He ate alone. Always.

Today hadn’t been much different from any other. The first thing he had done in the morning was drop off the pen. The secretary had received it very kindly, marveling at how beautiful it was. She mentioned that no one had told her he had lost it, but she would label it and put it in lost and found in case anyone came to claim it. Jongho thanked her and headed to his next class.

Now, hours later, he was eating alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like socializing; it just didn’t come naturally to him. A few tables away, a group of teachers chatted animatedly about the game that would take place on Saturday. Jongho listened half-heartedly, with no intention of participating. He knew it wasn’t frowned upon. He just wasn’t… part of it.

He had tried before to get close to the other teachers, but being a beta in an elite school was uncommon. Not to mention that his scent could be slightly unsettling. It wasn’t his fault that his apple-cinnamon aroma reminded them of Christmas, or that when he got angry or excited, the cinnamon scent intensified to the point of tickling their noses. The most ridiculous thing was that, as a beta, his scent wasn’t even as strong as omegas or alphas, but that seemed not to matter to them.

So he preferred isolation, becoming rather solitary. Gradually, he began to excel in evaluations; his students respected him for being strict but fair. As a result, he earned a respectable reputation among his coworkers, securing his place in the school despite being a beta. At least no one messed with him. He preferred it that way, not having to answer to anyone.

Jongho continued eating, lost in his own world, when suddenly he began hearing loud voices and excited shouts coming from the cafeteria entrance. He glanced up with mild boredom; he already knew what was happening. At the back, through the main door, the Teezers entered: a group of extremely popular and wealthy alphas, known not only for their looks but also for their talents in various areas.

Seonghwa, the eldest alpha, was known for his acting. His mother had been a renowned actress and his father a millionaire producer. Seonghwa had inherited not only his parents’ beauty but also their talent, consistently landing leading roles in school plays. It was said that in the latest production of Hamlet, during the scene where the protagonist speaks to his father’s spirit, his performance was so perfect and emotional that it brought several audience members to tears. A true natural actor.

Then there was Yunho, the star athlete. It was said there was no sport on the planet Yunho couldn’t master. He had reportedly been captain of basketball, soccer, and baseball. His long, slender legs made him extremely agile, often scoring the final points for his team. The boy also exuded a golden retriever aura, making him kind and generous with everyone.

Yeosang, in truth, was very popular in his class, being a natural writer who could recite complex poems flawlessly. Not only that, he had participated nationally and won several literary contests. In addition to his talent, students (mostly omegas) commented that his beauty was comparable to Aphrodite or a Greek statue. Normally, when Jongho heard those remarks, he tended to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the boy was quite handsome, especially because of the birthmark on his left eye, which accentuated his masculine features. He had had the chance to read some of Yeosang’s work and had to admit it was impressive; the boy truly knew how to weave prose and rhymes to give meaning to his poems.

Then there were San and Wooyoung, two alphas cut from the same cloth. No exaggeration: those two were always together, as if sewn at the hip. They even had their own nickname: "Woosan." Both were energetic and friendly, especially Wooyoung, known as a very social alpha. He had friends in every grade, and it was said that if there was a party and Wooyoung went, it would be a total success. Additionally, he was a genius in athletics, bringing the school to multiple finals.

San, on the other hand, was a chivalrous and respectful alpha. His family was known for running several martial arts dojos nationwide, making San an expert in them. Despite his influence and strength, he was never cruel or overbearing. On the contrary, he was known for protecting his peers.

Lastly, Mingi and Hongjoong, both young music prodigies. Mingi composed ballads while Hongjoong created all kinds of music. Mingi was tall with a serious expression, while Hongjoong, shorter, stood out for his leadership and attitude, becoming the pack’s main alpha. Both came from prominent musical families; Mingi’s father was a respected American rapper, and Hongjoong’s father a famous music producer, whose mentorship ensured any student’s success. This is how they met and formed a bond that led them to lead the pack from elementary school, officially solidifying it upon entering high school.

Jongho watched them from his table, eating mechanically. Omegas and some alphas crowded around the Teezers, trying to catch their attention, laughing, and casting bright glances. For a moment, Jongho felt a mix of curiosity and distance.

He wondered what it would be like to be part of that world. His eyes lingered on Seonghwa, whose presence commanded respect and admiration; then Yunho, with that kind energy that seemed to envelop everyone; Yeosang, whose beauty and talent left others speechless; San and Wooyoung, always together, invincible in charisma; and finally Mingi and Hongjoong, whose confidence and leadership could be felt even from afar.

Jongho felt small in comparison, aware of his quiet, orderly routine. His world had always been controllable and safe, and although he admired those alphas who seemed to have it all, he felt like an observer, not a participant.

As he continued eating, he barely looked up when Hongjoong and Mingi entered the center of the cafeteria, greeting everyone with such confidence that all eyes turned toward them. Jongho automatically looked away, focusing on his rice, completely ignoring the familiar sensation of isolation that he found comforting.

He finished his lunch quickly, slowly gathered his things without hurry, and got up from the table. He avoided looking directly at the Teezers and those around them as they ate, keeping a neutral expression and professional demeanor. He walked toward the cafeteria exit with calm, steady steps, determined to return to the peace of his routine, far from the gazes and the noise that exhausted him.

The cool air greeted him as he opened the door, and a small relief coursed through his body. Finally, he could escape the noise, the sparkle, and the expectations of others. His world remained his own, if only for a few moments.

The hallways were quiet, interrupted only by the quick footsteps of students heading to their classrooms. Jongho walked with his gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders tense, as if carrying an invisible weight. He didn’t seek encounters; he just wanted to go unnoticed.

Then, a brief buzz in his pocket made him stop. He frowned, as if returning abruptly to reality, and took out his phone. The name on the screen tightened his throat: Mom.

"Don’t forget the appointment on Saturday. You’ll meet Minjae, son of the Han doctors, very well-known in Korea. He’s an alpha, studying internal medicine at Seoul School, honor roll, a genius in his field. Make a good impression; don’t ruin it. You already embarrass the family enough."

Frustration surged through his chest like uncomfortable heat. It wasn’t the first time he had received such comments from his mother. He growled in frustration, wishing he could ignore it, but something in him always compelled him to read it to the end, accumulating that feeling of weariness he’d carried for as long as he could remember.

Jongho let out a heavy sigh, as if that could relieve the pressure pressing on his chest. With a quick gesture, he put his phone away, determined not to let the message ruin the rest of his day, though irritation still throbbed under his skin. For the rest of the afternoon, that feeling lingered, noticeable in his classes. His students barely spoke to him, responding only when he asked something. Jongho’s frustration seeped into his voice, his manner of correcting and organizing, and the tense silence that filled the classroom. No one dared challenge him, but neither did anyone approach too closely; the authority of his annoyance filled the room.

Every movement seemed measured, rigid, as if his irritation weighed on each action. Yet he strove to maintain control, not letting anger disrupt his routine too much, though the tension was palpable. Even his scent betrayed it, as several students coughed whenever he approached, their throats tickled by his intense cinnamon aroma, which he tried to manage as best he could.

By 5:30 his class was over. Still annoyed, he tried to relax. He had thirty minutes before leaving, so he decided to get some air. He headed to the back gardens, filled with flowering shrubs and trees. He liked that place, not just for the view but also for the solitude; almost no one went there. He reached a tree that shaded him from the afternoon sun, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Memories began to flow like water: from his days at the conservatory to his teachers’ comments saying he was the next big thing in the music industry. He remembered when he tried to be an idol and failed to debut because betas weren’t considered competent in the industry.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his left pocket. Heading to the smoking area, he smoked three in a row, letting the smoke carry away his memories and feelings. When he finished the last one, he stubbed it out and sighed wearily. He combed his hair back and adjusted his clothes. Checking his watch: 6:10. Time to leave.

He returned to the classroom to collect his things, eager to go home, sleep, and forget everything until the next day. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice someone approaching until he rounded a corner and collided, falling face-first to the ground.

Rubbing his nose, he looked up to see who he had bumped into. A male voice spoke urgently:

—Professor, I’m sorry! Are you okay?

As he recovered slightly, he could make out the figure in front of him. Kang Yeosang, the poetry prodigy, stood before him.

Yeosang bowed slightly, hands together, showing a genuine apology.

—I really am sorry, Professor. I didn’t see you coming.

Jongho straightened, brushing off his clothes. He said nothing at first, simply observing the young man with a serious expression, assessing him.

—It’s okay, —he finally responded, calm but firm— just be more careful next time.

Some of Jongho’s things had scattered when he fell: his phone, glasses, some pens he used for grading, and more. He bent quickly to gather everything.

Yeosang, seeing this, leaned down to help. Now that he was closer, Jongho could see his features more clearly. He had to admit, he was quite attractive: almond-shaped eyes and a sharp nose giving him a very masculine look. The birthmark enhanced his beauty even more. His deep, firm voice sent shivers down Jongho’s arm. Everything about the alpha radiated dominance; he reminded him of a Doberman: imposing, aggressive, and above all, elegant.

—Here you go, Professor —Yeosang said, handing him some of his belongings.

—Thank you —Jongho replied, though for a moment their fingers brushed, sending a shiver down his spine.

He quickly ignored it and focused on collecting his things.

When Jongho was almost done, he noticed Yeosang holding up his blue fountain pen—the one he used most in class—and staring at it with interest. He furrowed his brow, as if confused or annoyed.

—Is something wrong, Young Kang? —Jongho asked, curious about the younger’s action.

The question seemed to prompt a reaction; Yeosang smiled again.

—Nothing, Professor, I was just looking at your pen. It’s pretty.

Jongho raised an eyebrow, puzzled. That pen was simple; he had bought it years ago at a discount store. It was worn from time. “Pretty” wasn’t a word to describe it, but he preferred not to comment, assuming the alpha was just being kind. He finished picking up his things and stood with Yeosang.

After Yeosang returned his belongings, Jongho thanked him and resumed his path. He was eager to get home and take a long shower.

But just as he was about to walk away, a hand on his arm stopped him.

—You forgot this, Professor —Yeosang said, extending his hand with the glasses.

Jongho turned and reached to take them, not even realizing he wasn’t wearing them. Before he could grab them, the young alpha quickly withdrew his hand and pulled the beta closer, pushing him toward the lockers behind him, cornering him with no escape. The action completely surprised the beta, who stiffened immediately, frozen in place.

Yeosang was very close to his face; he could almost count each eyelash and the small moles on his face. He didn’t move, either from shock or the incredible scent the alpha emitted: a mix of coffee and chocolate, strong and penetrating. A scent that made Jongho sigh with pleasure.

Yeosang, sensing the tension, tilted his head slightly, observing every reaction as if deciphering a puzzle. His almond eyes narrowed with interest, and his smile grew more pronounced, almost mischievous.

The alpha leaned just a little closer, and the effect of his pheromones was immediate. Jongho had to bite his tongue to suppress an involuntary moan, unable to control his body’s reaction. His breathing became uneven; his hands trembled slightly. He couldn’t move, couldn’t pull away, and the alpha’s scent enveloped him like a cloak he couldn’t resist. He wanted it so much, imagining tasting it made his mouth water, and the thought made him tremble further.

—Professor —his deep voice pulled him from his thoughts, almost a soft growl— did you smoke?

—W-what? —he asked, confused, tensing his shoulders, trying to shake off the confusion.

—Did you smoke? It doesn’t smell like usual… not cinnamon, not apple —Yeosang observed, frowning slightly as if evaluating every nuance of his scent.

The comment snapped Jongho out of his daze. His face turned to a grimace of displeasure, expecting an insult about his scent, but Yeosang smiled sweetly:

—Don’t get me wrong, Professor… I really like your scent —he said softly, almost a whisper, sending a shiver down Jongho’s spine— Your scent is… unique.

Jongho looked away, pressing his lips together. He wanted to move, to disappear from the uncomfortable proximity, but something about the alpha’s posture, the confidence he radiated, held him in place. He felt trapped, disarmed, and the fact that Yeosang moved even closer made his breathing quicken. The alpha’s pheromones surrounded him, making him aware of every brush, every small distance separating them. He wished the alpha didn’t notice the effect of his scent, but it seemed the opposite; Yeosang smiled with satisfaction and softness, moving just slightly closer, intensifying his aroma. Jongho could feel it almost brushing his skin, his senses flooded with a mixture of excitement and tension.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but after what felt like an eternity, Yeosang slowly stepped back, leaving a dazed Jongho against the locker. Then he leaned in again and placed the glasses on him, carefully tucking a brown strand of hair behind the beta’s ear, brushing his cheek almost imperceptibly. A brief touch, enough to send a shiver down the beta’s spine.

—Thanks —Jongho said, trying to sound neutral and calm— That’s all.

Yeosang gave one last smile before walking away calmly, as if assessing Jongho’s reactions, then turned on his heels to continue.

Once the alpha was out of sight, Jongho breathed deeply, trying to regain control, aware that his mind and body were still trembling under the alpha’s influence.

—What the hell was that?! —he muttered to himself, hand on his chest, trying to contain his racing heartbeat and regain control of his body.

He could still feel the heat emanating from the alpha and the strong, delicious chocolate-and-coffee scent from his skin. Every movement of Yeosang, every word, every nuance of his scent… repeated in his mind like an echo that wouldn’t stop.

He quickly got up and headed to his classroom. His heart pounded violently as he walked (or ran) down the hall, ignoring rules. Yeosang’s words echoed insistently in his mind, every syllable laden with a closeness he hadn’t expected and that left him completely flustered.

—“I really like your scent, Professor” —the confession had been so direct, so unexpected, he hadn’t had time to react. He only felt a strange warmth climbing the back of his neck, mixed with a pleasure he couldn’t hide.

He entered the classroom almost blindly, his movements clumsy, as if he had suddenly lost coordination.

When he finished collecting his things, he did so hurriedly, eager to leave, to not feel or think about what had just happened.

Without looking back, he exited and headed to his car. The walk through the halls felt long; every step seemed to echo loudly in his head, reminding him of what had occurred.

Upon reaching the parking lot, he opened the car door, sat down, and breathed deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his heartbeat, but he couldn’t ignore it. The memory of Yeosang so close, his smile and his scent, lingered as if embedded in his senses. The entire walk had replayed in his mind, telling him to stay calm, that it had been just a strange moment, nothing more, likely caused by a lapse of emotional stability—or at least he tried to convince himself of that.

He placed his hands on the steering wheel, closed his eyes briefly, and exhaled slowly, determined to forget it all and focus on just driving home. He would think about the situation later and, if necessary, speak seriously with Yeosang.

He reached for the key to start the car… but a glint on the passenger seat caught his attention.

Confused, he reached out his hand to take a closer look at what was lying on the seat, and what he saw froze him in place…
There, carefully placed on the worn cushion, rested a leather notebook. It wasn’t just any notebook: the material was soft, polished, of a dark and elegant tone. The golden corners and fine stitching made it clear it wasn’t cheap. Next to it lay the pen he had handed over at the reception that very morning—untouched, as if it had never left his possession.

His stomach tightened instantly.
The notebook looked as though it had come straight from a luxury store, the kind of object not easily found. It was far too personal, far too expensive, and the pen… the pen had no reason to be there. Jongho was absolutely certain he had given it away earlier that day.

His breathing grew unsteady. A cold shiver ran down his neck as the realization struck him: someone had entered his car. This wasn’t a simple, thoughtful gesture; it was an intrusion, a reminder that he was being watched even when he thought he was alone.

His first instinct was to glance around—the rearview mirror, the windows—searching for any figure that might be observing him. The silence of the parking lot suddenly felt suffocating, so heavy he could almost hear the echo of his own heartbeat.

The initial confusion twisted into a sharp, paralyzing fear that held him still for several seconds. What kind of person had access to his most private space? And for what reason had they returned the pen?

With a sudden snap, Jongho shut the notebook closed, unwilling to look at it any longer. His hands trembled as he set it back down on the seat and started the engine with abrupt force. He only wanted to leave, to put distance between himself and that “gift”—a gift that had made one thing terrifyingly clear: he was no longer safe anywhere.

Chapter Text

He paced back and forth across the apartment like a caged lion. He had arrived just an hour ago, still with his heart racing and hands trembling. The first thing he did was take the pen and notebook from the car and place them on the coffee table. Since then, they had remained untouched. He stared at them as if they were radioactive objects, analyzing them with the absurd hope that, suddenly, the answers would appear before his eyes.

His thoughts revolved around a single question: should he open it or leave it untouched? He couldn’t reach a decision. He sank into his armchair, arms crossed over his chest, while his feet moved with almost unbearable nervousness. Each passing minute fueled his anxiety, as if the apartment’s silence grew heavier.

Finally, he took a deep breath, as if filling his lungs with air could give him the courage he lacked. With trembling hands, he leaned toward the table and picked up the notebook. The mere touch of the cover against his fingers sent a shiver down his spine, as if he were about to open something forbidden. He held it in his hands for what felt like an eternity, looking at it with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Then, with an almost clumsy movement, he opened the first page. What he found was not what he expected. The pages were incredibly thin, paper as soft as silk… but within those beautiful white sheets, there was absolutely nothing. Not a single word, not a clue, nothing revealing who could be the author of such a “gift.”

For a moment, he froze, as if his brain couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing. He had expected to find something: a message, a threat, an explanation… anything that would give meaning to this nightmare. But nothing. Only the white silence of the pages, seemingly mocking him.

Frustration burned in his chest. He slammed the notebook shut and threw it onto the table, letting out a broken sigh.
—What the hell does this… mean? —he murmured, barely audible, as if someone could answer him.

His hands trembled again, this time not from fear but from helplessness. The emptiness of those pages only fueled the whirlwind in his mind. Was it a game? A disguised warning? Or just a very cruel joke?

Then his gaze fell on the pen, lying calmly beside it, as if nothing had happened. Its blue and purple tones contrasted with the apartment’s dull gray, a spark of color in the midst of that gloomy atmosphere. But to Jongho, it wasn’t a pleasant spark—it was a stain. He looked at it with anger, with disdain. That object should never have returned to his home, yet there it was, imposing itself in the center of his space. Each minute it stayed felt like another mockery directed at him.

That night, unsurprisingly, he didn’t sleep a wink. Insomnia trapped him in a spiral of thoughts revolving endlessly around the notebook and that cursed pen. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of those objects appeared as if stalking him in the shadows.

Finally, in the silence of the early morning, he reached a conclusion: the first thing he would do at dawn was check the security cameras. Maybe he could discover if someone had been recorded entering his car. After that, he would speak to the secretary. Someone must have inquired about that pen at some point, someone must have claimed it… and with a bit of luck, that would give him a clue about who was behind all this.

He tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than a prank. Maybe a cruel joke, a mischief devised by some wealthy student who thought scaring his teacher was fun. The thought annoyed him but also gave him some relief: it was less frightening to think it was a very bad joke than to imagine the alternative, an invisible shadow that seemed to have entered his car.

The next morning, Thursday, he arrived at school at his usual time. He prepared his class as usual, following every routine that gave him a minimum of control over his day. But that day was different. He felt watched, vulnerable, as if all the eyes in the world could see right through him. From the moment he parked his car, he chose a spot a little farther away, more hidden, so no one would know where he was. It was a few minutes’ walk to his classroom, but the caution justified it.

After finishing his first class, he hurried to the security booth and asked Han Yoon—the guard who had access to the cameras—if it was possible to review the footage. He obviously didn’t tell the real reason for wanting to see the cameras; he claimed he had lost some documents on the way to his car and needed to check if they could be found.

Han Yoon looked at him, surprised, and replied somewhat embarrassed that yes, there were cameras installed throughout the campus… but they weren’t working.

—What do you mean they’re not working? —Jongho asked, incredulous.

—Yes, they were active before —explained Han Yoon—, but many parents of the students complained. They are children of politicians and influential people, and they don’t like the idea of being recorded. They fear the footage could leak to the media and be misused, so they requested the cameras to be turned off.

Jongho froze, a mix of anger and confusion washing over him. His entire plan to find the culprit crumbled before it even began. Not only did he have no clear leads, but now he felt that every move he made could be watched while simultaneously being completely defenseless.

He tried to pull himself together quickly. He thanked Han Yoon and headed to his next objective: the teachers’ office to ask about the pen. That was his clearest lead since if anyone had retrieved it, they would have signed for it or at least the receptionist would have seen the person.

He rushed to the teachers’ office, heart pounding with expectation. But he was surprised to find out that the secretary wasn’t there.
—She went on maternity leave this morning —they told him.

Jongho blinked, confused. He didn’t even know she was pregnant. His heart skipped a beat.

—So… there’s no way for me to find out? —the helplessness hit him like a blow to the stomach. He felt that every time he got close to a clue, something stopped him.

Then an idea occurred to him.

—At least… can I see the lost-and-found records? I need to know if anyone turned in something I lost —he asked, clinging to the hope of seeing a name that could guide him.
—I’m sorry, Professor Choi, we can’t show you the records. It’s the student council’s jurisdiction. If you like, you can describe the item, and I will look for it —the teacher replied kindly.

—No! That’s not necessary —he quickly said, trying to make an excuse that wouldn’t reveal him—. Actually… I didn’t lose it; it was given to me.

The teacher raised an eyebrow, visibly confused.

—It’s just that I found it on my desk, and since it was important to me, I wanted to thank whoever returned it. That’s why I wanted to see the records.

He forced a smile, hoping she would believe the half-lie. Because, in truth, yes, something had been returned to him, though he would never admit the violation of his privacy.

The teacher, Sung, looked at him with some suspicion but instead of questioning him further, she smiled with a hint of mischief.

—Well, Professor… if you really want to know the records, you can ask the student council president. Maybe he can help with your problem.

—Really!? —Jongho exclaimed, so startled that several heads turned toward him. His face flushed instantly, and he cleared his throat to regain composure—. I mean… sure, I’d like to speak with the president. Where can I find him?

—Normally, they are in the student council room… but I don’t think they’re there right now.—Why not? —The teacher let out a soft laugh, as if amused by his naivety—. Because they are in class at the moment.

—I see… well, then could you give me the president’s name? So I can talk to him later.
—Of course —she replied, raising her eyebrows with an amused air—. Actually, I’m surprised you don’t know their name, Professor. They are very popular in school. But I guess it’s because there’s been a recent change in the presidency.

—Really? Who is it? —asked Jongho, genuinely curious, leaning slightly forward.
—It’s none other than Park Seonghwa, the second alpha of the Teezers.

The name hit him like a bucket of ice water. His back straightened automatically, and his neck muscles tensed. It wasn’t Seonghwa himself that was the problem, but the inevitable connection his mind drew to Yeosang… to that memory that still knotted his throat. His expression remained neutral, almost forced, but inside, he was deeply unsettled. Did it have to be someone connected to that group?

Just as he thought he could finally follow a lead, it turned out he had to approach someone tied to that group. He swallowed hard, heart pounding.
—I see… —he said, feigning calm—. Then I’ll have to speak with him.

At that moment, he didn’t think about the pen or the records. Only about how to maintain control when facing Seonghwa without letting his memories betray him. His body trembled, mouth dry, just recalling the strong presence of that group, of that leader who now controlled the council.

He thanked the teacher for her kindness and left the staff room with measured steps, trying not to show the stiffness that still gripped his shoulders. The hallway air felt denser than usual, as if each breath carried an invisible weight.

However, seeing President Park would have to wait, since his next class was about to begin. Anxiety hit him all at once as he remembered who he would face.

The second-years.

And if his memory served him right, Yeosang was among them.

An involuntary shiver ran through his body, from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers. He forced his jaw shut as tightly as he could, as if that gesture could keep his inner turmoil in check.

“Focus. It’s just a class. Nothing more.”

But the very thought of looking Yeosang in the eyes made him feel as if he were stepping into a minefield, unsure which step would set everything off.

When he entered the classroom, however, the black-haired boy was nowhere to be seen. He scanned the room, trying not to betray the nervousness tightening his chest. The desks were occupied, students’ voices filled the air with their usual murmur, but there was no trace of Yeosang.

When the bell rang and he closed the door to start class, disciplined silence fell immediately. Yet his attention remained divided, as if expecting that figure to appear at any moment.

But it didn’t.

He couldn’t deny the immediate relief that washed over him, light yet powerful, like a breath of fresh air after hours of confinement.

Still, he didn’t allow himself to fully relax. Something inside him whispered that this absence was neither a mere oversight nor coincidence.

He tried to downplay it. He couldn’t let absences or coincidences shake his control. So when the bell rang and the class ended, he quickly gathered his things and headed to the student council, hoping to finally meet Park Seonghwa.

Upon reaching the hallway, the only thing he found was a closed door with a sign indicating no one was inside. He tried the knob, but it was locked.

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, though frustration made it louder than intended. He lightly tapped the doorframe with his knuckles and sighed in annoyance. “I guess I’ll have to come back later…”

Resigned, he turned to leave. That’s when a deep voice echoed behind him:

—“Looking for someone, Professor?”

The sound caught him completely off guard; a small gasp escaped his throat. He startled so much that he took a step back, his heart hammering.

A low, contained laugh echoed down the hallway, mocking his clumsiness.

Jongho spun around, his face burning with embarrassment, and there he saw him: Park Seonghwa, leaning casually against the wallframe. His eyes glimmered with a hint of amusement, and though he wasn’t laughing, he kept that smirk permanently etched on his face. The hallway soon filled with his scent—strawberries and vanilla—a peculiar fragrance for an alpha.

—“I apologize for my imprudence, Professor. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Seonghwa said, tilting his head politely, though the spark of amusement in his eyes remained.

—“No, don’t worry,” Jongho replied, trying to compose himself, though he could still feel the heat on his cheeks from the ridiculous scene. —“I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

—“I understand,” murmured the black-haired boy, his calm tone hiding something deeper. He stepped slightly closer, narrowing the distance without invading personal space, his eyes studying Jongho as if reading beyond words. “So, Professor, can I help you with something?”

—“Well…”— Jongho cleared his throat, crossing his arms as if that gesture could give him confidence. —“Actually, it’s not important.”

—“Oh, really?” Seonghwa tilted his head, raising an eyebrow, as if doubting his words.

—“No… or, well, yes, but not much,” he stammered, growing increasingly awkward under that piercing gaze. He looked down briefly, seeking a quick excuse. “You see, someone returned an item I thought I’d lost.”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, evaluating every word.

—“I see…” he finally said, with calculated calm. “And that brings you here, to the student council door?”

Jongho’s heart skipped a beat. He forced a smile, though it felt tense.

—“Let’s say… I wanted to thank the person who took the trouble to return it. I thought perhaps in the records…” He cut himself off, as if he’d said too much, and cleared his throat. —“Well, you know, nothing serious.”

—“Nothing serious?” Seonghwa repeated, savoring the words, taking another step forward. Jongho felt the space between them shrink dangerously. “I find it curious that something ‘not serious’ brought you here.”

Jongho glanced down, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt.

—“I told you, I just wanted to thank them…”

—“Thank them?” Seonghwa interrupted, his crooked smile failing to soften the intensity of his gaze. “Then, what was this ‘special’ item, Professor?”

The air caught in Jongho’s throat. He expected questions, but not so quickly, not with that inquisitive tone that made him feel hunted.

—“It was…” he swallowed, searching for a believable, innocent excuse. “A pen.”

Seonghwa raised both eyebrows, surprised, yet his penetrating gaze didn’t waver.

—“A pen,” he repeated slowly, as if imprinting every syllable in his mind. “And someone returned it to your desk just like that? How… particular.”

—“Yes, I suppose,” Jongho replied with a forced smile.

—“How curious…” muttered Seonghwa, leaning slightly closer, his deep voice closer. “—Most teachers who lose things don’t come directly to me. But you…”— His eyes glimmered with suspicion. “You don’t seem like someone who loses things easily.”

Jongho’s stomach twisted with growing nerves.

—You know, Professor?” Seonghwa continued, eyes locked on him, dissecting him. —Something doesn’t add up.”

Jongho swallowed, uneasy under the scrutiny.

—What do you mean?”

—That someone like you,” Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, his smile widening slightly, “isn’t careless. Always punctual, always impeccable in class, always organized. And yet, you tell me you lost a pen.”

—That… that happens to anyone,” Jongho said, trying to sound casual, though his voice trembled.

—“Of course,” Seonghwa admitted with feigned gentleness, tilting his head. “But the interesting part isn’t that you lost it… it’s how it returned to your hands.” He paused just long enough to make the silence suffocating. “Tell me, how are you so sure it was the same pen and not another?”

Jongho’s heart raced. His hands sweated; he had to press them against his notebook to hide it.

—“I… just know,” he whispered.

Seonghwa let out a low, almost inaudible laugh that made his skin crawl.

“—Interesting. Very interesting.”

Jongho tried to hold his gaze, but eventually, he looked to the floor. The alpha was cornering him with words, and the facade he’d tried to maintain was crumbling.

Seonghwa’s stare was penetrating, so steady it seemed to look right through him. His black, dark, shiny eyes assessed him with a disconcerting calm, as if trying to decipher every hidden thought.

A shiver ran down Jongho’s spine. He forced himself to stay upright, feigning composure, but the scrutiny made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he didn’t know how to handle.

“You know, professor,” added the black-haired boy lightly, almost playfully, though there was something more, something that made him sound dangerous. “Sometimes, the simplest objects hold the most interesting secrets.”

The silence stretched briefly between them, but to Jongho, it felt eternal.

Finally, Seonghwa clapped lightly and smiled warmly, as if what had just occurred never happened.

“Of course, I don’t have any issues showing you the records, Professor,” he added, straightening. “It’s just that, for now, I don’t have them. You can come tomorrow at the same time, and I’ll give you a copy. As you see, my door is closed right now, and I don’t have the key.”

“Yes, of course,” Jongho replied, grateful.

“Well, Professor,” he said lightly, relaxed, even courteous. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to tell me. I’m always willing to help our teachers.”

Jongho could only nod, bewildered by the sudden change. Yet before he could leave, he mustered courage to ask the question that had been bothering him since morning.

“By the way… I noticed Yeosang didn’t attend my class today. Do you know if something happened?”

Seonghwa’s smile didn’t fade, but there was a strange, fleeting glint in his eyes that Jongho noticed.

“Ah, Yeosang…” he repeated slowly, weighing each syllable. “He felt a little unwell this morning, so he didn’t come. Nothing serious, don’t worry.”

Jongho frowned and raised an eyebrow, incredulous. There was something in the way Seonghwa said it that didn’t sound entirely truthful.
“Ah… I understand. But if it’s a matter of illness, a medical certificate must be provided. It’s the rule.”
Seonghwa let out a short, dry laugh, laden with mockery. He took a step back theatrically and tilted his head.
“Of course, Professor. I’ll gladly send you that certificate.” —His lips curved into a cheeky smile— “Don’t worry, nothing will be missing from your records.”
Jongho felt a chill run down his spine. There was something deeply unsettling about that promise disguised as courtesy.
“I hope so…” —he murmured, trying to maintain control.
“Have a good day, Professor,” Seonghwa finished, nodding his head before walking away calmly, leaving behind a heavy silence and a whirlwind of doubts in the air.

Jongho stood still for a few seconds, letting Seonghwa’s figure fade down the hallway. His chest continued to pound, as if reminding him that not everything was under control.
His steps were measured, but his mind could not stay still. What inconvenience? Why did Seonghwa seem to know something he didn’t? Each thought made him doubt, and the sense of vulnerability he had felt all morning settled over him again.
Still, he forced himself to focus. He had to give the next class, maintain composure in front of the students, and not let his unease take over. He took a deep breath, pressed his lips together, and tried to organize his mind, though he knew that the mystery of Yeosang—and the mysterious gifts—would not let him relax completely.
Each step toward the classroom brought him closer to his duty, but also deeper into that whirlwind of unanswered questions that Seonghwa had left hanging in the air.

By the time the last class of the day ended, Jongho felt increasingly uneasy. He hadn’t managed to find any clue regarding the attack on his car all day. He grabbed his hair in frustration, feeling how ideas slipped away and how every attempt to organize his thoughts ended in a dead end.
Every time he thought he was about to discover something, it seemed fate was one step ahead, denying him any progress. Powerlessness mingled with anxiety, and fatigue began to take its toll on his concentration.
He was so absorbed in trying to put his mind in order that he didn’t hear someone knock on the door. Only a faint creak brought him back to reality: the sound of the door opening and a voice calling his name pulled him from his reverie.

“Professor Choi,” said Hongjoong, with that firm, confident voice that commanded effortlessly, “I hope I’m not interrupting…”
Jongho immediately straightened, seeing with surprise the person he least expected at that moment. In the doorway stood the small, slender yet toned figure of Kim Hongjoong, leader of the Teezers, leaning against the door. His presence was so imposing that it seemed to fill the classroom even before he spoke a word.
Jongho blinked several times, incredulous, feeling his heart race. It wasn’t just surprise; it was a mix of respect, tension, and slight anxiety that always arose whenever he saw Hongjoong.
“N-no… not… at all,” he stammered, surprising even himself with the clumsiness of his response. “Come in, have a seat.”

Hongjoong’s gaze settled on him, calm and evaluative, as if he could read every thought crossing Jongho’s mind. The feeling was strange: caught between relief at not being scolded and unease at not knowing what would come next.
Hongjoong entered with measured steps, never taking his eyes off Jongho. Truly, Hongjoong’s aura was that of an Alpha leader. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show aggression; every movement was precise and confident. His mere presence commanded respect, making every hair on Jongho’s body stand on end.
“Thank you,” he said after grabbing a chair and sitting in front of the beta.
His voice wasn’t deep, but carried a secure, firm timbre that nonetheless dominated the room effortlessly. Every word he spoke seemed measured, precise, as if he controlled everything around him, and Jongho couldn’t help feeling small in the face of that natural authority.

“Professor Choi,” he began once seated, his voice firm but calm, “I heard you had a situation with my young Alpha, Yeosang. That’s why I wanted to check that everything was in order.”
Jongho swallowed and tried to remain calm.
“Ah… yes,” he replied, his voice a thin but firm thread, “it’s just… I didn’t know the reason for his absence today. By regulations, I need a certificate so it isn’t recorded as a lack of attendance.”

Hongjoong let out a soft laugh, calm but laced with authority, making Jongho shiver. His dark, penetrating eyes didn’t stop evaluating him, and each word seemed to raise the tension in the classroom.
“Well…” he finally said, with a relaxed but teasing tone, “of course Yeosang is indisposed, Professor. But I didn’t know a certificate was required when an Alpha is in heat.”

Jongho froze, unable to respond immediately. The combination of Hongjoong’s smile and his subtly provocative comment left him speechless, aware he was facing someone who was not only a leader, but who seemed to toy with him effortlessly.
“Heat?” Jongho asked, incredulous, raising an eyebrow and unable to hide his surprise.

Hongjoong let out a soft laugh, amused by the professor’s reaction, and leaned slightly against the doorframe.
“Yes, heat,” he said, maintaining that calm that commanded respect. “You know, when the Alpha needs to tie a knot during his cycle.”

Jongho felt his cheeks heat up and, both embarrassed and annoyed, quickly responded:
“I-I already know what heat is!”

Hongjoong’s laugh softened to a lower tone, still teasing but with an authority that made Jongho feel trapped between nervousness and discomfort admitting it. His dark eyes continued evaluating him, deep and piercing, as if measuring how far he could maintain composure.

Hongjoong’s words hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Heat…?
Suddenly, everything started to make sense. The strong, penetrating scent of Yeosang, the intensity that had cornered him and taken his breath away… It hadn’t been a mere whim or a sudden attack. No, it had been the instinct of an Alpha in heat.

His chest tightened as he remembered how vulnerable he had felt in that moment. That also explained why he couldn’t resist… he thought, a shiver running down his spine. His Beta side had responded to the mating pheromones, drawing him in as if inevitable.

Jongho narrowed his eyes, lowering his gaze to the desk in an attempt to hide the whirlwind of thoughts racing through him.
So… was all this because of that? Or was there something more behind his behavior?
The idea was comforting and, at the same time, made him even more uneasy.

Hongjoong tilted his head, his dark eyes evaluating every gesture of the professor as if he could read him completely. An ambiguous smile appeared on his lips before he asked a question that left Jongho frozen.
“Tell me, Professor Choi… did something happen with Yeosang?” —his tone light, almost casual, but the force behind his words was so penetrating that Jongho’s throat went dry— “I ask because, when I mentioned he is in heat, you seemed… relieved.”

Jongho’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he didn’t know what to answer. His hands tensed on the desk, searching for support amid this uncomfortable scrutiny.
“N-no…” he stammered, trying to sound convincing, though he knew his voice betrayed him. “I was just surprised he didn’t attend class, nothing more.”

Hongjoong smiled, as if that answer was more interesting than any confession.
“Ah, really?” he murmured, leaning slightly toward him, his eyes fixed on the professor’s. “Because it seemed more than simple surprise to me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and Jongho felt a shiver run down his spine.
Hongjoong let out a barely contained chuckle, tilting his head.
“It’s not the first time you have an Alpha student, right, Professor Choi? And even less that one has gone through heat during the school year.”

His smile widened maliciously before locking his gaze onto the beta.
“But it is the first time I hear of a professor looking so relieved about it.”

He dropped the last sentence like a poisoned dart, enjoying the blush rising to the elder’s cheeks.

The silence that followed was heavy. Hongjoong’s dark eyes seemed to pierce too deeply, evaluating every microgesture, every breath, certain there was something more hidden behind the professor’s facade.

Jongho tensed, crossing his arms instinctively, trying to straighten up. The discomfort mingled with the need not to give in to the gaze that seemed to pierce him.
“Nothing special,” he replied, with a voice firmer than he truly felt, trying to maintain control of the situation.

Hongjoong let out a low, soft, teasing laugh.

“Ah, of course… Nothing special,” he repeated, letting the tone carry a hint of doubt. “I like seeing how some professors try to maintain composure… when clearly there is more than they want to admit.”

The air between them grew heavy, and although Jongho tried to appear confident, Hongjoong’s pressure and insinuations made every gesture seem like a weak point.

Hongjoong leaned slightly forward, shortening the distance between them. His smile didn’t fade, and his dark eyes seemed to evaluate him intensely, playing with every gesture of Jongho.

Jongho took a deep breath, tightening his jaw. He forced himself to hold the gaze, not to back down an inch. He was much older, and above all, his teacher.

“What are you implying, young Kim?” he said firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Are you mocking me? Don’t think that just because you’re an Alpha I’ll allow this behavior. Above all, I’m still your professor.”

Hongjoong let out a soft laugh, like a cat enjoying the resistance of its prey.
“Oh… Professor Choi,” he said, moving just a little closer, his tone loaded with amusement and teasing. “I’m not mocking… I’m just observing. And I must admit, it’s… entertaining to see you try to maintain control.”

The silence became even heavier. Every word from Hongjoong was calculated to pressure him, while Jongho struggled to maintain his composure and authority, aware that the Alpha in front of him knew more than he let on.

Hongjoong smirked slightly, letting his insinuation hang in the air.
"Oh, you do know," he replied softly. "Yeosang told me something very particular about you…

Jongho frowned, feeling the pressure rising in his chest. He tried to remain firm, not to show surprise or discomfort, but the insinuation was clear and direct.
“Ah, yes?” he replied, his controlled voice thin, crossing his arms and holding Hongjoong’s gaze. “And what would that be about my…?”

Hongjoong let out a low laugh, full of mockery and amusement, as if simply keeping him on the defensive was an entertaining game.
“Oh, nothing serious… just something that, I dare say, will be a little… revealing.”

The atmosphere between them became even tenser, and Jongho felt that every gesture, every word from Hongjoong, was designed to make him uncomfortable without the Alpha explicitly saying what he knew.

His dark eyes never left Jongho, fixed on every microgesture. Every word was calculated to pressure him, and even without physical contact, the tension emanating from Hongjoong made Jongho feel trapped, as if every breath was being observed and evaluated.

“You must admit, Professor,” Hongjoong continued, his voice a mix of authority and teasing, “it’s entertaining to see you try to maintain composure when clearly there is something you don’t want anyone to know.”

Jongho swallowed, trying not to give in to the pressure, aware that his authority was being questioned in front of the Alpha who studied him so meticulously.

After a few minutes, Hongjoong stood from his seat, with a posture that commanded respect and dominance even in the simple act of standing. His dark eyes rested on Jongho with an intensity that made him feel observed in an intimate, calculated way.

“But don’t worry, Professor,” he said with a smile that mixed amusement and a hint of provocation, “I’ll speak to Yeosang personally, so he apologizes for what seems to have made you—” he turned to look at him, still teasing— “feel quite… uncomfortable.”

Jongho nodded, trying to maintain composure, and replied firmly:

“Yes, no problem… as long as Yeosang feels genuinely sorry and promises it won’t happen again.”

Hongjoong let out a low laugh, almost a whisper. Suddenly, he circled the desk and approached in large strides, like a stalking panther. Dropping onto Jongho’s chair, his proximity was deliberate, invasive, as he placed his arms on either side of the chair, trapping Jongho between them. The tension in the air was palpable, and the intense eye contact made every breath feel heavier. He could also better appreciate the bourbon scent the Alpha exuded, with notes of vanilla, caramel, and oak that flooded Jongho’s senses, making him feel dizzy.

—Oh, Professor —he said, his voice soft and seductive—, I never said he would regret it. Rather, I said he should apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. I highly doubt he’ll feel any remorse.

The laugh that followed wasn’t just mockery; it was a game, a silent challenge that left Jongho frozen, trapped in Hongjoong’s space and attention. When he finally left the classroom, the feeling of bewilderment and a strange mix of tension and fascination lingered in Jongho, leaving him confused and acutely aware of every detail of the encounter.

When the door finally clicked shut behind Hongjoong, the silence in the classroom became heavy, almost oppressive. Jongho stayed in his chair, rigid, still feeling the ghost of the alpha’s proximity over his body, the echo of his voice resonating in his ears as if he were still just inches away.

He placed a hand over his chest, trying to steady his breathing, but the sensation of having been cornered, observed, and—worse—read so deeply left an uncomfortable knot in his throat. Hongjoong hadn’t just spoken: he had invaded him, pinned him against the wall with a smile and a few words.

He had heard of Hongjoong’s reputation before. He was known as a rebel—from his blue hair, the multiple piercings in his ears and one eyebrow, to his torn clothes. For years, the school had tried, unsuccessfully, to shape his attitude or make him follow the rules. Nothing seemed to affect him. His strong personality, combined with the influence of his family and his position in the group, made him practically untouchable. No one dared reprimand him for real, and everyone knew even the harshest punishments were useless. That was why he hadn’t been intimidated by the alpha, even with the last encounter. Certainly, it had taken him by surprise, but he knew Hongjoong only wanted to assert dominance, so he wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Still, Jongho couldn’t help but shiver slightly at having felt Hongjoong’s body so close. It wasn’t just his authority that commanded respect, but that mix of rebellion, charisma, and power that seemed to constantly surround him. Watching him, Jongho realized how difficult it would be to handle any problem involving him or Yeosang if he didn’t approach the situation carefully.

A bitter taste of frustration filled his mouth at the end of the day. He hadn’t gained anything—no real clue about who had left the objects in his car—and, instead, interactions with those boys only seemed to confuse and unsettle him more.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, running a hand through his hair roughly. He couldn’t let himself be manipulated, cornered with insinuations and ambiguous games. If he wanted to get to the bottom of all this, he would have to keep his distance from the Teezers.

Yes, it would be best to stay away from them, at least until he could uncover the truth.

He clenched his fists on the table, trying to organize his thoughts. Determination grew amid the frustration: he had to solve this mystery, regain control of the situation, and above all, maintain his authority and composure. Meanwhile, he would keep his distance, observing and waiting for the right moment to act.

The door of the mansion opened with a soft click.

“I’m home,” Hongjoong announced, placing the keys on the entryway table.

Almost immediately, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. San was the first to appear, his warm smile always reserved for his leader.

“Hyung, how was your day?” he asked curiously.

Hongjoong let out a low laugh.

“Quite interesting, actually.”

San furrowed his brow briefly but let it go. He knew Hongjoong too well: when he wanted to speak, he did; when he didn’t… he enjoyed those silences loaded with hidden meaning.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, didn’t wait. He pounced on him, wrapping him in a vigorous hug and planting a quick kiss on his lips.

“We missed you so much!” he exclaimed, laughing.

Hongjoong responded with another light laugh before receiving a greeting from Yunho, who came up to kiss his cheek.

“How’s Yeosang?” he asked, adjusting his blue hair absentmindedly.

“Stable,” Yunho replied, though his voice carried some unease. “Right now Mingi is taking care of him. But… he keeps asking about him.”

A mischievous smile curved Hongjoong’s lips as he sank into the large sofa in the main living room.

“Not surprising… he hasn’t stopped begging for him since yesterday.”

The atmosphere grew tense, filled with expectant silence. It was Seonghwa who broke it, observing him with those piercing eyes that seemed to read between the lines.

“You look quite happy. Did something interesting happen? Did you get to talk to Professor Choi?”

Hongjoong leaned back, laughing with an air of dangerous satisfaction.

“Oh, yes… I met him.” His smile widened, dark as he crossed his legs elegantly. “You should’ve seen him: so confused, so defiant… It was hard not to pounce on him and mark him right then and there.”

Seonghwa chuckled softly before sitting on his legs, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong’s neck in a possessive gesture. Hongjoong instinctively held him at the waist, drawing him closer.

“I understand you, love.” He looked at the rest of the pack, delighting in their attention. “Guess what… He came to my office asking about an object that ‘had been returned to him.’”

Laughter erupted immediately.

“Oh, god! Was it the pen?” Wooyoung blurted, teasing.

Seonghwa nodded, stroking the elder alpha’s hair.

“Tell me he didn’t suspect it was you who returned it,” San asked, sitting beside Wooyoung.

“Of course not.” Hongjoong clicked his tongue arrogantly. “He doesn’t even imagine it was us.”

“Oh, how adorable!” Wooyoung laughed.

San, however, clenched his jaw in annoyance.

“But it doesn’t take away the irritation of him rejecting it.”

“Relax.” Seonghwa gently stroked Hongjoong’s chest, also calming the others. “I’m sure he’ll think twice before doing it again.”

“It’s not fair!” Wooyoung pouted childishly, crossing his arms. “Everyone’s had a moment with him… I want mine too.”

Hongjoong watched him with a patient smile, though his voice came out firm, full of authority.

“Calm down, alpha baby.” He gently stroked his cheek, maintaining that tone of order. “All in due time. For now, we’ll keep courting him… until he can’t ignore us anymore.”

Wooyoung nodded, though the pout on his lips didn’t disappear. The room settled into a comfortable silence, all imagining the same future: the moment they could finally claim the beta who still resisted.

That shared dream was shattered by a crash in the hallway.

“Hyungs, come help me!” Mingi’s voice rang out before he himself appeared in the living room.

The red-haired alpha looked disheveled, his red silk robe barely covering his body. His neck was marked with kisses and bites, and his tired face showed a mix of annoyance and exhaustion.

“-I’ve tried calming him as much as I could, but no matter what I do… he keeps asking for him!” he complained, pouting incongruently with his imposing presence.

Hongjoong laughed lowly, amused by the scene. He lightly patted Seonghwa’s hip, signaling him to step aside, and rose from the sofa. He walked confidently toward Mingi, placing a warm hand on his cheek. The redhead instinctively leaned into the touch of his leader, relaxing his shoulders as Hongjoong also held him by the waist, drawing him closer. Hongjoong rose on his toes and placed a kiss on his head, both paternal and possessive.

-“Don’t worry, love. You did a great job,” he whispered, his voice deep and reassuring. “Now I’ll take over.”

Mingi closed his eyes for a second, letting himself be enveloped by that certainty.

Hongjoong turned toward the hallway, a dark and sensual smile curving his lips.

-“To be honest… I need to relax a bit myself. Maybe fantasizing about our professor is exactly what I need.”

The echo of a piercing scream reached them from the other side of the house.

-“JONGHO!” Yeosang’s voice, broken and desperate, pleaded without pause.

With a slam of the door, the leader disappeared, leaving behind a silence filled with possibilities.

The Teezers exchanged looks, their smiles loaded with complicity and desire. Their eyes shone in unison, reflecting an undeniable truth: that “game” had only just begun, and every move was about to ignite a whirlwind none of them could control.

Chapter Text

Jongho was racking his brains trying to figure out who the hell had sneaked into his car. —Maybe it was Kim Saram… —he murmured, clenching his jaw—. He hasn’t forgiven me since I failed him for not doing the analysis of The Divine Comedy, and because of that, he couldn’t go to his best friend’s party. Although… that was a year ago.
He shook his head.
—Or maybe Sam Jisoo, after I told his parents he wasn’t attending classes and they forced him to repeat the year in summer.

He ran through the mental roll call of each of his students, all those who might have had a reason to take revenge with such a cruel prank. At one point, the idea that the Teezers were responsible crossed his mind. After all, they had been acting strangely that week. But he quickly dismissed it: he couldn’t find a single reason why they would want to mess with him.

Yeosang was an excellent student, always submitting work on time and almost never absent… except yesterday. He had also had Wooyoung last semester, and although he was talkative to the point of exhaustion, he had never caused a real problem. He knew the Teezers were powerful, but he had never heard of them messing with people without reason, and Jongho was sure he hadn’t given them any cause to provoke them. Even with Hongjoong’s reputation preceding him, he didn’t seem like a bully. So he crossed them off the list of suspects.

Of course, he didn’t overlook their insinuations from the previous day. But he attributed it to the fact that, being popular, they probably knew who the culprit was and simply weren’t going to rat them out. Maybe because they didn’t care, or because it was their way of mocking him without getting directly involved.

The mere thought made him sigh in annoyance. Even that morning, he had gone to Seonghwa’s office for the lost-and-found list, but to his surprise, there was nothing related to who claimed the pen: only his name appeared as the person who had found and returned it. His surprise did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa, who smiled amused at the teacher’s reaction.

—Is something wrong, Professor? —he smiled with a cordial mask, leaning on the desk with his chin resting in his hands—. Did you find what you were looking for?

—Y-yes —Jongho answered nervously—. Thank you very much, Mr. Park.

He left before he could say anything else. And that’s why he was now there, using his little free time trying to think of everyone who might want to play a cruel joke on him. But no matter how hard he tried to find a potential suspect, he realized he didn’t have enough evidence to point to anyone in particular.

He exhaled in frustration and grabbed his hair tightly. Dealing with teenagers was a pain in the ass.

He forced himself to relax. At least it was Friday, which meant his last class ended at two in the afternoon. He could leave early, go home to change, and then meet Hwiyoung and Bang Chan to drink. Just imagining a cold bottle of soju made him sigh with excitement. He needed to forget, even if just for a few hours, his terrible luck.

With that in mind, he finished his day as quickly as possible. He gathered his things in a hurry and headed toward the exit with quick steps. But just as he walked down the hallway, daydreaming about a glass of ice-cold beer, the principal’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

—Oh, Professor Choi, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.

An elderly man was approaching him. He wore a navy-blue suit with fine white stripes, clearly designer. His gray hair was combed back with too much gel, and his shoes shone as if freshly polished.

—Principal Jang —Jongho bowed respectfully to the alpha—. It’s a pleasure to see you.

—No need for such formality —the alpha laughed lightly at the beta’s stiffness—. Sorry to stop you as you were leaving, but I need to ask you a big favor.

Jongho huffed inwardly, already knowing something big was coming.

—This morning, we received a call from Professor Eun —the principal began, crossing his arms with an annoyed look—. He won’t be able to come for a few weeks. He’s been diagnosed with whooping cough and must remain in quarantine.

Jongho remained impassive, though inside he wished he would get to the point. He had already had enough drama this week to deal with unnecessary complaints. He feigned surprise and politely expressed his condolences, although he really didn’t feel anything. He and Professor Eun had never gotten along: the alpha had mocked him more than once for being a beta, and he also despised his Universal Literature class, calling it “useless” compared to sports, the subject he taught.

—Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. I hope Professor Eun recovers soon.

—Yes, it’s terrible —the principal sighed heavily, as if carrying the weight of the world—. Anyway… I’d like you to cover some of his classes until he can return. Right now, you’re the only teacher free at that time.

The principal smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was the kind of rehearsed smile, designed to get what he wanted or convince anyone that he was on their side.

Uncomfortable, Jongho tried to get away immediately, stammering excuses about pending commitments, but the alpha ignored him.

—All right! I knew I could count on you! —he exclaimed enthusiastically, giving him energetic pats on the back that nearly made him stagger.

—The class starts at 3:30, and today it’s basketball, so they’ll be expecting you on the court —he continued firmly.

—B-but, principal… —Jongho tried to reason, to no avail.

—I’ll make it worth your while —the alpha assured him, walking away with a calm stride, hands deep in his pants pockets.

—Good luck.

—Wait! —Jongho tried to recover from the shock, running after him—. I don’t know what to do!

But it was useless: the alpha was already at the end of the hallway.

—Just supervise them! Make sure they don’t get hurt and stuff. You’ll also find clothes for yourself in Professor Eun’s locker —he shouted from a distance before disappearing around the corner.

Jongho let out a tired sigh.
—Perfect… just what I needed —he thought annoyedly.

His plans to get home early and relax had gone down the drain thanks to the stupid Professor Eun.

Jongho checked his phone: 2:20. He still had an hour before he had to show up for the dreaded PE class. Sigh. Perfect, enough time to get lost in something useful… or at least try.

He decided to lock himself in his classroom and prepare Monday’s lesson. He had planned to do it on Saturday, but thanks to today’s stupid turn of events, he needed to kill time as productively as possible. He threw himself fully into the notes, making diagrams, reorganizing exercises, and reviewing every detail, as if his concentration could ignore the irritation boiling under his skin.

When the clock struck 3:20, he slammed his laptop shut, gathered his things, and stood up. Every step toward the court reminded him of the absurdity of the situation. His face showed that silent annoyance that only manifests when you’re forced to do something you hate, while his mind kept grumbling under its breath: —Great… a perfectly wasted Friday.

When he finally reached the court, Jongho paused, surprised. He had never entered there before; until now, he had never found a reason. However, he had to admit it was really impressive.

The court was huge, with high ceilings leaving enough space for any movement or jump. The walls were painted in warm, clean colors, and large windows let in natural light, reflecting off the perfectly polished floor. White lines precisely marked each play area, and the basketball hoops, well-tensioned and polished, hung from sturdy metal structures.

In the back, electronic scoreboards and benches lined the walls, ready for players and spectators. Everything was immaculate, from the neatly stored cones and balls to the safety signs and nets dividing the court into sections. Every detail seemed designed for students’ comfort and safety, and the shine of the floor made the place feel almost magical.

Jongho tried to suppress a sigh of admiration, remembering he still had to deal with the dreaded class.

He sighed and headed to the locker area, recalling what the principal had mentioned: there was a change of clothes available for him, so he could be fully prepared for the class. He walked to Professor Eun’s locker and quickly changed from his usual attire to more comfortable sports clothes.

Upon exiting, he found a group of boys waiting for him. Most were alphas, with the imposing presence they were known for, and some betas stayed more discreetly in the back. Jongho walked wearily until he stood in front of them and took a deep breath before speaking:

—All right, class —he said, trying to maintain authority—. As you know, Professor Eun won’t be able to teach you for a few weeks, so I’m here. I’m Choi Jongho, your Universal Literature teacher, and I’ll be covering for Professor Eun until he can return.

An immediate murmur spread across the court. Disbelieving voices and complaints could be heard: —A literature teacher for PE? Why not another teacher? —Jongho clenched his jaw and held back a sigh; inwardly, he was annoyed, though he wouldn’t let the students notice.

The commotion continued until a deep voice rose above the others. A tall, well-built man, with fair skin and striking features, stood in front of the group with a natural authority that made everyone fall silent.

—Guys, we’re not here to criticize or belittle anyone —he said firmly—. Thank Professor Jongho for supporting us. The finals are coming soon, so I don’t want any more excuses or complaints.

Jongho blinked, surprised. Standing before him was none other than Jeong Yunho, the other alpha of the Teezers. The young man’s presence was intimidating, elegant, and confident, and Jongho felt a shiver mixed with disbelief.

All murmurs immediately died down, leaving Jongho astonished. It was clear the students deeply respected the senior alpha; his presence commanded absolute silence. For a moment, Yunho seemed annoyed, and Jongho could perceive that mixture of authority and disapproval that inspired such respect.

But in a blink, Yunho’s expression changed. His face softened, and he adopted a kind smile.

—Professor Choi —he said in a cordial but firm tone—, we’re at your disposal today. We really appreciate your support, so please don’t hold back; we’re here to listen and learn from you.

Jongho could barely suppress a blink of surprise. The combination of respect, cordiality, and authority that Yunho exuded left him speechless for a moment.

Jongho felt his heart race the moment he heard Yunho’s voice. Inside, a whirlwind of emotions swept over him: surprise, slight nervousness, and an inevitable curiosity about that alpha who seemed to command everyone’s attention effortlessly. He couldn’t deny it; he was imposing. Even without looking directly at his classmates, the respect they showed him was almost tangible.

—The pleasure is mine —he forced himself to say after a few seconds.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the surge of thoughts and emotions.

Yunho straightened up and smiled contentedly. Then he turned on his heels and stood in front of everyone.

The class began with a quick warm-up: the boys ran around the court while doing some push-ups to stretch. Jongho watched carefully, using the knowledge he had gained when he himself practiced sports as a student. Even though he didn’t want to be there, he couldn’t help but feel a slight interest in how they moved and coordinated with each other; they really seemed like a very tight-knit team.

When they finished warming up, they decided to split into two groups and start playing. The class went on without major problems. Everyone ran and passed the ball to their teammates to score… until Don Son, an alpha player, decided that pushing his classmates, mostly betas, was more fun. Every time he did it, Jongho blew his whistle and asked them to play fair. The alpha just mocked him, muttering a small “sorry” before walking away with an arrogant air.

They were halfway through the second half when Joon, a medium-height beta, got the ball and ran toward the opposing basket. Just as he was about to score, Don Son shoved him violently, causing Joon to crash hard to the ground while Don Son stole the ball and scored, giving his team the win.

Jongho didn’t hesitate: he blew the whistle and approached the alpha.

—Young Son, you are suspended from the game.

Don Son turned around, after celebrating with his teammates, annoyed, and stepped dangerously close to him, standing tall with his brow furrowed. Soon, the smell of nicotine and sweat filled Jongho’s nostrils. But Jongho didn’t step back an inch; on the contrary, he held the alpha’s gaze firmly.

—Say that again —Don Son growled, clenching his fists.

—I said you’re suspended. Go to the benches before I send you to detention —Jongho replied, his voice strong and authoritative.

The alpha smirked arrogantly, moving even closer, chest to chest with the brown-haired teacher.

—Why the hell should I follow the orders of a literature teacher? —he mocked—. And worse, from a disgusting beta, the lowest class of them all —he spat the words with arrogance, causing a deadly silence to fall over the class.

Jongho soon heard some murmurs, some in disbelief, others approving from certain students, mostly alphas. He swallowed hard, unshaken but aware of the tension mounting.

Hearing the murmurs, Don Son smirked mockingly and moved even closer, leaning his face toward the beta.

—Did you hear that? —he asked challengingly—. No one here wants you. Betas don’t belong here or anywhere. So stop acting smart and go where you belong —he said, pushing Jongho’s chest with his finger—. Among the nobodies like you.

He concluded, leaving the room in silence after his declaration.

However, after a few seconds, Jongho looked him in the eyes and snorted amusedly, challenging the alpha’s arrogance.

—Oh, you think so? —he responded with a mocking smile—. Well, how about this “useless beta,” as you call me, makes you lose your chance to go to the finals?

Jongho’s eyes shone with a mix of determination and amusement. There was no backing down; if Don Son wanted a fight, he would get one. He glanced at the rest of the class, who watched the scene unfold expectantly. He spotted Yunho among the crowd, but unlike the others, Yunho watched with furrowed brows and crossed arms, yet he didn’t step forward. Still, it seemed he was evaluating every move, every word Jongho said, as if measuring his limits. Jongho simply shrugged internally and refocused on the alpha in front of him.

—What the hell are you talking about? —Don Son asked, confused, furrowing his brow further.

—Well —Jongho replied, firm and direct, not losing his authoritative tone—. As you can see, I am currently your teacher. And if my calculations are correct, the finals are in a week, so I have every right to decide who goes and who doesn’t. And in this case, Don Son… I’ve decided you won’t go because of your unsportsmanlike behavior.

The silence grew even heavier after that statement. Don Son opened his mouth, incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Jongho stood his ground, eyes fixed, breathing controlled, radiating an unexpected authority even the arrogant alpha hadn’t anticipated.

However, Don Son quickly recovered and stepped forward, his face contorted with anger and disbelief:

—You can’t do this to me! —he shouted, pointing a finger at Jongho, his voice full of fury and defiance.

Jongho looked at him calmly, frowning barely perceptibly, and replied firmly:

—Of course I can. I told you, you’re not going to the finals because of your unsportsmanlike behavior. And if you keep challenging the rules, I’ll also decide you can’t participate in future games.

Don Son opened his mouth to reply, but Jongho didn’t give him the chance:

—Now, do me the favor of going to the benches as I instructed before, and don’t waste any more of my time —he said, authoritative, ending the conversation without hesitation. Then he turned on his heels, leaving Don Son with the words stuck in his throat, and went to Joon, who was still on the ground, staring in astonishment. Jongho crouched and gently helped him up.

But before he could finish, Don Son stepped dangerously close, eyes full of rage:

—You’re not going to tell me what to do, disgusting beta! —he growled, raising his fist with the intention to strike.

Jongho planted himself immediately, adopting a defensive stance, ready to dodge or block the punch. But before the fist could land, Don Son fell flat to the ground, stopped and neutralized by a hold skillfully executed by none other than Jeong Yunho.

The gasps of surprise were immediate; everyone was stunned as they watched, mouths agape, how the most imposing alpha had taken down Don Son without even blinking, making it clear who had absolute control of the situation.

Yunho positioned himself over Don Son, applying a lock that kept him firmly on the ground, exerting enough force for the alpha to feel his arm giving way under Yunho’s control.

—Don’t you dare lay a finger on Jongho —Yunho growled, baring his canines intensely—. You’ve gone too far, Don Son. Apologize to the teacher right now before I break your arm for trying to hit him.

Don Son writhed, trying to break free unsuccessfully, rage mixed with pain on his face.

—I’ll never apologize to that trash! —he groaned, defiant.

Before he could add anything else, Yunho twisted his arm precisely. A crack echoed, and Don Son’s scream reverberated across the court, leaving no doubt that there was no room for further rebellion.

Silence fell over the court again, heavy and absolute. All the students, witnesses to the scene, understood that any challenge toward Jongho or Yunho would not be tolerated.

However, Jongho reacted quickly and tried to control the situation.

—Young Jeong, stop right now! —he shouted, running to try to control the two alphas. But he froze in place upon seeing Yunho’s reddened eyes, full of fury and anger

Chapter Text

Loud knocks pulled him out of his deep sleep. He jolted upright from the couch, looking around, trying to process what was happening. With half-closed eyes, he realized he was in the living room; little by little he remembered he had fallen asleep there. He yawned, sliding a hand under his shirt to scratch his chest. He rubbed his eyes until they flashed white, trying to shake off the drowsiness that clung to him. He got up lazily, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. His back cracked just as the knocks on the door grew louder and more insistent.

Dragging his feet, still hunched and sleepy, he shuffled to the door. One hand rubbed his aching back, sore from spending the whole night on the hard couch. Another heavy, desperate knock rattled the door, breaking the silence of the house.

— I’m coming! —he shouted hoarsely, his voice still thick with sleep.

When he reached the door, he grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

— Who—? —he mumbled in the middle of a yawn, a little too late, since he had already opened it before speaking.

He didn’t finish the yawn before arms wrapped around him so tightly that he nearly stumbled backward from the sudden weight. The shock jolted him fully awake—not only because of the body clinging to him but because, instinctively, his own arms wrapped around that waist. His muscles quickly relaxed as the sweet, familiar scent of coconut and pineapple washed over him.

— Jongho! —a high-pitched squeal came with the hug. — I missed you, grumpy beta! Where were you? —Hwiyoung faked a sob as he clung even tighter, as if he wanted to fuse into him.

Jongho blinked several times, still dazed by the abrupt awakening. The warmth of the hug comforted him, but at the same time made him uneasy—after everything that had happened in the past few days, he didn’t want anyone getting too close with such enthusiasm.

— Hwi… —he murmured hoarsely, trying to push him away a little but with little success. — You’re going to suffocate me.

Hwiyoung only held on tighter, burying his face into Jongho’s shoulder as if trying to memorize the cinnamon-and-apple scent.

— Not a chance, grumpy. You don’t know how worried I was. First, you cancel our hangout and then not even a single message explaining why. What were you trying to do—drive me insane? —Hwiyoung pouted, still refusing to let him go. — Accept my love as punishment for being so mean to your hyung.

The beta sighed, awkwardly patting his back as if to calm him. Even so, the pressure against his chest and the sweet fragrance relaxed him almost instantly.

— H—Hwiyoung… —a second, deep voice broke into the apartment in a murmur. — Let him go, you’re going to suffocate him.

Jongho looked up from where he was still trapped in the omega’s arms and saw the last person he expected, stepping confidently through the door.

— Chan… —he greeted softly, relief flickering in his voice as he looked at the tall alpha who had just walked in.

— Good morning, sleepyhead —Bangchan smiled. — Looks like you had a good night.

Hwiyoung, still clinging to Jongho, turned his head to pout defiantly at the alpha.

— Don’t you dare steal my beta! —he exclaimed, hugging him even tighter, as if to keep Jongho from being “rescued.”

Bangchan raised a brow, folding his arms with an ironic smile.

— Oh, really? And who said I wanted to take him? Looks like he’s already well taken care of… and a little crushed.

Caught between the two, Jongho sighed quietly, unsure who to look at first. On one side, Hwiyoung wouldn’t let go for even a second; on the other, Bangchan stood watching with that mix of authority and amusement that made him feel small—but safe.

— Hwi… —Jongho tried again, his voice threaded with exasperation and discomfort as he attempted to pull away. — I think you’ve gone a bit too far…

— I never go too far with my baby beta! —Hwiyoung shot back, tightening his arms. — My punishment will be eternal!

Bangchan let out a soft laugh, letting the tension lighten as he stepped forward—whether to intervene or just enjoy the show was unclear. His lemony scent filled the air, a subtle attempt to calm both of them.

But when Hwiyoung leaned in, about to kiss Jongho as part of his “punishment,” he froze. The beta’s eyes were red, strained with exhaustion, and his usual cinnamon-and-apple scent was faint, weak.

Something else caught his attention too: Jongho hadn’t changed clothes. They were wrinkled from the night, his hair was messy, and faint couch marks still patterned his skin. That was odd—normally, Jongho was meticulous with his appearance, always neat, even at home.

Hwiyoung frowned, his playful expression turning worried. Without letting go, he softened his embrace, resting his forehead against Jongho’s, searching his face.

— What happened last night? —he whispered, alarm creeping into his tone. — Why are you like this…?

Jongho froze, unsure how to answer. His breathing was uneven, his shoulders tense. Hwiyoung realized this wasn’t just a joke or a simple late night—something serious had happened.

Bangchan stopped laughing the moment he heard Hwiyoung’s words.

He stepped closer to the two, his sharp eyes scanning Jongho carefully. He could see it now: the beta had been crying, and his whole body was taut with stress.

— Jongho… are you okay? —he asked, unfolding his arms as he cautiously approached.

Hwiyoung pulled him a little closer, letting Jongho rest his head against his chest.

— Yeah… I just… had a rough night —Jongho murmured quietly, avoiding their eyes.

But Bangchan arched a brow, unconvinced.

— You’re lying! —Hwiyoung quickly countered, grabbing Jongho by the shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. — We know you too well. This— —he gestured at him entirely— isn’t just a “rough night.”

Jongho swallowed hard, cornered in his failed attempt at hiding the truth.

— Have people been bothering you? —Hwiyoung pressed, his voice sharper now. — Was it the teachers? Alphas? If it was, I swear I’ll beat them until—

— No, no —Jongho interrupted quickly, trying to calm his friend’s anger. He placed his hands on Hwiyoung’s arms, urging him to relax and let go. — It’s not that.

— Then what was it? —Hwiyoung pushed again. — Was it your mother? Is she still on that stupid idea that you need to marry? That damn witch! She’ll see. She’ll learn who she’s messing with.

— Calm down, Young. Let Jongho talk —Bangchan said, resting a firm hand on the omega’s shoulder and gently pulling him back while releasing a wave of soothing pheromones.

Reluctantly, Hwiyoung stepped back, still scowling but giving in to the alpha’s steady grip.

Jongho silently thanked Bangchan, managing a small, timid smile. But still, the words stuck in his throat. A knot of shame and fear kept him from explaining what had really been happening with the Teezers and the strange gifts. He dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to face his friends’ eyes.

Bangchan waited patiently, sensing his struggle. After a few minutes, he sighed and softened his expression, realizing it was too much to push right now.

— It’s okay —he said quietly. — You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready. We understand.

Then, with a lighter tone, he added:

— We just wanted to check in. You canceled everything yesterday without saying why, and we were worried. We wanted to make sure you were alright.

Hwiyoung pouted softly, not fully convinced, while Jongho lifted his eyes just enough to nod, grateful. Their presence, especially Bangchan’s calmness, gave him a tiny bit of relief—even if he still couldn’t open up.

— What matters is you’re safe —Bangchan said gently. — That’s what makes us happy.

Hwiyoung sighed again, his expression finally softening. He nudged Jongho’s shoulder playfully.

— Come on, grumpy. You can’t stay like this all day. You’re getting way too serious for our favorite beta.

Jongho glanced sideways at him, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as a tiny smile appeared on his lips. Hwiyoung, pleased, laughed softly and gave him another hug—gentler this time, only to make sure he felt safe.

With a grin, Hwiyoung leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. — Now… how about breakfast that’s not a couch disaster? —he offered playfully, trying to ease the silence without pushing him.

Jongho, still with his heart pounding hard, nodded timidly, letting his friends guide him to the kitchen, feeling a little safer and less alone.

Hwiyoung poured coffee and set out toast while Bangchan arranged the plates on the table. From time to time, Bangchan would glance at Jongho with quiet attention, releasing soothing pheromones around him, silently encouraging him to speak but never pushing. He knew the beta would open up when he was ready.

After a while, the three of them sat down to breakfast together, calmly. They shared jokes and anecdotes as they ate.

—Look, grumpy —Hwiyoung said, finishing his last toast with a playful but firm tone—, you worried us yesterday. So today, you’re coming out with us. No excuses.

Jongho lifted his gaze from his coffee, surprised and a little nervous.
—I… I’m not sure… —he murmured, feeling his cheeks warm.

—There’s no discussion —Bangchan interrupted, his deep voice calm—. We just want you to relax a bit. See people, take a walk, eat something good. Nothing dangerous, nothing complicated. Just you, us, and some fresh air.

Hwiyoung stood and walked over to Jongho, holding a black sweater in his hands —Jongho didn’t even know where he had gotten it from, but clearly, the omega had already picked it out from his clothes.
—And that means you’re getting off the sofa and getting dressed. No excuses, beta.

Jongho hesitated at first, but seeing his friends’ firm yet affectionate looks, he sighed in defeat. Resisting them was useless—especially against those two. So he accepted the sweater Hwiyoung offered and began dressing, still nervous about the previous day’s events. Every movement he made was watched by the other two, who didn’t stop smiling at him warmly.

Once he was ready, Bangchan stood and gently took him by the arm, guiding him toward the door.
—Ready to go, and remember, today is just about you. We want to see you more at ease.

Hwiyoung grabbed his backpack and positioned himself at Jongho’s side, smiling mischievously.
—And if you behave, I promise not to punish you anymore… at least for today —he joked, giving him a playful nudge with his elbow.

Jongho laughed and let himself be guided, feeling the morning’s tension begin to fade, even if his heart was still racing. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could trust that they would take care of him without demanding immediate explanations—just letting him enjoy their company.

When they arrived at the mall, the three moved together through the crowd. Hwiyoung led the way, pointing out shops and cafés, while Bangchan stayed close to Jongho, attentive to every reaction, watching over both of them like the protective alpha he was. Amid laughter, jokes, and small purchases, Jongho began to relax, allowing himself to smile again, though deep down, the weight of yesterday’s emotions still lingered.

—See? —Hwiyoung said with a broad grin—. Going out isn’t so bad, right?

Jongho nodded, still shy, but grateful. For a moment, the chaos in his mind fell silent, replaced by the warmth of his friends and the comforting feeling that, even in his vulnerability, he wasn’t alone.

Jongho continued to loosen up as they wandered through the stores. He laughed at Hwiyoung’s silly jokes and commented with Bangchan about the curious products displayed in shop windows. For the first time since yesterday, he felt like he could set aside the tension that had followed him through the night.

However, as they walked past a fine clothing store, his smile disappeared. His eyes lingered on the suits carefully displayed on mannequins, and an irritated sigh escaped his lips.

—What’s wrong? —Hwiyoung asked, noticing the sudden change in his expression.

Jongho frowned slightly and replied in a low, annoyed voice:
—My mom set me up on another blind date… tomorrow, with the son of the Han family.

Hwiyoung froze, raising both eyebrows and nearly choking on his cola, clearly astonished.
—The Han family? —he exclaimed, his tone filled with curiosity and amazement—. They’re the famous doctors! They own hospitals across the country and even abroad… and you’re going out with one of them?!

Jongho lowered his gaze, crossing his arms and frowning with obvious irritation.
—It’s with Han Minjae —he muttered with annoyance—. I don’t even know him, and I don’t care to.

—Han Minjae! —Hwiyoung repeated, now completely astonished—. The Han Minjae? The youngest alpha of the Han family? The one everyone calls a medical genius?!

Bangchan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he regarded Jongho with a mix of disbelief and suppressed amusement.
—She’s still pushing you to marry a doctor, isn’t she? —he commented, referring to his mother—. She doesn’t miss a chance to shove you into what she thinks is “right.”

Jongho sighed, his frown deepening.
—And she threatened me if I don’t go —he said bitterly—. She told me if I cancel again, there’ll be consequences.

Hwiyoung scowled, anger bubbling up.
—Damn it! That stupid witch! —he cursed loudly, drawing stares from nearby shoppers, but he ignored them and went on—. And we can’t even go with you —he added, frustrated at not being able to protect him.

Jongho rolled his eyes, uncomfortable with the unwanted attention but understanding his friends’ anger. He felt frustrated too.
—It’ll be at Utopia —he said with resignation—. Famous for its food and atmosphere… perfect for a blind date I don’t want. So tomorrow I have to dress up and pretend I’m lucky to be going out with a high-status alpha.

Hwiyoung let out a long breath he’d been holding. He relaxed slightly, stopping himself from swearing again, and gave Jongho a friendly pat on the shoulder.
—Don’t worry. You don’t have to think about that now. Tomorrow you just go, check him out, and if you don’t like him, you get up and leave. Don’t let your mom pressure you into choosing your partner just because she wants it, okay? We’ll be here for you tomorrow, even if we can’t go.

Bangchan nodded, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
—Exactly. You’re not alone in this. If he makes you uncomfortable in any way, just call us and we’ll come get you as fast as possible. We’ve got you covered.

Jongho took a deep breath, trying to calm the irritation churning inside him. Despite everything, part of him was deeply grateful for his friends’ unwavering support.
—Thanks… —he whispered, a little calmer though still annoyed—. I guess tomorrow I’ll just have to go and face it.

Hwiyoung smiled gently, trying to lighten the mood.
—We’ll be thinking of you… so you don’t feel alone.

Bangchan chuckled at the omega’s words, and the three resumed their walk through the mall, trying to distract Jongho and give him back a little sense of normalcy before the inevitable date.

Jongho silently thanked them for everything they were doing. All afternoon he didn’t think about his mother’s pressure to be “respectable,” nor about tomorrow’s date with Minjae. Not about school, or the Teezers, or those troubling gifts—none of the burdens that usually weighed him down. He simply let Hwiyoung take his hand and tug him gently toward different shops, pointing out things he knew Jongho would like: a new café with pastries that looked like works of art, a bookstore with special fantasy editions, and a quirky little gadget shop that looked like it belonged in a museum of curiosities.

In the bookstore, Jongho stopped abruptly before a copy that immediately caught his eye: a limited edition of Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. The cover was hardbound, with detailed illustrations throughout, hand-stitched binding, and gilded edges that, when the book was pressed shut, formed an image of the ship with John Silver and Jim Hawkins. His eyes lit up with excitement as he carefully picked it up, already imagining it on his shelf.

But his excitement faded quickly when he saw the price—it was triple that of a normal book. Something he couldn’t afford at the moment. Not that he earned badly, but his teacher’s salary didn’t allow for such luxuries. With quiet disappointment, he set it back in its place and rejoined his friends. Hwiyoung and Bangchan exchanged knowing smiles but said nothing as they continued walking.

At the café, Jongho finally let his mind breathe. He savored the aroma of freshly ground coffee and the sound of his friends’ easy laughter. A genuine spark of joy lit up when he picked a small strawberry cake that Hwiyoung insisted he try, and another when he noticed Bangchan watching him with quiet pride.

Though he knew tomorrow he’d have to face his mother and Minjae, in that moment, Jongho allowed himself to simply be: a thirty-year-old young man walking, laughing, and enjoying an outing without fear, without tension, without constant pressure.

They ended their outing quite late. By the time Jongho returned to his apartment, night had fallen, and the city lights shimmered faintly against his living room windows. He walked in tired but satisfied; despite the looming date, he had managed to enjoy a small breath of relief with his friends.

He headed for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering exhaustion and tension. Wrapped in a towel afterward, he dried his hair, changed into something comfortable, and went to the sofa, where his phone waited with several messages:

Hwiyoung: Hey beta! Did you get home safe?

Jongho: Yeah, I got back a while ago. Just showered.

Bangchan: Glad you’re safe.

Hwiyoung: Have you thought about what you’ll wear tomorrow for your date? ❤️❤️

Jongho: Ugh, don’t remind me 😖

Hwiyoung: 😆

Jongho: I was thinking black dress pants, black leather shoes. A white shirt with a navy vest.

Hwiyoung: 😳 Black pants, white shirt, and a navy vest? Beta, you sound like an elegant grandpa!

Bangchan: Hahaha, yeah… that won’t impress Minjae. You need something with more… spark.

Jongho: 😒 You don’t get it. I want to look presentable, not ridiculous.

Hwiyoung: 🤭 Presentable is fine, but this is… too formal. You need color, something that says “look at me”!

Bangchan: Exactly. We don’t want your date thinking you came out of the last century.

Jongho: 🙄 Ugh, enough. If I try too hard, I’ll just feel ridiculous anyway.

Hwiyoung: Oh come on, you’ve got a handsome face and an enviable ass 😏 You should wear something that shows that off.

Bangchan: Isn’t that a bit… 😅

Hwiyoung: What?! You know I’m right. At least if the date goes badly and you two end up married like your mom wants, at least make sure you get laid properly! Make it worth it!

Jongho: Ugh… enough, Hwiyoung… I don’t need those “suggestions” 😒

Hwiyoung: When was the last time you even got laid? You probably have cobwebs down there.

Bangchan: HWIYOUNG! 😳 😏

Hwiyoung: Hehehe… don’t tell me my advice isn’t helpful 😏

Bangchan: Leave it, Hwiyoung… just let him wear what he wants. But Jongho… try not to look like a grandpa, okay?

Jongho: 🙄… yeah, yeah, I get it.

Jongho put his phone aside, rolling his eyes at Hwiyoung’s “advice” with amused exasperation. He headed to his room and stood before his closet, carefully considering his clothes. The thought of tomorrow’s date—and the annoyance of another arrangement by his mother—made him frown again.

With a tired sigh, Jongho decided to keep it simple, elegant, and comfortable: black dress pants, polished black shoes, white shirt, navy vest, black tie, and matching blazer. He looked in the mirror, took a deep breath, and for the first time in weeks, felt ready to face the day his own way. He set the clothes neatly on the door to avoid wrinkles, then slipped into his warm blankets.

Just as sleep began to take him, a faint blue glimmer caught the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw the feather and the notebook resting on the dresser: a cruel reminder that someone had been watching him —maybe even stalking him. He eyed them warily; it wasn’t that he wanted them nearby, he just didn’t know where else to put them, and now they felt invasive, like small proofs of a surveillance he couldn’t understand.

He picked them up again, examining them with irritation. He had already inspected both countless times, searching for any clue, any sign of who had left them. But it always ended the same: more confusion, more questions without answers. With a frustrated sigh, he decided not to give it any more thought tonight.

Soon, his throat felt dry, so he went to the kitchen for water. He poured himself a glass and drank it down in one go, feeling the immediate relief. That was when his eyes landed on the vase on the table, where the tulips rested.

He walked closer and noticed they had wilted a little, though they still held their beauty. He brushed his fingers over the petals, appreciating their lingering softness. He liked how their red tones brought life to the gray of his living room; a simple but vibrant detail. Whoever had chosen that bouquet had good taste… too bad the flowers had never reached their rightful owner, since now they were in his care.

Carefully, he refilled the vase with fresh water, set his glass in the sink, and turned off the lights before returning to his bedroom. He slipped into bed, letting the darkness and silence of the night wrap around him.

His mind drifted through recent events: first Yeosang, with his serene smile and that strong scent that had left him both confused and—much to his dismay—wanting; then the conversations with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, each loaded with intensity and subtlety, leaving him with more questions than answers; and finally Yunho, who left a knot in his chest—a mixture of frustration and curiosity, fear and… longing. He remembered how each of them had cornered him in their own way, both physically and psychologically. They had all tried to tear down his walls, to slip into his mind and under his skin.

His body shivered at the memory of their words, their scents, their teasing touches.

He shook his head firmly, trying to push away the images of the alphas. He had enjoyed himself so much that day, he didn’t want to ruin it with thoughts he couldn’t grasp, things slipping through his fingers. Tomorrow, he told himself, I’ll think more about it—and about what to do next.

With that, Jongho closed his eyes, leaving his worries for another day.

Chapter Text

—Ah —he sighed tiredly—. He looked at his reflection in the mirror with his outfit on. Just as he expected, he looked quite good… but, as they had predicted, he looked much older. The white blouse with the black pants made him look formal, and adding the blue sweater and tie made him look like a forty-year-old beta. To top it all off, he had put on his black glasses to give himself a “youthful” touch, but only managed to look like an old teacher. And as if that weren’t enough, just as Hwiyoung had said, the black pants accentuated his thighs and hips too much, in addition to highlighting his backside in a very obvious way.

He tried not to let that affect him too much… and decided to stop thinking about it for a moment.
He sent a picture of his outfit to his friends’ group chat, since they had insisted endlessly (especially Hwiyoung) that he show them his look. It was no surprise that he immediately got a bunch of laughing emojis and a big “Told you so” from the omega. Then another message popped up from Hwiyoung: “But what beautiful thighs, I’m sure he won’t be able to resist biting them… leave him drooling like a dog.” Jongho rolled his eyes, amused and a little mortified.

He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and decided he wasn’t going to rack his brain anymore. The outfit was just how he liked it: simple, comfortable, and modest. That was his essence. It didn’t matter if it made him look older; at least he felt good about himself.
He checked his watch: 3:30 in the afternoon. The date was at 5:00, so he already had to leave for the restaurant. Between traffic and the distance, he needed to leave early to arrive on time.

He grabbed his keys, his phone, and his wallet. Before leaving, he sprayed a little of his favorite cologne: Blanche Byredo, a floral fragrance that helped cover his scent of cinnamon and apple. At least that way, he could avoid uncomfortable comments and hide his nerves a little.
He locked his apartment door and took the elevator down to the parking garage. He got into his car and started the engine, his mind going over the date ahead of him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had a blind date arranged by his mother, but none of them had ever gone well. His first dates had always been marked by tension, by trying to make everything perfect… though there was always a “but” in every comment about him.

“Too old,” an omega had once told him —a spoiled sixteen-year-old kid, son of neurosurgeons. The whole date he’d spent eating with his mouth open and glued to his phone.

“Too young,” another had said. A well-known pediatrician, an alpha in his fifties, who had only accepted the date because Jongho’s mother told him he was an exemplary beta. But that alpha expected a submissive beta who would stay home and raise his children (he had already been married before, with two kids from that previous marriage). Something Jongho hadn’t liked one bit.

That was how all his dates had gone: either too old, too young, boring, graceless, or they simply rejected him for being a beta who couldn’t give them offspring. None of them seemed to fit what his mother wanted… or what he truly wanted.

Needless to say, his mother would go ballistic every time he was rejected, yelling at him until she lost her voice, reminding him how useless he was, even to be loved. Every time, she threatened to cut him out of the inheritance or forbid him from attending family events. In perspective, Jongho couldn’t care less about that by now; however, his mother knew how to strike where it hurt most: with his younger brother.
After Jongho’s parents suffered the “disappointment” of him —as she liked to call it— they tried again, and once more got pregnant, resulting in Choi Minho, an omega with a sweet scent of lavender and jasmine.

Unlike Jongho, Minho had fine and delicate features. His skin was pale, his face round, with long eyelashes and plump red lips: a perfect omega, as their mother said.

The problem was that Minho and Jongho had been very close since they were children. Since their parents were doctors, they spent most of their time at work, leaving their children alone for hours. Because of that, Jongho took care of Minho when he was a baby: he was there for his first words, his first steps, he cooked for him, and woke him up for school. Jongho took responsibility for his brother when he was only ten years old.
Of course, their parents weren’t happy about it. They weren’t pleased that Minho’s first word hadn’t been “dad” or “mom,” but “Jongho.” Nor did they like that the omega wanted to spend more time with his brother than with them, but Jongho couldn’t really blame him: to Minho, their parents were practically strangers.

So, as soon as they noticed Minho’s dependence on Jongho, they tried everything to separate them. In their eyes, Jongho was a bad influence: they didn’t want their son near a “defective” beta.

After Jongho dropped out from the conservatory, his parents kicked him out of the house and limited his interactions with Minho as much as possible, trying to break the bond they had built over so many years.

However, about four years ago, Minho and their parents were in a car accident, caused by a drunk driver. Their parents only suffered minor injuries, but Minho wasn’t so lucky. He was only eleven when his body took the full impact at the back of the car, where he was sitting. He was rushed to the hospital and, due to the severity of his injuries, had to undergo immediate surgery. Against all odds, he survived, which was a relief for Jongho and, to some extent, for their parents.
Nevertheless, the aftermath was inevitable. The blow to his back left him with a permanent limp in his left leg, forcing him to walk with a cane since then. And as if that weren’t enough, he also suffered a severe head injury that affected his speech. Minho could communicate basically, but he had lost much of his fluency and expression.

It was a devastating blow to the Choi family, especially to their parents, who had always seen Minho as the “perfect” son. They went through expensive hospitals, specialists after specialists, but the answer was always the same: Minho could be functional with rehabilitation, but he would never be the same as before. The damage was permanent.

—Who would want an omega who can barely stand and can’t talk?— was what their parents muttered in frustration, as if the boy had stopped being valuable.

Even so, they never stopped trying to pair him up. And when Jongho found out they wanted to match Minho with alphas —many of them much older than him—, he nearly lost control. He knew full well those alphas didn’t care about Minho’s condition; all they wanted was a fertile omega, someone they could control and breed at convenience.

Jongho tried to intervene. He wanted to fight with all his strength to take custody, but at the time he had just graduated, barely surviving as a teacher. His savings had vanished with his graduation costs, and he didn’t have the resources to pay for a lawyer. Besides, in a trial, what chance did a simple beta have against two respected alpha doctors, who could easily present themselves as exemplary parents?
In the end, Jongho gave in. He struck a deal with his parents: he would agree to marry whoever they chose, as long as they left Minho alone and allowed him to see him occasionally without restrictions. At first, they were reluctant, but soon realized it was much easier to arrange a match for Jongho —a healthy, though “defective,” beta— than for an omega dependent and with irreversible sequelae.
And that was why he was now there, in front of the Utopia restaurant, resigned to his fate.

He got out of his car slowly, handing it to the valet, already knowing what he was about to face. After several failed dates, he no longer felt nervous. Just annoyed at the same thing, over and over.

Just as he was about to enter the restaurant, his phone buzzed with a message from his mother:

“I hope you don’t mess it up this time. It’s not easy to find someone interested in a mediocre teacher like you. You’d better not get rejected again, the Han family’s son is a good match.”

He rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together, stifling a sigh of frustration. Every word from his mother was a reminder of how useless she always thought he was, and how his decisions would never be his own, but dictated by her cold, calculating vision. He put his phone away and, with firm yet weary steps, opened the restaurant door, ready to face yet another date that promised to be just as predictable as all the previous ones.
Crossing the threshold of Utopia, Jongho walked in slowly. After so many failed dates, nerves weren’t what he felt most anymore; rather, it was annoyance at the repetition.

His phone vibrated: a message from his mother with a photo of Minjae, the alpha he would be meeting. Jongho had already looked him up online before the date, so he would recognize his face without trouble. He walked to the back of the restaurant until he spotted the alpha’s figure among the crowd.

As he got closer, he could see him more clearly; he was only twenty-three, several years younger than him, but that didn’t take away from his attractiveness. His jawline was sharp, cheekbones defined, lips firm and well-shaped. His dark eyes reflected confidence and determination, and his neatly styled hair completed the image of a flawless young alpha. His body was muscular and athletic, with broad shoulders and an upright posture, projecting a dominant presence that filled the space even before he said a word.

Jongho sighed, trying to relax. He knew he’d have to interact with someone confident, young, and totally different from himself.
Minjae, who was seated at the farthest table, glanced around, and when he saw Jongho, gave a slight nod of recognition. Jongho nodded back, then approached and sat across from the alpha, aware that beyond his looks, Minjae’s energy was strong, imposing… and hard to ignore.

—Ah… you must be Jongho —Minjae said, his voice firm and clear.

—Yes… and you’re Minjae —Jongho replied, trying to sound calm as he adjusted in his chair.

Though his heart beat a little faster, Jongho tried to focus on the conversation and not be intimidated by the alpha’s dominant presence.
Minjae set the menu aside, as if food was the least of his concerns. He leaned one elbow on the table and looked at him with a mix of interest and mischief.

—It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Choi-ssi. Your mother has told me a lot about you— he mentioned with a flirtatious smile.

—Oh, really? —he replied, glancing slightly at his menu— I hope only good things. —he answered half joking, half not. But that was something only Jongho knew; Minjae mustn’t know his true relationship with his mother.

Minjae laughed at Jongho’s sarcastic remark.

—Oh, don’t worry. Mrs. Choi is very kind. She spoke wonders of you —he replied casually, brushing it off with a wave of his hand.

After that, both returned to their menus, looking for what to order.

—So, Choi-ssi, may I ask you something? —he said lightly, lowering his menu.

—Of course… —Jongho answered, a bit unsure, without taking his eyes off the menu.

—Given the circumstances and since we’re on a date… would you mind if I called you Jongho? —Minjae asked, grinning, as if the formality amused him more than it bothered him—. I know you’re older than me, but I’d like for both of us to feel comfortable with each other’s presence. Without so much formality.

Jongho cleared his throat, surprised by the alpha’s ease. He hadn’t expected someone seven years younger to address him with such confidence.

—That’s fine… Jongho is fine —he finally accepted, lowering the menu and meeting his gaze directly, though inside it felt strange hearing his name from that mouth.

—Perfect, Jongho —Minjae repeated, testing the name on his lips with a smile that hinted at his flirtatious tone—. Much better this way.

The beta shifted his gaze down to the table, fiddling with the edge of the napkin between his fingers. He didn’t know if it was the elegant restaurant’s atmosphere, Minjae’s overflowing confidence, or the memory of his mother behind it all, but he already felt exhausted, and the date had barely begun.

—So, Jongho —Minjae repeated, with that radiant smile that seemed so natural, though there was something in his eyes that showed he knew the effect he was having—. I’m glad you agreed to come.

—Well… I couldn’t exactly say no —Jongho answered with a hint of irony, thinking of his mother.

—Even so, I’m flattered. —Minjae leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand, as if watching him was more interesting than anything else in the room—. I suppose this isn’t the first time someone’s asked you out.

Jongho raised an eyebrow, confused.

—Excuse me?

—It’s just that… —he chuckled softly, as if he felt a little mischievous about what he was about to say—. With those thighs and that serious face… I bet more than one has already worked up the courage to ask you out.

Jongho parted his lips to reply, but nothing came out. He was too stunned by how naturally Minjae had said it. He ended up lowering his gaze, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks.

—I’m not used to comments like that… —he murmured, uncomfortable.

—Well, you should be —the alpha replied, almost like a compliment disguised as an obvious fact—. There’s no sense in hiding the obvious.

Minjae took a sip of water that had been brought earlier, as if he hadn’t said anything out of place, then turned his attention back to him with a playful air, though his eyes gleamed with that calculated spark of someone who knew very well he had just disarmed his date.

Jongho thought, with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment, that this alpha must be used to saying that kind of thing. He didn’t doubt Minjae was a ladies’ man, someone who could get what he wanted with a single smile. And precisely because of that, he tried not to give it too much importance.

—So tell me, Jongho-ssi —Minjae said, leaning back against his chair with a relaxed gesture, as if they had all night—. What do you like to do in your free time? Something you truly enjoy, not the typical “work and rest.”

The question caught him off guard. Jongho blinked a couple of times before answering.

—Well… I guess reading, listening to music… cooking sometimes. Nothing extraordinary.

—Nothing extraordinary? —Minjae repeated, raising an eyebrow as if he didn’t fully believe him—. To me, those things say a lot about a person. For example… reading. That tells me you have patience, that you enjoy details, right?

Jongho looked at him in surprise, unsure whether to laugh or feel more uncomfortable.

—I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that way.

—Well, you should —he chuckled softly, taking a sip from his glass—. I like to know what’s behind a first impression.

The beta lowered his gaze, distracted by the movement of his hands over the napkin. He couldn’t help but think that, although the alpha seemed interested, there was something too polished about his words, as if he were used to steering every conversation toward comfortable, attractive ground.

—What’s it like to teach? —the alpha asked with a curiosity that seemed sincere, though equally polished—. It must be interesting to see how students grow and improve under your guidance.

Jongho tilted his head, uneasy at the compliment disguised as interest.

—It’s… hard work, but also rewarding —he replied cautiously—. I guess every student is different, and you learn to be patient.

Minjae smiled with a sparkle in his eyes.

—I knew it. You can tell by the way you talk, that calmness… I think anyone would feel confident having you as a teacher. I know I would.

Jongho forced a small smile. Inside, he thought it all sounded too rehearsed. As if the alpha had plenty of experience keeping every conversation in safe, flirty, personal territory, but never uncomfortable. A true ladies’ man.

Before he could respond, a waiter appeared at their table with a notepad in hand.

—Good evening, gentlemen. Have you decided what to order?

Jongho welcomed the sudden break. He picked up the menu, pretending to review it carefully.

—I’ll have the pesto pasta, please —he said after a moment.

—And for me, the ribeye, medium rare, with red wine —Minjae replied without even glancing at the menu, as if he already had it memorized.

—I’ll bring your order right away —the waiter said with a slight bow before leaving.

The silence that followed was filled by Minjae’s relaxed smile. He rested one arm on the table again and fixed his eyes on him.

—So… what about your dreams, Jongho? What would you like to do beyond teaching?

Jongho felt the air catch in his throat. He lowered his gaze to his glass of water, spinning it between his fingers before answering.

—I suppose there’s not much to tell… my life is pretty routine. Between work and… other responsibilities, there isn’t much room left to dream —he said with a practiced calm, careful not to reveal more.

He noticed the curious glint in Minjae’s eyes, but before he could press, Jongho lifted his gaze and redirected the conversation.

—Although I should say, if anyone here deserves to talk about dreams and achievements, it’s you. I’ve heard a lot about you, Minjae-ssi. That you’re a true genius in medicine, even at such a young age.

The alpha blinked in surprise, then smiled with obvious pride, leaning forward slightly.

—Have you really heard that? I’m flattered that someone like you is interested in it.

Jongho arched a brow, feeling a spark of amusement. He wasn’t sure he trusted this man, but if Minjae wanted to play coy, he could join the game too.

—Well… it seemed worth mentioning. Not everyone achieves so much at only twenty-three —he said, letting his words sound ambiguous, almost a compliment, almost a challenge.

The alpha chuckled softly, enjoying the attention.

—I work hard… though I admit, I like it even more when someone notices.

Jongho held his gaze a moment longer than usual before leaning back as well, weighing how far he could push this exchange without setting aside his wariness.

But before they could continue their little game, the waiter arrived with their food, briefly interrupting the tension between them. Jongho took the chance to compose himself, pretending to be more interested in the dish in front of him than in the smile Minjae still wore shamelessly.

—I hope everything’s to your liking —the waiter commented before leaving.

Minjae picked up his utensils calmly but never took his eyes off Jongho.

—I have to admit —he said in a low, almost confidential voice—, it’s hard to believe someone like you hasn’t accepted a date before.

Jongho cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent.

—Maybe I don’t like dates as much as others do.

—Or maybe —Minjae countered, leaning forward with a tilted smile—, you just hadn’t had a date with me yet.

The alpha’s audacity made Jongho tense, though he let it show only in the faint tightening of his grip on the fork. “Of course… he’s definitely used to flirting,” he thought, assessing every gesture with slight distrust. It wasn’t hard to imagine Minjae as a ladies’ man surrounded by attention.

Even so, Jongho decided he wouldn’t be the one to be intimidated. He shifted in his seat and replied in a neutral tone, though loaded with intent:

—Maybe. But they say geniuses are usually too arrogant to be good dates.

Minjae burst into laughter, genuinely amused, though his gaze glittered with challenge.

—So, do you want to put me to the test, Jongho-ssi?

Jongho held his gaze a second longer before dropping his eyes to his plate and shrugging.

—Let’s just say I’m curious to see if your reputation is only professional… or also personal.

The alpha smiled with a mix of patience and boldness, like a player relishing the idea that the game had only just begun.

—Do I really have such a poor reputation with you, Jongho-ssi? I’m sad to think you see me that way —he commented with that touch of amusement and feigned offense. Something Jongho didn’t miss.

—Oh, please —Jongho rolled his eyes with a playful smirk—. I’m used to dealing with brats like you. I think I know your tricks well.

Minjae let out a clear laugh, one that made several heads at nearby tables turn toward him. His radiant smile seemed never to fade, and for a moment Jongho thought this alpha must be used to wielding it like a weapon, one that had surely made more than one person fall at his feet.

—A brat, me? —the alpha repeated in a playful tone, leaning forward as if to challenge him—. Then I suppose you know how to tame one.

Jongho feigned a calm smile, though inside he stayed on guard. He had no doubt Minjae was a ladies’ man, an expert in this kind of game. There was something in his confidence, in the way his gaze never left his, that made him feel both watched and evaluated.

—It must be hard to carry a reputation like that —Jongho remarked, trying to steer the conversation back though his tone was light, almost careless—. Being called a genius… don’t you fear people expect too much from you?

Minjae’s smile widened, though it wasn’t the same as before. A different gleam lit his eyes, something darker, more deliberate. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

—The hard part isn’t the expectation, Jongho-ssi… the hard part is proving to someone that what they say isn’t just rumor.

The low, almost intimate tone disarmed him for a second. Jongho felt a tingle run down his neck, that instinctive alert that made him doubt.

But instead of retreating, he chose to strike back.

—Then I suppose it’s only a matter of time before I discover whether you’re serious… or just good at selling illusions.

The silence between them thickened with tension, a clash of gazes where neither seemed willing to yield. Minjae’s smile remained, though less playful and more calculated, while Jongho watched him with the same feigned calm he had held from the start.

But a touch pulled him out of his silent battle with the alpha. With a mischievous smile, Minjae let his hand brush Jongho’s thigh under the table, a deliberately intimate, confident gesture.

Jongho felt the pressure, his heart skipped a beat, but his expression stayed impassive. He tilted his head slightly and, in a low, steady voice, murmured:

—I see you don’t fear crossing boundaries…

The alpha chuckled softly, pressing his leg just slightly, leaving his hand in place.

—I only cross them when I know there’s something worthwhile on the other side.

Jongho drew in a deep breath, tightening his leg muscles, but never looked away from Minjae. Part of him was alert, distrustful; the other, intrigued.

Minjae kept his hand resting on Jongho’s thigh a moment longer than expected, enjoying the reaction it provoked. Jongho, with controlled breathing and an unwavering gaze, smoothly slid the alpha’s hand aside, firm yet elegant, setting his boundary.

—I think this is where we stop —Jongho said, his voice calm but authoritative—. No offense, but I prefer to keep a certain… distance.

Minjae raised an eyebrow, amused, noticing Jongho wouldn’t yield. Still, he chose to respect the boundary the beta had set, retreating slightly.

On the other hand, Jongho was upset—not only by Minjae’s boldness (though he admitted he had provoked him a little), but because it had unpleasantly reminded him of what had happened with Yeosang and Yunho. To his surprise, however, the feeling Minjae gave him was completely different from the Teezers. Something stirred inside Jongho after Minjae’s hand had touched him; the sensation still lingered like a shadow on his skin. But instead of exciting or pleasing him, it gave him chills, dousing the warmth that still burned on his thigh.

The touch had been provocative, yes, but it felt different from what he’d experienced with Yeosang and Yunho. They had touched him with firmness and possessiveness, leaving him trembling and wanting. Minjae, on the other hand, felt uncomfortable and foreign to everything Jongho had felt before.

Jongho was startled to find himself thinking of the Teezers again. He didn’t understand why, in that moment, with Minjae’s uncomfortable presence still so close, his mind betrayed him, dragging him back to memories of Yeosang and Yunho. It was as if the comparison had opened a door leading directly to them, to what they had made him feel with every touch and every look.

The contrast disarmed him: on one hand, the firm rejection toward Minjae; on the other, the burning memory of two alphas who had marked his skin and will with an intensity impossible to erase.

He shook his head quickly, trying to push away the memories and the feelings Yeosang and Yunho had stirred. He couldn’t allow himself to think of them again—not here, and certainly not in the middle of the tension Minjae had created with a single gesture. He drew in a deep breath, forcing himself back to the present, to the lingering discomfort on his thigh and the weight of the gaze fixed on him.

He focused on the food, as if nothing had happened. Minjae, perhaps surprised by the firmness with which Jongho had pulled his hand away, didn’t try again either. The atmosphere remained heavy, but both devoted themselves to eating, each retreating into the silence of their thoughts.

The silence stretched on for several more minutes, dense and uncomfortable. However, a sound made them both flinch. Minjae pulled his phone from the left pocket of his jacket and looked at the screen that displayed a name and a number. Finally, Minjae set his utensils down on the table and stood up with a calm smile.

—I have to take this call, I won’t be long —he said naturally, as if nothing had happened.

Jongho barely nodded, watching as the alpha walked away and disappeared among the crowd in the restaurant. Only then did he let out the long sigh he had been holding in. He felt his shoulders slowly relax, as if he had just lifted a weight off himself.

The date with Minjae was too much for him. From the suggestive remarks to that touch that still unsettled him, everything had been exhausting. They had only shared a single meal together, and he already felt drained, as if he needed to run outside to breathe.

Jongho leaned back in his chair slightly, exhaling again as he discreetly rubbed his hands over his pants, as though he could erase the sensation Minjae had left on his thigh. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to regain his composure, but instead of peace, memories assaulted him with force.

Minjae’s boldness had unwillingly brought back what he had experienced with Yeosang and Yunho. He remembered their firm, possessive hands that had left him trembling and craving more. A shiver ran down his body—not from discomfort, but the opposite: from how much, deep down, he had enjoyed it.

With horror, he realized what he was doing. He was comparing. Comparing Minjae to them.

“No… I shouldn’t even think about that,” he scolded himself, clenching his jaw. “They’re my students… they’re much younger than me…”

He covered his face with one hand, ashamed of his own thoughts. Yet no matter how much he tried to deny it, he had to admit it: deep inside, he had enjoyed Yeosang’s and Yunho’s touches. The desire they had stirred was real, just as real as the shivers of discomfort Minjae had caused.

And it wasn’t only them… there were also Seonghwa and Hongjoong. There was something about the two of them that unsettled him: their mysterious aura, that way of looking at him as if they knew more than they let on. They were walking enigmas, and Jongho couldn’t help but feel drawn to that mystery, though he would never admit it out loud.

He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. The date with Minjae had been a mistake, he knew it. But what terrified him even more was realizing that what truly stirred him inside was the feeling of being desired by those alphas.

His unease wrapped around him as he struggled to compose himself, when suddenly a shadow approached his table. Jongho looked up and saw a waiter carrying a silver tray, on which rested a glass of red wine and a small plate with a delicate piece of opera cake, the layered chocolate-and-coffee dessert.

—Excuse the interruption, sir —said the waiter with a slight bow as he set them down before him—. This is for you.

Jongho frowned, confused.

—I’m sorry… but I didn’t order this.

The waiter smiled politely, showing no surprise.

—I know, sir. It was sent to you.

The words made him blink. He looked at the glass, then the cake, and a shiver of uncertainty ran down his spine. He couldn’t stop his lips from parting slightly, both intrigued and unsettled.

“Who…?” he thought, scanning the restaurant for any clue.

He thought about asking the waiter, but when he raised his hand to call him, he was already gone, vanishing with the same elegance he had arrived. Jongho pressed his lips together, undecided. His eyes discreetly swept the room, trying to distinguish a familiar face among the warmly lit tables, but from where he was seated, he couldn’t clearly see everyone.

He sighed, turning his gaze back to the glass of wine and the slice of cake before him. A tingling desire ran over his tongue at the sight of the glossy chocolate glaze, perfectly balanced with the fine layers of moist sponge and cream. The restaurant Utopia was not only famous for its extravagant and luxurious dishes, but also for its refined French pastries, which drew customers from all over the city.

And there it was, before him, his downfall: opera cake, his favorite dessert in the world. That exquisite combination of chocolate and coffee that was neither too sweet nor too bitter… simply perfect. Jongho swallowed hard; the temptation was too strong.

He waited a few more minutes, glancing toward the direction Minjae had gone, hoping he would return soon. Perhaps he had been the one to send the dessert and the wine, though something inside him told him otherwise. Still, when he saw no sign of the alpha, he gave in to temptation.

With care, he picked up the silver spoon and sank its edge into the soft layers of the cake, bringing the first bite to his mouth. As soon as the intense, balanced flavor touched his palate, an involuntary sigh escaped him.

The cake disappeared from his plate faster than he would have liked to admit. Each bite was a caress to his palate, such a perfect blend of coffee and chocolate that, for a moment, it made him feel at peace, detached from the discomfort of the date. When he reached for the glass, he hesitated for a second; he was not exactly a wine lover. He had always preferred stronger, more straightforward drinks like soju or whiskey. However, upon taking the first sip, he couldn’t help but be surprised. The taste wasn’t as harsh as he feared; rather, the combination of the opera cake’s sweetness with the wine’s elegant bitterness created an unexpected harmony that slowly seduced him.

He found himself drinking more than he had planned, letting the liquid slide down his throat, warm and enveloping. By the time he finished the last sip, he sighed in satisfaction, leaning back slightly in his chair. For the first time all night, he felt comfortable… even at ease.

He waited a little longer, looking toward the hallway where Minjae had disappeared. But the alpha didn’t return. Frowning, tired of waiting, he decided to get up and look for him. He pushed the chair back and headed in the direction he had seen him go.

He had barely taken a few steps when a sudden dizziness forced him to stop cold. The room seemed to lurch, the warm glow of the lamps turning into blurry halos that stung his eyes. Jongho blinked several times, confused. The wine? he thought, incredulous. Absurd; he had always been a strong drinker, with remarkable tolerance. Never would a couple of glasses have made him stagger like this.

But maybe, he reasoned with difficulty, the sweetness of the cake mixed with the wine had sped up the effect. He forced himself to walk faster, stumbling toward the bathroom, determined to steady himself.

When he finally reached the sink, he clung to the marble edge with both hands. His reflection in the mirror showed him pale, with a thin sheen of sweat pearling his forehead. The floor spun beneath his feet, and his head throbbed with an unbearable pulse. Nausea struck him violently, forcing him to bend over the sink, though nothing came out.

A tremor ran through his legs and, before he could react, they gave way. He felt his body collapse into the void, falling backward. But strong hands caught him by the arms before he hit the ground. He felt the heat of a masculine body pressed against his, firm, dominant… the scent of forest fruits, the mark of alpha pheromones, enveloped him along with the hint of expensive cologne. He tried to turn his head to see who it was, but his vision grew hazier, as if darkness itself were swallowing him. His heart pounded wildly.

“Minjae?” he thought, uncertain. But through the confusion, he realized something: he hadn’t been able to smell the alpha before. Surely he had been using a scent blocker. So then, who was holding him?

Soon he felt firm hands on his hips, an embrace that kept him from collapsing. Something about that touch felt intimate. As if the person feared he would break if they held him too tightly. That sensation felt familiar to him. And at the same time… completely foreign. As if someone had once held him with such gentleness, but he couldn’t remember where.

—Easy, professor… —a deep voice whispered in his ear—. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.

He felt fingers gently push back the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. After that, everything went dark for Jongho.

The beta lay limp in his arms, still pale and cold. Slowly, he lifted him with care, resting him against his chest, making sure his breathing remained steady. Without a word, he walked out of the bathroom.

Some diners glanced up with curiosity —it wasn’t common to see someone leave the men’s room carrying another person— but a single look from him was enough to make them lower their eyes immediately. Silence fell like a veil.

He strode with confidence toward the most exclusive corner of the restaurant, where six other figures awaited him. The table radiated an aura of power, isolated from the rest of the place, as if it belonged to another world.

Upon arrival, the shortest of the group arched a brow, scrutinizing the figure he carried in his arms.

—Well? —he asked, sipping calmly from his glass.

—Just like you said, hyung. Looks like someone did something to him —he replied, still holding the fragile beta.

—Oh, really? —the voice, sharp with sarcasm, grew colder—. Well… then we’d better ask the one who drugged him, don’t you think?

His smile widened, cold and mocking.

—Bring him in.

—Yes, sir —one of the waiters answered at once. With a slight gesture, other burly men approached, dragging someone between them.

Two pairs of hands held the alpha firmly, his wrists bound by metal cuffs. They shoved him without care, forcing him down to his knees before the table. The dull thud echoed on the floor, followed by his body collapsing forward, unable to catch himself.

The leader watched calmly, crossing one leg over the other before bringing his glass to his lips once more.

—So, are you going to explain what happened? —he asked in a measured tone, letting silence bite before pronouncing his name—. Hm, Minjae?

Chapter Text

Minjae looked up, his nose bleeding from the fall, and could make out six figures sitting across from him. The dimness of the most exclusive corner of the restaurant couldn’t soften the look of hatred and disgust in their eyes. Next to them, a man stood, carefully holding the unconscious beta. Jongho rested against his chest as if nothing in the world could hurt him, and that sight irritated Minjae.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the sharp voice of the alpha in front of him stopped him.
—I asked you a question, Han Minjae—
The authoritative tone sounded even darker, loaded with threat— —Explain to us what happened.

Minjae clicked his tongue in annoyance. Nothing had gone as planned. His idea was simple: invite Jongho to eat, gain a bit of trust, and then take him to a hotel. There, he could exploit the beta’s vulnerability and do as he pleased. But the constant rejections to his advances led him to decide that the most practical option would be to sedate him. After all, he had Mrs. Choi’s —permission—. She herself had assured him that her son wasn’t worth it: a hermit without any charm, incapable of attracting a partner on his own. She had encouraged him to push him a little, to —give him a nudge— so he would take his commitment seriously. She gave him the drug calmly and told him he could use it as he wished.

The idea was simple: once they spent the night together, he would mark him, and there would be no turning back. At first, he wanted to refuse—not for Jongho, but for his own convenience. He had no interest in being tied to anyone. Being an alpha with a bond would make him less free in university, less attractive to omegas and alphas he still wanted to sleep with. For him, commitment was an unnecessary chain.

But his parents pressured him relentlessly. They reminded him he had to behave like a true Han, worthy of the name, a responsible alpha who would start a family and ensure offspring—or else, he would be disinherited. And Jongho… Jongho was the best option.

Mrs. Choi had been meticulous: she had conducted medical studies on her own son and discovered he was a candidate for uterine insertion surgery. An experimental procedure born from the global birth crisis. Doctors were looking to expand the spectrum of the fertile population by selecting betas with the best genetic compatibility and transforming them into carriers capable of conceiving. Jongho was an —ideal candidate—. And that simple label made him a coveted prize.

Minjae clenched his jaw and spat on the ground before speaking, his voice full of resentment.
—So what?— he growled. —That beta is nothing more than a whim disguised as a commitment. His own mother handed him to me—

The air at the table grew heavy, and the smile of the shortest man in the group widened—but not with amusement… rather with a deadly edge. Minjae swallowed nervously but tried to maintain composure, though it was increasingly difficult, especially as the alphas in front of him looked threatening. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead and neck.

He didn’t even know why he was in this situation in the first place. He remembered going to the restaurant’s garden to answer his phone. As soon as he saw it was his best friend’s number, Ida, he knew he had to answer.
—Hello?— he spoke, feeling far enough from the beta.
—Bro, how’s your date going? Did you sleep with him yet?— asked a mocking voice on the other end.
—Ugh, I wish— he replied sarcastically, leaning against one of the pillars, pulling a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it, and taking a long drag. —But the bastard’s a tough nut to crack—
—Hahaha, is there finally someone resisting the mighty charms of great Minjae? The king of the whole faculty? The one who’s slept with every omega he crosses… finally, someone resists your dick?— Ida laughed.
—Shut up, idiot!— he muttered, annoyed.

But Ida just laughed again. Minjae exhaled a thread of smoke as his fingers trembled slightly.
—Ida…— he murmured, barely audible. —Now… is not the time for jokes—
—Oh, come on, bro, relax— Ida replied mockingly. —I just want to make sure your parents don’t kill you for not keeping your promise to pair up—
—Ugh, don’t even remind me— he muttered, each drag increasing his irritation. —If it weren’t for my parents forcing me into this, I wouldn’t even waste my time on that boring beta—

Soon his cigarette was nearly finished, so he took a final drag before dropping it to the floor and crushing it underfoot.
—I guess I’ll have to go to plan B and sleep with him— he muttered, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
—Are you sure about that?— asked Ida. —Isn’t that… illegal?—
—Who cares if it’s illegal? As long as I can get my parents off my back and secure the inheritance, it’s fine… Ugh, you know what, I’ll call you later. Bye—

He hung up, annoyed. He really didn’t want to do this. But if he wanted to keep his luxurious life, he would have to take the stupid beta by force.

He adjusted his suit and fixed his hair. When he was ready, he headed back to his date. He had already instructed the waiter to bring the wine with the drug for Jongho, he just needed to hand him a few extra bills for help. He was sure the beta would be sedated by now, making it easier to carry out his plan.

As he was about to reenter the restaurant, a hand landed on his shoulder, and a friendly voice spoke.
—Hello, are you Minjae?—

Minjae turned sharply, irritated by the interruption, but what he saw left him momentarily speechless. A man of medium height stood before him, with a serene smile marking deep dimples, broad shoulders, and a slim waist. The man radiated elegance and presence in his fitted black suit. He seemed calm, yet something about him sent shivers down Minjae’s spine.

—Yes…— Minjae responded, trying to sound casual, though his heart raced. —Who… are you?—

The man tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating the young alpha.
—Tell me something— he said, ignoring the question entirely. —Do you plan to do something to the beta with you?—

A chill ran down Minjae’s spine. The firmness of the man’s voice and the penetrating gaze that seemed to read his soul disarmed him more than he was willing to admit.

—Uh…— he murmured, annoyed but trying to hide his nervousness. —It’s none of your business—

The man stopped smiling, simply tilting his head more, eyes fixed on Minjae as if he already knew everything. Minjae trembled under the intensity of the stare and decided it was better to retreat into the restaurant. But before he could step inside, everything went upside down. Suddenly, he was on the grass and dirt, his hands twisted behind his back in a perfect lock, immobilizing him completely.

—Eh? ‘None of your business’?— the man said threateningly, letting the words hang in the air. —Everything involving Jongho is my business—

He whispered angrily, tightening his grip further, making Minjae groan in pain. —Let’s see what my alpha leader says when he hears what you have to say—

Before Minjae could react, a sharp tug forced him to rise painfully; he was dragged to the corner where the isolated table shone with its own light. There, he faced the imposing and threatening alphas. He could see Jongho unconscious in the arms of a tall, red-haired alpha.

The man who had held him sat next to a black-haired boy with a cute beauty mark on his eye and lip. After dropping Minjae with disdain, he stepped back as if presenting him to the table.

The silence was broken only by the clink of a glass reaching the lips of what Minjae assumed was the leader, whose gaze was cold and exuded authority. His eyes scanned the young alpha with cruel patience.

—So, are you going to explain to me what happened?— asked the shorter leader, letting each word cut deep. —Minjae?—

Minjae swallowed, dry-mouthed, body still trembling from humiliation and pain. He tried to speak, to howl some excuse, but suddenly his throat closed as a hand grabbed and squeezed it.

The little leader had risen quickly and had him by the throat. He trembled, not only because he was running out of air, but because the leader’s gaze demanded a story; a confession.

—Speak— urged one of the alphas, the tallest in the group, sitting in the middle, growing increasingly impatient. —We don’t like half-truths. What did you do to our beta? Why is he drugged?—

The pressure on Minjae’s throat felt like a noose. His voice barely escaped as a murmur. Any false word could worsen his situation. Minjae swallowed several times, trying to find firmness, but the weight of the alphas’ gazes crushed him. His chest tightened, and the words he planned escaped, replaced by uncontrollable trembling.

—I… I…— he began, voice breaking mid-sentence from lack of air. —I just… I just wanted him…—

The leader raised an eyebrow, patience icy, barely hiding the threat as he tightened his grip.
—Just ‘wanted him…’? Complete the sentence, Minjae. Now—

Minjae closed his eyes, gasping.
—I… wanted him… to… sleep…— he whispered, barely audible, trying to grasp some air.

The silence after Minjae’s confession was almost unbearable. The leader’s grip kept him rigid; every breath was painful. Tears filled his eyes as he struggled to breathe, trembling under everyone’s gaze.

—‘Wanted him to sleep’?— the leader repeated, low and deadly, letting each word strike like a whip.

Minjae swallowed, throat aching, chest burning. Any lie now was a risk of death.

—Yes…— he managed to whisper. —I didn’t want to hurt him… just… control the situation…—

The leader squeezed a bit more, reminding him brutally who was in control. Each second, Minjae felt his world shrink, air scarce, realizing his mistake had brought him to the edge of the unbearable.

The leader squeezed a little harder, reminding him with brutal clarity who was in control. Every second that passed, Minjae felt his world shrinking, the air scarce, and his mistake had pushed him to the edge of unbearable.
—If you lie to us… —the leader whispered, his voice loaded with threat— every second of suffocation you felt will be child's play compared to what awaits you.

The other alphas exchanged quick glances, evaluating Minjae’s confession. The leader, still holding him, frowned, his eyes scanning him from head to toe, looking for any sign of falsehood.
—Alright —the leader said as he finally released him, letting Minjae drop abruptly to the floor. Instinctively, he tried to clutch his throat but remembered he was handcuffed, so he gasped as hard as he could, trying to fill his aching lungs—. Looks like we have a reckless alpha… and a beta who suffered because of your decisions. Now I want to know everything: from the intention to the details of what you did.

Minjae slowly rose, struggling to support himself on his bound hands on the floor, still trembling from pain and lack of air. Every muscle in his body protested, but he understood clearly there was no escape: every word had to be true.
—A…alright… —he whispered, his voice broken from the lack of air—. I’ll tell you everything… from the beginning…

Minjae breathed with difficulty; every inhale hurt, but he knew he couldn’t stop. His body trembled, and fear clouded his mind, but he had to start from the beginning.
—I… I invited Jongho to eat —he began, his voice still trembling—. I wanted to earn a bit of his trust… and… then take him to a hotel. My intention… was… to take advantage of his vulnerability.

The leader raised an eyebrow, not interrupting him, letting every word from Minjae fall like a confession before everyone. The other alphas remained silent, attentive, evaluating every gesture, every hesitation.
—But… but he rejected me —Minjae continued, swallowing hard—. Everything went differently than I planned. So… I decided… to make him sleep.

Silence grew heavier. The alphas let Minjae feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on him before leaning slightly forward, his voice low and threatening:
—Make him sleep? With what…? —said the one who brought him here, his tone not a question but a blade cutting the air—. Speak.
—With… drugs… —Minjae whispered, closing his eyes from fear and pain—. Mrs. Choi gave them to me… she said I could use them… that her boring beta son… needed a “push”…

A murmur ran across the table. The alphas exchanged glances, assessing the magnitude of what they were hearing. Minjae barely maintained his balance on his legs, but continued:
—My intention… wasn’t to hurt him… I just… just wanted him to take his commitment seriously… —his voice broke, and a tear rolled down his cheek—. I didn’t want… everything to fall apart…

The leader remained silent for a moment, watching him with cruel patience. Then, in a firm but threatening voice, he said:
—Good. Now that we know the truth, I want you to understand something, Minjae. Every decision you made… every attempt at manipulation… affects all of us. And him, especially.

Minjae lowered his head, trembling, aware of the gravity of his actions. The weight of his mistake and the imposing presence of the alphas crushed him, leaving him completely vulnerable.
—I’ll… keep answering your questions —he whispered, barely audible—. Everything you want to know… I’ll tell…

The leader nodded slightly, satisfied with the initial confession, while the other alphas crossed their arms, evaluating Minjae, ready to hear every detail.

Minjae lowered his head, swallowing hard. The tension kept him on the verge of collapse, every word a stab of fear.
—It was… it was my mother —he began with a trembling voice, not daring to look up—. She… said I had to do something, that I couldn’t let Jongho drift away from me. That it was a mistake to leave such a “perfect” beta without a partner.

The leader narrowed his eyes, watching him with icy calm.
—So… you decided to drug him?

Minjae nodded weakly.
—I just… just wanted him to calm down —he said, breathing in short gasps—. I didn’t think it would be so strong. His mother gave me the pills… they were meant to induce sleep, but… I think the dose was too high. That’s why he’s unconscious.

One of the alphas slammed his fist on the table, making the sound echo like a gunshot.
—And what else did you give him? What else did you do? —he growled.
—Nothing else, I swear —Minjae stammered, shrinking—. I just wanted… —he swallowed hard— to have some time alone with him. You know… without him yelling at me… or trying to escape.

The leader watched in silence for what felt like eternal seconds. His gaze was like a sharp blade, cutting through every layer of justification Minjae tried to raise.
—So —he said in a low, restrained voice—, it was all to control him and violate him.

Minjae nodded in a thin voice.
—Yes. My mother said if I let him go, I’d lose everything. She said… he was too valuable.

The leader raised an eyebrow.
—Valuable? —he repeated in a tone that grew dangerous.

Minjae hesitated, swallowing hard, trembling. He knew he couldn’t remain silent any longer.
—Yes… —he whispered, barely audible—. Because Jongho… isn’t an ordinary beta.

The atmosphere changed instantly. The alphas looked at each other, confused. The one holding Jongho frowned, leaning forward.
—Explain.

Minjae closed his eyes, knowing what he was about to say would seal his fate.
—My mother told me… that Jongho could be subjected to surgery… that his body could gestate…

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the air seemed to stop. A loud bang on the table shattered the silence abruptly.
—What the hell did you say?! —one of the alphas roared, pounding the table so hard the glasses trembled.

Another stood up immediately, eyes blazing, chest heaving with fury.
—Are you suggesting you were going to take him and get him pregnant, damn it? —he spat—. All for money?! —growled a black-haired guy with a very noticeable mark on his left eye.

The leader said nothing immediately, but his aura filled the room, suffocating, heavy. His fingers drummed slowly on the table, a gesture so small it was enough to make the others tremble.
—Tell me, Minjae —he said with glacial calm—. Does Jongho know about this?

Minjae looked up for just a second, fear overflowing his eyes.
—N-no… —he stammered, shaking awkwardly—. No, according to his mom, he doesn’t know anything. I swear!

—So you hid something this important from him? —the leader’s voice lowered, each word heavier than the last—. You knew what it could mean and still went through with it?

—I didn’t want to hurt him! —Minjae shouted, his voice breaking—. I was just following orders… my mother and Mrs. Choi said if I kept him close, marked him, I could convince him… that it was best for everyone…

A collective roar filled the room. One of the alphas stepped forward, his fangs barely showing in anger.
—Your “best for everyone” has him unconscious —he spat, pointing at Jongho in the redhead’s arms—. And you still have the nerve to justify yourself!

The leader finally stood. His shadow fell over Minjae like a sentence.
—Listen to me carefully —he said, every word laden with a cold threat that chilled the blood—. If anything happens to Jongho because of you, there won’t be a corner in this territory where you can hide. Neither you, nor your mother.

Minjae nodded frantically, tears falling uncontrollably, his body shrunk from sheer terror.

But before anyone could say anything else, a calmer voice from the back of the table interrupted the chaos.
—Wait —said one of the elder alphas, in a grave tone—. If what he just said is true… then Jongho is in more danger than we imagined.

Silence fell again, but this time it was different: heavy with concern.

The leader frowned.
—Explain, Seonghwa.

The elder alpha, seemingly named Seonghwa, leaned forward.
—If Mrs. Choi truly considers him “valuable,” she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. You know as well as I do what that means: control, manipulation, inheritance…

One of the alphas clicked his tongue.
—So… what do you propose?

Silence stretched for a moment, until all eyes turned to Minjae. The young alpha swallowed hard, realizing what they were planning.
—It means we can use him —the leader finally said, understanding what the other alpha meant and nodding toward Minjae—. He goes back to her, maintains his façade. He’ll be our eyes and ears while we decide how to protect Jongho.

—And if he tries to betray us? —another asked, suspicious.
—He won’t —the leader replied coldly—. We’ll make sure he can’t.

Minjae lowered his head, knowing that wasn’t an option. It was an order.

The tension rose again, and then, almost in a whisper, he added the last missing piece, the phrase that completely changed the atmosphere in the room.
—My mother told me… that Jongho is not an ordinary beta. —Minjae clenched his fists, his voice breaking—. That there was something unusual in his history: a rare anomaly that, in the few documented cases, allows gestation. And although the experimental technique exists, she preferred something “natural.” She said that makes him unique… and that we couldn’t let him escape.

Silence was absolute. Nobody breathed.

Even the leader, who until then had maintained control, let his expression darken.
—Then —he said slowly, his voice barely brushing the air—. now I understand why his mother won’t rest until he is paired.

After hearing that, the one holding Jongho pressed him even tighter against his chest, as if he wanted to protect him, baring his teeth and letting out a low growl.
—Enough! —the leader’s voice rang out, deep and firm—. Don’t make this harder than it already is.

Silence fell abruptly. The leader walked forward calmly, his gaze fixed on Minjae. He stopped in front of him, bent slightly, and looked him directly in the eyes.
—You’re going to do it —he said in a tone so serene it chilled the blood.

It wasn’t a question, but an assertion disguised as a threat. Minjae swallowed hard. He tried to keep his composure, but his voice trembled as he asked:
—A-and… what happens if I don’t do it?

The alpha smiled, with a confidence that made Minjae step back.
—Don’t you know who I am? —he asked, letting the silence make the room feel heavier.
—W-what? —Minjae stammered, confused—. N-no… no…

The leader lowered his gaze even more, so close that Minjae could feel his breath.
—I am Kim Hongjoong —he said slowly, each word heavy with weight—. The son of Producer Kim, who has been one of the biggest investors in your parents’ hospitals. The same one who brought his artists with them and helped your family gain the fame and position you now boast.

Minjae’s eyes widened, fear mixed with disbelief leaving him speechless.
—Y-you…? —he whispered, unable to look away from the alpha who now seemed both imposing and terrifying.

Hongjoong stood up slowly, his smile faint but controlled.
—So… you still want to ask me what happens if you don’t do it?

Minjae swallowed hard, paralyzed by the revelation. Every fiber of his body screamed there was no escape. His hands trembled as he tried to compose himself.
—I… I… —he stammered, unable to find the words—. S-so… what am I supposed to do?

Hongjoong leaned slightly forward, his voice low but firm.
—You’re going to keep Mrs. Choi calm. —He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in—. You’ll continue your “pretend” relationship with Jongho. It’s not out of affection, it’s strategy. You control him, protect him, and provide us with information. Understood.

Minjae swallowed with difficulty, trying to process everything.
—And if… if I refuse? —he asked, his voice barely a thread of air, a mix of fear and foolish courage.

Hongjoong smiled, that smile that promised nothing good.
—Do you really want to risk finding out what happens when you don’t do as I say? —His gaze scanned Minjae, calculating and cold—. I decide who lives and who regrets it. And I am Kim Hongjoong.

The young alpha swallowed hard, feeling the ground could open beneath his feet. He knew he had no other choice: the “pretend” relationship had to continue, even if his pride and fear bled inside.
—A-alright… I’ll do it —he whispered, defeated, though a thread of resistance still shone in his eyes.

The alphas surrounding the table nodded, understanding the strategy was clear: protect Jongho, use Minjae as a spy, and keep Mrs. Choi at bay. The tension was still palpable, but the decision had been made.

Minjae lowered his gaze, trying to compose himself while feeling the weight of everything that had happened. His hands trembled and his throat still hurt from Hongjoong’s grip, but there was something he couldn’t let go.
—Wait… —he murmured, his voice trembling—. Before you leave… I want… I want to know something.

All the alphas looked at him, curious and tense.
—According to what Mrs. Choi said… she told me Jongho wasn’t paired or in any relationship —he began, hesitating—. So why do you call him “our” or “my” beta? What is your relationship with him?

A heavy silence filled the room. Minjae observed them carefully, analyzing how they looked at each other, how every gesture toward Jongho seemed to carry a nuance of possession, protection, and… something deeper, almost obsessive. It wasn’t something he could say aloud, but every movement, every glance made it clear in his mind.

Hongjoong, with calculated calm, was the first to respond, his voice low and firm:
—He is ours. You only need to know that. —The word fell with weight, and Minjae shivered—. And as long as he is under our protection, no one touches him without our knowledge. That includes you, and anyone else who tries to approach him.

Minjae swallowed, understanding that Jongho was not only valuable to Mrs. Choi but also had an entire group willing to protect… and love him. That made him tremble, even if he didn’t show it.

The rest of the alphas nodded silently, reaffirming Hongjoong’s statement without words. Minjae realized that what he had seen in their actions was not by chance: the intensity with which they cared for Jongho was not just strategy like Mrs. Choi, no, this was pure possession.

The alphas carefully lifted Jongho, still unconscious, and carried him out of the restaurant. Minjae followed them with unsteady steps. After they untied him and paid the bill, he was forced to follow them outside.

The cool air hit his face, a small relief after the oppression he felt inside. A luxurious black limousine waited before them, shining under the streetlights. In a synchronized gesture, all the alphas got into the vehicle, placing Jongho in the center seat as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

—Good —said Hongjoong, leaning in to settle inside the elegant limousine—. Now that everyone understands the situation, Minjae, start playing your role. And remember… any slip, any lie, and no one will save you. Clear?

Minjae nodded, too weak to argue with Hongjoong or his pack.
—Perfect, then we’ll stay in touch —Hongjoong said, and with that, he got into the car, which drove off, leaving Minjae alone on the cold sidewalk.

Inside the limousine, the atmosphere was charged with tension and the silent determination to protect Jongho at all costs.

Wooyoung, leaning casually against the backrest, was the first to break the silence:
—So now, what? Do we take him to our house? Because I’d really like him to wake up in my bed.

Seonghwa frowned, reproaching the lightness of the comment:
—Wooyoung, this is no time for jokes.

Wooyoung pouted and crossed his arms:
—It was just an idea —he replied, shrugging—, though don’t tell me you wouldn’t like it too.

Hongjoong intervened, firm and serene:
—We’ll take him to his home and leave him in his bed. We’ll let him think he got drunk and arrived by himself. For now, he doesn’t need to know anything about what happened.

—And then what? Do we allow that scum Minjae to keep touching him? —asked Mingi, annoyed, placing a protective hand over Jongho’s thigh.

—I’m not saying we won’t do anything —Hongjoong replied—. But while we figure out how to keep Mrs. Choi at bay, we’ll have to protect him from a distance, enough that he suspects nothing.

Several annoyed huffs echoed in unison, but no one said a word, as the limousine drove away with Jongho at the center of it all, wrapped in the protection and obsession of which he was completely unaware.

Jongho slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the soft light streaming through the window. His head ached, and he felt a strange dizziness, as if he had been on a roller coaster. For a moment, he tried to remember what he had done last night… but nothing came to mind.

He sat up slightly, looking around. Everything was in its place: his room, quiet and tidy, just as he had left it. But there was something that confused him even more: how had he gotten there?

—…Was I with Minjae? —he whispered, his voice still a bit hoarse—. But… I don’t remember anything…

His heart started beating faster. He remembered the date, the dinner, Minjae… and then an absolute void. He didn’t know if he had fallen asleep, if something had happened, or if his mind was simply blocking the memories.

He got up slowly, leaning on the edge of the bed. He tried to retrace the steps of the previous night, but everything seemed blurry, like a dream that fades upon waking.

—Everything… went fine, right? —he asked softly, trying to convince himself—. Just… a date…

Jongho sighed, letting confusion and uncertainty envelop him. He couldn’t remember anything else. All he knew was that he was now at home, alone, with the feeling that something had happened… but without being able to pinpoint what.

He lay back down, closing his eyes and trying to forget the emptiness in his memory. After a few moments, Jongho realized he was extremely thirsty. His throat was dry as a desert, and every gulp of air seemed insufficient.

With effort, he got up, dragging his feet through the room, feeling the weight of the previous night in every muscle. He hadn’t gotten drunk in a long time, and now he remembered how devastating hangovers could be. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, and a constant dizziness forced him to lean against the door frame. Every movement was an effort that made him feel even weaker.

He slowly made his way to the kitchen, trying not to think about what had happened or how he had gotten home. He just needed some water… something to bring a little life back. Every step was heavy, his body protesting, and nausea threatened to make him retreat, but he continued, driven solely by the thirst burning in his throat.

Upon reaching the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator with trembling hands, looking for something cold to quench his thirst. The world around him spun slightly, and he had to lean on the edge of the counter to keep his balance.

—Just… water… —he whispered, as the cold liquid touched his lips and finally returned a bit of clarity.

After quenching his thirst, he went to the sofa and collapsed like a sack of potatoes, feeling as if a truck had run him over. Every muscle ached, and his head pulsed with every blink.

After a few minutes, he looked up and saw his phone on the side table. It was off; the battery had likely died overnight. He went to his room, plugged in the phone, then grabbed a clean change of clothes and stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe his aching body and clear his mind a little.

When he got out, he felt slightly better. At least the general pain had lessened, although the feeling of exhaustion persisted. While drying his hair with a towel, he turned on his phone and saw several messages, most from friends worried about him.

Before checking the messages from his friends, an unknown number caught his attention. Opening it, he assumed immediately that it must be Minjae from the tone of the texts. He began to read, hoping to find out what had happened, but only found brief messages asking how he was and if he felt better.

He sighed, tired. He couldn’t remember anything after the date: neither how he got home nor what had exactly happened. Everything was a blank in his memory. A cold shiver ran down his back as he tried to piece together fragments of the previous night, but the more he tried to remember, the more confused he felt.

He tried to let it go for now; his mind felt like mush at that moment. He would ask Minjae for details later. After all, he was fine: nothing was broken, and it didn’t seem like things had gone any further. He assumed that at some point during the night, he had drunk too much and passed out. Perhaps Minjae had brought him—surely his mother had given him the address beforehand—so he must have been left in his apartment.

He replied curtly with a simple:

—Good morning, yes, I’m feeling better. Thank you. —He had no energy to converse or feign enthusiasm.

He put the phone down for a moment, but curiosity got the better of him. He opened the group chat he had with his friends, where messages had piled up since the previous afternoon:

Hwiyoung: Baby bear, report in. How’s your date?
Banchang: Please tell me you didn’t hit him on the first bad joke.
Hwiyoung: HAHA probably did, maybe we should get ready to bail him out of jail, hyung.

Jongho let out a small nasal laugh; those two were hopeless.

Yesterday, 7:47 p.m.

Banchang: Hey friend, everything okay? You haven’t replied.

Hwiyoung: At least tell us if he’s behaving. You know hyung and I will come if you need help.

Yesterday, 8:03 p.m.

Banchang: Hope everything’s going well. We’ll be on standby if you need anything.
Hwiyoung: If you don’t message in an hour, we’ll assume it was a disaster or they really went to hook up.
Banchang: Hwiyoung…
Hwiyoung: What?! At least he can have a passionate night to de-stress.
Banchang: Ugh.

Jongho laughed. Hwiyoung was really stubborn, though he couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt; his friends’ concern was evident, and he… couldn’t even give them a coherent reply. He was about to respond, but one last message made him stop.

Yesterday, 9:32 p.m.

Banchang: Well, friend, we hope everything went well. Still, we sent you something to make you feel better. Hope you like it.
Hwiyoung: Yes! We ordered it because we know you like it! That way you’ll know, even if we’re not there, we’re still looking out for you.
Banchang: Take care! Let us know when you can about the date.

Jongho frowned, confused. He hadn’t received anything. He looked up to check what his friends meant, and there it was on the nightstand: a package wrapped in beautiful shiny blue paper.

He placed his phone on the bed with the towel and went over to pick it up. He turned it in his hands; the wrapping was incredibly beautiful, not only because of its color but also its texture, so soft he felt guilty about breaking it. In the center was a card with golden, ornate edges, and in the middle, in black cursive letters, it read:

For Jongho. 

It had been truly wrapped with care, so with all the patience he could muster, he removed the pieces of tape without tearing the paper.

When he removed the last piece, his breath caught in his throat. In his hands was the limited edition of Treasure Island, the same one he had seen the other day with his friends. It was just as he remembered: gilded page edges, hard cover, and shiny lettering.

He opened it, unable to contain his excitement to leaf through it, and on the first page he found an inscription, written in beautifully detailed handwriting:

For our Jongho

Our light and our life

Forever yours. 

Jongho looked at the note with a mix of surprise and tenderness, but he couldn’t contain the joy that overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he had the best friends in the world.

He ran to his phone and opened the group chat.

Jongho: Good morning. Yes, all is well. I drank a bit too much yesterday, that’s why I didn’t reply. But thank you for worrying. And thank you so much for the gift, I’m very happy. You didn’t have to! 

Quickly, the popcorn turned blue.

Hwiyoung: Wow! Finally, you deign to answer 😠
Banchang: Oh, let it be Hwiyoung! He said he was drunk. We’re glad to know you’re better. You don’t have to thank us, we did it because we care about you 😊
Hwiyoung: Yes! haha, you should have seen. Yesterday they had us on the phone for like twenty minutes to get someone to deliver it to you. But we made it!
Jongho: Haha, you didn’t have to. It must have cost a lot.
Banchang: It’s nothing, we hope you enjoyed it.
Hwiyoung: If you want to thank me, just let me hug you next time.
Jongho: Ugh, I’ll think about it.
Hwiyoung: I’ll take that as a yes.
Banchang: Sigh.

Jongho chuckled, amused. He grabbed the book and placed it on his chest, letting out a genuine smile. He was truly happy, so much that for a moment he forgot everything that had happened with Minjae.

Without thinking further, he lay back on the sofa and began to read. The thin pages and detailed illustrations amazed him immediately. He spent most of the morning and a good part of the afternoon immersed in the reading, not taking his eyes off the book for a second.

By nightfall, he had read almost the entire book. Despite having read it more than a dozen times, he couldn’t help feeling the same excitement as the first time. Pirate stories had always fascinated him, but Treasure Island was special. Not only as a pioneer of that type of adventure, but because Jim Hawkins stirred something deep within him.

Jongho wanted to be like him: brave, adventurous, free. Jim represented everything he was not… but longed to be.

He closed the book carefully and set it aside. Tomorrow he had to return to his routine, so he got up to prepare his clothes. He searched his closet for a clean change, ironed it calmly, and hung it on the hanger. Then he went to the kitchen.

He prepared a light dinner—just some rice with vegetables—; he hadn’t been able to have breakfast or lunch because of nausea, and now his stomach rumbled softly, asking for at least a small comfort.

He finished dinner slowly, enjoying the warm sensation of rice in his empty stomach. He didn’t remember when the last time he felt so calm was, even if only for a few hours.

Still, no matter how hard he tried to remember the details of his date with Minjae, his mind remained a blank. He had seen that Minjae had replied to his message, but he had been so absorbed in reading that he forgot to respond.

He sighed, tired. Tomorrow, without fail, he would ask what had happened, he thought as he turned off the living room lights. He would return to normal. To the routine. To calm. At least, that’s what he repeated to himself as he got into bed.

The mattress received him with a soft creak, and as soon as he rested his head on the pillow, an uncomfortable pang crossed his chest. A fleeting memory passed through him, like a shadow he didn’t want to face: tomorrow he would have to face the Teezers again.

A grimace of disgust twisted his lips. He hadn’t forgotten what they had done, nor how—despite his embarrassment—he had fantasized about them during his date with Minjae.

He shook his head in frustration, and heat rose to his cheeks. Fool, he scolded himself silently. He was an adult. They were barely teenagers. Not only that… they were minors. He had to have control, not them.

So, determined, he turned to his side, hugged the pillow, and promised himself that tomorrow he would do everything possible to avoid them. Until his mind could return to order.

Jongho fell asleep with the firm determination that the next day he would put an end to the game the Teezers had with him. No more teasing, no more glances, no more ambiguous words. Tomorrow, everything would return to its place. Or at least that’s what he believed.

Because if Jongho had been more observant, he would have noticed a small detail he had overlooked: the handwriting decorating the dedication in his book was exactly the same as the blue pen resting on his nightstand, next to the notebook also intended for him. And some wilted flowers slowly dying in a vase.

Now, the four gifts were together, quietly gathered in the same place. Where they belonged.

Chapter Text

Monday arrived faster than he would have liked.
He had spent much of the night thinking—or rather, going over again and again—what he would do from now on. No matter how hard he tried to find alternatives, he always came to the same conclusion: avoid the Teezers at all costs.

That also meant staying away from the student council, or at least spending as little time as possible in the room where they usually met.

Still, the day started with the usual routine. Upon entering the classroom, he noticed that Kang Yeosang had already returned to classes. He greeted him as he would any other student, without changing his professional tone or showing the slightest trace of discomfort. But internally, he was quite uneasy with his presence, especially since the last time they had been alone, things had gotten tense. So, for the rest of the class, he forced himself not to stay with him even a second longer than necessary.

Despite his efforts to ignore him, he couldn’t avoid feeling the boy’s gaze on him. It was a hard sensation to describe… he wouldn’t know if it was piercing, curious, or simply insistent, but it unsettled him. There was something in the way he looked at him, something that seemed to want to tell him something, though Jongho didn’t know exactly what. However, every time he turned to write on the board and caught a glimpse of him observing, a shiver ran down his spine.

Still, Jongho tried to hide it as best he could.

When class ended and everyone began packing up, he noticed the young man approaching him with determined steps. His heart skipped a beat, but before Yeosang could even open his mouth, Jongho hurriedly packed his things and left the classroom almost running, avoiding any attempt at conversation.

The rest of the day went the same way: between classes, hallways, and rooms, all he did was teach and run. Run from them.

And as absurd as it sounded, he couldn’t help but feel a little pathetic. He was the teacher, an adult, yet here he was dodging his own students as if they were a threat. But he couldn’t help it. He still hadn’t processed what he felt for the Teezers… nor fully understood many of their actions.

Every time he saw one of them approaching—whether Yeosang or Yunho—he made up some excuse to slip away, pretended to get a call, or simply walked in the opposite direction. They seemed determined to talk to him, but Jongho never gave them the chance.

The same happened the next day when he crossed paths with Hongjoong and Seonghwa in the hallway. They were talking and laughing, but when they noticed him, both turned toward him. Their smiles widened, those that mixed sarcasm with something harder to identify, something that seemed to hide an intention he preferred not to discover. Jongho swallowed, and pretending to be natural, took out his phone to simulate reading an urgent message.

He quickened his pace, heart racing, but before turning the corner, he caught a glimpse of Hongjoong frowning, visibly annoyed.

The gesture left him uneasy for the rest of the day.
He didn’t know if Hongjoong was irritated for being ignored, or if that annoyance hid something more… something he didn’t want to experience again.

He tried to convince himself that he was just overreacting, but the knot in his stomach remained, reminding him that no matter how much he ran, the Teezers were still there. Watching. Waiting.

He tried to shrug it off and focus on other things, like his classes and the strange relationship he had begun to have with Minjae.

They had been exchanging a few messages on WhatsApp after the date, and Minjae had confessed that that day, Jongho had gotten drunk with the red wine from the other night.
He said it had been too strong for the beta, although, honestly, Jongho doubted it a lot. After all, he knew perfectly well that he was a drinker with good resistance: he could handle five bottles of soju without flinching. So he couldn’t quite believe that a single glass of wine had knocked him down so easily.

Still, he didn’t question anything. If Minjae said nothing else had happened, he preferred to believe him.

According to what he said, he had collapsed and, stumbling, Minjae had helped him reach his apartment. He had found the keys in his jacket, entered carefully, and left him lying on his bed before leaving.

There was a moment when Jongho wanted to ask if really nothing else had happened between them, but he immediately shook his head, dismissing the idea. He doubted they had gone any further, especially since Minjae didn’t wake up beside him… and, well, he also didn’t feel any physical discomfort suggesting otherwise. That is, he could still walk without pain.

Then, after that day, they had kept quite a few conversations, and Jongho was very surprised to discover that Minjae was a completely different person from the one he had met at the restaurant. That is, through the messages they had been exchanging, Minjae was very attentive and caring toward him: asking every day how he was, sending good morning and good night messages, taking interest in his day, and occasionally sending funny stickers to make him laugh.

All of that surprised him, since his first impression of the alpha had been that of someone egocentric, used to flirting and enjoying only himself. However, this Minjae he spoke to in messages was different: funny, considerate, and genuinely attentive in a way he hadn’t noticed at the restaurant. At first, he thought it was just gallantry, but over the days he began to feel that the alpha really wanted to know about him.

It was a pleasant surprise, although he wasn’t entirely convinced. It could be another façade of Minjae to get something—maybe sex, or some other benefit—but Jongho preferred not to give it too much importance. He limited himself to answering with short phrases, without offering too much information.

After all, he still didn’t trust him, but he had to maintain that relationship out of his mother’s insistence. Still, he couldn’t deny he liked this messaging Minjae more than the one he had met in person.

That’s why he tried to keep his day-to-day life as normal as possible: between classes, his monotonous routine, and now, the relationship with Minjae. His main goal was no longer to focus on the Teezers, nor to allow them to interfere or alter his life. He also tried to leave the strange gifts he had started receiving alone, especially since they hadn’t led to anything concrete. And apparently, every time he tried to investigate them, he ended up having some contact with the Teezers, which he was trying to avoid at all costs.

Wednesday arrived without major incidents. Jongho had been quite focused on continuing with his normal life, following his routine without distractions. However—because life seemed to have something personal against him—just as he began to think that everything would go smoothly, he remembered that he was still subbing for the PE teacher. And, as if fate insisted on messing with him, he received a message from the principal informing him that that afternoon he would have to teach athletics. He had no choice but to obey reluctantly and head to the sports track.

Upon arriving at the track, Jongho immediately noticed the difference compared to the basketball class he had had a few days ago. The athletics club was much smaller: barely seven members, mostly omegas and a few betas—something understandable, considering betas were not exactly abundant at the academy.

Still, what caught his attention most wasn’t the small number of students, but the number of people gathered around the track. Several groups were sitting in the bleachers or leaning on the fence, watching the athletes with evident interest. That seemed very strange to him; after all, athletics didn’t usually attract such a crowd to justify that level of attention.

As he introduced himself and gave the first instructions, a growing murmur began behind him. Female voices—omegas, as far as he could tell—let out excited screams, accompanied by giggles and exaggerated sighs. Jongho frowned and turned his head, curious and somewhat concerned about the cause of all the commotion.

And then he saw him.
Walking with confident steps, a bright smile, and that carefree air so characteristic of him, none other than Jung Wooyoung, the other alpha of the Teezers, was approaching.

Jongho couldn’t help but roll his eyes, feeling his good mood for the day crumble in a matter of seconds.
—“Perfect” —he thought ironically—. “Just what I needed.”

Now he wouldn’t just have to deal with Yunho in basketball classes, but also with Wooyoung, who apparently was the captain of the athletics club.

When Wooyoung saw him, his eyes lit up with such genuine excitement that Jongho almost felt secondhand embarrassment. A wide smile spread across the alpha’s face, and without a second thought, he rushed over to greet him with enthusiasm.

—Professor! I’m so glad to see you! —he exclaimed with his usual energy.

—A pleasure, young Wooyoung —Jongho replied politely.

He returned the greeting, though with a much more formal smile. They had met before: he had been his Universal History teacher last year. He had never considered him an exemplary student, but he was certainly one of the most charismatic and sociable in his class. He always had a kind word or a joke ready, and his way of winning people over was almost natural. So it didn’t surprise him at all that he was so popular.

In fact, seeing the enthusiasm of the crowd gathered around the track, he quickly deduced that most of them weren’t there for athletics precisely, but for Wooyoung.

His suspicions were confirmed when several girls began shouting his name, waving, or trying to get his attention. Wooyoung, delighted, turned toward them and waved back with almost theatrical energy, throwing smiles and winks that caused another wave of screams.

Jongho just rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the scene. The alpha’s egocentrism was nothing new; he had always been like that, a free spirit, sociable to the extreme. And, in the end, he couldn’t blame him for being himself.

When he finally finished greeting all his admirers, Wooyoung turned to the group of athletes with a confident gesture. Jongho sighed resignedly, bringing the whistle to his lips and starting practice.

Even though several people had come just to see Wooyoung, the alpha seemed much more focused on practice than on his audience. He was barely distracted a couple of times by the shouts or cheers from the group encouraging him from the bleachers.

That, honestly, surprised Jongho.

He had always seen Wooyoung as a smiling alpha, somewhat distracted and a little… well, not dumb, but excessively relaxed. Yet, seeing him lead the team with such seriousness was a completely new side of him. His way of leading was firm but kind; he made sure everyone participated, whether they were betas or omegas, and treated them all with the same respect and enthusiasm.

At one point, a student grew tired before completing a lap around the track and stopped, panting to catch his breath. Wooyoung approached without hesitation, patted him on the back, and with an encouraging smile told him he was doing well and could improve with practice.

The gesture, simple but genuine, was enough to make the atmosphere feel lighter.

Jongho found himself smiling. The group’s energy was different, calmer, warmer. Nothing like the tension he had felt the last time he subbed for the PE teacher when he had to deal with the boys from the basketball team. That time he had faced problematic alphas who had discriminated against him because of his second gender, like the damn Don Son.

Just remembering it made his stomach turn.

But this time it was different.
He felt comfortable. Strangely comfortable.

Even watching him run was something to admire.

Wooyoung wasn’t just fast—he was light, almost ethereal—as if the ground barely touched him. Every stride seemed to propel him beyond physical effort, as if he were truly floating. And Jongho, observing from a distance, understood why he was the leader of the athletics team. It had nothing to do with his status as an alpha or his fame as part of the Teezers; it was because of his dedication. The way he lost himself in the movement, as if running was the only thing that gave meaning to the world.

Every time he faltered, he didn’t get frustrated; he smiled, took a deep breath, and tried again, determined to surpass himself. There was something genuine in that, something that made him shine.

Jongho admired him deeply. Not just for his kindness or charisma, but for that honest, transparent passion. For a moment, he felt a pang of envy. Wooyoung did what he loved, living it with every muscle, every fiber.

Jongho, on the other hand, couldn’t remember the last time he had felt something like that.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice someone approaching from behind until a soft voice pulled him out of his daydream.

—It’s amazing, isn’t it, Professor?

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Jongho startled and turned, his heart skipping a beat.

His eyes widened as he recognized the source. In front of him was Choi San, the fifth alpha of the Teezers, with his characteristic cheerful smile full of dimples and that relaxed posture that seemed to radiate effortless confidence.

For a moment, Jongho didn’t know whether he was more surprised by his sudden appearance or by how different he looked under the sunlight.

He had seen San a couple of times before, either in the cafeteria when he was with the Teezers or when he came to pick up Wooyoung after classes to go home together.

But seeing him from afar was very different from having him so close. San was truly attractive up close: those broad shoulders, tiny waist, firm and muscular arms… Not only that, his high cheekbones made his jawline appear sharper, and his slanted eyes, with that feline gaze, gave him an irresistible air. On top of that, the raspberry scent San emitted was pleasant and enveloping, something Jongho couldn’t ignore.

San laughed upon noticing his professor’s reaction.

—Sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean to scare you —he said, with a mischievous smile.

—Don’t worry —Jongho replied, trying to keep his composure—. I didn’t expect you to be this close.

San smiled again and then directed his gaze toward Wooyoung, who was jumping over a few hurdles on the track.

—Yes, I came to watch Wooyoung practice —he commented—. I always accompany him during his training, but I’m not as enthusiastic as his fan club over there —he said, pointing to the omegas who kept screaming his name.

Jongho couldn’t help but laugh at the comment and nodded. Wooyoung’s fan group was really loud, but there was nothing he could do about it.

—I agree —San said, laughing—, but that’s very characteristic of Wooyoung. He doesn’t just attract attention because of his charismatic personality, but also because of his essence… how he performs in athletics, that really draws attention.

Jongho watched the alpha as he completed the hurdles with precision and grace. He couldn’t help but feel impressed: San was right. There was something in the way Wooyoung moved, in how he flowed while running, that captured everyone’s gaze, and Jongho was no exception.

When Wooyoung finished the obstacles and saw his score, he couldn’t contain a shout of excitement. He turned toward San and Jongho and ran to them, shouting:

—Did you see that?! I improved my time!

San smiled, placing a firm but affectionate hand on his shoulder.

—I knew you could do it, brother —he said proudly.

Wooyoung then turned his face toward Jongho, with a wide smile and expectant eyes, clearly waiting for some praise from the teacher. Jongho was a bit caught off guard; he wasn’t used to giving such effusive compliments, and even less in the way Wooyoung seemed to expect. After a brief hesitation, he decided to maintain his composure and speak in his most polite tone:

—Congratulations, young Wooyoung. Keep up the effort; your results are very good.

Despite the neutrality of his compliment, the effect on Wooyoung was completely the opposite. His smile widened to show all his teeth, and he beamed with excitement at the teacher’s recognition. Then, brimming with enthusiasm, he turned to San and ran off with his fan club to show off his new record.

Jongho blushed slightly, a bit embarrassed. He really wasn’t used to giving such effusive praise, but he felt he had done well. He looked back at Wooyoung, who was laughing at the situation, but said nothing, so Jongho decided to let it go.

The rest of the practice continued smoothly, and when he ended the class, he sent everyone to shower and then go home. Jongho was surprisingly satisfied; not only had the practice gone without incident, but it had been quite relaxed, which he liked a lot. Despite his initial plan to stay away from the Teezers, he could say that, at least with Wooyoung, he felt more comfortable than with Yeosang and the others.

Just as he was about to leave, since he was the only one left on the track, he heard a shout behind him. He turned and saw Wooyoung running toward him, full of enthusiasm:

—Professor! Are you leaving already? —he asked upon reaching him.

—Yes, it’s my time to leave —Jongho replied, watching as the boy caught his breath.

—Oh… I see —Wooyoung said, sounding a little… disappointed? Jongho didn’t know how to interpret it, but decided not to pay attention. Based on his experience with the Teezers, the best thing was to ignore it. He gave a brief bow out of respect and turned to head toward the exit.

But before he could take another step, Wooyoung grabbed his hand and pulled him close, suddenly hugging him. Jongho froze, tensing instantly, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. He tried to pull away after a few seconds, but Wooyoung only pressed him tighter against his body and said, with a radiant smile:

—I’m so happy you were here with me today and saw only me. I wish every day could be like this, where it’s just you and no one else.

Jongho’s eyes widened in surprise. He tried to say something but didn’t know what. He could feel his heart pounding and a strange warmth spreading across his chest as he was hugged. He hadn’t expected this, and for a moment, he allowed himself to stay still, letting Wooyoung’s sincerity and enthusiasm overwhelm him in the most unexpected way. The orange-and-mint scent the alpha exuded relaxed him pleasantly, making him forget, for a moment, any plans or precautions he had taken that day.

However, he felt Wooyoung slowly start to press even closer, moving toward Jongho with an intensity that left no doubt about his intention to keep him near. The position they were in pressed their bodies together so that he could feel Wooyoung’s crotch close to his own. Jongho flinched; the alpha’s proximity and strength made him uncomfortable, as if his personal space had completely vanished.

—What are you doing, young Wooyoung? Please, stop —he tried to say, attempting to separate slightly, but the alpha’s strength and determination kept him pressed against him.

Wooyoung ignored the request and leaned in, bringing his face to Jongho’s neck, inhaling his scent while holding him firmly.

—Never take your eyes off me —Wooyoung whispered, his voice firm and possessive—. From now on, your eyes belong only to me.

Jongho froze, unsure whether to protest or surrender. This Wooyoung was not the playful, relaxed alpha he knew; his tone and closeness radiated certainty and possession, making it clear he wanted Jongho’s full attention for himself.

—Wooyoung —Jongho whispered, trying to ease the situation and push the alpha slightly away, but Wooyoung held his ground, strong and confident, showing no intention of yielding.

A throat-clearing interrupted the tension. Both turned their heads and saw San, just a few steps behind, arms crossed and raising an eyebrow, with a mix of amusement and anticipation that made Jongho blush.

—This young Choi… it’s not what you think… this is… —he tried to stammer, red as a tomato.

Wooyoung, unfazed, pressed even closer to Jongho, maintaining his confident, dominant attitude over the beta. But before things could escalate further, Jongho gathered all his strength, freed himself from the alpha’s grasp, and stepped back uncertainly. He breathed in short, sharp gasps, trying to recover from the shock.

San, meanwhile, fixed his gaze on the younger alpha, with an expression mixing anger and silent challenge, as if saying, “You better stop now.” Wooyoung, annoyed, responded with a firm, confident growl, making it clear he wouldn’t back down.

San, visibly upset, furrowed his brow and let out a sharp, authoritative growl toward Wooyoung, clearly signaling he wouldn’t tolerate his behavior.

Wooyoung, feeling challenged, bared his teeth and returned the growl forcefully, the air between them thick with tension.

Jongho took a step back, heart pounding, as he watched the two alphas face off with defiant stares and growls echoing across the track. He knew perfectly well that these kinds of alpha confrontations could escalate quickly, and he didn’t want to imagine what would happen if things got out of control.

San immediately returned the growl, louder, more authoritative, and Wooyoung answered in kind, firm and defiant. The tension was so palpable that Jongho froze, unable to move, watching in fear as the confrontation continued. The sense of danger kept him on edge; not only had the awkward moment with Wooyoung occurred, but now he was witnessing a direct clash between two powerful alphas.

The tense silence mixed with growls, each measuring the other, and Jongho felt that any wrong move could unleash something bigger than he could control.

The growls continued for a few more seconds, stretching Jongho to his limit. He didn’t know whether to look at Wooyoung or San. Suddenly, San turned slightly toward him, as if remembering his presence, and his expression softened just a bit, though his eyes still held a challenging glint.

—Relax, Jongho —San whispered, without taking his eyes off the other alpha—. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.

Wooyoung, however, maintained his firm stance, growling louder. He seemed out of control, as if his alpha instinct had taken over. He stepped forward, placing himself in front of the beta, as if to protect him from his companion.

Jongho, heart racing, could barely breathe. He felt Wooyoung’s strength and imposing presence, and at the same time, the relief that San wouldn’t escalate the confrontation. Everything in the environment felt suffocating: Wooyoung’s orange-and-mint scent became more intense, enveloping him, claiming him. Everything about the alpha screamed possession and challenge, as if saying without words: “This beta is mine, and no one is taking him from me.”

Jongho couldn’t help but blush, caught between excitement, discomfort, and a shame that burned across his skin.

Finally, Wooyoung relented, stepping back just slightly, though still marking his presence. San, on the other hand, watched him with a half-smile, amused and challenging, before crossing his arms and stepping forward.

Jongho took a deep breath. He had witnessed more than just an athletics practice: he had seen the intensity of two alphas confronting each other… and the possessive gaze of one of them, directed solely at him.

He tried to compose himself, but his legs barely responded. He felt shaken, as if his whole body was trembling from the inside. He had never seen two alphas clash like that. The tension in the air was so thick he could hardly breathe. All he wanted was to get out of there, to run from that place.

San, noticing how the beta collapsed to the ground, approached slowly. His face showed genuine concern seeing him visibly shaking.

—Professor? —he murmured softly, extending a hand to help him up.

But the moment his fingers brushed the beta’s, Jongho struck them away sharply, pushing him back. San froze, surprised by the reaction.

—I’m tired of this… —Jongho whispered, his voice broken, his body still trembling.

—What are you talking about? —San asked, bending slightly, not daring to touch him again.

Jongho looked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. His brow was furrowed, face twisted in frustration.

—I’m tired of this! —he suddenly shouted—. I want to be left alone!

And without giving him time to respond, he stood up abruptly and ran off, leaving the track behind, the echoes of growls and the bewilderment of two alphas who, for the first time, didn’t know how to reach him.

—Jongho! —he heard San shout, but he didn’t stop.

San growled in frustration as he watched the beta flee and turned toward the other alpha.

—I hope you’re happy —he commented with obvious annoyance.

Wooyoung turned, embarrassed but showing no guilt.

—It’s not my fault… everyone else had their time with him, so why couldn’t I? —he muttered, pouting irritably.

—Not like that —San rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, tired—. You’ll stay here and wait for the others —he said firmly, looking at him sternly—. And when they arrive, you’ll tell all the hyungs everything.

—What? Why?! —Wooyoung protested, a mix of frustration and irritation in his voice.

—Because you’ll take responsibility for what you did —San growled, giving him one last warning glance before turning and leaving after the beta—. Don’t cause any more trouble.

Jongho ran aimlessly, heart racing and breath coming in short gasps. He could still feel Wooyoung’s touch on him—hot, invasive—and the growls echoing in his ears, refusing to fade. Every step hurt, as if fear had embedded itself into his skin.

His hands trembled. Everything inside him screamed to run, to disappear, to rid himself of that sensation. He couldn’t understand when things had become so confusing. Why did the Teezers bother him like this? Why did they insist on playing with him that way? What did they gain from it?

—Professor! —San’s voice reached him from behind, firm but concerned.

The beta gritted his teeth and kept running, ignoring the burning in his eyes and the weight on his chest. He didn’t want to hear him. He didn’t want to see another alpha. He didn’t want to feel more fear.

—Go away! —he shouted, picking up speed.

San ran after him, catching up quickly. He grabbed him by the shoulders firmly but gently.

—Hey, look at me! —he said, trying to contain his own authority—. I’m not going to hurt you, do you hear me?

Jongho tried to wriggle free, but the trembling in his legs nearly betrayed him.

—Let go of me! —he shouted, voice breaking, pushing San with all his strength and managing to free himself to continue running.

As he neared the parking lot, he didn’t see a hole in the ground and fell face-first, immediately feeling a sharp burn in his knee and ankle that shot up through his leg.

—Jongho! —San shouted as he saw him on the ground and ran over, concern etched on his face.

Jongho writhed in pain, tears brimming in his eyes, heart pounding, unable to move quickly as fear, shame, and frustration overtook him.

San knelt beside him, quickly examining the injuries. Jongho’s left knee was bleeding, and his ankle was swelling, the skin beginning to turn purple. He tried to lift the pant leg to check further, but Jongho pushed him away forcefully, refusing to let the alpha touch him.

—No! —he protested, trying to push San away despite the obvious pain in his legs. He kicked and shoved, but that only made things worse. His nervous state was causing him more injury.

San’s frustration grew. He couldn’t allow Jongho to worsen his injuries with his stubbornness. He took a deep breath and, in a firm, authoritative tone only an alpha could wield, issued the command:

—Stop!

The voice, filled with natural dominance, resonated in Jongho’s chest. For a moment, a shiver ran through his body; it was impossible to resist. His mind fought, but his body obeyed, freezing instantly. The sensation was familiar and terrifying. Only his parents had used that voice on him before, and it had always disgusted him, making him feel small and controlled.

San, brow slightly furrowed but eyes showing a hint of remorse, leaned closer and murmured:

—I’m sorry… but I needed you to stay still and stop struggling.

Jongho remained motionless, breathing heavily, eyes wide, caught between the discomfort of submission and the pain of his injuries. Fear, surprise, and resignation kept him frozen as San began cleaning the blood and examining his ankle carefully, making sure not to worsen the situation.

San sighed, assessing the situation. Jongho’s knee was bleeding heavily, and his ankle was swelling; he couldn’t allow him to continue trying to push away. Firmly, he leaned in, placed his arms under the beta’s legs, and carefully lifted him onto his back, holding him securely.

—Young Choi! —Jongho protested instinctively, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s neck to avoid falling—. I don’t need help… I can walk myself!

—Shhh —San interrupted in a soft but firm voice—. Don’t try to move. Let me take you to the infirmary. You’ll hurt yourself more if you walk like this.

—But… —Jongho tried to argue, but a single look from the alpha silenced him. His body trembled at it and he allowed himself to be carried toward the infirmary, mostly to avoid hearing that voice from the alpha again. Soon, Jongho felt his body, though still resisting, yield to the alpha’s strength. His breathing was uneven, and a warm, uncomfortable flush rose to his cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. He wasn’t used to depending on anyone, especially an alpha holding him so close, the firm weight of his body pressing gently against his back.

San walked confidently toward the infirmary, controlling every movement to prevent further injury. Each jolt of his step reminded the beta how vulnerable he was and how difficult it was to escape from the alpha.

—Almost there, it’ll be alright —San said in a low, reassuring voice.

Jongho said nothing. He simply let his head fall against San’s back, resigned. In that position, he could smell the sweet scent of the alpha; his raspberry aroma gave him a strange sense of security and calm. For a moment, he thought of burying his face in it, but the mere thought made him blush even more. He felt trapped between the discomfort of contact and the relief the alpha’s hold brought him. He could feel every firm muscle under his touch, and despite the embarrassment, it was hard not to surrender to the warmth.

Finally, they arrived, and San opened the infirmary door. He carefully positioned him on the stretcher, making sure he was seated securely to examine his injuries.

—I’ll get the first-aid kit —he said, adjusting Jongho’s position—. Don’t move until I return.

Jongho nodded weakly, still trembling but unable to hide the calm the alpha radiated.

San returned with the kit and grabbed a small stool nearby, sitting in front of the beta.

—I’m going to start treating it —he said, looking into his eyes, as if seeking confirmation from the older one.

Jongho only nodded, and then the alpha leaned over the stretcher, carefully rolling up the pant leg to avoid causing more pain, and began examining the beta’s knee. The teacher watched silently, unsure what to say, still blushing and visibly uncomfortable from the alpha’s closeness.

—Let’s start with that knee —San said, gently disinfecting the wound—. Relax, it won’t hurt much, I just need you to trust me.

Jongho furrowed his brow, crossing his arms defensively and pouting slightly.

—Young Choi… I mean… I must remind you that I am your teacher —he said, trying to sound firm, though his voice quivered slightly—. Even under the circumstances, you must speak formally… and besides… you are younger than me.

San’s eyes widened slightly at the comment, but after a few seconds he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, amused by the teacher’s insistence, especially because of the little pout that made him look adorable.

—Oh, sorry, Professor —he said, leaning a bit closer, with a mischievous smile and his typical dimples showing—. Forgive me for forgetting the formality for a moment. It won’t happen again.

Jongho exhaled, still embarrassed, but tried to hide it as best he could. He flinched slightly as the alcohol-soaked cotton touched his wound but didn’t comment. He noticed the alpha watching him with a hint of guilt every time he tensed in pain, so he continued gently and carefully to avoid hurting him further.

Jongho, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel trapped and strange due to San’s closeness. Every movement the alpha made was firm, confident, and gentle at the same time; his hands covered the injured knee, and the sweet raspberry scent made him waver between maintaining authority and giving in.

—Almost done, Professor —San murmured in a low, soft voice—. Just a little more.

Jongho nodded and let the alpha finish cleaning the blood. When he was done, he covered the wound with a disinfected gauze and secured it with medical tape.

—Now your ankle —he said as he got up to throw away the cotton soaked with blood and dirt.

San returned to Jongho’s side with a cold compress and an elastic bandage. He knelt in front of the teacher, carefully taking his injured foot. Jongho shivered slightly at the contact; San noticed how the beta tried to hide it by clenching his hands over his legs.

—Does it hurt a lot? —he asked in a low voice.

—No… just a little —Jongho lied, not daring to look at him directly.

San gave a barely perceptible smile and began inspecting the ankle gently. His fingers traced the skin with the care of someone afraid of causing pain. The swelling was obvious.

—You’ll need rest —the alpha said, wrapping the bandage slowly—. You can’t walk like this, Professor.

—I’m fine, Young Choi. I can… —he tried to sit up, but a sharp pang of pain made him wince.

San let out a sigh, part frustrated, part amused, looking up at him.

—Don’t strain yourself. It took enough effort to bring you here; I won’t let you hurt yourself again.

Jongho frowned, unsure whether to feel annoyed by the authoritative tone or grateful for the concern.

—I’m still an adult; I should remember that —he replied, trying to reclaim some dignity.

San lowered his head to hide the smile that escaped.

—Yes, Professor —he responded with feigned formality, then in a softer voice added—. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

Silence settled between them. Only the faint rustle of the bandage adjusting around the ankle and the soft sound of their breathing filled the room. San lifted his gaze, and for a moment, Jongho felt caught in those dark, sincere eyes, full of something he couldn’t decipher.

—All done —San finally said, finishing the bandage—. Try not to put weight on your foot for a while, and when you get home, you should use ice to reduce the swelling. I can help you move if you need.

—Thank you… —Jongho murmured, lowering his gaze—. But I don’t want to trouble you.

—It’s no trouble at all —San replied with a calm smile—. I told you, Professor: you can trust me.

Jongho twisted his mouth at the comment; he hadn’t forgotten what had happened with Wooyoung just minutes ago, nor the strange, possessive behavior of the other Teezers. San didn’t miss the silence and the tension in the beta when he heard the remark, and he sighed, starting to put away the medical supplies.

—I know I can’t speak for the others, but I want you to know we don’t want to hurt you.

Jongho lifted his head at what the alpha said. His expression hardened immediately, as if the mere topic forced him to put on an invisible armor.

—Oh, really? —he said in a low voice, trying to remain calm—. And how do you expect me to feel after what happened out there?

San paused, still holding the first-aid kit. He looked down for a second before responding.

—I can’t justify Wooyoung —he said, his voice mixed with fatigue and resignation—. I know exactly what I saw.

Silence filled the infirmary again, heavy and thick. San gripped the edge of the table, struggling to find the right words.

—But I also know Wooyoung didn’t mean to hurt you. He just… —he fell silent, searching for the words—. He’s always been like that. —He sighed, frustrated—. He can be a hopeless romantic, but he’s also quite possessive. I’m not trying to excuse him. What he did was wrong… and believe me, when we get home, I’ll speak to him very seriously.

Jongho watched him out of the corner of his eye, looking for any sign of a lie, but all he saw was genuine guilt.

—The problem is it hasn’t just been Wooyoung —he murmured, lowering his head. He could feel the frustration welling up behind his eyes, but he wouldn’t let himself cry in front of his student, so he held it in—. All of you have been acting so strangely around me lately.

Then he lifted his face. San had finished putting away the kit and stood near the stretcher, without invading his space.

Jongho inhaled sharply, clenching his fists. The alpha noticed but said nothing, letting him speak.

—Tell me, Young Choi —Jongho whispered, holding his breath as if the next words weighed like a stone on his chest—. Have I done something to make you hate me? —he finally asked, seeing the alpha tense at the question—. Did I do something to deserve being treated this way?

The silence that followed was so deep that the faint buzzing of the ceiling lights could be heard. On one hand, Jongho expected an answer he might not want; on the other, San seemed taken aback, as if he hadn’t anticipated the question.

Finally, San sighed and leaned slightly toward the beta, enough to look into his eyes.

—Not all of us are the same, Professor —he said, keeping eye contact—. And no, we don’t have anything against you. —He paused briefly, then added softly—: At least, I don’t.

—Then… why? —Jongho whispered, not fully believing his words.

San sighed again, but this time smiled. His dimples appeared lightly on his cheeks, that warm expression that, unintentionally, disarmed the teacher. Then he crouched to his level, a gesture that made the older man blush, though he tried to hide it.

—As I said, I won’t speak for the others, but one thing I can assure you, Professor.

He reached out and brought his hand toward Jongho’s face. The beta flinched reflexively and tried to pull away, but the pain in his leg made him hiss involuntarily. San frowned, concerned, and gently touched him.

His hand rested on the beta’s cheek, soft and restrained, while the other rested lightly on his injured thigh, holding him just enough, as if afraid he might hurt himself more. There was no pressure in his grip, only cautious, protective warmth.

Jongho stayed still, unsure whether to pull away or let him. In the end, he didn’t. Not just because San wasn’t overstepping, but because his touch was different: gentle, almost timid, as if he feared that the slightest movement would make Jongho crumble in his hands.

The alpha’s scent enveloped him: sweet, like raspberries. It relaxed him, confused him. For a moment, Jongho forgot the pain, fear, and anger. All that remained was the warm, firm touch and a feeling he couldn’t tell if it was comfort… or danger.

—I can assure you, Professor… —San continued, slowly lowering his hand from his face and taking the beta’s, which rested at the edge of the bed.

—Assure me of what? —Jongho said, alarmed as he felt the alpha intertwine his fingers with his. He tried to pull away, but San held him firmly.

—At least on my part… —he continued, ignoring the attempt to retreat—, I care so much that all I want is to protect you.

Jongho’s eyes widened in surprise, then he frowned in confusion.

—Protect me? From what? —he asked cautiously.

San took a moment before replying. He looked down, seeming to hesitate whether to say more.

—Sometimes… —he whispered finally—, one doesn’t need to know what they’re being protected from, Professor. Just trust that there are reasons.

The answer unsettled him more than it calmed him. San’s tone wasn’t mocking or hostile, but too honest, too certain.

Jongho wanted to respond, but stayed silent. He didn’t know if it was fatigue, pain, or the way the alpha looked at him, but for a moment, the air felt thick, as if words weren’t enough.

—What you’re saying doesn’t make sense —he finally replied, a mix of annoyance and bewilderment.

San let out a light, humorless huff, still not looking at him. His gaze remained fixed on their intertwined hands.

San stayed silent for a few seconds, watching as Jongho looked away, visibly uncomfortable. He gently squeezed the beta’s hand, trying to prevent him from pulling it away.

—I know it doesn’t make sense, but… —he whispered in a warm, almost fearful tone. He lifted the intertwined hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of Jongho’s hand—. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens next, I’ll always be on your side.

Jongho froze completely. He felt warmth rise up his neck, coloring his cheeks, and his breathing became uneven. San still held his hand, and the way he looked at him… there was something so sincere, so tender, that his heart skipped painfully.

—I… —Jongho stammered, trying to regain control of his voice.

San smiled, his thumb gently stroking the back of his hand with a sweetness that completely disarmed him.

—Then just pretend you didn’t hear it, Professor —he murmured with a calm smile—. But that’s my truth. To me, you’re so precious that I wish I could put you in a golden cage and not let anything, or anyone, hurt you.

He lifted his gaze, his voice dropping to a whisper—. So I only ask… let me take care of you with my life, okay?

Jongho nodded, unable to look at him directly, his face flushed and chest pounding.

San smiled, carefully taking Jongho’s hand and bringing it gently to his own cheek. He leaned slightly into the warmth of the beta, as if seeking a connection.

Jongho opened his eyes in surprise but didn’t pull his hand away. He could feel the firm, comforting warmth of the alpha in his palm, and something inside him shivered.

—I’m your ally, Professor —San whispered, his voice soft and full of sincerity—. I want you to know that.

Jongho swallowed, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He couldn’t help but blush, caught between San’s tenderness and the weight of his own emotions.

After a few minutes of silence, San stood up and carefully adjusted Jongho’s clothes, making sure not to hurt him further while checking that everything was in order after tending to his wounds.

—Professor —San said as he put away the first-aid kit—. I’m going to take you home.

—No! —Jongho interrupted immediately, rising slightly and trying to straighten up—. I don’t need you to take me. I have a car, and I can drive myself. Also… I’m your teacher, I won’t let you take me home.

San smiled calmly, stepping a little closer to meet his eyes.

—It’s no problem, Professor. Besides, with your foot so swollen, driving is going to be impossible. Let me handle it.

—No… I don’t want that —Jongho insisted, crossing his arms and frowning like a child having a tantrum, though he couldn’t hide the hiss of pain when putting weight on his foot.

San crossed his arms, looking serious but calm.

—I’m telling you this is what I’m going to do. I’ll protect you, period. Don’t argue with me.

Jongho exhaled, resigned, and made no further move to resist. San interpreted his silence as consent and, with ease, lifted him onto his back. Though Jongho tried to resist, he soon realized he couldn’t compete with the alpha’s strength.

San walked with firm steps to his black Lamborghini, parked near the school. He opened the door with one hand and placed Jongho in the front seat, fastening the seatbelt. Jongho felt mortified letting the alpha handle everything, though the pain in his foot made arguing impossible.

—Enter your apartment address —San said, settling in behind the wheel without taking his eyes off the beta—. I’ll drive.

Jongho didn’t object and input the address on the car’s monitor. The ride was silent, comfortable yet strange. Neither spoke, but both felt the closeness, the lingering tension, and the day’s tenderness hanging in the air.

When they arrived at Jongho’s apartment parking lot, San turned off the engine and prepared to get out and open the door for him.

—No need —Jongho said quickly—. I can manage from here to my apartment.

San nodded, reluctantly accepting but respecting his teacher’s wishes.

Just as Jongho was about to open the door, he paused and looked at him intently.

—I just want to know one thing… With everything you told me today… are you saying that they… the Teezers… like me? —his voice was low, tinged with curiosity and nervousness—. I mean… do you like me, Young Choi?

San turned to him quickly, blinking in surprise at the confession, but soon replaced it with a sweet, playful, flirtatious smile.

—And what do you think, Professor? —he replied, leaning slightly toward him.

Jongho blushed like a tomato, looking away and stammering:

—I don’t know what to think… but… even if it were true… it couldn’t happen. One, I’m older, I’m 30; you… you’re 16? 18? At least I know you’re 17. Two, I’m your teacher and you’re my student. Three… it just can’t be, it’s not appropriate.

San remained silent, his gaze fixed on him, barely hinting at amusement at Jongho’s nervousness and denial, while the beta breathed heavily, feeling his embarrassment and his heart pounding in his chest.

Finally, Jongho relaxed and looked at San expectantly, but he said nothing, so Jongho assumed the alpha understood his words. He prepared to get out, softly said “thank you” to San, and opened the door.

But before he could step out, San gently took his arm. Startled, Jongho turned his face toward him, and with a swift, tender motion, San leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, near the corner of his lips.

—As I said, I won’t speak for my pack, but… —his breath brushed the confused beta’s face— at least this is my answer, Professor —San murmured, with a sweet, firm smile.

Jongho stood completely flushed and speechless as San finally let him down, then walked away quickly, leaving him in the parking lot with his heart racing and his mind spinning between surprise, embarrassment, and something he couldn’t name.

San returned home quite late. He left his jacket and shoes at the entrance and walked straight to the living room, where he found Seonghwa on the couch, reading a novel with his glasses on. When he looked up, his eyes met San’s.

—Where have you been, Sannie? —he asked seriously, though not harshly.

—I took him home, hyung —San replied, dropping onto the couch across from him, his muscles still tense from the day’s exertion.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

—I imagine Wooyoung already told you what happened —he said, straightening slightly to look at him better.

—Yes, he did —Seonghwa confirmed, relaxing his shoulders with a sigh—. Right now Hongjoong is punishing him for it.

San let out a soft snort, remembering the previous scene. He knew Hongjoong’s punishments would be strict and painful, but he couldn’t feel resentment; Wooyoung had partly brought it on himself.

—And well? —Seonghwa asked, curious and a little concerned—. Are you going to tell me why you took him?

San interlaced his fingers on his lap, leaning slightly forward. His voice was firm, carrying a protective and possessive tone.

—He fell… injured his ankle and knee after Wooyoung lost control. I took him to the infirmary and treated him… but his ankle was quite swollen, so I accompanied him home. No one else was going to make sure he got there safely. No one. —His gaze hardened slightly, making it clear he wasn’t speaking out of courtesy.

—That’s terrible! —Seonghwa exclaimed, alarmed to hear his beta had been hurt—. Hongjoong won’t be happy… and him? What did he say about what happened with Wooyoung?

San frowned, letting out a soft sigh.

—He’s distressed, hyung… thinks we hate him and that’s why we acted this way —he said, seeing Seonghwa’s expression shift from concern to seriousness—. But it’s not true. We all care for him… we do it because we love him. —He paused, his expression softening, a slight pout appearing—. I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to him.

Seonghwa nodded, observing how the younger showed an intense, almost exclusive protective side. San had always been overprotective with all of them… but with Jongho, it was different. He knew it.

—So… what exactly did you tell him? That you want to protect him? —Seonghwa asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

San nodded, his gaze steady, serious, possessive, a determined gleam in his eyes.

—Yes. No one else will get close to him in a way that could hurt him… and that includes taking care of him all the way to his door. He’s mine too, hyung. And I won’t let anyone hurt him.

The sweet raspberry scent from San seemed to fill the room, while Seonghwa, somewhat taken aback, couldn’t deny the intensity of what he had just heard.

—Just… make sure Hongjoong doesn’t misinterpret it —Seonghwa added, looking down, concerned—. If he finds out you took him home… he could get very angry.

—I know —San replied, relaxing his shoulders slightly, though his eyes still shone with that mix of sweetness and desire—. But he’ll understand I did it for his own good. Wooyoung really put us in a difficult situation, but I’m sure after this he won’t ignore us completely.

They stayed in silence, sharing the tension lingering in the air. San took a deep breath, letting the day’s weight and the possessive affection he felt for Jongho settle in his chest.

—I’m going to bed, I feel a bit exhausted —he finally said.

Seonghwa nodded, though something in his eyes suggested he didn’t fully believe him. San let it pass without further comment and headed down the hall to his room. Just as he was about to open the door, a scream made him glance toward the room next door. He didn’t need to be a genius to know who it was: Wooyoung.

Another scream followed, louder this time, a mix of pain and pleasure, accompanied by rhythmic pounding, skin against skin. San raised an eyebrow, dismissed it, and locked himself in his room.

Once inside, he collapsed onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. He felt exhausted, but there was a pleasant warmth in his chest. A smile bloomed on his lips as he remembered the feeling of the beta’s warm skin against his own. If he admitted that he had kissed Jongho, the others would be furious, so he decided to keep it to himself. For now, it would be his little secret.

Speaking of secrets… he rolled over, lying on his back. He took his phone out of his pants, unlocked it with his fingerprint, and opened WhatsApp. A notification made him smile excitedly.

He opened the conversation and typed:

—You: Hey! How was your day?

He waited a few seconds, but saw that the other person wasn’t online. He sighed, locked it using the side button, and set it aside. Then he took out another, more modern device with a personalized case. He unlocked it as well and scrolled through his social media for a while. Just then, the first phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a new message.

—Other: Fine.

Short, cold… but enough to make him smile like a schoolgirl in love.

He typed immediately:

—You: I’m glad :)
And with the students?

The double blue check appeared instantly. San waited patiently, but the reply took a moment. He was about to type something else when he saw the three typing dots. He smiled.

—Other: Well… not very well.

San frowned, feeling a slight tug of guilt.

—You: Oh, I’m sorry ):
Do you want to talk about it? :)

The dots appeared and disappeared several times, until the response came:

—Other: Don’t worry, I can handle it.
I just have to find a way to talk to them.
One of them is a bit confused, so I’ll have to speak seriously with him.

San chuckled, smiling tenderly at the words.

—You: Oh? Sounds serious 
Do you want help with that? I’m really good at scolding kids 😏

—Other: Haha, thank you so much.
But it’s not necessary.
I just want to make it clear that…

San raised an eyebrow, curious.

—Other: I just have to tell him he’s confused, but that I appreciate his feelings.

San opened his eyes in surprise, and his expression turned into a mock pout.

—You: Feelings?
Sounds like someone confessed to you.

—Other: Something like that.

—You: I see.
Well, it’s cute that someone confessed to you.
Though I understand… I would have done the same if you were my teacher 😏

—Other: Stop joking.
If the others find out, I’ll be in trouble.

San smiled. He could imagine his little pout perfectly.

—You: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.
I just wanted to say that I understand your student.
But whatever happens, I’ll support your decisions.
You can trust me.

The dots appeared, then the double blue check.

—Other: Thank you very much, I really appreciate that, Minjae.

San smiled tenderly.

—You: You know you can count on me, Jongho.

Always.

Chapter Text

The sound of the wall clock was the only thing breaking the silence in the room. Jongho impatiently shifted his good leg while the doctor carefully palpated his left ankle. Each press drew a stifled whimper from his lips.

—It’s definitely inflamed —the doctor said in a calm tone—. We’ll need an X-ray to confirm there’s no fracture, but at first glance, it looks like a grade two sprain.

Jongho pressed his lips together. It wasn’t exactly the news he wanted to hear.

—Does that mean…?

—Cast and absolute rest, for at least fifteen days. We’ll also give you crutches —the doctor replied while noting something in the file—. No walking without support, understood?

Jongho nodded resignedly, letting out a sigh. He was more worried about having to show up at school than the pain itself.

—Great… just what I needed —he murmured, watching as the doctor prepared the cast.

As the cast hardened, he felt the material’s heat envelop his leg. It was an uncomfortable sensation, cold at first and then stifling. The nurse smiled when she saw him staring at his leg as if he’d just lost it.

—Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it in a few days. And besides, you’re lucky it wasn’t a fracture —she commented kindly.

Jongho forced a smile.

—Yeah, lucky… —he repeated under his breath, though inside he didn’t feel particularly fortunate.

He had asked for permission from school to go to the hospital the day after the accident.

Certainly, the previous night had been hell. Every time he tried to move, a stab shot through his ankle as if it were being torn from the inside. Sleeping was impossible; he’d barely managed to close his eyes between whimpers and frustrated sighs.

That’s why, as soon as dawn broke, he called the office to report in. The secretary’s voice, as impersonal as ever, didn’t help his mood much.

—I’m sorry, Mr. Choi, but if you don’t show up today, we’ll have to count it against your accumulated vacation days —she said in that dry tone she used whenever reminding him of the rules.

Jongho closed his eyes, suppressing a groan.

—I understand —he replied in a thin voice, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

He hung up and slumped into the clinic chair with a defeated sigh. Not only did his ankle hurt, now his head did too. Everything was piling up: his “relationship” with Minjae, the teasers, San’s declaration, and now this.

He really felt overwhelmed.

Once the nurse finished casting his leg, she gave him the final instructions for caring for the ankle: absolute rest, painkillers, and no unnecessary strain. After that, they discharged him. Jongho paid for the visit, which had cost more than he imagined. He’d have to cut back on spending over the next few months if he wanted to recover. The good thing was he still had some savings; he’d planned to use it to take Minho on a trip for a few days, but apparently, that would have to wait.

When he left the hospital, the cold air hit him like a slap. In front, a red Mazda was parked by the curb. Jongho recognized it instantly.

As best he could, he approached using the crutches, but each step was a test of patience. The cast was heavy, and the pain still throbbed, constant and annoying.

As soon as he was seen, the person inside the car got out immediately to help him. He ran over and supported him carefully, allowing Jongho to lean on him until he reached the passenger seat. The alpha held him firmly, almost with the same naturalness as one cares for something fragile, and waited until Jongho was settled.

Then he walked around the vehicle and sat behind the wheel.

—So? —the alpha asked, turning a bit to look at him.

—Fifteen days with this on —Jongho replied, pointing to the cast in discouragement—. And then I have to go to rehab. Apparently it was a grade two sprain, so I’ll need crutches the whole time.

—Man, that sucks —the alpha said, frowning with genuine concern—. If you want, I can help drive you to work while you recover.

—I don’t think that’s necessary —Jongho murmured tiredly, rubbing his forehead with both hands. He felt the migraine just starting to creep in—. But I appreciate your help, Chan —he added, looking at the alpha who gently started the engine.

—And what did they say at school? —the alpha asked as they pulled out of the parking lot—. Are they giving you disability leave?

Jongho let out a dry, humorless laugh.

—No. They don’t consider it a work accident because it was my own carelessness. So insurance doesn’t cover it; I’ll have to pay the medical expenses out of pocket —he said, looking out the window, watching the hospital grow smaller in the distance.

—What? —Chan turned his face toward him, brow furrowed—. That’s an injustice! You fell inside the facilities, right? That should count.

—Yeah, but… they said they couldn’t take responsibility.

—That’s against the law! —the alpha retorted, slamming the steering wheel in frustration—. How can they be so damn irresponsible?

Jongho just sighed, tired.

—Let it go, Chan. I don’t want more problems.

The alpha snorted but didn’t push. He knew nothing he said would make the beta change his mind. So he turned on the radio and let soft jazz music envelop them both.

Jongho, for his part, sank into his own thoughts. He had too much on his mind.

For example, how he hadn’t told Chan how it really happened. He couldn’t.

He didn’t mention that he’d fallen because he was running, fleeing from San.

He also said nothing about what had happened with Wooyoung… or the other teasers.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Chan or Hwiyoung; he knew they’d defend him without hesitation, and he was truly grateful for that. But there was something about it all that made him feel… dirty, exposed. Explaining the alphas’ behavior to his friends was complicated, even for himself. Every time he tried to make sense of it, he ended up more confused.

And the worst part was admitting what he felt deep down.

Because, as much as he hated it, part of him couldn’t deny the way his body reacted to the teasers.

He felt fear, anguish… but also something that disturbed him more than all that: that stifling heat under his skin, that irrational urge not to pull away, to stay, to submit to them.

Every touch, every brush, left him trembling, desiring something he couldn’t name.

And that sensation —that perversion that made him feel so weak— was what terrified him most.

A shiver ran through his entire body as he remembered their hands on his hips, their lips grazing his skin, and those scents that enveloped him until he trembled.

Suddenly, a memory came to mind: San.

The way the day before he had helped him, how he healed him, how he touched him with that gentleness reserved only for something fragile, almost sacred. He had looked at him as if he were something precious, something to care for.

And then… the kiss.

Instinctively, he brought his fingers to the spot where the alpha had kissed him. It was nothing more than a brief brush, almost innocent, but even the mere memory was enough to flush his cheeks.

He didn’t understand why it affected him so much. Maybe because, for a moment, he hadn’t felt fear.

Or perhaps because he felt loved. Desired. Wanted... Yearned for.

He quickly shook that thought from his mind, trying to downplay it. That had just been a mistake, a confusion.

He tried to calm himself, not to let it affect him. He settled into the seat and took a deep breath, seeking to at least enjoy the ride home.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his companion. Noticing his gaze, Chan gave him a friendly smile; Jongho returned it with a slight gesture before turning his eyes forward.

If the alpha had noticed his distress, he didn’t show it. So Jongho allowed himself to relax a bit, resting his head against the backrest, while the soft hum of the engine and the jazz filled the car’s interior.

—Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? —Chan asked while serving some tteokbokki and fried chicken on Jongho’s plate, placing it in front of him. Then he prepared his own and sat across the table.

They had arrived a few hours ago, but first they stopped at Jongho’s favorite restaurant to buy some food. They decided to eat together before the alpha returned home.

—Sure, Chan —Jongho replied to the earlier question, taking a piece of tteokbokki to his mouth—. I’m not completely immobilized; I can manage on my own.

Chan twisted his mouth in displeasure as he started eating. After swallowing, he looked at him with a lopsided smile.

—We know you can. If there’s anyone more stubborn and mule-headed than a mule, it’s you, Jongho —he teased, watching a small pout form on the beta’s face. He let out a short laugh before continuing—. But I’m just saying it’s okay to ask for help once in a while, you know? Both Hwiyoung and I would be more than happy to do it.

—I know —Jongho murmured softly, lowering his gaze with some embarrassment—. But I also know you have your own life. I’m really grateful you took me to the hospital, truly… but I know you had to ask for permission to miss work today. I’m already being a burden right now, so I couldn’t ask for more than this.

—You’re not a burden at all, Jongho —Chan said with a tired sigh, resting his elbows on the table—. I’m sure if Hwiyoung didn’t live so far and wasn’t swamped with work, he’d be here scolding you for saying that.

Jongho couldn’t help but smile at the comment.

—Yeah… he probably would —he replied with a soft laugh, imagining Hwiyoung with his arms crossed, that exaggerated expression he always made when scolding him… and then showering him with kisses and hugs he knew he didn’t like, but that the omega insisted on calling his “love punishment.”

—Exactly —Chan said with a half-smile, relaxing a bit—. So please, stop thinking you’re a nuisance and let yourself be taken care of for once in your life.

Jongho lowered his gaze to his plate, cheeks slightly flushed. The warmth of the moment enveloped him, and something in his chest loosened.

He said nothing, but for the first time all day, he felt a little lighter.

When they finished eating, Jongho tried to stand up to clear the plates, but Chan was faster.

—Don’t even think about it —he warned, snatching the plate before he could touch it.

—Chan, you don’t have to; I can—

—Sit down —he interrupted firmly, pointing at the chair—. I’m not arguing with you.

Jongho puffed his cheeks in annoyance but ended up obeying. From the table, he watched in silence as the alpha washed the dishes with complete naturalness, humming a melody that sounded like some old pop song. There was something reassuring in that domestic scene, something that made him forget for a moment everything weighing on him.

When Chan finished, he dried his hands and turned to him.

—Okay, now it’s time to make sure you take your medicine —he said in a strict motherly tone, and Jongho couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

—Seriously, you sound like my babysitter —he muttered under his breath.

—A very handsome babysitter —Chan joked, earning an exasperated look from the beta.

After that, he accompanied him to the bathroom, staying outside with his arms crossed while Jongho showered carefully. Every now and then, he’d ask if he was still standing, to which Jongho replied with an increasingly irritated “Yes!”

When he finally came out, more relaxed and with his leg wrapped in a towel, Chan handed him the last medicine and waited until he took it.

—Happy? —Jongho asked, raising an eyebrow.

—Very —the alpha replied with a satisfied smile.

They stayed in silence for a moment, looking at each other with a mix of awkwardness and affection, until Chan sighed and grabbed the keys from the table.

—Well, I should go before it gets dark. But tomorrow I’ll pick you up early, got it? I’ll take you to work.

—Chan, it’s not necessary; I can—

—No. —The tone was firm but not harsh—. I’m not letting you go up and down stairs with that cast, and much less drive, so I’ll see you tomorrow.

Jongho pressed his lips together, knowing arguing was useless.

—Okay… but just for this week —he conceded, crossing his arms.

Chan smiled sideways, victorious.

—Whatever you say, stubborn.

He said goodbye with a soft pat on the shoulder and a warm smile. Jongho watched him leave, feeling a pang of gratitude in his chest.

When the door closed behind him, silence filled the house again.

When Chan left, Jongho lingered a bit longer on the couch, staring at the closed door. The silence in his apartment felt different now, heavier. Only the tick-tock of the clock and the faint hum of the refrigerator could be heard.

He sighed, letting his body sink against the backrest. His leg hurt, though not as much as his head.

Too many things were swirling in his mind, each one heavier than the last.

He had to talk to San.

He couldn’t keep avoiding the topic.

What had happened between them, that kiss, that confusion, needed to be cleared up before everything spiraled even further out of control.

He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the way San had looked at him that afternoon: with such sincere tenderness that it hurt. It was the look of someone who felt more than they should, more than he could reciprocate.

—“It was just a confusion…” —he murmured to himself, as if saying it out loud made it more real.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if what San had said or implied was true?

What if one of them, or more than one, was really interested in him… in that way?

The idea unsettled him.

For so long, he had assumed that everything they did —the provocations, the games, the touches— were just that: attempts to annoy him, to break his patience. But now, thinking about San’s words, he wasn’t so sure.

Maybe there was something more behind those insistent stares, those touches that seemed more like a claim than a joke.

Jongho rubbed his face with both hands, exhaling in frustration.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to believe it.

And yet, the doubt clung to his mind like a thorn.

If what San said was true, if one of them felt something more…

Then things got even more complicated than they already were.

He had to stop it. He had to set boundaries before it was too late.

Because the last thing he needed, the last thing his heart could bear, was to be hurt again. As he lay down that night, his body more relaxed but his mind full of noise, Jongho knew he’d have to talk seriously with San the next day. He couldn’t let more time pass. He had to make him understand, make him see that what he felt couldn’t be.

San was impulsive, intense, and his words still echoed in his head:

—“Let me protect you with my life.”

Jongho clenched the sheets between his fingers, feeling the echo of the kiss San had stolen from him, or perhaps given with a sincerity that disarmed him. It wasn’t a violent or desperate kiss, not even on the lips, but still the sensation of his closeness made him tremble, confuse him, and make him feel seen in a way he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He sighed heavily, covering his face with an arm. He couldn’t deny that a part of him had responded to the contact, and that terrified him. Since it seemed that what San had implied, then perhaps some of the others looked at him that way too, with desire or affection.

That night he dreamed.

He was running through the hallways of a house he didn’t recognize, though something in the air felt familiar. His heart pounded hard, as if fleeing from something he couldn’t see, something following him very closely. He didn’t know what it was, just that instinctive fear that digs into your skin and forces you to run without looking back.

He turned a corner and suddenly collided with something solid. He stumbled, about to fall, but arms held him by the waist. He looked up with bated breath… and saw him.

San looked at him with a tenderness that disarmed him, with that mix of warmth and devotion that made the world seem to stop. Before he could react, the alpha pulled him close and kissed him on the mouth.

Jongho tried to resist, but his hands wouldn’t move. They felt heavy, as if something kept them tied in the air. He wanted to speak, but his voice faded in the soft contact of those lips. So, surrendered to exhaustion, he closed his eyes and let the kiss envelop him.

San’s touch was warm, his breath grazed him with a affection that seemed real. However, when the alpha cupped his face and parted his lips to deepen the kiss, a strange sensation ran through him: he couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, he felt hot breath on his neck. He tried to turn, but San held him by the nape, preventing it.

The air thickened. Two mouths began to roam his skin, one on his neck and another at the base of his nape. At first they were soft caresses, but soon they became more intense, possessive, leaving a trail of heat and marks that burned.

The scent of coffee and chocolate enveloped him suddenly, familiar and suffocating. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Yeosang, eyes half-closed, kissing him with a passion that made him shudder. On the other side, Yunho held him by the shoulder, drawing close to his neck, inhaling his scent before slowly licking his olfactory gland; the cedar smell gave him away.

Jongho’s heart raced. He wanted to scream, but his voice wouldn’t come out. Everything mixed: desire, fear, confusion. The mouths, the hands, the whispers. He didn’t know if they were loving him or claiming him.

Suddenly, his hands were raised, immobilized in the air, and new caresses joined the storm. Two figures approached from his sides.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa were on each side of his arms; their lips first roamed his hands, kissing them with an almost devout delicacy, slowly climbing up his forearms until reaching his shoulders, where the contact became hungrier, more urgent.

The mix of scents dazed and excited him equally: coffee, wood, mint, strawberries, raspberries… everything merged into a thick cloud that enveloped him.

The air grew heavy, dense, until he didn’t know if they were adoring him or devouring him.

Suddenly, San’s lips pulled away from his. Jongho slowly opened his eyes, clouded by tears and excitement. In front of him was Hongjoong, watching him with that calculating gaze and that mocking smile. He reached out and, though Jongho was afraid, he didn’t pull away when the alpha cupped his face, forcing him to look into his eyes.

He no longer felt the others’ caresses, but he could sense them close.

Then Hongjoong leaned in, his imposing presence enveloping him, and the strong bourbon scent made him dizzy, almost as if he were drunk.

—Professor… —he whispered sensually over his lips, too close not to want to kiss him. Jongho was surprised to discover that, indeed, he did want to.

The alpha slowly descended, kissing his neck and pressing his body against his. Jongho startled when he realized he was now naked. He tried to cover himself, but hands held him, preventing him from moving.

Hongjoong leaned over his olfactory gland, kissing it with sweetness, almost devotion. The contact made him moan softly, which provoked a low laugh from the alpha in front of him.

—Stop resisting, professor —he whispered with a voice loaded with desire—. Surrender to us.

Jongho wanted to speak, refuse, say something… but his body betrayed him. The hands roamed him again, touching him with longing. He could feel several caresses at once: on his torso, legs, back. Each brush was a mix of tenderness and possession, as if each one wanted to leave their own mark on his skin.

—Be ours —Hongjoong whispered, before sinking his teeth hard over his scent gland.

Jongho screamed between pleasure and pain, his body trembling as he felt himself being claimed by force. He tried to resist, stop it, but soon his strength abandoned him, letting his head fall to one side, allowing them to mark him. Hongjoong pulled back a bit from his neck, mouth stained with his blood, and smiled showing his sharp fangs colored red. The image was chilling, but instead of scaring him, it only ignited him even more. And not just him; it seemed the others were fascinated too, as the hands on him became more demanding, more possessive.

Then Hongjoong approached again, still with traces of red on his lips, and kissed him hard, in a demanding, hungry kiss that left him breathless. When he pulled away, Jongho could barely think; he only knew he wanted more, wanted to keep feeling those hands, that mouth, that intensity that made him lose control, he didn’t even care to taste his own blood.

His desire must have been reflected on his face, because Hongjoong smiled with satisfaction before forcing him to look into his eyes.

—Mine —he whispered.

The word echoed like a blow inside his head, desiring to surrender completely to those alphas.

...

Jongho woke up startled, panting, body drenched in sweat and heart racing. The room was dark; the first rays of sun peeked through the window, and the silence was only broken by the accelerated sound of his breathing.

It took him a few seconds to realize he was alone. He brought a hand to his neck, searching for a mark that didn’t exist, but the sensation lingered, so real he could almost still smell them.

His chest rose and fell hard. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the tremor in his hands, but then he noticed something else: the wetness between his legs, the sticky heat on his skin.

Blush immediately rose to his face. He sat up clumsily, covering his face with one hand. He couldn’t believe it. He’d had a… wet dream.

—No way… —he whispered, shame coursing through his body.

The memory of the kisses, the voices, the scent of coffee, cedar, and bourbon invaded him again with unbearable intensity. He clenched his legs tightly, wanting to erase those sensations, but it was useless.

He brought both hands to his face and let out a trembling sigh, between confusion and modesty. He didn’t understand why his body had reacted that way, why those faces —his students— had made him feel so much.

His heart was still pounding, and though he tried to convince himself it was just a dream, he couldn’t shake the feeling of belonging that still weighed on his skin.

He felt disgusting.

How could he have had a dream like that… with teenagers?

The knot in his stomach tightened. He felt like a pervert.

God, he was an adult, not a hormonal teenager. He couldn’t be feeling that. Not with them. Not with his students.

He shook his head hard, trying to erase every image his mind insisted on projecting. The voices, the scents, the hands. Everything was still too vivid, as if they still surrounded him. A shiver ran down his spine. And his hand… went down on its own.

He touched himself. Slowly at first. As if it weren’t him. As if it were someone else sliding fingers under the elastic of his pajamas.

And there he felt it, his erection hot, hard. He bit his lip to avoid moaning loudly, as if simply hearing himself would be worse than what he was doing. But when the heat became too much, he couldn’t help letting out muffled cries, enjoying the sensation of his hand. He closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the recent images, allowing himself to fantasize a bit more. He could see Wooyoung licking his navel, Seonghwa whispering “professor” against his ear while holding his hands to prevent him from fleeing, while Yeosang ate his mouth, and when he couldn’t take any more, San would fuck him from behind while Hongjoong watched him hungrily, waiting his turn to claim him.

His hand moved faster, desperate, eager but hating himself for thinking about it.

—No… no… —he whispered, but his hips rose on their own, wanting more. One part of him, the logical one, wanted to stop. But he couldn’t, he didn’t want to.

And when he came… It was violent. A silent scream. A tremor that ran through his entire body. He breathed in gasps, his body covered in sweat and semen. He looked at his own hand and saw it, the evidence of what he’d done, hot, sticky, and shameful.

And then came the silence.

He stayed there, panting, staring at the ceiling. His hand still between his legs. Dirty.

—What the hell is wrong with me? —he whispered, voice broken.

He needed to clear his mind.

Using his crutches, he got up clumsily and went to the bathroom. Each step reminded him of his body’s fatigue and the discomfort of his damp clothes. The first thing he wanted was to get that feeling off him.

He turned on the water and got under the shower, careful not to wet the cast. The cold water made him gasp, but it also helped him return to reality. He closed his eyes, let the water fall over his head, and tried to breathe. But no matter how hard he tried to clean his body, the feeling of guilt didn’t improve.

He scrubbed hard with soap, trying to erase the traces of his crime, but no matter how much he tried, nothing removed those images. He scrubbed until his skin burned, but he could still feel their taste, their scent, and the pleasure they’d made him feel. Unable to help it, he leaned against the wall; he could feel his heart pounding hard. Every image from the dream appeared and disappeared, so vivid it hurt. He tried to calm the tension in his body, but desire and guilt intertwined like a rope choking him. He wanted to erase the dream, his orgasm, them, but nothing disappeared, and that destroyed him.

When the tremor in his chest finally began to subside, he looked down with a mix of shame and exhaustion. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he was clear he couldn’t go on like this.

He needed to control himself.

He needed to be himself again.

Jongho dressed in silence, trying to focus on each small movement: buttoning his shirt, zipping up, adjusting the sleeve over the cast. Each gesture was a way to regain the control he felt he’d lost.

His reflection in the mirror watched him with red eyes and a tired face. He didn’t look like the responsible and serene professor he usually was, but someone vulnerable, overwhelmed by something he didn’t understand.

He sighed, running a hand through his still-damp hair.

He had to stop thinking about it. He had to go on with his life as if nothing had happened.

He checked the time; it was still too early, but Chan was going to help by taking him to work. So he checked his phone, confirming the alpha was already waiting, so he grabbed his crutches and carefully went down the stairs. The fresh morning air gave him a slight chill, and the scent of damp earth after dawn helped calm him a bit.

Upon exiting, he noticed Chan’s car parked in front of the entrance. The alpha was leaning on the hood, drinking coffee from a disposable cup. When he saw him appear, he smiled immediately.

—Good morning, sleepyhead —he teased, opening the passenger door—. Ready for your big return?

Jongho gave him a slight, somewhat shy smile.

—I didn’t know you’d arrive so early —he said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

—I wanted to avoid traffic and make sure you had breakfast —Chan replied, giving him a loving reproachful look—. Plus, I like to tease you a bit before work.

Jongho let out a soft laugh, the kind that dissolved the knot in his chest, though not completely. He settled into the seat and let out a disguised sigh as he looked out the window.

He couldn’t allow himself to think about what happened that morning. He couldn’t feel it again.

He had to focus on what was coming: his work, staying calm, and above all, talking to San.

Chan handed him a small paper bag as soon as he settled in.

—Here, before you start grumbling about not eating breakfast —he said with a mischievous smile.

Jongho accepted it with some surprise and upon opening it found a turkey and cheese croissant, accompanied by a still-warm black coffee. Just his favorite.

—Thanks… really, you shouldn’t have bothered —he murmured, unable to avoid a more sincere smile.

—It’s no bother if it’s for you —the alpha replied in a relaxed tone, starting the engine—. Besides, I know if I leave you alone, you’d probably just have air and regret for breakfast.

Jongho let out a soft laugh, and for a few minutes the atmosphere in the car filled with pleasant calm.

However, as they advanced, Chan noticed something different. The beta wasn’t talking, not even to comment on the songs playing on the radio, which was unusual for him. He looked tense, staring out the window with a lost gaze, holding the coffee cup between his hands as if he needed the warmth to keep him present.

—Everything okay? —Chan finally asked, giving him a sidelong glance without stopping driving.

Jongho blinked, as if waking from a long thought.

—Huh? Yeah, yeah… everything’s fine —he replied quickly, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Chan didn’t press for the moment, but his eyebrow arched with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Knowing the beta, he suspected the silence had more to do with his pride than anything else. Jongho didn’t like showing weakness or depending on anyone, and now, on crutches, he must feel more exposed than usual.

—Hey —Chan said lightly, trying to lighten the mood—, don’t worry so much. Summer vacation is almost here. Just a few more weeks and you can rest, okay?

—Yeah… you’re right —Jongho answered with a sigh, looking out the window at the cloudy morning sky.

The car continued its way through quiet streets, the engine’s murmur accompanying the comfortable silence between them.

But deep down, Chan couldn’t help glancing sideways at the beta. There was something in his expression, something deeper than simple fatigue. A shadow he couldn’t decipher.

When they arrived at the university, Chan got out before him to open the door.

Jongho blushed a bit, lowering his gaze as the alpha helped him out of the car. He wasn’t used to being cared for so much… and yet, there was something comforting in that silent attention, in that patient way Chan held his arm without saying a word.

Just as they were about to say goodbye, Chan approached and hugged him without warning.

Jongho froze, surprised. It had been so long since anyone touched him that way —without hurry, without hidden intent, just with sincere affection— that for a moment he didn’t know how to react.

—Everything’s going to be okay, right? —the alpha whispered near his ear, voice low and warm—. I don’t know what’s going through that pretty head of yours, but I’m here. Whenever you want to talk… I’ll be here. Just hold on a little longer, Jongho; things will get better soon, okay?

The beta’s chest tightened. He wanted to say something, but his throat closed.

He only managed a weak smile.

—Thanks, Chan… really.

Chan ruffled his hair gently, as if it were a natural gesture between them.

—I’ll come pick you up later —he said before getting in the car, smiling again.

Jongho nodded, without strength to argue. He watched him drive away as the engine noise faded into the cold morning wind.

The hug still burned on his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time someone held him like that… without breaking him, without wanting anything in return.

He advanced slowly toward the main building, the dry sound of the crutches accompanying each step. His leg hurt, his body was heavy… and so was his soul.

It was still early, but he couldn’t stand staying still. He decided to prepare his class before the others arrived.

Before entering, he stopped for a moment.

His gaze drifted to the parking lot, where his car remained parked, immobile, covered by a thin layer of dust.

He sighed, tired.

Because of the damn cast, he couldn’t drive; he couldn’t even do that for himself.

He’d have to ask Hwiyoung or Chan for help to move it to his apartment.

And though he hated feeling dependent, deep down… a small part of him was grateful not to be so alone.

The classroom was empty when he entered. The echo of his steps mixed with the metallic sound of the crutches hitting the floor. The air smelled of chalk and old books, a mix that usually calmed him, but that morning it only made him feel smaller, more out of place.

He left his briefcase on the desk and sat down slowly, exhaling a long sigh.

He had to concentrate.

He had a class to prepare, exams to grade, notes to organize. Anything to help him distract himself, not to think about the other thing.

But as soon as he closed his eyes, the images returned.

The hands.

The voices.

The heat.

Blush suddenly rose to his cheeks, and he clenched his fists.

He couldn’t believe it. How could he have dreamed something like that… and with them?

He felt disgusting. They were young, students, and he… he was an adult, a professor.

An adult who should have control.

He shook his head hard, trying to erase the idea.

—Concentrate —he told himself.

He opened his laptop and began writing the class outline, but the letters danced before his eyes, as if refusing to take shape.

The silence was so dense he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest, reminding him over and over what had happened while he slept.

He swallowed.

He couldn’t allow those thoughts. Not now.

He had to be professional, keep his distance, go on with his life.

It was nothing more than a dream… a mistake of his subconscious, nothing more.

He took a breath and forced an empty smile as he wrote the day’s topic on the board.

If he pretended everything was fine, maybe eventually he’d believe it.

The sound of the door opening abruptly pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned his head, expecting to see anyone else… but his breath stopped dead when he recognized the figure in the doorway.

Yeosang.

For an instant, the boy’s eyes widened a bit more upon seeing him leaning on the crutches. It was a minimal reaction, a blink of surprise he tried to hide immediately, straightening his posture and lowering his gaze as if nothing had happened. But Jongho noticed. He noticed everything.

The beta felt his body’s muscles tense immediately.

Of all people, it had to be him.

The boy entered with a calm step, hair falling slightly over his eyes, backpack slung over one shoulder. He had a serene expression, almost indifferent, but there was something in his gaze —that contained calm, that barely perceptible shine— that churned Jongho’s stomach.

For an instant, the dream’s image flashed through his mind: Yeosang’s lips on his shoulders, the weight of his body, the warmth of his skin.

His heart flipped, and he immediately lowered his gaze, pretending to search for something among his papers.

—Good morning, professor —Yeosang greeted in a calm voice, too calm.

—G-good morning —Jongho replied, trying to keep a neutral tone as he adjusted his glasses, though he didn’t need them.

The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable.

He could feel the alpha’s eyes on him, watching, analyzing every one of his movements.

And that made him feel naked again.

—You’re early —Jongho said, trying to sound casual.

—Yes. I wanted to review some things before class —Yeosang answered as he approached the desk. His tone was kind, but there was a closeness in his way of speaking that unsettled him.

The professor stepped back just half a step, discreetly, gripping one of the crutches tighter.

—Sure… you can do that —he murmured, trying not to look at him.

Yeosang nodded and sat in the front row, right in front of him.

Jongho felt him too close.

Every time he lifted his gaze, the boy’s eyes met his, and that silent attention destabilized him.

He couldn’t help remembering how, in his dream, those same eyes had looked at him with desire.

He swallowed.

He had to keep his composure.

He was his student, nothing more.

But as the clock ticked the minutes and the classroom remained empty, Jongho realized those hours before class would be much longer than he’d imagined.

Yeosang flipped through a notebook, but his eyes rose now and then toward Jongho, who tried to stay busy with his notes, his plans, anything to keep him focused on something other than him.

—Does your leg hurt a lot? —Yeosang suddenly asked in a calm, almost kind tone.

Jongho lifted his gaze for just an instant.

—A bit, but nothing serious —he replied, returning his eyes to the papers.

—It must be uncomfortable… —the boy continued, spinning a pen between his fingers—. I saw you get out of the car a while ago. You looked tired.

The professor clenched his jaw.

—I’m just a bit limited with the crutches, that’s all.

—Ah… —Yeosang smiled sideways—. You don’t seem like someone who lets himself be limited so easily.

Jongho blinked, confused.

He didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insinuation, so he just pretended not to hear it. He turned to the board, reviewing his documents, his heart giving small quick beats in his chest.

The silence thickened again, until the sound of soft steps on the floor made him tense.

—Are you ignoring me, professor? —Yeosang whispered from behind him.

Jongho froze.

He hadn’t heard him approach.

But he could feel him close, too close. The air between them became dense, charged with something he couldn’t name.

—No —he finally replied, without raising his eyes too much, striving to sound serene—. I’m working.

—Mmm… —Yeosang murmured, with a barely perceptible smile—. I didn’t mean now.

His voice tone changed, lower, more intentional.

—I mean, for a while now… you’ve been ignoring me.

Jongho turned and finally looked at him, but the boy’s expression disconcerted him. There was no mockery or arrogance, but something inquisitive, as if he really expected an answer.

—I-I… —the beta stammered.

—Is it because of the other time? —the younger asked, getting closer and closer.

Jongho blushed violently remembering how the alpha had cornered him in the lockers.

—N-no —he tried to sound convincing, but with recent events, he couldn’t—. I’m going to ask you to please step back.

—Do you know my rut hasn’t ended? —Yeosang ignored him, taking another step—. I had to use suppressants to come to school, but I’m still in rut. Do you know why I did it? —His tone became sensual, making the beta tremble.

Soon, the dream returned to him: the coffee and chocolate scent enveloped him again. His body began to heat up, and he desired, though he didn’t want to admit it, for the alpha to touch him like in that fantasy.

The tremor didn’t go unnoticed by Yeosang, who smiled with barely disguised arrogance.

—The reason is… —he whispered, getting even closer, almost brushing him— because I wanted to see you.

The beta wanted to flee, run, but at the same time he wanted to be closer to the alpha, touch him, feel him. But when Yeosang was about to reach him, almost cornering him against the desk, Jongho reacted. As best he could, he pushed him hard, getting him off him.

The movement surprised the alpha, who stumbled a bit, nearly falling from the intensity of the rejection. He looked at him astonished: Jongho was breathing with difficulty, brow furrowed and gaze serious. Too serious.

—Young Kang! —the beta shouted, voice trembling but firm—. It would be best if you go study in the library! Come back before class starts!

The alpha observed him for a few seconds, disconcerted. Then, he recovered his neutral demeanor.

—Yes, professor —he finally said, without arguing. He took his book and left at a quick pace.

When the boy left, Jongho exhaled without realizing he’d been holding his breath.

He knew he’d been harsh, but he needed to be. He’d promised himself not to let the teasers lead him astray again. They’d have to learn, by hook or by crook. He wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Though… what did Yeosang mean? His rut hadn’t ended because he wanted to see him? What nonsense!

Still, he couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to spend the rut with him. Feeling his hands roaming his body, his lips kissing every inch of his skin, and then… his knot, over and over, until leaving him without strength, at his mercy.

He shook his head hard. No!

He had to push those thoughts away immediately.

He tried to concentrate again, but the faint coffee and chocolate scent still floating in the air reminded him that, no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t easily forget that dream.

The bell marked the start of classes, and soon the classroom filled with students chatting pleasantly as they took their seats. Jongho straightened in his chair and took a deep breath, trying to make the tremor in his hands disappear. The air still smelled of coffee and chocolate, though fainter, like a persistent echo refusing to leave.

After a few minutes, Yeosang returned. He entered without a word, demeanor serene, hair slightly tousled and the same notebook in one hand. He walked straight to his seat, greeted some classmates, but never once looked at him. Jongho noticed immediately; there was no comment, no smile, no that incisive gaze from before. Nothing. Very different from his dominant attitude from a while ago, but deep down he was grateful.

The class, for him, felt like a break. He could breathe, move, concentrate on the other students’ voices, the notes, anything other than him. Every now and then, however, his gaze escaped to Yeosang. The alpha took notes calmly, without raising his eyes once. He seemed completely immersed in the class, and that indifference, far from bothering him, calmed him… though a part of him —the most treacherous— wondered if he was really ignoring him or just decided to play at it.

—“Better this way” —he told himself, pressing the pen between his fingers—. “Let him keep it up.” But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his body still remembered the closeness from minutes ago: the low voice, the heat in the air, the perfume mixing with his breath. And every time that memory hit him, he felt the same knot in his stomach.

When class ended, Yeosang stood up quickly, without waiting for instructions. He packed his things and left with the others, without looking at him, without saying his name. For a moment, Jongho followed him with his eyes until he disappeared through the door. Then he let out a sigh he wasn’t sure was relief or frustration. But what he did know was that he had to maintain that attitude with them. It was time to set boundaries.

At lunchtime, the cafeteria buzz mixed with the aroma of freshly served food. Jongho had chosen a table in a corner, trying to go unnoticed, but it didn’t take long to attract glances. Some professors approached with curiosity, and soon he found himself answering the same question over and over.

—What happened to you, Professor Choi? —one asked with a worried tone.

Jongho sighed, trying to keep a polite smile.

—I fell and hurt my foot —he replied, with the rehearsed naturalness of someone who didn’t want to go into details.

As he spoke, his gaze drifted to the table where the Teezers were. San was laughing with the others, carefree, gesturing enthusiastically as he told something that made even the most serious laugh. Neither he nor the others seemed to notice him, which somehow relieved him. Jongho lowered his eyes to his tray and shrugged, returning attention to his table companions.

—Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Choi. It must hurt a lot —Professor Sasha said with a tone loaded with false concern. She leaned toward him, getting closer than necessary, her sweet and penetrating perfume filling the air between them. The pronounced neckline of her blouse didn’t go unnoticed, and Jongho averted his gaze uncomfortably.

Sasha was known for her reputation. Omega, with a charming smile and tender gaze, she always knew how to move between insinuation and cordiality. It was rumored she’d had more than one “discreet encounter” with colleagues and, according to some, also with certain students. No one had confirmed it, but everyone knew the director protected her too much to allow investigation.

—I’m fine, really —Jongho replied, striving to keep a kind tone—. It was just a bad step.

Sasha smiled, tilting her head, letting a strand of hair fall over her shoulder.

—What a shame… —she murmured, brushing his arm with her fingertips before straightening up—. If you need help with… anything, don’t hesitate to look for me, okay?

—Sure —he replied politely, though internally he wished the conversation would end soon.

The woman walked away swaying her hips, leaving behind a trail of her gardenia scent and murmurs from the other professors. Jongho let out a silent sigh of relief and returned his gaze to his tray.

Out of pure reflex, he raised his eyes to the teasers’ table. San was watching him, jaw tense and eyebrow slightly arched, as if he’d witnessed the whole scene. When their gazes met, the alpha smiled and winked before returning to his conversation.

Jongho looked away immediately, face burning.

He finished eating and stood up to go to his next class. When he was about to leave, he felt a pair of gazes fixed on his back, making the hair on his nape stand up, but he didn’t turn; he just continued his way, pretending he hadn’t noticed anything.

As the day went on, more students and professors approached to ask how he was, which made him feel increasingly overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to receiving so much attention, and that constant external concern felt uncomfortable. By the end of the day, he felt completely exhausted, as if he’d carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The end of the day felt especially slow, so he sighed in relief when the clock finally hit five p.m. He took out his phone and texted Chan to ask where he was. The alpha replied immediately, saying he’d arrive in twenty minutes and not to despair.

Jongho smiled softly reading the message and put away the phone. Despite the persistent pain in his leg, he decided it was best to wait outside. He walked carefully to one of the benches near the entrance, enjoying the fresh afternoon air as he sat to wait.

He closed his eyes and let the gentle breeze carry him. The murmur of students leaving the building faded little by little, until only the sound of the wind moving the tree leaves remained. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of damp grass and temperate afternoon air.

But suddenly, a familiar smell hit him full force: raspberry.

He opened his eyes immediately, startled.

In front of him, standing with hands in his pants pockets, was San, looking at him with that characteristic smile forming two deep dimples in his cheeks.

—San… —he whispered, not expecting to see the alpha so soon, and much less there, in front of him.

—Professor —San replied in a teasing tone, a lopsided smile curving his lips.

—W-what brings you here? —Jongho asked, trying to sound calm, though his voice trembled visibly. He cleared his throat immediately, pretending it itched, but the attempt was so forced it sounded even more evident.

San let out a low, amused laugh, not bothering to hide his mockery. He watched him with that gaze that seemed to undress him without effort, enjoying the other’s nervousness.

—I don’t know —he finally said, with that playful tone that always made Jongho uncomfortable—. It seemed like you wanted to see me.

—Can I sit? —San asked after Jongho remained silent at his comment.

—Y-yes, go ahead —he replied, trying to sound relaxed, though his voice came out tenser than he wanted. He felt the slight dip in the bench when the alpha sat beside him, and suddenly the air seemed heavier.

Neither spoke. The silence between them became uncomfortable; Jongho felt his pulse racing in his temples, desperately trying to find something to say to break the tension. Meanwhile, San watched him out of the corner of his eye, with that half-smile seeming to enjoy his discomfort.

—How’s your leg, professor? —he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

—Huh? —Jongho looked at him confused, not having heard well.

San let out a small laugh, low but enough to make the beta blush.

—Your leg —he repeated with his kind smile—. Does it hurt?

—Oh… that —Jongho replied, feeling a bit clumsy—. Pretty good, thanks. I just have to wear this for a few weeks —he pointed to his cast—. But fortunately it wasn’t a fracture —he added with a tired sigh—. I have to thank you, young Choi.

San arched an eyebrow, with an inquisitive gesture.

—Well, I mean for your help —Jongho explained quickly, nervous—. Since… you helped me when I got injured.

San let out a short snort, between amused and satisfied, but immediately his expression softened, almost tender.

—It’s nothing —he said, leaning just a bit toward him—. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?

Jongho’s body tensed instantly. He was too close.

—Besides… —the alpha whispered, raising a hand to delicately brush the beta’s cheek—. I’d never let something so beautiful get hurt.

The contact was brief, but enough to cut Jongho’s breath.

—San, I… —Jongho whispered, feeling the air grow scarce in his lungs.

—Shh, don’t say anything —the alpha interrupted in a low voice, getting closer and closer.

—No, wait —Jongho said firmly, placing his hand over San’s to pull it from his face. The contact was quick, almost trembling, but loaded with determination—. This isn’t right.

His voice tone changed; it was no longer hesitant or nervous, but more authoritative, as if trying to reaffirm himself as much as the other.

—I know what you feel for me —he continued, locking eyes with the alpha’s—, but it’s not right, and it shouldn’t be.

San looked at him in silence, expression oscillating between confusion and surprise. His brows furrowed slightly, and for the first time, he seemed not to have an immediate response.

Jongho took advantage of that brief silence to breathe, though the knot in his throat barely eased. His heart pounded hard, not just from nerves, but from the sensation that, at any moment, San could cross that line again.

—You’re young and still learning about life, so you’re probably confused —Jongho said softly, though firmly.

San frowned at those words; something in his gaze hardened, as if the statement had hurt or irritated him, but he didn’t interrupt. He remained silent, watching him attentively, lips pressed in a tense line.

—And… in the worst case, if you think you’re not —Jongho continued, clenching his hands on his knees—, I have to tell you that we can never be.

He released the air he didn’t know he was holding. His throat burned, but he didn’t want to and couldn’t stop. He had to do it. He had to cut any hope at the root before it grew more.

—You’re handsome, San —he admitted with a hint of melancholy—. And you have a lot of ease attracting people. I’m sure you’ll find a nice omega your age, someone to fall in love with and form a beautiful family.

Jongho lowered his gaze, trying to stay calm.

—This… —he paused briefly, swallowing— is temporary. So don’t feel bad.

San watched him in silence. His expression no longer showed surprise or confusion, but a mix of incredulity and something darker, contained, hard to decipher. The air between them thickened, as if Jongho’s words had ignited something the alpha didn’t know whether to extinguish or let burn.

—So I thank you for your words and intentions to help me —Jongho continued, voice firmer than before, though his heart pounded in his chest—, but I’m going to ask you to please leave it at that.

The silence that followed was dense, barely interrupted by the wind moving the garden leaves in front of them.

—I’m an adult, San. I’m thirty years old —he said slowly, looking at him seriously—. I can take care of myself.

The alpha watched without moving, but his eyes, once soft, now shone with contained tension. Jongho breathed deeply, forcing himself to continue before fear or guilt stopped him.

—And this isn’t just for you —he added, lowering his tone a bit, though without losing authority—, but also for the rest of your pack.

The implicit name of the others —Yeosang, Wooyoung, Yunho, Hongjoong— hung between them, heavy, uncomfortable.

—I want to think your intentions are good —he proceeded with a hint of weariness—, but I’m no longer going to tolerate this type of behavior.

The words were clear, final.

San blinked, without averting his gaze, and the shine in his eyes became almost defiant.

—So from now on, young Choi —Jongho said, settling with effort—, I’m going to ask that our only interactions be strictly professional. —As they always should have been— He paused, and his gaze softened just a bit.

Both remained silent, looking at each other, trapped in a tension that seemed about to break. Jongho tried to hold the gaze, though inside he just wanted to get away. San’s gaze was dark, loaded with something he couldn’t identify: anger, desire, or frustration.

His phone vibrated on his lap, and the sound pulled him from his reverie. It was Chan, letting him know he’d arrived.

—It’s best I go —he murmured, standing with the help of his crutches.

The alpha watched without saying a word, lips pressed.

—See you later, young Choi —Jongho said, tilting his head in farewell.

But before he could take another step, San grabbed his arm. Not violently, but with a firmness that froze Jongho’s blood.

—You can’t leave like that —the alpha said in a low, contained voice, loaded with authority.

Jongho turned his face just a bit and met that fixed, shining, tense gaze.

—We’ve talked enough, San —he replied, striving to sound calm—. There’s nothing more to say.

San let out a short, incredulous laugh, without averting his gaze.

—Nothing more to say? —he repeated slowly, advancing a step.

Jongho instinctively stepped back one.

—You just told me that what I feel is worth nothing. That I should look at someone else. As if it were that easy. That I’m just confused, isn’t that what you said?

—I’m not saying it’s not worth it —Jongho retorted, voice trembling at the end—. Just that it can’t be. This is wrong. And you know it.

San tilted his face, jaw tense, eyes shining with a contained fury that didn’t explode… but burned.

—It’s wrong because you say so —he corrected, voice grave, almost a whisper—. But don’t lie to me, professor. I know what I’m doing. I’m not a pup who barely understands the world. And I know perfectly well what you feel.

—You know nothing about me —Jongho replied, but his voice broke, giving him reason without wanting to.

San leaned in just enough for Jongho to feel the brush of his breath on his cheek.

—I know everything about you —he murmured, with unsettling calm—. More than you think. And I’m not going to pretend I don’t… just because it bothers you.

Jongho’s heart raced. He knew he should pull away, but he didn’t.

And before he could react, San tilted his face and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was desperate, clumsy, feverish, as if he wanted to etch himself into his skin.

Jongho felt the world stop. The raspberry taste, the alpha’s body heat, the contained strength in his hands… and beneath the fear, deep beneath, an involuntary shudder that made him hate himself.

San released him for just a second, breathing ragged.

—Don’t say again that this doesn’t exist —he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes fixed on his lips—. Because I feel it. And I know you feel it too.

Jongho trembled. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

When he stepped back, San let him go, but didn’t avert his gaze.

His smile returned, but it was no longer sweet. It was the smile of someone who had just decided something.

—See you soon, professor —he said finally, voice low.

More promise than goodbye.

Jongho stayed there, immobile, with swollen lips and the raspberry taste burning his tongue. The bench was empty. San had already left.

But the air still smelled of him. And Jongho… for the first time, didn’t know whether to flee or stay.

The horn pulled him from the trance. The red Mazda stopped a few meters away, and the passenger door flew open.

—Jongho?! —Chan’s voice cut the air, full of alarm.

Jongho blinked, as if just waking. He gripped the crutches tighter and forced a smile.

—I’m fine —he murmured, trying to sound casual.

Chan ran to him and held him by the arm, helping him stand fully.

—You’re trembling —he said with furrowed brow—. And red as a tomato, what happened?

—Nothing —Jongho replied immediately, lowering his gaze—. Just… I put in more effort than I should to get here. The heat, you know.

Chan watched him with distrust, as if something didn’t quite fit, but finally sighed.

—You should rest more. You don’t have to push yourself like that —he said, opening the car door.

—I know. I just wanted to get a bit further —Jongho answered, letting out a brief, hollow laugh.

He settled into the passenger seat as Chan circled the car to take the wheel. The engine started with a soft purr, and for a moment, everything seemed to return to normal. But Jongho felt his body burning, skin hypersensitive where the alpha’s hands had touched him. The air conditioning wasn’t enough to cool the heat rising in his throat.

—It was just the effort —he repeated silently, pressing his lips hard.

And he pretended to believe it.

Just like the day before, Chan stayed to help prepare dinner and make sure he took his medications before leaving. He mentioned he’d pick him up again the next day to take him to classes. Jongho just nodded, grateful, trying to smile despite the whirlwind churning his chest.

When Chan said goodbye and the apartment fell silent, Jongho collapsed onto the bed. The echo of the kiss still pursued him: the firm pressure of the alpha’s hands, the raspberry on his lips, and above all, the way his own body had responded.

He hated himself for it.

He hated himself for allowing it, even if just for an instant.

He closed his eyes hard, wanting to erase the sensation, but he couldn’t. It was as if San had left an invisible mark, one that couldn’t be cleaned with water or tears. Rage consumed him, mixed with suffocating guilt he couldn’t fully understand.

He spent the whole night tossing between the sheets, unable to sleep. Every time he managed to close his eyes, he relived the scene: San’s voice, the heat of his breath, the gaze that completely disarmed him.

And in every attempt to forget, he remembered more.

When dawn tinted the curtains, Jongho was still awake, eyes burning and heart knotted.

He had to face him again.

And just the idea of seeing him churned his stomach.

He finished his first classes without issues, so he decided to look for the alpha. However, no matter how much he searched the hallways, the gym, and even the cafeteria, he couldn’t find him. Annoyed, he slumped into his chair, defeated. The day had ended, and he hadn’t been able to find the stupid alpha.

He checked his watch: twenty minutes until basketball class started.

—Damn… —he murmured, annoyed. Not only had he failed to clear things with San, but he’d also have to see Yunho again.

He was about to stand to head to the court —now with crutches, it would take him at least fifteen minutes to get there— so he grabbed his things to leave. But just as he was about to open the door, it opened first, revealing Teacher Sasha.

—Oh, professor! I was just looking for you.

—Me? —he asked, bewildered.

Sasha let out a giggle, bringing a hand to her chest. The high-pitched sound pricked his nerves, and though Jongho kept a neutral gesture, he felt his patience tense.

—Yes, the director wants to see you in his office —she announced, smiling ear to ear.

Jongho’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be summoned, and a knot of unease formed in his stomach.

—I understand. I’ll go there. Thank you very much.

He tried to move, leaning on the crutches, but Sasha stepped forward to take his arm.

—Oh, let me help you —she said, and before he could protest, she pulled him closer than necessary, pressing his arm against her voluptuous bust.

Jongho tensed immediately.

—It’s not necessary; I can do it alone —he retorted with a forced smile, trying to pull away.

—Hey, don’t be stubborn! —she insisted, in a shrill tone that almost made him want to cover his ears. If he didn’t have both hands occupied with the crutches, he would have without thinking.

—Seriously, Teacher Sasha, I’m fine. I just… need to go slowly.

—Oh, always so proud —she said, laughing again—. At least let me accompany you to the building door, okay?

Jongho sighed. He had no strength to argue.

—As you wish… —he murmured, resigned.

As they walked down the hallway, he felt the uncomfortable pressure of Sasha’s hand on his arm and the cloying gardenia scent mixing with his own sweat and the faint chalk aroma.

The contrast made him dizzy.

And for an instant, unwillingly, he remembered the raspberry scent.

He gripped the crutches tighter.

He couldn’t keep thinking about that. Not about San. Not now.

He arrived at the director’s office, who received him with his usual cheerful and falsely kind voice.

—Come in, Teacher Choi, have a seat!

Jongho thanked with a slight bow and watched as Teacher Sasha said goodbye with a flirtatious smile before leaving. He didn’t miss the lascivious look the director followed the omega’s movement with, but he decided to ignore it.

—Oh, Mr. Choi, I’m so sorry about your accident —the director said, tone compassionate—. I hope you’re feeling better.

—Thank you very much, sir. No need to worry; I’ll be fine soon.

—I’m glad to hear that —the man replied, though his voice sounded as false as his smile.

—How can I help you, Mr. Director? —Jongho asked, without showing his annoyance.

—Ah, about that —the director said, settling in his chair with a satisfied air—. I wanted to let you know that, since you’re injured now, another professor will substitute for you in sports classes. So you can forget about that matter.

If Jongho could, he would have jumped for joy right then. However, he kept his face serene.

—I thank you in advance for your attention, director. You are very kind.

The old man smiled pleased, and Jongho knew immediately he loved inflating his own ego.

—The second thing? —Jongho asked cautiously.

—And the second… —he continued, interlacing his hands on the desk, raising his eyebrows with false concern—. There’s a student having trouble attending classes. Apparently he has difficulties socializing and prefers to stay home, so his academic performance has dropped considerably. —He sighed, as if he really regretted the situation—. His tutor asked me for support to help him, and I couldn’t refuse.

Jongho tensed in his seat. That feeling in his stomach told him he wouldn’t like where this was going.

—I understand —he murmured.

—I explained that as long as the student doesn’t attend, there’s little we can do… but the tutor insisted. —Suddenly, the director’s face lit up with a sudden smile—. And then a magnificent idea occurred to me: why not a private tutor?

—“Oh, no… here it comes” —Jongho thought, feeling his soul drop to his feet.

—And, since you’ve been an example of commitment and excellence during your years at the institution —the director proceeded with alien pride—, I thought you’d be the best option.

Jongho blinked, processing the information.

—What? —he asked, incredulous.

—Yes! —the man exclaimed, showing a row of yellowed and worn teeth—. You’d only have to give classes two hours a day at the boy’s house, during summer vacation. Until he can rejoin next school cycle.

—B-but I… —he started, not knowing how to refuse.

—Don’t worry about expenses —the director interrupted enthusiastically—. When I mentioned you, the tutor was delighted. He said he’d not only cover travel, but also pay you triple your salary, with an extra compensation at the end of the classes.

Jongho was speechless. The figure spun in his head.

He wanted to refuse. Seriously, he wanted to. But the idea of saving enough to take Minho on vacation —far from his parents, far from the noise— weighed more than any doubt. It would only be a few hours a day. A small sacrifice to see his brother happy.

—Okay —he finally said, letting out a defeated sigh—. I accept.

—I knew I could count on you! —the director exclaimed, standing to pat his shoulder.

Jongho gave a polite smile.

—And who is the student I have to tutor?

Before the alpha could respond, soft knocks on the door interrupted the conversation.

—Come in —the director said, tone jovial.

Jongho massaged his temples, trying to calm the headache starting to throb behind his eyes.

—Oh! Just the person I was waiting for —the director exclaimed, smiling satisfied—. I was telling Professor Choi about your request, and good news: he accepted delighted!

Jongho would have wanted to correct him —“delighted” wasn’t exactly the word— but he held back. He’d already accepted, and to the bad step, give haste.

He turned to introduce himself formally, but before he could say a word, a familiar scent hit his chest. A warm, strong, unmistakable scent… bourbon.

He felt the blood drain from his face.

No… it can’t be…

—Is that so? —a familiar voice asked, laced with sarcasm and arrogance.

Jongho’s heart stopped. He turned slowly, fearing to confirm what he already knew.

And there he was.

Kim Hongjoong.

Leaning against the door frame, with his lopsided smile and penetrating gaze.

Jongho felt the ground disappear beneath his feet.

Jongho was speechless, voice trapped in his throat.

Hongjoong seemed to enjoy the silence, that void between them where only the faint hum of the air conditioning could be heard. A smile formed on his face, slow, calculated, until it became a perverse satisfaction grimace.

His steps echoed in the office, firm, sure. Jongho wanted to back away, but the stabbing pain in his leg pinned him to the seat. The alpha noticed, and that seemed to amuse him even more. Each step reduced the distance, until his shadow completely covered the beta’s figure.

—I’m very pleased that you can help my alpha, professor —he said in a tone sweet and venomous at once—. I know my little Mingi will be very happy to have you. —His voice dropped, almost a dangerous purr.

Jongho swallowed, feeling the air thicken. Hongjoong’s eyes roamed him as if undressing him, as if every part of him belonged to him without needing permission.

—So let’s work together, shall we? —he added, extending his hand.

Jongho looked at it for a second, knowing refusing would be worse. He shook it with trembling fingers, and Hongjoong’s smile widened until it was almost animal.

—I hope we get along very well from now on, professor —he whispered, squeezing his hand hard enough to hurt his bones.

Jongho could barely nod. His mind screamed a single phrase echoing like a mad echo:

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Text

Jongho let out a defeated sigh. He had spent most of the morning sitting in the small armchair by the window of his apartment, unable to focus on anything other than the uncomfortable weight pressing against his chest. The conversation with the principal kept replaying in his head: he would have to give tutoring sessions… and not to just any student, but to one of the Teezers. And not at school. In their own house.

The memory of the past few weeks unsettled him more than he cared to admit. The Teezers didn’t exactly bully him. Not exactly. But the way they cornered him in the hallways, the unnecessary touches, the looks loaded with intent, the ambiguous comments… they had left him in a constant state of alert. Yunho trapping him against the lockers while sniffing his neck; Yeosang almost always pinning him against the wall without warning; San—so direct, so intense—who, after confessing and stealing a kiss, had left him completely unable to act normal; and Wooyoung… well, Wooyoung simply had no sense of personal space.

If that was how they behaved at school, with teachers and students around, what could he expect inside their own house? In their territory? It felt like walking into the slaughterhouse dressed as a lamb.

He had thought about refusing. Telling the principal he couldn’t accept the assignment. That it wasn’t appropriate. That he wasn’t comfortable. Any excuse would’ve worked. But he knew it wasn’t that simple. And he didn’t want to face the principal’s questions or the department’s insistence either. Besides… the money. He really needed that money.

He was so lost in those thoughts that it took him a few seconds to notice his phone was vibrating on the table. When he looked at the screen, the name undid him completely. Minho. Incoming video call.

He answered immediately. The screen showed his younger brother—black hair falling over his forehead, a sweet smile on his face. Minho raised his hand in greeting. Jongho did the same, switching instantly to sign language.

—Hey, little one— Minho pursed his lips in a worried expression and pointed at the camera.

—“You look tired.”— Jongho gave a faint smile.

—A little. It’s been a rough day. Minho narrowed his eyes.

—“Is it because of school?”

—Something like that

The younger one made the sign for

—“Are the teachers bullying you again?— Jongho let out a soft laugh.

—It’s complicated. But it’s not that, don’t worry— Minho twisted his mouth in displeasure but didn’t press further. Then he pointed at him again. —“Hyung, I miss you.”

Jongho exhaled, feeling something inside him loosen. He signed back:

—I miss you too, Minho. So much.

His brother smiled and slowly started telling him about his days. Then he pulled out a notebook from the side and showed it to Jongho.

—Oh! The notebook I gave you for your birthday. How’s it going? Has it been useful? —Jongho asked, beaming when his brother nodded enthusiastically—. What have you been working on lately? — Minho opened it and, with a shy air, lifted a page full of color: a soft watercolor, careful lines, a quiet scene of mountains and light. It was beautiful. Minho had always been like that. Ever since the accident—when he lost most of his speech and the mobility in one leg—art had become his deepest refuge. Drawing was his way of screaming, laughing, crying… of saying what his mouth could no longer say. Their parents called it “a hobby,” something that had to stay hidden so it wouldn’t damage the family image. But Jongho had always seen it differently. He knew that, if they allowed it, Minho could become a professional painter.

That was one of the many reasons Jongho wanted to get him out of that house someday.

—You’ve improved so much. They’re gorgeous. Maybe you should show them to uncle Hwiyoung too; I’m sure he’d love them— Minho blushed deeply at the compliment, nodding shyly. Jongho was glad his brother shared his work with his friends. After the accident, Jongho’s friends had visited him every single day at the hospital without fail. That turned into a beautiful friendship among the four of them. Hwiyoung and Banchan loved Minho as if he were their own little brother. They spoiled him and always showed up with gifts. Slowly, Minho had started calling them “uncle Hwiyoung” and “uncle Banchan.” Jongho couldn’t be happier about it: his best friends and his brother—the most important people in his life—together like family. Besides, Minho had no friends; no one wanted to hang out with him because “they couldn’t communicate.” It had depressed him terribly, but Hwiyoung and Banchan had made the effort to learn sign language to talk to him. They texted almost every day now… of course, secretly from both sets of parents, who considered them “unworthy” of associating with the Choi family.

Jongho hated them even more for that. They didn’t let Minho go out, but they also didn’t let him socialize. And to top it off, neither Hwiyoung nor Chan were “ordinary” people: Hwiyoung was a renowned artist with exhibitions in France and Italy, and Chan was the best architect in Korea. But to their parents, that never mattered. Anyone who wasn’t a doctor—like them—was unworthy of their attention, no matter how influential.

—Hey, little one… where are Mom and Dad? Did they leave you alone again? —Jongho asked, unable to hide his annoyance. Minho explained, after putting away his notebook, with slower signs: their parents were out of the country for a medical conference and wouldn’t be back until next week. Jongho blinked in surprise; suddenly it made sense why his mother hadn’t texted him after his appointment with Minjae. He had assumed something strange was going on… but of course, they simply weren’t there. Minho added that the nanny was taking care of him, as usual.

—I’m glad you’re not completely alone —Jongho said sincerely. His chest tightened. Pride. Nostalgia. And a stab of guilt. He wished he could be with him more. He wished he could get him out of there. Minho raised his hand to say goodbye and hung up. The screen went black, reflecting Jongho’s exhausted face for a few seconds before turning off completely.

The silence of the apartment fell again like a heavy blanket. Jongho left the phone on his lap and rested his head against the back of the armchair. Every time he talked to Minho, the same bitter certainty was reinforced: He had to get him out of that house. Even if only for a few hours. Even if only on weekends. Minho needed air, friends, life. Something beyond white walls, silence, strict schedules, and a family that didn’t know how to see him.

But to get him out, even for a little while… he needed money. A lot more than he had now.

He rubbed his forehead with both hands, frustrated. He knew Minho could take care of himself; he was smart, responsible, and the nanny adored him. But… for how long? How much longer until the family decided to change her, or leave him completely alone, or impose even more restrictions? And when their parents returned, everything would be the same as always: rigid, cold, suffocating.

Jongho clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of the decision crushing him again. The tutoring sessions. The Teezers. Their house. Everything he was trying to avoid was precisely what would give him enough money to give Minho a bit of freedom. To let him breathe. To let him know something beyond the narrow world he was trapped in.

But the idea of stepping into that house… of being alone with one of them… of facing those looks and that energy that made his skin prickle… Jongho closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be near them. He didn’t want to risk it. But for Minho… For Minho, maybe it was worth it.

He took a slow breath, searching in his lungs for a courage he didn’t fully have yet. —It’ll only be a few months —he murmured, though he didn’t believe it himself. Not even a little.

His phone buzzed with a new notification: an institutional email reminder. The session was officially scheduled. There was no turning back.

Weeks passed and Jongho tried to go about his days as normally as possible, avoiding the alphas whenever he could. Though, to his surprise, now it seemed they were the ones avoiding him.

And that—more than relief—was chilling.

First it was Wooyoung. Jongho saw him one afternoon while walking across the field, trying to clear his mind. The alpha had just finished training: covered in sweat, breathing hard, surrounded by alphas and omegas flirting with him shamelessly. Wooyoung smiled at them brazenly while wiping sweat with his shirt, revealing perfectly defined abs. Jongho wouldn’t deny he looked attractive. Too attractive, perhaps. But then Wooyoung looked up and found him staring. The alpha gave him a dark smile, loaded with something Jongho couldn’t read. The beta blushed at being caught and immediately looked away. He couldn’t interpret the alpha’s expression… but a shiver ran down his spine.

Then it was Yunho. Jongho had just left class when he saw him leaning against the exit door. The alpha noticed him immediately; his serious gaze turned into that of an abandoned puppy upon seeing him. When Jongho approached, Yunho took a step toward him but stopped halfway, as if hesitating. Jongho raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something. And just when the alpha seemed to gather the courage to speak, Chan’s Mazda horn cut the moment short. Jongho left him standing there while Chan got out to open the passenger door and help him in. Once inside, the beta looked toward the door searching for Yunho… but he was gone. Vanished. He had disappeared without a trace.

Days later it was Yeosang. Jongho had noticed that, since their last incident, the alpha had been ignoring him. But lately Yeosang seemed upset. Every time they crossed paths, he frowned as if offended… or hurt. That irritated Jongho deeply. Because if anyone should feel offended, it was him. After all, the alpha had practically thrown himself on him without shame.

And lastly there was San. The damn guy hadn’t shown his face since he stole that kiss. Every time Jongho tried to talk to him, the alpha vanished from the classroom with any absurd excuse: he had to turn in an assignment, someone was calling him, he had to go to the gym, or he simply wasn’t there. For Jongho, who was still on crutches, trying to catch him around campus was torture. But even so, San didn’t deign to see him, not even by accident. That was starting to frustrate him in a way he couldn’t put into words.

He had never fully understood alphas… but now, less than ever. First they harassed him, cornered him, touched him without permission, flirted shamelessly; and now they acted as if Jongho carried a contagious disease.

Still, if he had to pick the worst, it would probably be Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Every time they crossed paths they greeted him with impeccable politeness, but there was always a strange undertone hidden beneath their words, something that made Jongho’s skin tense.

One morning, while walking down the hallway, Seonghwa intercepted him with his usual kind smile, accompanied—as always—by the small alpha leader, Hongjoong. Walking together like a single shadow.

Seonghwa greeted him elegantly, and Jongho returned the greeting with the same professional courtesy.

—Good morning, professor —Seonghwa commented.

—Good morning, young Park. Young Kim —Jongho replied with the same professional courtesy as always.

—It’s a pleasure to see you, professor. It’s been a while —Seonghwa said with that kind smile that defined him so much. A smile that now seemed… too rehearsed.

—How’s your leg?

—Pretty good, thank you. Seonghwa returned the smile upon hearing his answer.

—I’m so glad to hear that, professor —he said with a warm gleam in his eyes—. Really… it was about time you could return to normal. It must have been very tiring for you. The sincerity in his voice was disconcerting, because it didn’t match the way he had cornered him weeks ago. Still, Jongho nodded politely. During the entire exchange, Hongjoong hadn’t said a single word. He stayed slightly behind Seonghwa, hands in his pants pockets and that impenetrable expression he always wore: steady gaze, dark, calculating… as if evaluating every micro-gesture Jongho made. Despite being younger and considerably smaller, there was something in his posture, in his aura, that made Jongho feel a shiver run down his neck. A silent pressure, as if the entire hallway narrowed around him.

When Jongho finished explaining that they would soon remove his cast, Hongjoong finally smiled. Not an open or kind smile, but a discreet, sideways one, loaded with a meaning the beta couldn’t fully decipher.

—We’re glad to hear that, professor —he said in a low, soft, almost kind voice—. It means… there will be nothing in the way anymore, right? Nothing will hold you back when the time comes… Seonghwa let out a little laugh, as if he perfectly understood the insinuation, and nodded enthusiastically.

—Exactly. It’ll be good to see you move freely again —he added, almost as if finishing a shared thought between them. Jongho blinked, immediately confused by the subtext. Nothing in the way? Move freely… for what? He felt that shiver crawl up his spine again. Before he could say anything, Hongjoong tilted his head slightly, courteous but enigmatic.

—Well, professor, it’s been a pleasure seeing you.

—We have to go —Seonghwa added with a kind smile—. We have class now. Have an excellent day. The two alphas walked away together down the hallway, without looking back. Jongho stood still, clutching his crutch, heart uneasy and a bad feeling settling in his chest.

Weeks passed and, finally, they removed the cast from his leg. The doctor explained that, due to prolonged immobility, he would need warm water soaks while slowly moving his foot, plus rehabilitation sessions. He was also warned to avoid any effort involving running or putting extra weight on the foot. Even without the cast, he had to wear an ankle brace so the tendons could regain strength and get used to movement again. So although he was no longer immobilized, he still limped. It was uncomfortable and a little annoying not being able to walk at 100%, but it was still infinitely better than the clumsy crutches and heavy cast he had carried for weeks.

Besides, it was final exam season, so he didn’t dwell on it too much. His focus was on grading and evaluating, more than on the strange discomfort in his leg that kept reminding him he wasn’t fully recovered.

Those two weeks were especially hectic: corrections, evaluations, late submissions, nervous students… a constant whirlwind. But in the end, he managed to finish all the exam workload, finally giving way to the long-awaited summer break.

But the inevitable is inevitable. As soon as vacation started, Jongho knew he had no escape: the next day he had to show up at the Teezers’ house, just as they had agreed.

He prepared everything for the tutoring sessions. One of the things KQ College required of its staff was to be qualified in as many subjects as possible. It didn’t matter if you were a cooking or sports teacher: everyone had to master math, arithmetic, history… in addition to their specialty. Anyone had to be able to teach beyond their main subject. And Jongho, although officially a literature teacher, was more than qualified to explain any subject in the curriculum.

He had spent the last few weeks reviewing books from different subjects, reading late into the night to keep the information fresh. He was almost ready. Only… everything had to go well.

However, it wasn’t the lesson content that made him nervous. It was something else. Something that clawed under his skin.

Because on the last day of classes, when Chan came to pick him up, he saw the Teezers leaving the institute in their limousine. And when they noticed his presence, every single one of them smiled at him. It wasn’t a polite smile. It was an expectant smile. Eager. As if they had been waiting for him.

And since then, that image wouldn’t stop haunting him.

And perhaps what had him on the edge of his nerves wasn’t the Teezers’ smile that last day… but his own dreams. Because they hadn’t decreased. On the contrary, they had gotten worse. Much worse.

At first they were just blurry scenes: hands he didn’t recognize, voices that sounded like theirs but without defined faces… But in these last few weeks, the dreams had taken shape. And to his complete misfortune, very clear shape.

He dreamed of them getting too close, their bodies pressed too tightly against his, warm breaths on his neck, lips traveling his skin. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how. He only knew that he woke up panting, heated, heart racing like an alarm.

It was humiliating. Because they were his students, and his dreams had no right to involve them like that.

And even when he tried to push them out of his mind, the scenes came back on their own: someone grabbing his waist; someone else pinning his wrists against a surface; kisses that stole his breath; low voices saying his name in a tone he should never have imagined.

The worst part was that his body reacted. Even against his will. Even when he woke up startled, aroused and ashamed of himself.

The night before the tutoring session was the worst of all. He dreamed of hands sliding down his back, lips that he knew exactly whose they were—even though he had never tasted them—and a hoarse murmur in his ear that made him wake up trembling, unable to remember the exact phrase, only the sensation.

He couldn’t stay calm like this. How was he going to look them in the face after that?

He got up before the alarm went off, body tense and mind a mess. He washed his face over and over, trying to erase the heat that still tingled between his legs.

—They’re just dreams —he murmured to the mirror—. Just stupid dreams. They don’t mean anything. But the blush on his face wouldn’t go away. Neither would the memory.

Going to the Teezers’ house was already hard enough because of the harassment from the past weeks… but going with that kind of dream in his head had him completely unarmed. He felt vulnerable, nervous, exposed.

And still, he had to go. Even if his treacherous body kept remembering things that had never happened.

He got ready calmly and dressed for the tutoring session. Although classes were scheduled from twelve to two in the afternoon, he decided to leave much earlier. He didn’t know the route they had sent him well, and he preferred to arrive one or two hours early than risk being late. It was a habit he had always cultivated.

He carefully went down the stairs, still getting used to the brace he had to wear on his foot. Although the cast had been removed, he still felt discomfort when stepping and especially when putting pressure on it. He could walk short distances, yes… but pressing the pedals still hurt a lot.

So for now, his car would stay parked. However, Chan had insisted on driving him. Jongho had tried to decline the offer several times, saying he could take public transportation without issue, but the alpha refused outright.

—No discussion —he had said, with that gentle firmness so typical of him. Jongho had no choice but to accept, though inwardly he was grateful, but he didn’t tell the alpha.

And that’s why, right now, Jongho was sitting in the passenger seat of the red Mazda, the landscape passing slowly by the window while his stomach knotted.

He was nervous. Too nervous. And Chan seemed to notice immediately.

Without saying anything at first, the alpha reached out and gently placed his hand on Jongho’s thigh, as he did when he wanted to offer support without pressuring him. He stroked it friendly, thumb drawing small circles.

—Hey —he murmured with a calm smile—. Don’t get like that. It’s just a class, okay? You’ve given hundreds. Jongho took a deep breath, not knowing exactly how to explain that no, this situation was not normal at all. He couldn’t tell him that he had been harassed by those alphas for weeks, or that he had been dreaming inappropriate things with the same students he was going to tutor. Or that little by little those dreams had become more and more vivid, and that the guilt and desire they provoked were driving him crazy. Or that he felt like he was walking straight into the wolf’s mouth.

Chan kept talking, completely unaware of the beta’s internal storm.

—And look, it’s just a couple of months. They go by fast —he added optimistically

—. Then, when your schedule is over, the four of us are going on vacation. You, Hwiyoung, Minho, and me. I’ll take you wherever you want. I promised, didn’t I? We’re going to enjoy it so much. That phrase, that reminder, loosened the knot in Jongho’s chest a little. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t doing it just for work. He was doing it for Minho too. He wanted his brother to have a nice vacation, to be able to go out, play, have fun… even if only for a little while and even if he had to carry most of the weight.

He felt his resolve strengthen.

—Thanks, Chan… —he finally whispered. The alpha gave him a sideways smile, giving his thigh an affectionate pat before returning his hand to the wheel.

And so, more comforted—though the nerves still lived under his skin—Jongho prepared himself for the inevitable: going to the Teezers’ house. To his students. To the protagonists of his most shameful dreams. To the wolf’s mouth. But he was not a helpless lamb; he would fight if necessary, he wouldn’t let them eat him alive, he could be a wolf too.

During the drive, Jongho tried to focus on the scenery to calm his nerves, but the outside world only emphasized how out of place he was. At first, the streets were the usual ones: small houses, local shops, normal cars. But as they went on, the homes began to spread out… and grow. From family houses to huge residences, then to genuine mansions with uniformed gardeners and luxury cars parked outside. Jongho swallowed hard. They were definitely entering the rich neighborhood of the city.

The air changed. The vibe, the silence, even the size of the trees felt different. And when, after several more minutes, the road narrowed and the Mazda began climbing a slope surrounded by forest, Jongho knew. They had arrived at the colony where the Teezers lived: one of the most exclusive areas not only in the city, but in the entire country. A colony at the top of a mountain, reserved for the most influential families. He had heard of it before, but seeing it was something else.

When the road finally opened up, he saw it. The mansion. Not even in his dreams could he have imagined something like this: an enormous plot of land enclosed by a light-gray stone wall, with towering columns and a black wrought-iron gate decorated with intricate filigree. Beyond it, you could glimpse the sloped roofs of the main residence, a blend of modern style with classic touches: giant floor-to-ceiling windows, balconies with iron railings, light marble walls, and gardens so perfectly manicured they looked unreal. There were fountains. There were statues. There was a private driveway so long it looked like the entrance to a five-star hotel. It was too much

 —Wow… —escaped in a whisper, unable to hold it back.

The Mazda stopped in front of the guard booth, where two uniformed guards approached. Chan rolled down the window.

—Good morning —he greeted—. I’m here to drop off Professor Choi for his tutoring sessions. The guards checked a tablet, exchanged a glance, and one of them shook his head.

—The vehicle cannot enter, sir. Only the professor has permission to go inside. Chan frowned slightly but didn’t argue.

—Alright— Jongho felt a chill. That was way too much security for a simple tutoring session. He hurried to unbuckle his seatbelt.

—Then… see you later —he said, trying to sound calm. Chan turned to him, and before Jongho could open the door, the alpha firmly placed a hand on his shoulder.

—Call me the second your class is over —he said seriously—. I happen to have a client meeting around this area today, so I’ll be nearby. If you need anything, anything at all… call me, okay? —The worry in his eyes comforted him.

—Yes. Thank you, Chan —Jongho murmured, genuinely grateful. He got out of the car carefully, leaning on his ankle brace. Chan waited until he had his bag and materials properly adjusted, and only drove off once Jongho waved goodbye. The gate opened and one of the guards escorted him inside. And as Jongho crossed the monumental entrance, he felt his heart beating faster. It was official. He was entering, completely alone, the Teezers’ house.

The guards walked Jongho all the way to the main residence. The path was so long it seemed endless, lined with perfectly aligned trees and metal lanterns that surely lit up at dusk. When they finally reached the front door—an enormous dark-wood structure with metallic details—one of the guards turned to him.

—Just knock, professor. Someone will open immediately. Jongho bowed his head in thanks.

—Thank you very much. The guards left, leaving him alone in front of the imposing entrance. Jongho stood there for a few seconds, breathing deeply, staring at the polished surface that reflected his own indecision. Knock… or run? But he couldn’t run. Not after everything he had studied for this, and not when Minho was counting on him. He mentally cheered himself on: quick, go in, teach, leave… nothing has to go wrong. He raised his hand and knocked. The sound echoed softly. A few seconds of silence passed until he heard movement on the other side: footsteps, a distant whisper, the door mechanism. When it opened, Seonghwa appeared… dressed surprisingly casually. He wore dark cotton pants, a simple gray t-shirt, and a loose ponytail that let a few strands fall near his face. His hands even looked slightly damp, as if he had been cleaning something. Nothing like the impeccable, polished alpha from the student council. His eyes widened a little when he saw Jongho.

—Professor… we weren’t expecting you this early. Jongho felt his face burn with embarrassment and bowed awkwardly.

—I’m sorry, young Park. I’m not familiar with the area and was afraid of getting lost. I arrived early… I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.

—No, no, not at all —Seonghwa replied with a soft smile—. Please, come in

Jongho stepped inside and saw the foyer: a wide, modern space with light-gray marble floors and neutral-toned walls. To one side was a wooden cabinet with a perfect row of indoor slippers. Seonghwa pointed at them.

—You can leave your shoes there, professor. Use whichever slippers you like.

—Thank you —Jongho murmured. He bent down to change footwear while the alpha added:

—Wait here just a moment. I’ll go get Hongjoong and Mingi to let them know you’re here. Make yourself comfortable.

—Thank you, young Park. Seonghwa went up the stairs, which curved elegantly toward the second floor. And that’s when Jongho had time to look around—even though they told him to make himself comfortable, he decided to stay right where he was. The house was luxurious, yes, but not in a cold or pretentious way. It was modern, with clean lines, high-quality materials, a palette of grays, blacks, and warm wood touches. Huge windows let in perfect white light, and the furniture—though expensive—had clearly been chosen with good taste: wide sofas, soft rugs, minimalist lamps. But what surprised him the most was something else. There didn’t seem to be any servants. No footsteps, no voices, no impeccably uniformed staff walking back and forth like in his parents’ houses. The cleanliness was there, of course, but not that obsessive shine of an army of butlers. It was… different. More intimate. More “lived-in.” And now that he thought about it, Seonghwa had been wearing cleaning clothes… did they really keep the house themselves? It was an image hard to process.

While he was thinking about it, he heard footsteps upstairs. He looked up just as someone appeared at the top of the staircase.

Hongjoong.

The alpha was… disheveled. Quite a lot. His blue hair fell in messy strands, as if he had truly just rolled out of bed. He wore only a loose navy silk robe that revealed part of his chest and the start of his collarbone. In his hand he held a glass of red wine. At ten in the morning. Jongho felt discomfort crawl up his throat. Why is he drinking? And why… so little clothing? But he couldn’t say anything. Hongjoong could do whatever he wanted in his own house. The alpha looked down at him, raising an eyebrow with interest, and began descending with slow, confident, almost elegant steps. Jongho silently thanked the scent patch he was wearing; otherwise, his nervousness would have been obvious instantly. When he reached him, Hongjoong smiled softly.

—Professor Choi. What a pleasure to see you… though we weren’t expecting you so early. Jongho cleared his throat, trying to sound normal.

—I apologize, young Kim. I’m not familiar with the area and was afraid of getting lost, so… I arrived early. Hongjoong let out a low, warm, dangerous laugh.

—No problem at all. In fact, I’m glad —he said, tilting his glass slightly, as if toasting—. I wanted to speak with you before the tutoring sessions began. If you’ll follow me… we can do it in my office. He gestured for Jongho to follow him down the hallway. And Jongho, nerves twisting every muscle, had no choice but to obey.

When Jongho stepped into the office, the first thing he noticed was the understated elegance of the room. The walls were lined with perfectly organized shelves: some filled with leather-bound books, others with dark, expensive bottles of liquor, and still others holding metallic objects whose purpose he couldn’t quite figure out. In one corner stood an impeccably preserved vintage record player.

In the center of the room, atop a charcoal-gray rug, sat a low table surrounded by wide, plush armchairs. Further back, in front of an enormous window that let in the forest light, rested a spacious dark-wood desk—presumably where Hongjoong carried out his tasks, tasks Jongho wasn’t entirely clear about.

Hongjoong motioned for him to sit. Jongho thanked him quietly and settled into one of the armchairs, spine rigid as if it had turned into a steel rod. The alpha set his wine glass on the table and asked:

—Would you like anything to eat or drink, professor?

Jongho shook his head at once. Not out of courtesy, but because his stomach was so knotted with nerves it wouldn’t have accepted even a glass of water. Of course, he wasn’t about to admit that.

Hongjoong shrugged as if it were no big deal.

—I’ll have a little more, then —he murmured with a smile.

He rose with that infuriating grace and walked to his bar cart. Jongho, unable to help himself, watched the alpha’s back as he poured more wine. The entire office smelled of him: bourbon, wood, and something warm that made Jongho’s nerves vibrate like plucked strings.

He straightened even more in his seat, like a child caught doing something wrong.

When Hongjoong returned and noticed his stiff posture, he laughed softly.

—You don’t have to be so nervous, professor.

Jongho denied it far too quickly:

—N-nervous? Me? Of course not.

Which only made the alpha smile wider.

Hongjoong sat again, crossed one leg over the other, took his glass and began:

—Well, professor. The reason I wanted to speak with you before the tutoring sessions start is to clarify a few important points. Mingi isn’t bad at studying. He just… doesn’t know how to socialize. That’s what’s kept him away from classes. All he really needs is a full review of last semester. —He paused—. He’s excellent at math, but language, English, literature… that’s where he’ll need you the most.

Jongho nodded.

—The principal mentioned there would be a bonus—what exactly did he mean? —he asked directly.

—Ah, yes —Hongjoong replied, smiling with satisfaction—. If Mingi passes the exams, you’ll get the full bonus. If he doesn’t, you’ll still get something, just not the whole amount.

Jongho thought in silence. Covering all those subjects might take more than two hours a day… but he chose not to say it. Hongjoong seemed to be waiting for something, as if he had already considered the same thing without voicing it.

—Mingi is very clumsy with words —the alpha continued—. He doesn’t measure what he says and can be… blunt. Don’t take it personally. That’s just how he is. He’s extremely intelligent, but socializing is hard for him. If you could help him with that too, it would be ideal.

Jongho frowned.

—What do you mean?

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up, almost mischievous.

—Teach him that not everyone in the world is bad. That he can trust, that he can learn to live with others. I don’t want an alpha who’s brilliant only at numbers and equations. I want him to know how to live.

Jongho nodded slowly.

Then Hongjoong added:

—I also wanted to mention that I know it’s a hassle coming all the way here. I already spoke to the principal about it. I’m willing to cover your transportation costs. By the way—how did you get here today?

Jongho answered without thinking:

—A friend drove me.

Hongjoong’s change was immediate. His grip tightened on the glass so hard Jongho feared it might shatter. His lips pressed into a thin line.

Jongho didn’t fully understand why.

But the alpha recovered his composure in seconds.

—There’s no need for you to waste gas or time. I can send my driver. He’ll pick you up and bring you every day.

—It’s really not necessary —Jongho tried to refuse—. My friend doesn’t mind driving me…

—Professor —Hongjoong interrupted, his voice soft but dangerous—. It’s no trouble for us at all. In fact, I’ll feel better knowing you arrived safely. Please—allow me.

Jongho hesitated. Chan was already helping him too much. And he didn’t want to burden him every day. Finally, he nodded.

—Alright. Thank you.

Hongjoong’s satisfaction was far too evident.

—Perfect —the alpha concluded—. I think that’s everything. Oh—if you ever want anything to eat or drink, just tell me. We don’t have servants here. It’s not something our pack likes. We do things ourselves. So if you need anything, just let me know. And you have full freedom to go into any room in the house as long as you tell us—it’s easy to get lost.

Jongho shook his head quickly.

—That won’t be necessary. I’m only here for the tutoring.

Hongjoong smiled as if he had just heard a private joke, but said nothing.

When everything seemed settled, Jongho took a deep breath.

—I… also wanted to discuss a couple of things —he murmured.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and smiled.

—Go ahead, professor. Whatever you need.

Jongho swallowed.

—First… since we’ll have to review the entire school year, I’m willing to give extra hours if needed—as long as they’re paid accordingly.

—Of course —Hongjoong replied without hesitation—. I’ll pay for every extra hour.

That calmed Jongho a little.

—And second… —he paused, embarrassed—. My relationship will be strictly with Mingi… and with you. I’d prefer… that the other alphas not get involved. That they… keep their distance.

Hongjoong stared at him fixedly, as if he knew exactly what Jongho meant but chose to feign ignorance.

—Why do you say that? —he asked with an innocence that wasn’t innocent at all.

Jongho felt heat rise to his cheeks.

—I just… want to be sure that none of them… that no one lays a finger on me while I’m here.

Silence.

Deep, heavy silence.

Hongjoong’s reaction was immediate. He smiled—that smile that always hid something. Not a kind smile, but one of those knowing, slightly crooked, amused smiles… as if the very idea of a beta setting rules for him was delicious.

—And why is that, professor? —he asked bluntly, setting the glass down and narrowing his eyes—. Don’t you trust us?

Jongho felt the air grow heavy in his chest. For a moment he feared he had offended him, crossed a line he shouldn’t have. He swallowed hard.

—N-no… it’s not that, young Kim —he answered quickly—too quickly, betraying himself—. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… I’m at a bit of a disadvantage.

Hongjoong tilted his head, clearly entertained.

—Disadvantage? Why? —he asked, almost toying with him.

Jongho clenched his hands on his knees.

—Well… I’m a beta. And here… I’m surrounded by nothing but alphas. In a house… full of alphas. —He took a deep breath—. That makes me a little nervous. It’s not lack of trust. I just… don’t feel entirely comfortable. That’s all.

Hongjoong looked at him for several seconds.

Without blinking.

Without breaking that expression between mockery and genuine interest.

Then he let out a soft, amused huff.

—Alright —he said at last, leaning back in the armchair—. I’ll accept your request, professor. While you’re in my house, I’ll make sure my pack doesn’t lay a finger on you.

Jongho exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

—Thank you very much —he murmured, relaxing his shoulders a little.

—Anytime —Hongjoong replied, standing up—. You can start now. I’ll let Mingi know you’re here. That is… he already knows, but I’ll send him in.

Jongho stayed still for a moment.

And then the bomb dropped.

—By the way —Hongjoong added, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather—, all the tutoring sessions will be in Mingi’s room.

Jongho blinked several times.

—I-in his room…?

—Yes —Hongjoong confirmed without hesitation—. That’s where he feels most comfortable. In fact, it was his specific request: that the lessons be held in his bedroom and not in the house study. —He fixed his gaze on Jongho, almost challenging—. I hope you have no problem with that, professor.

Jongho felt his heart contract. But he couldn’t back out. Not now.

—I have… no problem —he managed to say, even giving a slight respectful bow.

Hongjoong smiled, satisfied.

—Perfect. In that case… let’s go.

The alpha set down his glass, took the handle with elegant fingers, and opened the door for him. Jongho stood up, took one last deep breath, and followed the alpha down the pristine, silent hallway toward Mingi’s room.

His heart was beating far too fast.

And the worst part was that he knew exactly why.

The hallway was long, lit only by warm lights that cast soft shadows on the walls. Jongho walked behind Hongjoong, glancing sideways at every closed door. Are these all different bedrooms? he wondered, trying to imagine how enormous the building had to be to house so many rooms.

When they were about to reach the last door, Hongjoong raised his hand to knock, but Jongho heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. His body tensed just as the door opened.

The alpha who appeared before them was… enormous. Tall, broad-shouldered, with slanted, almost feline eyes that locked directly onto Jongho. Not on Hongjoong. On him.

That stare made his stomach shrink—not from fear, but from the kind of shiver that runs down your spine when something intimidates you… and attracts you at the same time.

And when he spoke… the alpha’s deep voice vibrated straight into Jongho’s chest.

Hongjoong smiled, as if he didn’t notice the obvious tension.

—Professor —he said proudly—, allow me to introduce my little alpha, Song Mingi.

Little? Jongho almost laughed. The word “little” didn’t fit Mingi anywhere. He was taller than Jongho, taller than Hongjoong, and made the other alpha look almost slender beside him.

The alpha extended his hand, smiling just barely.

—A pleasure to work together, professor.

Mingi’s hand was so large it practically swallowed Jongho’s. And that, to Jongho’s dismay, triggered a quick, forbidden thought: What else could those hands do?

He erased it instantly, ashamed, and focused on speaking.

—Th-the pleasure is mine.

That was when the alpha’s scent hit him. Forest berries. Deep, sweet but strong, and so familiar it caused a strange thump in his chest.

I’ve smelled this before… but when?

He couldn’t remember.

The room was gigantic—larger than Jongho’s entire apartment. Tidy, spacious, impeccable. An enormous bed dominated the space, and at the far end was a walk-in closet so huge it made Jongho think Mingi probably owned more clothes than he had in his entire life.

Hongjoong pulled him out of his observation:

—I leave him in your hands —he said, his tone carrying a clear double meaning—. Anything you need, just tell me.

Jongho didn’t catch the knowing look Hongjoong and Mingi exchanged, but it was there.

The door closed, leaving him alone with the alpha.

A heavy silence settled between them. Jongho took a deep breath and decided to break it.

—Well… it’s a pleasure, young Song. I don’t think I’ve had the chance to teach you before. I’m Jongho; my specialty is Universal Literature, but I’ll be helping you with general subjects. Hongjoong already explained your situation, so I’ll do my best to help. Is there anything you’d like to share with me?

Mingi simply watched him. Assessing him with those eyes.

Then he spoke, blunt:

—Mingi.

—P-pardon?

—Call me Mingi —he repeated, firm—. Don’t call me Song. That’s my dad.

Jongho blinked, uncomfortable, unsure how to respond.

—I normally address my students by their surname; it’s part of respect…

Mingi’s lips tightened as if he didn’t like the answer.

—But I want you to call me Mingi.

Jongho remembered what Hongjoong had said: he’s direct, he’s blunt, but it’s a good step that he’s socializing.

So he gave in.

—Alright. While we’re working together… I’ll call you Mingi.

The alpha nodded, satisfied, and added:

—I want to call you Jongho too.

The discomfort slammed back into him.

—That’s… not possible. Only my friends or family call me that.

Mingi showed no reaction, just held his gaze.

—I like your name.

Jongho felt his ears burn.

—If we keep this a professor-student relationship… you can call me Jongho. It’s fine.

Mingi smiled—just barely. A small, dangerous smile.

Then he walked to the desk and sat down, waiting for Jongho to follow. Jongho swallowed hard and approached as well, feeling the alpha’s scent wrap around him like sweet mist.

Jongho checked one last time the sheets in front of him. He had given the alpha a short diagnostic test to assess the younger’s knowledge. Although Mingi’s results were surprisingly good, he decided not to mention it yet. He preferred to approach the topics with the calm professionalism that defined him.

—Alright —he said, setting the papers aside—. Let’s start with something simple for today. I’m going to explain the correct way to structure a short essay, okay?

Mingi nodded from his seat, arms relaxed on the desk, but his eyes… his eyes didn’t leave the beta for a single second.

Jongho settled into his chair and began writing in a notebook he placed between them, leaning just slightly forward. His tone was clear, didactic, accompanying every explanation with small hand gestures.

—First, the introduction. Here you present the topic and… —he paused to draw a line— …make your main point clear. It’s the guide for everything you’re going to develop.

Mingi seemed to be following; he nodded from time to time, but the truth was different. The alpha hadn’t read a single word Jongho had written. All his attention was fixed on the professor’s lips when he spoke. On the way his hair fell over his forehead when he leaned in. On the softness of his voice. But there was something strange—he couldn’t pick up the sweet scent the beta always carried.

Jongho, unaware of the alpha’s scrutiny, continued:

—Then comes the body, where you take your main idea and divide it into two or three arguments. Look, here’s an example…

He leaned in a little more, bringing his torso closer to the desk. He breathed in deeply without making it obvious and narrowed his eyes just a fraction. Nothing. He couldn’t detect Jongho’s usual cinnamon-apple scent. Alphas of Mingi’s caliber could detect even the slightest change in the air, and in that room, no matter how deeply he inhaled, there was no trace of the beta’s natural aroma. It was… strange. Too strange.

—Everything clear so far? —Jongho asked, looking up.

Mingi held his gaze a second longer than appropriate.

—Yes —he answered, though he had no idea what the beta had just explained.

Jongho smiled, satisfied.

—Perfect. Then I’m going to give you a simple topic and I want you to write an introduction to practice. Something short.

—You have no scent —Mingi said suddenly, cutting off the beta’s explanation.

Jongho blinked, startled, his pencil freezing mid-air.

—W-what?

Mingi rested his elbow on the desk, studying him carefully, as if analyzing him piece by piece.

—You don’t smell like anything. It’s weird —he said naturally, but there was an intense glint in his eyes—. Are you wearing a patch?

Jongho tensed completely. He hadn’t expected him to notice so fast.

He tried to smile, nervous.

—Ah, yes… well, I just wear it when I’m in new places. It’s to avoid… distractions. You know… —he coughed lightly—. Basic protocol between alphas and betas.

Mingi didn’t look away.

—I know. But I don’t like it —he answered bluntly.

Jongho froze.

—Pardon?

The alpha shifted in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with calm, but there was something predatory in his posture.

—I can’t concentrate if I don’t know how you smell —he said with complete sincerity, as if talking about the weather.

Jongho swallowed.

—Mingi… that’s not… appropriate.

—I don’t like it —the alpha repeated, unfazed—. I want to smell you.

Jongho dropped his gaze to the papers, trying to regain the thread of the lesson and pretend the comment hadn’t completely thrown him.

—R-right… let’s continue with the essay. Look, here you have to…

Mingi interrupted him gently but firmly, completely ignoring the beta.

—Do you always wear patches when you’re around alphas?

—I-it depends on the context —Jongho answered, feeling his heart speed up for no logical reason—. Only when… when I don’t want to draw attention.

Mingi let out a soft nasal laugh.

—Then today you did the opposite.

Jongho looked at him, confused.

—How?

The alpha rested his chin on his hand, leaning a little closer.

—You arrived here scentless, nervous, trembling every time you speak. That draws way more attention than your actual scent would, Jongho.

The beta felt blood rush to his cheeks. He didn’t know if it was embarrassment, the accuracy of the alpha’s words… or the tone in which he’d said them.

He tried to return to the exercise, turning the page.

—L-let’s continue…

—As you wish —Mingi replied, though he kept staring at him as if he’d just found a new weakness he was fascinated to explore.

Mingi took the pencil Jongho offered, but their fingers brushed in the process, making him pause for a heartbeat. It was barely a whisper of contact, but enough for the alpha to fix his gaze on the professor’s hand as if he’d discovered a new point of interest.

Jongho unconsciously pulled his hand back and shifted slightly to give him space.

—When you’re done, let me know —he said.

The beta turned to rummage through his bag for some books. And in that brief moment, Mingi let his eyes drop to the paper in front of him… finally reading the example line Jongho had written.

He could do that exercise in his sleep. He could write an entire essay without a single mistake.

But instead he wrote slowly—far slower than necessary—as if he were actually struggling. He knew the longer it took, the more time he’d get to spend with him.

Jongho returned to his side and glanced at Mingi’s progress.

—You’re doing well —he said kindly—. If you need help, I can explain it again with different examples.

Mingi looked up slowly, and for the first time that afternoon, he let a small smile show.

—I need you closer —he answered, saying it naturally enough that it could pass as referring to the explanation… not to him.

Jongho, taking it as an academic request, moved his chair a little closer without suspicion.

—Of course —he said, placing the notebook between them—. Here. We’ll do it step by step.

Mingi watched him from that new proximity, completely focused… but not on the exercise. On the way Jongho furrowed his brow when he thought. On the curve of his neck. On every soft movement of the beta.

And though Jongho continued the lesson with absolute professionalism, he never noticed that from the very first minute, the alpha wasn’t studying the material. He was studying him.

On the other side, Jongho cleared his throat softly, trying to erase the earlier comment from his mind. He opened another notebook, took a deep breath, and continued as if nothing had happened.

—Alright… here’s another critical reading exercise. I just need you to… —he turned toward Mingi.

But suddenly the alpha was no longer looking at him. In fact, he had completely turned his gaze to the window, his expression a blank mask. As if everything Jongho said didn’t matter in the slightest. No gesture, no nod. Nothing.

Jongho blinked.

—What the…?— he thought, thoroughly confused.

A moment ago the alpha had been too attentive. Even a little intense. And now it was as if Jongho didn’t exist.

He tried to continue.

—This type of essay has three main parts… —he straightened the sheets—. Introduction, body, and conclusion. Could you read this excerpt?

Mingi didn’t even move his head. He just kept staring out the window, as if the garden were far more interesting than him.

Jongho felt an uncomfortable knot in his chest. Maybe he’d said something that upset him. Or maybe… this was just how he was. Clumsy, unpredictable. Hongjoong had warned him about his lack of social skills.

Suddenly, Mingi turned his head and stared at him. Jongho thought he was finally going to answer.

But the alpha only said:

—I didn’t understand what you said earlier.

—Which part?

—All of it.

Then he looked away again.

Jongho had to inhale deeply so as not to lose patience. Not out of anger, but frustration. This wasn’t normal in his classes, but he didn’t want to treat Mingi like a difficult student either. He knew how to handle that.

What he didn’t know how to handle was the emotional chaos Mingi unintentionally triggered in him.

Still, he tried to understand.

Maybe it was hard for him to process information. Maybe he needed more time. Maybe… he simply didn’t know how to interact.

And thinking that, Jongho remembered his little brother. How his brother struggled to approach other kids, how he’d freeze when he didn’t know what to say, how he could go from clinging to him to ignoring him completely just because he didn’t know how to keep a conversation going.

That memory softened everything inside Jongho.

Maybe Mingi was like that: someone who didn’t know how to interact and, without meaning to, switched attitudes without warning. That took the weight off the moment’s tension.

—It’s okay, we’ll take it slow —Jongho said calmly, almost the same tone he used with his brother when he got frustrated—. Step by step, alright?

Mingi didn’t answer, but his brow twitched slightly, as if processing the gentleness in his voice.

Jongho took that as progress.

—Mingi, how about we start with the basics? —he suggested slowly—. You don’t have to force anything. I can explain everything again, no rush.

The alpha slowly glanced at him sideways. He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no. But he turned a little toward him—just enough to show he was listening again.

And Jongho smiled—small, genuine.

—Great —he continued—. Let’s start then. Just give me your attention for a moment. I’m not going to scold you.

Mingi watched him in silence. His eyes flicked for a second to Jongho’s hand resting on the desk. Then to his neck, hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. Then back to the papers.

—Okay —he murmured at last.

And Jongho believed it was real progress. Unaware that, for Mingi, the hardest part wasn’t paying attention to the lesson… It was holding back the urge to pin the beta to the desk, rip his clothes off with his teeth, and mark him right there—but he controlled himself. He couldn’t scare his little baby like that, not yet. So he let him keep talking, even if he wasn’t listening to a single word.

After a while, Jongho checked his watch and was surprised to see it was already two in the afternoon.

—Ah…time really flew —he murmured as he began gathering his things.

Mingi also started putting away his notebooks, silent as always, wearing that calm expression Jongho still couldn’t quite read.

—We made good progress for the first day —Jongho said, satisfied, while organizing his pencils—. Honestly, you’re picking everything up really well. I don’t think you’ll have major difficulties.

The alpha looked at him in silence.

—According to the diagnostic I gave you earlier, we’ll reinforce history and a little English. It’s not that you don’t know it—just pronunciation gives you a bit of trouble. We can practice that. Also literature… you actually understand essays really well; it surprised me —he laughed softly—. You tend to go really deep into what the authors mean. It’s admirable… I mean, you’re really good. We just need to cover a couple more theorists to complete the syllabus.

Mingi remained still, absorbing every word.

—Oh, and math—there’s really not much to reinforce —Jongho added, closing his last notebook—. Seriously, you’re doing great.

The alpha only nodded.

—Thank you for helping me —he said in that low, flat tone—. Same time tomorrow.

—Yes, of course. See you.

Jongho slung his bag over his shoulder and left the room. Behind him, he heard footsteps. He tensed and turned.

—…Why are you following me? —he asked nervously.

—I’m walking you to the door.

Jongho mentally face-palmed at his own awkwardness.

—Ah… right. Makes sense. Let’s go.

As Jongho and Mingi walked down the hallway toward the exit, they heard firm footsteps behind them. They turned to see Yunho, still wearing the apron tied around his waist, clearly coming from the kitchen.

—Ah, there you are —he said with a calm smile—. I was looking for you. Lunch is ready. Then he looked directly at Jongho, with that characteristic warmth of his—. If you’d like, you’re welcome to stay and eat, professor. I’d love for you to try what I made.

Jongho blushed and swallowed.

—Thank you, young Jeong… really —he answered with a small bow of his head—. But someone’s already coming to pick me up. He checked his phone—. They just texted me—they’re a few minutes away.

Yunho’s smile softened, almost sad, like a puppy who’d been denied a treat.

—Oh… I see. —He lowered his gaze a little—. Well… next time, then. I’d really like for us to eat all together someday.

—Of course… —Jongho lied with a polite smile, while his beta instincts screamed that staying surrounded by alphas was a terrible idea.

At that moment, while Jongho checked his phone, Yunho and Mingi exchanged a silent glance. There was no hostility… but there was something complicit. A strange, thick, almost territorial energy… and the beta, completely oblivious, stood right in the middle of it.

Jongho felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when he noticed the silence and the stares on him.

—So… I’ll be going —he murmured.

—I’ll walk you to the entrance —Mingi said immediately, taking a step toward him.

That simple gesture was enough to make Jongho’s body stiffen even more. It was too much. Too much alpha presence, too much silent tension, too many stares. He just wanted to leave.

When they finally reached the main door, Jongho turned to Mingi with a tired smile.

—Well… that’s it for today. See you tomorrow at noon to continue our sessions. I recommend reviewing a little of what we covered so it sticks. Mostly so everything settles in. And if you have any questions… don’t hesitate to tell me tomorrow, okay?

Mingi held his gaze for a second, saying nothing. He nodded once—barely, silently. Then turned to leave.

At that exact moment, Jongho spotted a familiar figure in the distance behind the gate: Bang Chan, leaning against his red car, arms crossed, waiting for him.

Mingi noticed too. And though Jongho didn’t see it—because he was already preparing to leave—the older alpha felt it: a tension that didn’t belong there.

Mingi turned his head toward Jongho for just a heartbeat.

—See you tomorrow —he murmured, before disappearing down the hallway.

Jongho stepped outside and breathed easier the moment the mansion doors were behind him. He walked quickly toward the car.

The second he got in, Chan greeted him with:

—How’d it go?

—Pretty well —Jongho answered as he buckled his seatbelt—. They were really nice. Mingi’s actually pretty calm.

Chan didn’t answer right away. He stayed quiet. He just clenched his jaw.

And that… that was weird.

Of his two friends, Chan was the paternal one, the one who always started conversations because he hated silence. But right now he was quiet. Too quiet.

Jongho tilted his head.

—You okay?

—Yeah —Chan replied, but the word came out dry.

The silence turned uncomfortable.

—Everything really okay with the kid? —Chan insisted.

Now Jongho felt a prick of unease.

—Why? Did something happen? —he asked.

Chan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

—No… nothing, I think I’m just imagining things.

Jongho kept staring at him, confused. Chan was almost never serious. When he doubted something… it was because something had genuinely unsettled him.

Still, Jongho didn’t want to push. The alpha had been looking out for him a lot lately, especially since his health had declined. He wanted to return the support, so he just smiled and tried to lighten the mood.

—Hey… whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not serious. Besides, you’re great at handling this stuff. Cheer up, okay? I’m sure your client meeting went great.

Chan raised an eyebrow, confused.

—My client?

—Didn’t it go well? I thought that’s why you were so serious.

Suddenly Chan let out a loud, almost relieved laugh.

—No, no, no —he waved his hand—. It went amazing. I start the project next week. That’s not it.

Jongho blinked, even more confused.

—Then… why were you so serious?

Chan turned his eyes back to the road, starting the car.

—It was nothing —he lied gently—. Just me being paranoid. He paused for a second—. Better tell me how your day went.

Jongho began recounting his day while the alpha drove in silence, nodding every now and then.

But Chan wasn’t really listening. His mind was still at the mansion entrance. On that look. The look the alpha standing next to Jongho—Mingi—had given him through the car window.

Because when Chan had looked up, the other alpha had stared straight at him. And never—never—had an alpha looked at him like that. Like he wanted to kill him. Like he was furious that Jongho was leaving with him. Like he was stealing something that belonged to him.

The stare had lasted one second. Just one second. But it was enough to freeze Chan’s blood.

And the worst part… when he looked again, Mingi was no longer looking at him. He was looking at Jongho. And his expression was completely different: soft, almost calm. Unreadable.

That was what disturbed him the most.

—Just me being paranoid… —he murmured under his breath, though his instincts screamed that it hadn’t been his imagination at all.

Something about that alpha wasn’t right. But Chan said nothing. He wasn’t going to scare the beta without proof.

But he would be watching. Very, very closely.