Chapter Text
The "Switch" Paradox: How Pop Culture Dehumanized Betas
By Julian Thorne
For decades, the Beta was the "safe" background noise of the dynamic world. In cinema, they were the reliable best friends; in music, they were the producers behind the glass. But over the last five years, a predatory shift in global marketing—pioneered by K-pop giants and perfected by the Western machine—has transformed the Beta from the "stable anchor" into the world’s most profitable fetish.
We call it the "Universal Mate" trope, and it’s stripping the Beta community of its humanity, one "sultry" eyeshadow palette at a time.
While the East gave us the "Beta Prince," the West has opted for something far more aggressive. Take Jaxen Vane, the R&B sensation whose chart-topping hit "Tight Like a Beta" has become an anthem of the club scene. The lyrics don’t celebrate Beta resilience; they fetishize the biological "tightness" of the Beta anatomy, framing the Beta as a resilient toy for Alpha aggression that won't "break" like an Omega might.
Similarly, pop-darling Lula Ray released "My Sweet Beta Boy," a saccharine, hyper-pop track that paints Betas as disposable, scent-neutral playthings.
"No knot to tie me down, no heat to make me cry Just my sweet Beta boy, until the sun hits the sky." The message is clear: Betas are for the fun, the friction, and the "one-night-stand" culture that Alphas and Omegas are biologically "too messy" to maintain.
Hollywood has traded the "Boy Next Door" Beta for a new, colder archetype. In the hit HBO series "The Neutral Grounds," we follow Kyle Bane, a breathtakingly beautiful Beta bartender played by an actor whose "sultry" gaze has launched a thousand thirst-tweets. Kyle is the "Lustful Nomad"—he never bonds, never do relationships, and only flutters from an Alpha’s bed to an Omega’s nest with a blank, predatory grace.
Many other TV series and movies follow the same stereotypes for their Beta characters. These characters don’t have families, hobbies, or hearts. They are simply biological "keys" that fit into every lock.
Living as a Fetish
This isn't just about entertainment. For the average Beta walking down the street, this cultural shift is a nightmare. Many Betas report a massive spike in sexual harassment against them, and being viewed only as a sexual object.
There is also an unspoken pressure on young Betas to adopt the "sexy Beta" aesthetic—the heavy liners, the revealing clothes, the "languid" posture—just to be seen as valuable members of society.
By turning the Beta into a "universal object of lust," we haven't empowered them. We’ve simply built a different kind of cage—one made of marble, red light, and the crushing expectation that their only value lies in how well they can satisfy everyone but themselves.
*
The green room of the music show buzzed with a familiar energy that was both comforting and chaotic. The low hum of air conditioning mixed with the rustling of fabric as stylists adjusted outfits and makeup artists worked with swift precision. Quiet conversations filled the space, punctuated by bursts of laughter from other groups milling about outside. On the far wall, a monitor displayed the performances of the groups scheduled ahead of them, the bass from the stage faintly vibrating through the floor.
Hyunjin sat in his makeup chair, his reflection staring back at him. The makeup noona had just finished the last touches—soft powders to accentuate his already sharp features, a light shimmer on his eyes, and a dab of gloss on his lips. He tilted his head slightly, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. To his right, Bang Chan sat getting his hair styled. The pack alpha was calm, his commanding aura muted but still noticeable as he chatted casually with the stylist working on him. To Hyunjin’s left, Felix was mid-conversation with his own makeup artist, his freckles glowing against his pale skin, his omega scent—a blend of coconut and mango—wafting gently in the air.
Hyunjin’s eyes darted across the room, pretending to check his reflection in the mirror but instead watching the scene around him. In the corner, Han and Seungmin stood as stylists fussed over their outfits, adjusting collars and straightening hems. Han was animated, as always, his expressive face lighting up the conversation. Seungmin, quieter and more reserved, occasionally nodded along with a small smile. On the other side of the room, Changbin and Jeongin were sprawled out on a couch, both alphas catching a quick nap before their turn on stage.
But behind Hyunjin, just out of his direct line of sight, sat the source of his current turmoil.
Lee Know.
The alpha was lounging on the green room’s worn leather couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest while his other hand scrolled through his phone. His legs were spread wide, his posture effortlessly relaxed, exuding the kind of confidence that made Hyunjin’s chest tighten. The faint scent of oak and rum—a scent that was unmistakably Lee Know—drifted through the room, grounding yet intoxicating. It was both a reminder of the alpha’s presence and a cruel tease of the distance between them.
Hyunjin’s eyes flickered to the mirror again, pretending to adjust his collar as he stole a glance at Lee Know. His feline-shaped eyes were focused on his phone, his sharp features softened by the glow of the screen. His lips—soft and pink—pressed together in concentration. His clear, fair complexion was almost luminous under the fluorescent lights.
Beautiful.
That was the word Hyunjin always used to describe Lee Know. Others might call him handsome, but to Hyunjin, “beautiful” fit better. His beauty wasn’t just in his appearance. It was in the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the way his laughter could fill a room, the way he could go from stoic to soft in the blink of an eye.
If you asked their fans who the best-looking members of the group were, most would say Hyunjin or Felix. Nine times out of ten, one of their names would come up. But Hyunjin disagreed. In his eyes, Lee Know outshone them all.
Hyunjin’s chest ached as he thought about it. He’d been in love with Lee Know from the moment they met. He was sixteen then, a wide-eyed pup who hadn’t yet grown into himself. The quiet longing he felt for the alpha had been a constant companion ever since, a bittersweet ache he’d learned to mask behind a carefully crafted smile.
He didn’t realize his own scent had begun to sweeten—warm, comforting, like freshly baked brioche—until he caught Han’s reflection in the mirror. The omega’s sharp eyes were locked on Hyunjin, his lips pulling into a subtle frown. Hyunjin stiffened, immediately forcing his scent back under control. He didn’t know why Han hated him so much, but the omega had made his feelings clear from the start. From the moment they met, Han seemed determined to make Hyunjin’s life as difficult as possible.
Hyunjin’s gaze dropped to the floor, but his peripheral vision picked up on Han’s expression. The omega’s frown had turned into a smirk, fleeting but unmistakable. A chill ran down Hyunjin’s spine as he watched Han saunter across the room toward Lee Know.
The scene unfolded like a slow-motion nightmare.
Han climbed onto Lee Know’s lap, straddling him with ease, his hands resting on the alpha’s shoulders as he pouted dramatically. “Minho-hyung,” Han whined, his voice laced with playfulness. “You’ve been ignoring me all morning.”
Lee Know’s nonchalant expression softened, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. He wrapped an arm around Han’s waist, pulling the omega closer. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” he murmured, his voice low and warm. The alpha leaned in, scenting Han gently, his nose brushing against the omega’s neck. Han giggled, leaning into the touch as Lee Know whispered something into his ear.
Hyunjin’s heart twisted painfully at the sight.
His scent soured, the comforting aroma of brioche burning into something bitter—like charred biscuits. He clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself to take slow, even breaths. He truly believe that Han is dating Lee know only because he knows that Hyunjin is in love with the alpha.
“Hyunjin,” a voice broke through his thoughts, accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. The scent of vetiver and sea breeze flooded his senses, grounding him. Hyunjin turned to see Bang Chan watching him with concern, the pack alpha’s brow furrowed.
“You okay?” Chan asked, his voice low enough that only Hyunjin could hear.
Hyunjin forced a tight smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Chan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. Before he could say anything else, the manager’s voice rang out, cutting through the room. “You guys are up next! Let’s go!”
Hyunjin stood abruptly, smoothing his outfit as he avoided looking in the direction of Lee Know and Han. He caught his reflection in the mirror one last time, his expression carefully blank. He shook his head, trying to dispel the image of Lee Know and Han together, and followed the others out of the green room.
The stage was waiting. It was the one place where Hyunjin could lose himself, where the ache in his chest could fade, at least for a little while.
*
Hyunjin leaned back against the wall of the practice room, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing after the last run-through of their choreography. His eyes drifted to the mirrored walls, catching his own reflection. Sweat clung to his skin, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He looked tired, but there was something else in his gaze—a quiet determination, one that hadn’t always been there.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his trainee days. Those memories were etched into him, raw and vivid, even though years had passed. Back then, he had never seriously considered becoming an idol. In fact, the future itself had always been something of a blur to him. He wasn’t the type to plan too far ahead; he preferred to live in the moment, letting things unfold as they came. The only thing he had ever been certain about was his love for fashion. He wanted to be part of that world somehow—maybe as a designer, maybe as a stylist. But the idea of standing on a stage, singing and dancing in front of thousands of people? That had never crossed his mind.
It all started on an ordinary day. He had been walking home from school, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows along the streets. His bag was slung lazily over one shoulder, and his mind was occupied with mundane thoughts—homework, dinner, maybe catching up on his favorite shows. Then, out of nowhere, a man approached him. Hyunjin had stopped in his tracks, startled, as the man handed him a sleek business card with the JYP Entertainment logo printed on it.
“I saw the video your school posted online,” the man had said, his tone casual but direct. “The one of the dance competition you won. You’re really talented. We’d like to recruit you as a trainee.”
Hyunjin had stared at the card, the words barely registering. For a moment, he thought it was a prank. Him? An idol? It sounded absurd. Sure, he loved dancing—he had been doing it for as long as he could remember—but he wasn’t a singer, and he definitely wasn’t a rapper. The idea of standing on a stage and performing in front of a crowd seemed completely out of reach. He had nodded politely, thanked the man, and stuffed the card into his pocket, fully intending to forget about it.
That night, however, curiosity got the better of him. He told his parents about the encounter, expecting them to laugh it off. Instead, they surprised him. His mother’s eyes lit up with excitement, and his father leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Why not give it a try?” his mother had said, her voice brimming with encouragement. “If they’re interested in you, it means they see potential. And don’t worry about singing or rapping—they’ll teach you all of that. Companies invest in their trainees.”
It took some convincing, but eventually, Hyunjin decided to go. He told himself it was just to see what it was all about, to satisfy his curiosity. When he walked through the doors of JYP Entertainment for the first time, he felt completely out of place. The building buzzed with energy, filled with trainees rushing from one practice room to another. Everyone seemed so polished, so confident. Hyunjin, on the other hand, felt like an imposter. But then something unexpected happened: they accepted him on the spot. No audition, no tests—just a handshake and a welcome.
That was the day his life changed.
The memory of meeting the other trainees was still clear in his mind. Bang Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, and Felix were already there when he arrived. Bang Chan, the oldest, had immediately exuded a comforting sense of leadership. Lee Know’s sharp eyes and quiet demeanor had been intimidating at first, but there was a warmth beneath his stoic exterior that made him approachable. Changbin had been all energy, his booming laugh filling the room and breaking the tension. And then there was Felix, who was the same age as Hyunjin. That had surprised him—omegas usually presented later, around eighteen or twenty, but Felix had presented early, at sixteen. Despite his young age, Felix carried himself with a quiet confidence that Hyunjin couldn’t help but admire.
Hyunjin, at the time, hadn’t presented yet. He wasn’t sure what he would be—an alpha or an omega, like either of his parents, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter much to him then; he was more focused on keeping up with the rigorous training schedule and proving himself.
He had bonded with the others quickly. Bang Chan took him under his wing, guiding him through the overwhelming process of adjusting to trainee life. Changbin had a knack for making him laugh when the days got tough, and Felix, with his easygoing nature, became a fast friend. Even Lee Know, who was initially harder to read, warmed up to him after a few weeks.
But Han—Han was different.
From the very beginning, Han seemed to have a problem with him. It wasn’t overt at first, just subtle jabs and cold looks. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore. Han would pounce on every mistake Hyunjin made during practice, scolding him harshly for things that others might have brushed off. He would nitpick everything Hyunjin did, from his singing to his posture, often in front of the other trainees. At first, Hyunjin thought it was just the natural competitiveness that came with being a trainee. Everyone was fighting for a spot on the debut lineup, after all. But with Han, it felt personal.
What Hyunjin didn’t know at the time was the reason behind Han’s hostility.
Han had overheard two staff members talking about Hyunjin shortly after he joined. “They brought him in purely for his visuals,” one of them had said, laughing lightly. “Didn’t even make him audition. He’s got such a pretty face—it’s no wonder they want him.” "I guess when you look like that, talent is optional." said the other.
Those words had struck a nerve. Han’s journey to JYP had been anything but easy. He had auditioned dozens of times at different companies, facing rejection after rejection. Even when JYP finally accepted him, it hadn’t been without conditions. “Your spot isn’t guaranteed,” they had told him. “If you don’t perform well, we’ll replace you.” The pressure had been immense, and Han had worked himself to the bone to prove he deserved to be there.
So when Hyunjin walked in, handed a spot on a silver platter without even auditioning, something in Han snapped. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was a deep sense of injustice, a feeling that all his hard work had been undermined. No matter how much effort Hyunjin put in, Han couldn’t see past that initial resentment. To him, Hyunjin would always be someone who had been given what others had to fight for because of his 'Pretty Privilege'.
Hyunjin, of course, was unaware of any of this. All he knew was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get along with Han. The short boy’s anger was like a wall, impenetrable and unyielding. Hyunjin told himself to ignore it, to focus on his training and his goals. But deep down, the constant tension gnawed at him.
Even now, years later, the memory still stung. Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside. The past was the past, and there was no changing it. All he could do was keep moving forward.
*
The group finally debuted at the end of 2017, after enduring the grueling trials of a survival show that tested every ounce of their resolve. The months leading up to their debut had been some of the hardest in their lives, filled with sleepless nights, relentless practices, and the constant fear of elimination. By the end of it, all of them were emotionally drained, their smiles on debut day hiding just how much they had endured to stand together as one.
Two weeks before their debut, Jeongin presented as an alpha. The youngest of the group, he had always carried himself with a quiet confidence, but his presentation only seemed to enhance it. His scent—oakmoss and bergamot—settled into the group with ease, grounding and fresh. The others had congratulated him warmly, but it left an unspoken tension lingering in the air. With Jeongin’s presentation, the group was left with only three unpresented members: Hyunjin, Han, and Seungmin.
It wasn’t long after that Seungmin presented. Less than two months into their debut, the omega’s scent shifted into something unmistakable: pineapples and sugarcane, sweet and light, with a playful warmth that fit him perfectly. Hyunjin couldn’t help but notice how well it blended with Felix’s scent—coconut and mango. Together, the two omegas’ scents filled the dorm like a tropical breeze, harmonious and comforting. Hyunjin often joked about it, teasing Seungmin, though the truth was that it only reminded him of his own uncertainty.
Three months after Seungmin, it was Han’s turn. The omega’s presentation was almost theatrical in its intensity, his scent blooming into a rich bouquet of roses and gardenias. It was heady and elegant, commanding attention wherever he went. Hyunjin had been happy for him, of course, but as the last unpresented member of the group, he couldn’t ignore the growing weight of his own insecurities.
He began to notice the subtle ways the group dynamics shifted as more members presented. Bonds deepened, instincts sharpened, and the natural pull of alphas and omegas toward each other became more apparent. Hyunjin felt like an outsider looking in, still waiting for his own body to decide who he was meant to be. The pressure to present mounted with each passing day, and he couldn’t help but wonder: if he presented, would it change how Lee Know saw him?
Lee Know.
Hyunjin often found his thoughts drifting to the alpha. He wondered if Lee Know preferred omegas, like most alphas did, or if he might be open to an alpha. Would it even matter? Would Lee Know be able to love him no matter what he became? Hyunjin didn’t care if he presented as an alpha like his father or as an omega like his mother. All that mattered was whether he could become someone Lee Know would want.
The two of them had been spending more time together lately. It wasn’t strange—after all, they were the group’s main dancers, and their shared passion for movement brought them together naturally. They spent hours in the practice studio, perfecting choreography until their bodies ached, moving in sync as if they were two halves of the same whole. When they weren’t dancing, they bonded over video games, often staying up late into the night battling each other in competitive matches. On more than one occasion, they’d sneak out for McDonald’s runs, stuffing their faces with burgers and fries despite strict diet rules. Those nights felt like stolen moments, just the two of them against the world.
Hyunjin found himself falling deeper and deeper for Lee Know. It wasn’t just the alpha’s looks—though those were undeniably breathtaking. It was the way Lee Know’s soft voice wrapped around him when he spoke, the way his lazy smile would appear whenever Hyunjin did something that amused him, the way his giggle would bubble up when they joked around. Every moment they spent together felt like a thread tying Hyunjin’s heart to Lee Know’s, pulling him closer and closer, until he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t feel this way.
But someone else had noticed, too.
Han.
Hyunjin wasn’t sure when it started, but Han’s behavior toward Lee Know shifted. The omega had always been playful and outgoing, but now there was something deliberate in the way he acted around the alpha. Han’s scent would sweeten whenever he was near Lee Know, filling the room with roses and gardenias. His voice took on a higher, softer pitch, laced with a whiny tone that Hyunjin knew no alpha could resist. And it worked.
Hyunjin watched helplessly as Lee Know’s attention was stolen away time and time again. Plans he and Lee Know had made—whether it was late-night gaming sessions or simply hanging out—were canceled at the last minute because Han wanted to spend time with him. The alpha never hesitated, turning his focus to Han with a softness that made Hyunjin’s chest ache.
Frustration built inside Hyunjin, bubbling up like a storm he couldn’t control. He hated himself for it, hated the jealousy he felt every time Han leaned into Lee Know, every time the alpha’s scent mingled with the omega’s. He hated that he hadn’t presented yet, hated that he didn’t know how to seduce an alpha the way omegas did so instinctively. No matter what he did, Lee Know seemed to view him as nothing more than an unpresented pup—a child, not a potential mate.
What hurt most was how blindsided he felt by Han’s sudden romantic interest in Lee Know. Han had never shown any signs of liking the alpha before—not until now. It wasn’t until one fateful day that Hyunjin finally understood.
He had been heading to one of the recording studios, hoping to work on his vocals. It was late, and he figured the space would be empty. But when he opened the door, he froze.
There, on the couch against the back wall, sat Lee Know and Han. The omega was curled up in the alpha’s lap, his arms draped around Lee Know’s neck. Lee Know’s nose was buried deep in Han’s neck, inhaling his scent with a hunger that made Hyunjin’s stomach twist. The alpha’s lips left open-mouthed kisses along Han’s skin, his scent pouring over him in waves—oak and rum, unmistakably claiming.
Han’s eyes flicked to Hyunjin, a spark of triumph lighting up his gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a hand to the back of Lee Know’s head, pulling him closer into his neck. The motion was possessive, intimate. Han’s lips curved into a smirk, one that spoke louder than words: I win.
Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The world tilted beneath him, and all he could do was turn and run.
That night, he cried himself to sleep, the image of Lee Know and Han burned into his mind like a cruel brand. For the first time, Hyunjin wondered if his feelings for the alpha had been foolish all along.
*
Hyunjin presented a month before his nineteenth birthday. The night it happened, he awoke in the dead of night, his body wracked with an unbearable fever. It felt as though his skin and muscles were being scorched by fire while his bones were frozen in ice, an agonizing contrast that made his whole body ache. Every part of him hurt—his head throbbed, his limbs trembled, and his chest felt tight, as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He tried to call out, to yell for help, but his voice was weak, barely more than a strained whisper.
Drenched in sweat, Hyunjin struggled to sit up. His bed felt like it was suffocating him, the sheets clinging to his overheated skin. He reached out for his phone, fumbling blindly on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there. He couldn’t remember where he’d left it, and in his disoriented state, panic began to set in. His vision blurred, and he could barely focus, but one thing stood out in the haze—a strong, sweet scent thick in the air. It smelled like freshly baked vanilla cake, so strong and vivid that for a moment he thought someone was baking in his room. The scent clung to him, filling the space, but the pain coursing through his body made it impossible to dwell on it.
Forcing himself out of bed, Hyunjin staggered to his feet. His legs were unsteady, wobbling beneath him as if they couldn’t bear his weight. He reached for the wall, leaning heavily against it for support. Each step felt like a monumental effort, the short distance to his door stretching out into what felt like a thousand miles. His mind latched onto one thought—Bang Chan. The pack alpha’s room was right next to his, and Hyunjin prayed he was there. He knew Chan had a habit of working late at the studio, but he desperately hoped tonight wasn’t one of those nights.
It felt like an eternity, but Hyunjin finally reached Bang Chan’s door. He didn’t have the strength to knock. Instead, he pushed the door open and stumbled inside, relief washing over him when he saw the familiar shape of Bang Chan’s figure under the blankets.
“Hyung…” Hyunjin’s voice was hoarse, barely audible, but it was enough to stir the alpha.
Bang Chan’s nose twitched as an unfamiliar scent filled his room. His wolf reacted instinctively, growling low in his throat at the intrusion. The sound was sharp, primal, and it made Hyunjin flinch, his body giving out as he crumpled to the floor.
The growl snapped Bang Chan fully awake, his eyes flashing as he sat up and took in the scene before him. Hyunjin was on the floor, trembling and whimpering softly, his body drenched in sweat. The sight made Chan’s heart lurch. He immediately scrambled out of bed, rushing to Hyunjin’s side and kneeling in front of him.
“Oh my god, Hyunjin, are you okay?” Chan’s voice was gentle but urgent as he carefully gathered the younger boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest.
Hyunjin whimpered, his head lolling weakly against Chan’s shoulder. “I… I don’t feel well…” he managed to whisper, his voice cracking.
Bang Chan looked him over, his sharp eyes taking in every detail—Hyunjin’s flushed face, his shivering frame, the sweat soaking through his clothes. He pressed a hand to Hyunjin’s forehead, and the younger boy let out a soft whine, leaning into the touch like it was the only thing grounding him.
“Baby, you’re burning up,” Chan said softly, his concern etched into every word.
“It hurts,” Hyunjin whimpered, his voice breaking.
“Where does it hurt?” Chan asked, his tone gentle but steady, trying to keep Hyunjin calm.
“Everywhere…” Hyunjin breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as another wave of pain washed over him.
Bang Chan inhaled deeply, and that’s when he noticed it—the scent. It wasn’t just the smell of fevered sweat. Hyunjin’s scent had changed, blooming into something new, something distinct. Sweet and warm, like freshly baked vanilla cake—it clung to him, filling the room. Chan breathed the scent in, trying to categorize it. It wasn't the sharp, spicy bite of a new Alpha, nor the sweet, floral, magnetic pull of an Omega. It was something richer, steadier, yet currently volatile. Beta, his inner wolf supplied.
Chan felt a weight settle in his stomach. The group and management had prepared for everything—Alpha or Omega—but they had never considered Hyunjin presenting as a Beta. In their world, a Beta’s initial presentation was an "all hands on deck" event. Unlike Alphas or Omegas, whose presentations were relatively straightforward, a Beta’s first transition involved a violent recalibration of the body. The fever would be persistent, and the presentation would manifest in alternating waves of heats and ruts as the body struggled to find its biological equilibrium.
“Jini, you’re presenting,” Bang Chan said softly, brushing damp strands of hair away from Hyunjin’s face.
“I am?” Hyunjin’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes fluttering open to meet Chan’s.
Chan nodded, his expression tender. “Yeah, baby. You’re presenting.”
Hyunjin’s mind was foggy, the pain and fever making it hard to process what was happening. But he remembered the discussions they’d had as a pack—how they’d talked about presentations and how they would support each other through the process. He remembered agreeing to let the pack help him when the time came.
“Jini,” Chan said gently, “I know we talked about this before, but I need to ask again. Do you still want us to help you through this? You can say no, baby. It’s your choice.”
Hyunjin nodded weakly. “Yes… Hyung, I want it…”
With that, Bang Chan carefully scooped Hyunjin into his arms, carrying him as if he weighed nothing. Hyunjin clung to him, his body trembling as Chan brought him back to his room. The moment Chan laid him down on the bed, Hyunjin became restless. He tugged at his clothes, whining softly as he started arranging his blankets and pillows into a makeshift nest. His movements were instinctual, his wolf taking over.
Chan watched with a fond smile as Hyunjin reached out, tugging at the hem of his pajama top. “Do you want my shirt for your nest, baby?” Chan asked gently. Hyunjin nodded, and Chan chuckled softly before pulling off his shirt and handing it to him. Hyunjin buried his face in the fabric, his scent mingling with Chan’s as he added it to his nest.
“Jini, I’m going to call Changbin, okay? I don’t want you to be startled.” Chan covered Hyunjin’s ears gently before raising his voice to call for Changbin. Within moments, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, and seconds later, a sleepy Changbin appeared in the doorway, his hair mussed from sleep, and his scent of fir balsam and black pepper slowly filling the space.
“Whoa, it smells amazing in here,” Changbin said, blinking as Hyunjin’s new scent hit him.
“Stay with him,” Chan instructed. “I’m going to get the others.”
In the living room, Chan gathered the pack, explaining Hyunjin’s presentation and the challenges they would face helping him through it. "It’s going to be at least a week from what I've read," Chan stated. "He’s going to cycle through heat and rut waves. Other than sex, he'll need constant scenting, hydration, and skin-to-skin contact to keep the fever from spiking too high. Who wants to help him through it? Felix and I had agreed to help him before, but we won't be able to spend the entire week with him."
When he asked for volunteers, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin immediately stepped forward. But when Lee Know tried to raise his hand, Han’s scent soured.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Han said sharply, clutching at Lee Know’s arm. “I want him to stay with me.”
Lee Know turned to Han, his expression a mixture of disbelief and growing anger. "Han-ah, Hyunjin is in pain. He’s going through presentation. This isn't the time."
"I don't care!" Han argued, clinging to Lee Know’s arm. "The others are going to help him, so you can stay here where I need you."
The room went cold. Everyone knew the history and the sour relationship between Han and Hyunjin, but Han’s attempt to prevent Hyunjin from the care he'll need during a dangerous presentation was a new low. Lee Know looked at Chan, then back at Han, his feline eyes narrowing with a flash of genuine irritation.
Chan sighed, trying to reason with Han, but the omega refused to budge. Lee Know’s jaw tightened in annoyance. He knew Han wasn't behaving like this out of jealousy, Lee know had helped not only Felix and Seungmin through their heats, but also the alphas with their ruts, and shared a bed with all of the pack member outside of their cycles as well, that's what it means to be a pack, Lee Know and Han had slept with everyone in the pack, everyone except Hyunjin as he still hadn't presented until now. So he knew Han was trying to stop him just because it was Hyunjin.
Chan sighed, exhausted. "Han, you really don't need to be this difficult, but fine. Lee Know, just stay with him for now. We’ll manage the first few days."
Hyunjin's presentation lasted eight grueling days. By the seventh day, the core team—Chan, Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin—were shells of themselves, they were completely exhausted and their energy gone.
In the other dorm, Lee Know finally hit his breaking point when the other called him if he could help. He didn't argue with Han. He didn't ask for permission. He simply stood up, shaking Han’s grip off his arm.
"I am going to help Hyunjin whether you like it or not," Lee Know said, his voice like cold iron. He walked out of the room without looking back, leaving a stunned Han in his wake.
Hyunjin couldn’t have been happier when Lee Know entered his room. For the first time in days, a small smile graced his lips despite the fever.
*
JYP Entertainment didn’t take the news of Hyunjin presenting as a beta well. For months, they had been banking on him presenting as an omega to create a perfectly balanced dynamic within the group—four alphas and four omegas. It was a marketing goldmine that promised perfect biological balance and easy shipping for the fans. A concept that aligned with their vision for Stray Kids. Betas, on the other hand, didn’t fit into their carefully crafted plans. The general public had always been lukewarm, even dismissive, toward betas. They weren’t seen as exciting or desirable in the same way alphas and omegas were. To many, betas were bland, caught awkwardly in the middle of the hierarchy, and often overlooked by fans who gravitated toward the more "dramatic" dynamics of alphas and omegas.
The executives were frustrated, but a K-pop marketing team is nothing if not resourceful. They didn’t waste time mourning their initial plans for Hyunjin. Instead, they pivoted, leaning into the very thing that made betas unique—biologically, betas could mate with both alphas and omegas. This dual compatibility was a rare trait, and the team saw an opportunity to exploit it.
The original image they had planned for Hyunjin was scrapped almost overnight. Gone was the clean, innocent concept they had envisioned for him when they thought he’d present as an omega. The angelic “boy-next-door” persona—a sweet, wholesome image that evoked the church-going boy who could do no wrong—was discarded. In its place, they introduced something entirely new: betas as objects of sexual desire, appealing to both alphas and omegas. If alphas were dominant and powerful, and omegas were alluring and submissive, then betas could be rebranded as the ultimate fantasy—a blend of both worlds, irresistible to anyone.
Hyunjin was rebranded as the “sexy beta” of Stray Kids. His wardrobe shifted drastically. The soft, modest outfits he’d been wearing in the early days were replaced with tight, revealing clothing that left little to the imagination. Leather pants, sheer tops, cropped jackets—everything was designed to highlight his tall, lean frame and accentuate his natural elegance. His makeup, once subtle and natural, became bold and sultry. Smokey eyeshadow framed his almond-shaped eyes, and his lips were painted with a faint red tint that made them look perpetually kissable. Every detail was calculated to enhance his sensuality, from the way his hair was styled to the way he carried himself on stage.
Hyunjin didn’t like it—not at all. At first, the drastic shift in his image made him deeply uncomfortable. It felt like he was being reduced to a concept, a product to be consumed by the masses. But he also understood the stakes. The entertainment industry was ruthless, and idols were replaceable. If he wanted to keep his spot in the group, he had to play along. So he did what was asked of him, throwing himself into the role with the same determination he had applied to his training. If this was the price he had to pay to stay in Stray Kids, he would pay it.
Hyunjin wasn’t naïve—he knew JYP wasn’t the only company using this strategy. Over at BigHit Entertainment, Yeonjun from their new group, Tomorrow x Together, was being marketed in a similar way. Like Hyunjin, Yeonjun had presented as a beta, and the company had quickly capitalized on it. Yeonjun’s concept revolved around being the “beta sex symbol” of the group, with styling and choreography that emphasized his charm and allure. The industry was shifting, and Hyunjin wasn’t alone in being caught in the middle of it.
To no one’s surprise, the strategy worked. Sex sells after all, and it sells amazingly well too. Hyunjin quickly became one of the most popular members of Stray Kids, his fanbase growing exponentially. His sultry charisma on stage and his ethereal visuals earned him the title of “4th Gen Prince,” a nickname that followed him everywhere. Meanwhile, Yeonjun skyrocketed to fame, becoming the “It-Boy” of 4th generation K-pop. The two of them, along with other betas being marketed in similar ways, became trendsetters, redefining what it meant to be a beta idol.
But the success came with consequences, ones that no one had anticipated. As Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and other beta idols rose to prominence, the public began to fetishize them. Betas were no longer dismissed as “boring” or “neutral”—instead, they became objects of intense desire, idealized for their supposed ability to meet the needs of both alphas and omegas. Fans romanticized and sexualized the idea of betas to an extreme, projecting fantasies onto them that were often dehumanizing.
Hyunjin could feel the shift in how people looked at him, how they spoke about him online. Comments about his performances or visuals were often laced with inappropriate undertones, reducing him to nothing more than his sub-gender. Fans speculated endlessly about who he might bond with, whether he’d end up with an alpha or an omega, as if his personal life was a storyline for them to control. At times, it felt suffocating. He couldn’t even scroll through social media without seeing posts that objectified him, his every move dissected and analyzed through a lens he had no control over.
The fetishization of betas spread beyond just idols. In everyday life, betas began to face new stereotypes, some flattering but others deeply harmful. They were seen as “perfect partners,” biologically compatible with anyone, but this perception often erased their individuality. Betas were no longer allowed to simply exist—they were expected to embody an ideal, one that was both physically appealing and emotionally accommodating.
For Hyunjin, the weight of it all was exhausting. He loved performing, loved being part of Stray Kids, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the industry—and the public—only valued him for the image they had created. The sexy beta of Stray Kids wasn’t who he truly was, but it was who he had to be. And as much as he tried to push through it, a part of him wondered if he’d ever be seen for anything else.