Chapter Text
Gun stood leaning against the car’s chassis, a cigarette held between his fingers. He was waiting for Crystal outside her school, feeling thoroughly annoyed. Acting as a bodyguard for a spoiled girl wasn't exactly his idea of a respectable job. Students leaving class stared at him, whispering among themselves—fascinated yet intimidated by the man's imposing presence. Accustomed to being the center of attention, Gun simply took a long drag. As he exhaled, the greyish smoke mingled with his innate pheromones—reminiscent of bitter Genmaicha tea—creating a thick, almost suffocating atmosphere that warned anyone against getting too close.
After picking up the "princess," his schedule called for a debt collection run. Breaking the bones of stupid teenagers playing gangster didn't sound like fun, but someone had to get their hands dirty; after all, DG needed to keep his pristine idol image intact.
"Don't all those stares bother you?" Crystal asked as she approached the vehicle.
Instantly, the girl's cloying strawberry-candy scent assaulted Gun's nostrils. It was a nauseating smell that turned his stomach. Unable to hide his reaction completely, Gun frowned slightly; he detestably sweet fragrances.
"I'm used to it," he replied in a flat, dismissive tone.
Crystal rolled her eyes. She found it incredible just how arrogant the man could be.
"Anyway, let's go. I need to get to the agency early, and I want to stop and change clothes first."
Gun flicked his cigarette butt onto the ground, crushed it with the toe of his shoe, and—with mechanical movements—opened the back door for her.
Once they were underway, navigating Seoul's heavy traffic, his phone began to vibrate on the center console. He glanced away for a second and read the name on the screen: it was his cousin.
"Aren't you going to answer?" Crystal asked from the back seat, watching the device blink.
Gun reached out and turned the device off.
"No."
He would return the call later. He didn't have the headspace for it right now.
After dropping Crystal off at her residence, Gun headed to his own apartment. Before going out to collect dues from local gangs and check which sectors were behind on the payments Charles Choi demanded, he needed to speak with Haruto.
He sat on the leather sofa, turned on his laptop, and started the video call. However, he made sure to keep his own camera off while opening the financial files Charles had emailed him. The screen lit up on the other end of the line.
"Hello, Gun," his cousin's measured voice rang out in perfect Japanese. "It’s been a while since we spoke. How are things in Korea?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," Gun replied, his words drawled with disinterest as his eyes scanned the documents. "How are things at the main house?"
"The same as always, really. By the way, I wanted to mention that..." Haruto was interrupted by the echo of hurried, noisy footsteps rumbling through the microphone.
"Is that my dad?! I want to talk to him!" an energetic child's voice demanded in the background.
"Wait, Shoma, don't climb up there... You're going to fall!" There was a clatter of rolling objects and Haruto’s stressed sigh.
"Hi, Dad!" a small silhouette greeted, leaning into the frame.
Hearing that little voice, the tension in Gun's shoulders vanished. Unconsciously, his bitter pheromones softened, turning noticeably warm. "Hello, Shoma," Gun replied. His tone remained serious, yet it carried an unmistakable hint of the tenderness only his son could draw out of him.
"Dad, can you believe what my great-uncle wants to do?" Shoma demanded, crossing his arms with dramatic indignation. Gun offered a faint smile, convinced that whatever idea Uncle Shintaro had come up with couldn't be that serious.
"No—what does he want to do?" Gun asked, glancing occasionally at the files on his laptop.
"He wants me—his sweet grandson—to stop going to school and study locked up at home! I don't want that; my friends would be so sad," the little boy complained.
Gun’s fingers paused over the keyboard. His expression darkened slightly. He hadn't been informed of any such drastic change.
"Don't pay any attention to that, Gun. It was just a passing thought of my father's; it’s already been ruled out. You have nothing to worry about," Haruto interjected, trying to smooth things over from the background.
"Well... if my uncle thinks it’s the safest option, perhaps we should do it," Gun remarked, weighing the risks that came with carrying the Yamazaki bloodline.
"Oh, absolutely not!" Shoma retorted vehemently. "My grandfather already said no, and since he’s the clan leader, he’s the one in charge."
Gun fell silent. The realization that his father—the imposing Shingen Yamazaki—had been forced to intervene in matters as trivial as a child's education caused a pang of discomfort in his chest.
"I’ll call the school tomorrow to have you withdrawn," Gun stated firmly. If Shintaro insisted that confinement was best for the heir, he wasn't going to contradict him.
"What?! No! You can't do that! I don't want to leave my school!" Shoma began to scream.
Gun rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration, anticipating the looming tantrum.
"Shoma, don't argue with me."
"Shoma, why don't you calm down a bit and go play in your room? Let me speak with your father alone," Haruto asked, intervening in a conciliatory tone. The boy’s complaining sigh was audible, followed by the sound of his angry footsteps dragging as he walked away from the living room.
"Gun, I really don't think isolation is necessary," Haruto continued in a low voice. "The current school is excellent, and he is genuinely happy there."
"Haruto..." Gun’s voice took on such a heavy tone of command that—despite the distance of thousands of kilometers and the fact that Haruto was a beta—the sheer authority of the Enigma made him shudder. "If my uncle believes it’s for the best, then that’s how it will be done."
"I..." Haruto swallowed hard, subdued by the sheer acoustic presence of his cousin. "Understood. All right."
"Dad!!!" Shoma’s shout suddenly cut in again. The boy came running back in a rush. "I forgot to show you something!" he exclaimed, scrambling up onto the table where the laptop sat. "How do you turn on the camera on this thing? Is it this button?"
"Shoma, leave that alone!" Haruto tried to stop him, reaching out his hands, but it was too late. The boy’s chubby fingers pressed against the screen. The transmission activated, and Shoma’s high-definition face filled Gun’s screen. Gun froze, the words dying in his throat.
Shoma was the spitting image of his late, beloved omega. He had the same rounded nose, sharp, cunning fox-like eyes, thin upper lip and slightly fuller lower lip, and rosy cheeks set against warm, fair skin. The only traits Shoma had inherited from *him* were the pitch-black eyes—with their strange white irises—and the raven-black hair. To make matters worse, the boy had perched a pair of thin-framed glasses on his nose.
"Look! I found Dad Goo's favorite glasses!"
Gun’s breath hitched completely. Pain gripped his chest like a vise.
"Dad?" Shoma called out, tilting his head when he received no response from the dark screen. But Gun couldn't utter a sound; he felt as though he were suffocating.
Noticing his cousin’s silent collapse, Haruto reacted quickly. He grabbed Shoma by the waist, lifted him off the table, and moved him out of the camera's view.
"Gun, I’m so sorry... we’ll call you later," Haruto said apologetically before immediately cutting the connection.
The apartment was plunged into a deathly, suffocating silence. Gun remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the blank laptop screen, feeling the ghost of a past that refused to let him go. Seconds later, his phone alarm began to ring, snapping him out of his trance. With slightly trembling fingers, he picked up the device. It was time to leave for work.
In a sleepy rural town in Chungcheong, tension hung heavy in the air. Daniel and Jay stood in the middle of a vacant lot, ready to resume a fight that seemed endless. Daniel’s sweet vanilla scent wafted unsteadily, mingling with Jay’s bitter dark chocolate fragrance—which was underscored by the metallic tang of blood seeping from his open wounds.
"Well, look at that—the little lovebirds still want to pick a fight with me," a harsh, unpleasant voice sneered.
Daniel clenched his fists, glaring with resentment. That voice brought back the worst memories of his life; Logan Lee had made his existence a living hell back when he was in his other body. The stench of rancid pig emanating from that Alpha made his stomach turn. He felt deeply guilty for dragging Jay into this mess; all he had wanted was to get back the money his mother had worked so hard to give him.
A few meters away, Goo Kim strolled along, kicking a small stone, a look of boredom on his face.
"What a drag..." he complained aloud, waving a stack of papers he held in his hand. "Just because I’m the only hot instructor around, they send *me* to drum up new clients for the dojo. Such a waste of my talent."
Suddenly, the sound of a scuffle nearby caught his attention, followed by a scent that was both extremely familiar and unpleasant.
"Logan..." Goo murmured, a sly, fox-like smile spreading across his lips. He knew that troublesome teenager well; ironically, the brute Logan was the one who brought the most indirect business his way.
That blockheaded Alpha loved picking on the weak, which always gave Goo the perfect opportunity to step in, "save" the poor victims, and—with a bit of smooth talking—convince them to sign up for Kendo classes. Right then, Logan’s scent—that of a pig—was particularly sour, an unmistakable sign that he was in the middle of beating someone up. In other words: potential new students.
Goo followed the scent trail. As he drew closer, subtle notes of vanilla and dark chocolate became perceptible beneath Logan’s stench. Rounding the corner, he saw two injured boys trying to hold their ground against the Alpha. They wouldn't last much longer. Goo knew he had to intervene before they were knocked unconscious and missed the chance to receive his flyers.
With a fluid, practiced motion, Goo unbuckled his belt, quickly wrapped it around his right hand for a firm grip, and stepped lightly forward.
Daniel and Jay blinked in bewilderment as a sudden waft of yuzu tea and honey flooded the alley. A sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by a dry, violent *WHACK!*
Logan let out a yelp of surprise, clutching his cheek, which was already beginning to swell from the brutal belt strike.
"Who the hell was that?!" Logan roared, spinning around furiously, only to be met by Goo’s mocking gaze.
"Logan, Logan..." Goo chided, using a mock-maternal tone as he approached. "What have I told you about wreaking havoc and bothering people in my territory?"
Logan cursed inwardly, instantly falling silent. Great—the lunatic Omega from the dojo was already here.
"Mr. Kim?" Daniel blurted out, his eyes widening.
Goo looked at him, tilting his head with a puzzled smile.
"Huh? Do we know each other, cutie?" Goo asked flirtatiously. He was certain he would have remembered such a handsome Omega. "Oh, well, something like that... You helped a friend of mine once," Daniel said hurriedly, nervously scratching his cheek. In reality, Goo had helped his original body, but he couldn't explain that.
"Ah, I see!" Goo grinned broadly and, with astonishing speed, grabbed Logan by the back of the neck with one hand. "Please excuse this moronic Alpha. Sometimes he forgets how to behave in public," he added, forcing Logan to bend his spine into a compelled apologetic bow.
"Hey, let go of me!" Logan growled, but Goo’s grip was like steel.
"I hope you’re alright. If you’d like, you can come with me to the dojo; we have an excellent first-aid kit to clean up those wounds," Goo offered with his best PR smile.
"No, that’s not necessary... I just... I just want my money back," Daniel murmured, pointing at the Alpha.
Goo blinked, his smile faltering slightly.
"Money? What money?" He looked down at Logan, who remained hunched over beneath his hand.
"I... ugh!" Logan complained as Goo’s fingers pressed into a pressure point on his neck. "I don't know what he's talking about!"
Jay, his patience exhausted and his brow furrowed, stepped forward with the clear intention of forcibly taking the money back, but Goo’s free hand shot out, firmly stopping him by the chest.
"Logan, don't make me lose my manners and smack you again right here," Goo warned, narrowing his eyes with a dangerous intensity.
"It's... it's in my right pocket," Logan conceded with difficulty, feeling the air leave his lungs.
Goo straightened him up a bit without letting go and reached into Logan's trouser pocket. He pulled out a crumpled bill.
"Is this it?" Goo asked, holding it up. Daniel nodded immediately. Goo handed it to him kindly and then gave Logan a shove, letting him go.
"You know, to avoid these kinds of unpleasant situations in the future, you really ought to learn how to defend yourselves better," Goo suggested, seizing the moment. "Kendo is great for that, and it just so happens I work at an excellent dojo nearby." Goo released a hint of his yuzu tea and honey pheromones, trying to make his pitch more appealing and persuasive. "Here, let me leave you some flyers."
"Oh... thanks a lot, but the truth is, we aren't from this town," Daniel explained with an apologetic smile.
Goo's smile vanished instantly. Had he wasted his breath and energy for nothing? If he’d known, he would have just let Logan smash their faces in.
"I see," Goo replied, tucking the flyers back into his pocket with obvious disappointment.
"It's getting late; we'd better get going, Jay," Daniel said to his friend, taking his hand to head off. Goo raised an eyebrow at the gesture, thinking to himself that the two of them made a cute couple.
"Bye!" Goo shouted after them, waving exaggeratedly as he watched them walk away. Once they were out of sight, he turned to the Alpha. "Well, I should get back, too. I have to clean the dojo floor before closing up. Come on, Logan."
"What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere with you," Logan retorted, turning away. Goo smiled angelically and, in the blink of an eye, grabbed Logan firmly by the ear.
"Oh, you're coming, all right. I need someone to carry the water buckets," Goo declared, striding forward while dragging the massive Alpha along.
"Ow, ow, ow! Let go of me, damn it!" Logan complained, forced to walk hunched over behind the Omega.
Hours later, back in Seoul, Gun was walking out of an exclusive nightclub in the Gangnam district. He had just smashed the faces of several Big Deal members for trying to set up an illegal betting ring in his territory—a move intended to undermine him and dodge paying their dues. After the job was done, DG had invited him to the VIP area of Vivi’s club. Accepting had been a terrible idea; the place was crawling with pretentious Omegas trying to get close to him, making him dizzy with cheap, cloying pheromones in a crude attempt at seduction.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, watching the smoke dissipate beneath the street's neon lights.
Seeing Shoma wearing those glasses on the screen had completely wrecked him. The resemblance to his late Omega was uncanny; they shared not only physical features but also that capricious, hyperactive, and stubborn personality that refused to take "no" for an answer. He hadn't seen him in person for years. Although Haruto insisted on sending photos now and then, Gun barely glanced at them; looking at them made his chest ache too much. That was precisely why he always insisted that phone calls take place with the camera turned off.
Today’s incident was a reminder that tomorrow he had to call Shintaro and the school board in Japan to arrange for Shoma’s withdrawal. Homeschooling—under the family's strict supervision—would be best for the boy... Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe. Deep down, however, a small voice reminded him that Goo had always wanted their son to attend a normal school and have an ordinary childhood.
Goo...
He missed him so much it physically hurt. He missed his brazen laughter, his absurd complaints, and, above all, his comforting scent of yuja tea and honey. If Goo were here, he would know exactly what to do about Shoma. Gun let out a long sigh, mentally chiding himself. This was neither the time nor the place to get sentimental right outside a club. He tossed aside his half-smoked cigarette and headed back inside; it would be better to wait there until DG called him to come pick him up.