Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lee Jihoon didn’t need to look at the calendar to know the week had reached Wednesday. The air inside Choi Holdings in Seoul carried a particular scent on that day: less coffee and more lavender from the cleaning spray the night crew used, mixed with the potent aroma of Heavy Rain that came, of course, from the main office. Choi Seungcheol was there, punctual as always, and the presence of the Dominant Alpha was a constant reminder of the wall of professionalism Jihoon had built over the past four years to protect his heart. His own soft scent of Morning Rain barely dared to blend with his boss’s steady pheromones, a perfect metaphor for Jihoon’s fear of getting too close. Sitting at his secretary’s desk, the only thing that mattered was the stack of documents for the ten o’clock meeting.

Jihoon was, as he described himself inwardly, an Omega who valued order and discretion. At twenty-seven, he had cultivated an image of almost robotic efficiency; the silent and competent right hand of the CEO, known for his ability to anticipate problems before they appeared. It was a disguise, and a good one. No one in the company suspected that behind the calculated seriousness and always professional touch, his Omega heart raced every time Seungcheol, even by accident, brushed his shoulder when passing by, or when the Alpha’s angular frame bent over his desk to review a report.

He was checking the profit margins when that deep, velvety voice, the one that made his bones hum faintly, called out to him.

“Secretary Lee.”

“Yes, Mr. Choi?” Jihoon stood up immediately, holding the folder. Formality was the anchor that kept him from drifting into the pull of attraction he felt.

Seungcheol was standing at the doorway of his office, his collar slightly unbuttoned, his tie already a bit loosened—a sign that he had been immersed in work for hours, even though it was only nine in the morning. His posture was always imposing, but his expression looked tired. The Dominant Alpha carried the weight of the entire company on his shoulders, and that, ironically, made him seem more vulnerable—and more attractive—in Jihoon’s eyes.

“The ten o’clock meeting was moved up to nine forty-five. Reschedule the Busan call and postpone the confirmation of the export contract until tomorrow. And please, prepare my coffee as usual. Two sugars, no milk.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll make the adjustments right away,” Jihoon replied with a nod, already returning to his desk to start dialing. His movements were precise, never hesitating—the embodiment of competence. That was the side of him Seungcheol saw, and he liked it. It was safe.

As the coffee maker dripped water and the rich aroma spread through his department’s break area—a scent that barely scratched the density of his boss’s Heavy Rain—Jihoon allowed himself a second of vulnerability. He looked through the glass window that separated his cubicle from Seungcheol’s massive office. The Alpha was on the phone, brow furrowed in concentration, thin-rimmed glasses now perched on his nose. The sight was both domestic and dangerous. It was there, within the familiarity of routine, that Jihoon most felt the ache of his secret love.

Four years. Four years living in the shadow of the man he loved, keeping a safe distance to avoid rejection—or worse, the humiliation of being discovered. Seungcheol, at thirty-eight, with an Alpha scent that commanded immediate respect, had never shown the slightest hint of romantic interest in him. His treatment was always respectful, an acknowledgment of Jihoon’s professional skill, but cold enough for Jihoon to know his place.

When he brought the coffee to his boss’s desk, Jihoon kept his gaze fixed on the cup.

“Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you, Jihoon,” Seungcheol murmured, taking the mug. His fingers brushed against Jihoon’s, a contact that lasted only a split second, but it was enough to send a timid warmth up the Omega’s skin and make his Morning Rain scent quiver slightly.

Jihoon blushed. It was imperceptible to most, but his ears turned faintly red. He felt stupid for it, but it was a biological reflex he couldn’t control.

Seungcheol must not have noticed. He thinks I’m just shy. It was his survival mantra.

“Have a good day, sir.”

“You too, Jihoon.”

Jihoon returned to his desk, his heart still pounding. He took a deep breath, pulling his control back into place. The morning carried on in a rush, with the meeting, the rescheduled appointments, and the usual paperwork that came with a CEO. It was around two in the afternoon, just after Jihoon’s quick lunch at his desk, when the air inside Choi Holdings shifted.

It wasn’t the Dominant Alpha’s scent, nor the lavender. It was an aroma of damp earth and fresh pine, lighter, but still unmistakable. A scent of a young Alpha, laid-back, with a touch of insolence.

“Jihoon! My favorite!”

The tall figure, with a radiant smile and the aura of a shepherd pup fresh out of a run in the rain, appeared in the hallway, walking straight toward the secretary’s desk. It was Kim Mingyu, Seungcheol’s cousin, an Alpha Jihoon knew by sight and from a few brief professional interactions. Mingyu was everything Seungcheol was not: relaxed, expressive, and, frankly, a born flirt.

Jihoon managed to keep his professionalism. “Mr. Kim. It’s good to see you. Mr. Choi is busy at the moment. He’s on an international conference call.”

Mingyu leaned casually on Jihoon’s counter, cheerfully ignoring the barrier. His scent invaded Jihoon’s personal space, but the Omega held firm.

“Ah, a conference call. Yes. Cheol is always busy. Please tell him it’s an urgent family matter. It’s about Aunt and Uncle, and the pressure.” He winked. “That pressure.”

The use of the word pressure sent a small twinge of caution through Jihoon. He knew Seungcheol’s relationship with his parents was notoriously tense, especially regarding his nonexistent personal life.

Jihoon picked up the receiver. “One moment, please.”

He buzzed in. “Mr. Choi, Mr. Kim Mingyu is here. He says it’s an urgent family matter, about your parents.”

There was a tense silence on the other end. Jihoon could almost feel the Alpha’s frustrated sigh.

“Let him in. And cancel my three o’clock call. And… bring Mingyu a coffee as well. He likes vanilla.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jihoon hung up and turned back to Mingyu. “Mr. Choi can see you now. Please go in, Mr. Kim. I’ll prepare your coffee.”

Mingyu smiled, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but didn’t move right away. He leaned a little closer over the counter.

“You’re always so efficient and good-smelling, Jihoon. I don’t know how people manage to keep their hands off you. Seriously, you should go out more.” Mingyu winked again, an obvious, easy flirtation.

Jihoon felt heat rise faintly in his ears, the blush he always tried to hide. He kept his voice steady. “Mr. Kim, please go in. Your coffee will be ready shortly.”

“All right, all right. No need to be so cold, Jihoon. I was just appreciating the view,” Mingyu said with a light laugh before finally stepping into his cousin’s office and closing the glass door behind him.

Jihoon stood there for a moment, absorbing the disruption in his routine and the boldness of his boss’s cousin. He knew Mingyu was a flirt and that there was probably no malice or truth in his words, but still, the brief compliment made his face burn.

He prepared the vanilla coffee and brought it over, knocking on the half-closed door.

“Excuse me,” he said, noticing Seungcheol and Mingyu speaking in low, tense voices on the sofa. He set the mug down on the coffee table. Seungcheol only nodded.

Jihoon stepped out and closed the door, unable to catch the substance of the conversation. He tried to focus on the reports, but the anxiety in the air, mixed with the density of Heavy Rain, left him tense. Family pressure. He wondered what it meant—he had answered too many calls from Mrs. Choi, the Alpha’s mother, asking Jihoon to convince her son to pick up his own phone.

Almost an hour had passed. The silence in the anteroom had become oppressive. The door finally opened, and Mingyu stepped out with the completely satisfied smile of an Alpha.

“See you soon, Jihoon! I hope we meet again under more fun circumstances.” He gave one last wink and disappeared into the elevator.

Silence settled in again. Jihoon knew the moment had come when his desk phone gave the small beep Seungcheol used to summon him. He picked up his notebook and knocked on his boss’s door.

“Come in.” Seungcheol’s voice was tense, but not angry.

Jihoon entered, moving closer to the desk. Seungcheol was standing, gazing at the Seoul skyline. The afternoon light highlighted the weight on his broad shoulders.

“Secretary Lee,” he began, without turning around. There was an embarrassed tone in his voice—something Jihoon rarely heard.

“Yes, Mr. Choi.”

The Alpha turned. His brow was furrowed, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets—a posture he rarely adopted in front of his employees. He looked like a reprimanded boy, not the relentless CEO. The scent of Heavy Rain was slightly clouded, as if the Alpha was struggling against his own shame.

“This… this is embarrassing, Jihoon. But I need to be direct.” Seungcheol hesitated, clearing his throat. “My parents gave me an ultimatum. I need to present an Omega by the end of the month, or they’ll choose one for me. One from… one from their social circles.”

Seungcheol sighed, his Heavy Rain scent carrying a tinge of frustration. “I need to bring someone to present to them, and Mingyu… Mingyu suggested I bring you. You’re the only name even remotely associated with me that my parents know, and they already like your voice when you answer their calls.”

Jihoon felt his heart race. He tried desperately to maintain his professional façade, to keep things from becoming awkward.

“I understand, Mr. Choi. Family pressure regarding marriage is, unfortunately, common.” He tried to sound both sympathetic and distant. “But… what exactly would you want me to do?”

“I need you to pretend to be my Omega for a week. We’ll go to Daegu, where most of my family is, next Friday. I’ll introduce you as my partner. Then we’ll return to Seoul and say the relationship didn’t work out. The compensation for your time and discretion will be significant.” Seungcheol lifted his eyes, avoiding direct contact. “There won’t be any physical contact beyond what’s necessary, of course. I assure you, it will be purely… acting.”

The word acting struck Jihoon like a blow. He suppressed the ache and let his professional concern rise to the surface.

“Mr. Choi, with all due respect, I’m concerned about the credibility of this plan.”

Seungcheol frowned, puzzled. “Credibility? Why?”

Jihoon drew in a deep breath. It was difficult to speak of his own insecurities, but it had to be said.

“Your family. They expect a man like you to have a partner who matches your status. A partner from a well-known family, with connections—perhaps with a sweeter scent.” He lowered his gaze. “I’m only your secretary. I’m not one of those ‘gentle’ high-society Omegas. Your family might believe I’m just trying to take advantage of my position.”

The silence that followed was filled by the growing intensity of Seungcheol’s Heavy Rain. The Alpha did not look pleased with what he had just heard.

“Jihoon, look at me,” he commanded, and this time, his voice carried the full authority of a Dominant Alpha.

Jihoon raised his eyes, slightly intimidated.

“I don’t care what family you’re from, or what your scent is, or what you do. That’s none of their business,” Seungcheol said, his voice dropping lower, but his tone still firm. “I need someone competent and trustworthy at my side, and that person is you. My mother just wants me to have someone. Who it is doesn’t matter. And if… if anyone dares to suggest that you’re after ‘advantage,’ or that you’re not good enough for me, you tell me. I’ll deal with it myself. Is that clear?”

The sudden protection, and the anger directed at his parents (and at anyone who might judge him), made Jihoon’s heart race. The Alpha, always so restrained, was defending him even before he had agreed to the arrangement.

Jihoon’s wall wavered. He truly didn’t want to hurt his heart with the illusion of being Seungcheol’s Omega for a few days, but the thought of spending the rest of his life wondering what could have been was far more painful.

“I… I understand, Mr. Choi. I will help you.” His voice came out steadier than he expected. He nodded, one last professional thought keeping him from falling apart. “I only hope you’re convinced your parents will believe it.”

Seungcheol finally smiled—a small, genuine smile that eased the tension in his eyes. The Heavy Rain calmed, becoming just a steady, powerful scent of relief.

“Good.” Seungcheol said, opening the drawer of his desk and pulling out a sleek, black credit card. “Use this. Consider it a work expense—you’re doing me a tremendous favor, Jihoon, and you should look your best. I need you to look comfortable by my side. Anything that makes you feel less like ‘just my secretary’ and more like my Omega. Don’t worry about formalities; my parents prefer authenticity over pretense, so choose whatever you feel good in.”

Jihoon stared at the card. It was a step even deeper into the charade. “Mr. Choi, I don’t know if it’s appropriate—”

“It’s appropriate,” Seungcheol cut him off, placing the card in Jihoon’s hand. The Alpha’s touch, this time, was deliberate. “Use it. Get what you need. Think of Daegu as a week of vacation and an extra bonus.”

Jihoon slipped the card into the inner pocket of his blazer, feeling the weight of the object—a symbol of buying into a lie. He needed an anchor back to professionalism.

“Understood, Mr. Choi. But about the—” Jihoon began, eager to establish the narrative.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Seungcheol’s desk phone rang loudly. The Alpha sighed, resignation flickering in his eyes. He gestured to Jihoon, asking for a moment.

“Yes? This is him. Send him in.” Seungcheol glanced briefly at Jihoon, a silent apology. “Jihoon, I need to take this. Start planning the flights and the shopping list. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”

“Of course, Mr. Choi.”

Jihoon gave a hurried bow and left the office, closing the door behind him. He couldn’t focus on the sound of Mr. Park’s approaching footsteps.

The Alpha had dismissed him without giving him the narrative for the charade. Without the story, he was exposed. He would probably have to improvise the most important part of the lie.

Jihoon sat down at his desk, his body still wrapped in the powerful scent of Heavy Rain the Alpha had left lingering in the anteroom. In his pocket, the black card felt like it was burning.

One week. Seven days of being his Omega.

He didn’t know if it would be the best or the worst week of his life, but Lee Jihoon knew one thing: he was risking his heart for an illusion that, even if only for a brief moment, he would have to pretend was real.

Chapter Text

The smell of coffee on Thursday morning couldn’t disguise Jihoon’s anxiety. The scent of Rain was more restless than usual, mixed with a subtle note of hesitation that only he would notice. In his pocket, the black card felt like a ticking time bomb.

He had spent the night awake, tossing and turning, debating the madness of his decision. It would be a week of emotional torture, a constant reminder of what he couldn’t have. But Seungcheol’s relieved smile — that brief moment of vulnerability — was the only reward he needed to move forward. The only problem, besides his heart, was his wardrobe.

Seungcheol had asked him to look comfortable, less like his secretary. Jihoon’s closet was the exact opposite: grays, navies, stiff cuts, and above all, discreet. He needed professional help, and there was only one person he trusted for that.

“So, a wardrobe renovation bonus? After four years?” Lee Minghao, his twenty-three-year-old Omega brother, raised a fine eyebrow. Minghao’s scent was lemongrass and sunlight — vibrant and full of life — the complete opposite of Jihoon’s restraint.

The two were standing in a designer boutique stall in the middle of a busy Seoul shopping mall. Jihoon had told Minghao a superficial version of the story, omitting the part about the fake relationship in Daegu.

“Exactly,” Jihoon said, avoiding his brother’s eyes as he focused on a hanger. “Seungcheol — Mr. Choi — said it was time for me to look less... ‘bureaucratic.’ He gave me the company card to do whatever was necessary.”

Minghao laughed, a bright, cheerful sound. “Less bureaucratic? He finally noticed you look like a retired math teacher? Glory!” Minghao picked up a pair of modern-cut trousers, slimmer and in a warm caramel tone. “This is wonderful, hyung. You deserve it. Four years of dedication. You’re the best secretary in Seoul.”

Jihoon smiled, genuinely grateful for Minghao’s innocence. His brother’s support — even if based on a lie — was comforting. He needed Minghao as his shield against indecision.

“Let’s start with something that gives you color,” Minghao declared, ignoring Jihoon’s silent protests. “You wear too much blue and gray. You’re an Omega. You need to show that, hyung.”

Minghao was, indeed, talented. In a few minutes, he had assembled a pile that would give Jihoon’s wardrobe a heart attack. There were silk shirts with elegant cuts that highlighted his slim waist, button-downs that didn’t close all the way up to his neck, and pants tight enough to show the shape of his legs while still maintaining dignity.

“Here,” Minghao said, pushing him toward the fitting room with a hanger. “Try this one. It’s a cream cashmere sweater. Soft, comfortable, but it gives you that neat, delicate look you like — with a younger touch.”

Jihoon sighed but obeyed. The sweater was smooth and light. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see his usual office self. He saw a more approachable version of himself. Not formal, not bureaucratic. The kind of outfit he would wear on a casual date.

A date with Seungcheol. The thought made his heart race.

He stepped out of the fitting room. Minghao studied him with his head tilted. “Perfect. Comfortable, light colors, and the fabric brings out your shoulders a bit. But we need some contrast.”

That’s when Minghao’s playful side appeared.

“Okay, now that we’ve got the basics, time for fun.” Minghao disappeared and came back with a pair of black leather slim-fit pants and a sheer mesh shirt, nearly scandalous. “Try this, hyung! Be bold!”

“Minghao!” Jihoon whispered, horrified. “I’m not wearing that. Where would I even wear this? A bar at midnight?”

“To tease your boss, obviously,” Minghao said with a shrug. “If he’s giving you a bonus, he’s probably expecting something more... ‘wow.’ Come on, just the pants! I guarantee he’ll stop thinking ‘bureaucratic’ the moment he sees you in them.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes but laughed — a rare sound. Minghao was an expert at pulling him out of his head. He tried on the bolder outfits just to amuse his brother and keep him entertained. The slim-fit leather pants, the dramatically open silk shirt. They were completely outside his style, but Minghao’s laughter encouraged him.

The so-called “wardrobe makeover” turned into therapy. For a few hours, Jihoon could escape the pressure of being a fake boyfriend and focus solely on the joy of seeing himself in colors and shapes that made him feel beautiful.

They spent the morning hopping from store to store. Casual daywear to make him look like he had a life outside the office, and a few heavier coats and sweaters, since Daegu would be colder than the big city he knew.

By late morning, Jihoon was exhausted, but his arms were full. Minghao, wearing a victorious grin, helped carry ten shopping bags from prestigious brands — all paid for with a card Jihoon could barely look at without feeling the weight of the lie.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Hao-ah,” Jihoon said as they arrived at his apartment. Minghao’s scent mixed with Jihoon’s tired one.

“No need. Just wear the clothes, hyung,” Minghao said, laughing as he set the bags down in the living room. “And tell me what your boss thinks of your ‘new look’!”

As soon as Minghao left, Jihoon collapsed on the couch, staring at the mountain of new clothes. He felt guilty for the extravagance, but each piece was a step closer to Daegu.

He checked the flight itinerary. The departure was scheduled for Friday afternoon, which meant he only had Friday morning for final touches. He picked up his phone and dialed Seungcheol’s office number.

But then he stopped. He couldn’t bother the CEO with his worries. The Alpha was terribly busy. Besides, the trip was only the next day. They’d have time at the airport or even on the flight to discuss the details of their “relationship.” He had already accepted that he’d probably have to be the one to bring it up — since Seungcheol, as always, seemed to have forgotten the most important aspect of their charade.

He looked at the pile of shopping bags. He had the logistics, he had the clothes, but what he lacked was the soul of any relationship: the story of how it all began.

He glanced at the date on the calendar. The trip was inevitable.

He would go to Daegu next Friday as Choi Seungcheol’s fake Omega — completely unprepared for the first and most important question.

⋘ ──── ∗⋅✦⋅∗ ──── ⋙

Seungcheol was in the middle of a video conference with investors in Hong Kong, his expression stern and professional as he discussed annual projections. His personal phone, however, was vibrating on his desk, and a series of discreet notifications from his private bank began to appear.

[ Transaction notification: KRW 380,000 – L'Étoile Boutique. ]

Transaction notification: KRW 210,000 – Moda Homme.

Transaction notification: KRW 450,000 – Leather Gallery.

Seungcheol kept his face impassive for the camera, but inside, he was smiling. He had lied to Jihoon. That wasn’t a corporate card — it was his personal one. He wanted to make sure Jihoon could buy whatever he wanted without the red tape of the accounting department.

He knew Jihoon — and he knew he wouldn’t abuse it. And he was right. He’d expected expenses of at least KRW 5 million, but Jihoon had spent barely a fraction of that — practically pocket change by the CEO’s standards. He was certain the Omega had only bought the essentials.

“Mr. Choi? Do you agree with the renegotiation terms?” The investor’s voice came through the speaker.

“Of course. It will be a pleasure to reach an agreement with you…” Seungcheol replied, his tone low and firm. He glanced at the last notification, showing the total of all the purchases.

He chuckled softly, a low, rough sound that didn’t reach the microphone.

Jihoon. You really don’t know how to treat yourself.

The laugh was brief, but the feeling lingered. As long as Jihoon liked what he had bought and felt comfortable by his side in Daegu, that was all that mattered to Seungcheol. The purchase was done.

⋘ ──── ∗⋅✦⋅∗ ──── ⋙

Friday arrived wrapped in a quiet kind of suspense. Jihoon hadn’t slept well, but the adrenaline of the situation kept him alert. The large, newly bought suitcase at his side—filled with new clothes—was a physical weight that matched the emotional heaviness of the lie he was about to live.

He’d received a short message from Seungcheol that morning: “Meet me in the First Class lounge. I’ve already checked my luggage. Don’t be late.”

Jihoon followed protocol. He checked in his own bag—the small backpack containing his laptop and work essentials slung over his shoulder, a habit he couldn’t break—and went through security. His subtle scent was, for the first time, nearly drowned out by the fragrance of one of the outfits Minghao had chosen for him.

When he entered the luxurious First Class lounge, he searched for his boss’s unmistakable scent. It didn’t take long to find it.

Seungcheol was seated, not in the work area, but in a soft armchair near the large window. Jihoon had to stop for a moment, taking in the sight. The Alpha was dressed completely differently: dark gray sweatpants, a simple hoodie with no logos. Without his angular suits and tight ties, Seungcheol looked… approachable. And younger than his thirty-eight years. It was the first time in four years Jihoon had seen his boss without his corporate armor.

The contrast hit him hard. Jihoon hadn’t known he could find the Alpha even more attractive. The thick-framed dark sunglasses hiding his eyes gave him a serious air, but the slightly slouched, relaxed posture betrayed his fatigue. Jihoon recognized the pattern: Seungcheol was dozing off sitting up—just like he did at his desk during the longest afternoons.

Jihoon felt a sudden, reckless urge to remove the sunglasses just to see his face. He restrained himself, of course.

He walked quietly, his footsteps nearly silent against the thick carpet. Taking the seat adjacent to Seungcheol’s, Jihoon set his backpack on the floor. The scent was there—strong and comforting—but without the edge of tension it usually carried in the office.

The man remained asleep, his breathing slow and even.

Jihoon didn’t want to wake him, nor embarrass him by catching him off guard—he knew his boss hated that. As he watched Seungcheol’s relaxed profile, Jihoon made an impulsive, dangerous decision.

The Alpha didn’t give me the story. The Alpha’s asleep. I’ll have to come up with it myself.

He thought about his main concern: credibility. How could two men from such different worlds—a renowned CEO and his discreet secretary—have fallen in love in a way anyone would believe? A made-up story about a charity gala he’d seen online last night would sound fake even to a child.

But the real story—the only one he could tell convincingly—was the one that came from his heart. He would just have to reshape the feelings to fit the lie.

He’ll just think I’m being efficient, Jihoon thought, clenching his hands on his backpack. I’ll say we grew closer after I started working for him. That spending time together led to something more.

It was the truth, disguised as professional convenience.

He had to be convincing. And the only way to be convincing was to speak his truth—while keeping it under control. The burden of the main lie, the act of pretending to love, was his to bear. And now, the backstory would be his as well.

Jihoon kept fiddling with his phone, checking work emails, pretending everything was normal through a long and silent thirty minutes, all while absorbing the scent of the sleeping man.

“Flight HL412 to Daegu, now boarding.”

The announcement broke the silence. Jihoon gently touched the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Mr. Choi. It’s time.”

Seungcheol gave a small start, removing his sunglasses and blinking, his eyes slightly puffy from sleep. He seemed embarrassed to have been caught dozing off in front of his secretary.

“Jihoon. Ah, you’re here. How long have you been sitting there?” He stood up—his height and build still imposing, even in the sweatshirt.

“Just got here, Mr. Choi,” Jihoon lied, offering a gentle smile. He knew that the soft, rounded smile was the best way to ease the Alpha’s embarrassment. “We can go to our seats.”

Seungcheol nodded, grabbing his carry-on bag. The two headed toward the gate.

As they boarded, the flight attendant guided them to the front of the plane, to the First Class section.

Jihoon settled into his seat, realizing he had taken the window, leaving Seungcheol the aisle. When he’d first emailed Seungcheol with the quote for one First Class and one Economy ticket for himself, the Alpha had replied with a short and furious message: “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Buy yourself a First Class ticket too. You’re my secretary, not my porter. And for this week, you’re my Omega.”

Jihoon had obeyed the order, purchasing two seats side by side.

As the flight attendant offered them a welcome glass of champagne, the silence between them grew heavy. Jihoon knew he should start talking about “our love,” but the Alpha was already reviewing documents on his tablet.

Perfect, Jihoon thought, frustration mixing with resolve. It’ll be the real story, then.

He looked out the window, feeling the turbulence of takeoff. The first step had been taken. He was the fake Omega now, and he had an unauthorized love story to tell.

Chapter Text

Lee Jihoon gazed out the window as the jet sliced through the blue sky, leaving Seoul behind. The sensation of being in flight was usually calming, but today, he was caught in a silent storm of uncertainty.

He thought about the week ahead. Daegu. Would it be just a formal visit to Seungcheol’s parents, or would they have to go out? Would they have to attend dinners? Or simply stay at the house? Would they have to hold hands in public? He secretly hoped so, but the thought terrified him. Seungcheol had promised it would be just “acting,” with no physical contact — but if they attended any social event, the charade would demand more than just words.

His train of thought was abruptly cut off. The scent of Chuva beside him suddenly grew denser and softer — something Jihoon immediately recognized as deep sleep. Four years of coexistence had made the secretary an expert in his boss’s nocturnal habits. Seungcheol had worked through the entire night, once again.

The Alpha was leaning forward, his hand loose, and the tablet he had been reviewing threatened to slip from his fingers and fall to the floor.

With the kind of familiarity only a secretary’s routine could bring, Jihoon reached out and gently removed the device. He didn’t dare touch the Alpha’s hand. He simply took the tablet and set it on his own lap.

The silence of Seungcheol’s nap felt almost reverent. The Alpha was completely vulnerable, his features relaxed, his hair slightly tousled. The sight made Jihoon’s heart tighten; he wanted desperately to take a picture of the Alpha like that — an intimate keepsake just for himself. But he pushed the thought away immediately. That would be weird and creepy of me. I’m a secretary, not a stalker.

As he adjusted the tablet on his lap, a flight attendant approached. She saw Jihoon retrieving the device from the Alpha’s hand and stopped beside the seat, speaking in a gentle whisper.

“Excuse me, sir. Your… your partner seems to have fallen asleep. Would you like a blanket?”

Jihoon blinked, momentarily confused. A blanket? Oh, right. To cover the Alpha. He was so used to being the observer that it took him a second to process the gesture of care.

“Yes, please,” Jihoon nodded.

The woman took a thin blanket from the cart and handed it to him. With the utmost care not to wake him, Jihoon spread the fabric over Seungcheol’s body. The Alpha’s head was already leaning slightly toward Jihoon’s side. The Omega pulled back toward the window and focused on the silent movie playing on the small screen in front of him.

He tried to absorb the story on the screen, but his senses were on high alert. The Alpha’s scent was so close, enveloping him like a dense, comforting mist. The proximity in a First Class cabin was less than in economy, but still unavoidable—and with the Alpha asleep, the barrier of professionalism became only a thin, invisible line.

And then, it happened.

A brief turbulence made Seungcheol’s body tilt further to the side. His head, heavy with sleep, slipped and came to rest. The Alpha’s weight settled softly.

Choi Seungcheol’s head was resting against Jihoon’s hair.

Jihoon froze.

He was visibly smaller than the Alpha, both in height and build, and the contact was gentle but undeniable. The weight was comforting, but the intimacy was overwhelming. He could feel the Alpha’s warm breath near his ear, and the strong scent of Chuva surrounded him—not in an intimidating way, but steeped in fatigue and safety. His own rain scent, much fainter than Seungcheol’s, stirred—sweet with surprise and a trace of delicious fear. He couldn’t move. If he did, he would wake the Alpha.

He focused on the screen, pretending nothing was happening. His heart beat in rhythm with the plane’s engines, loud and fast. He felt, in that moment, what it meant to be an Alpha’s Omega in a way their farce could never replicate. For an instant, he wasn’t the secretary; he was the safe haven for an exhausted Alpha.

He had to endure it—at least until landing. And when the Alpha woke up, he would have to act as if absolutely nothing had happened.

⋅✦⋅

Jihoon held his breath, the weight of Seungcheol’s head against his hair an anchor of intimacy. He tried to ignore the tingling at the top of his head, focusing only on the movie, when the pilot’s voice came through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please prepare for landing. We are now beginning our descent into Daegu.”

The announcement worked like an alarm for both of them. Jihoon felt the Alpha’s body beside him tense subtly.

Seungcheol was waking up.

Jihoon reacted out of pure survival instinct — he pretended to be asleep. He relaxed his face, steadied his breathing, and closed his eyes, praying that the intensity of his scent wouldn’t betray the embarrassment burning inside him. He felt the Alpha pull his head away from his hair quickly and abruptly, as if he’d been burned. The movement was followed by a distinct sound — a slightly fast, uneven breath. Seungcheol was visibly unsettled.

Jihoon could feel the Alpha’s gaze lingering on him, a silent and tense analysis. He prayed to everything he could remember existed — gods, ancestors, and the efficiency of Choi Holdings — that he wouldn’t move, blink, or do anything that might let the Alpha realize he was awake.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, he felt the blanket that had been covering Seungcheol being lifted. The Alpha then gently draped it over Jihoon instead, covering him as if he were taking care of his sleeping Omega. The gesture was confusing and contradictory, adding yet another layer of tension to their act.

The plane finally touched down with a soft jolt and began to slow.

Jihoon waited, muscles tense and alert. He felt Seungcheol’s hand rest lightly on his arm and give a small shake, the Alpha’s voice low and husky as he Whispered, “Jihoon. We’re in Daegu.”

Jihoon opened his eyes slowly, feigning the dazed confusion of someone just waking from a deep sleep. He blinked a few times.

“Ah… we’ve arrived?” he asked, letting his voice sound slow and drowsy.

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied, his tone back to professional control, though still slightly rough. He leaned forward to grab his backpack from the floor. “Time to get ready. My parents are probably waiting for us.”

Jihoon nodded. He sat up straight, adjusting his clothes, though he could still feel Seungcheol’s gaze on him.

As they prepared to disembark, the Alpha’s scent hung heavy in the air — but now it carried a tension that wasn’t professional. It was a mix of embarrassment and, perhaps, surprise.

Jihoon realized he needed to act fast. Before Seungcheol could start feeling self-conscious and ruin the moment, Jihoon turned and smiled with the easy familiarity their charade required.

“You slept through the whole flight, Mr. Choi. Must’ve been a long night.” His voice was soft — the gentle tone of his private Omega persona — even as he tried to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Yes. Long,” Seungcheol murmured, avoiding eye contact.

⋘ ──── ∗⋅✦⋅∗ ──── ⋙

The air in Daegu was colder and cleaner than in Seoul, carrying a faint scent of pine that hinted at the nearby mountains. Jihoon and Seungcheol walked through the First Class arrival corridor, maintaining a discreet distance — the standard “boss and secretary” gap.

When they reached the baggage claim area, Jihoon noticed a row of automated drink machines. He needed a moment to breathe and readjust after the forced closeness on the plane. He stopped and inserted a bill, selecting a bottle of mineral water.

“Mr. Choi, would you like some water?” Jihoon asked, turning to the Alpha who was watching the luggage carousel with focused attention.

Seungcheol nodded, but when he turned, his expression changed. The scent was immediate and strong, mingled with the refreshed smell of someone who had just woken up.

“Yes, I do,” Seungcheol replied, and then stepped closer, his voice low and serious. “And Jihoon, you can’t call me ‘Mr. Choi’ anymore.”

Jihoon felt heat crawl up his neck. His ears flushed red. He had completely forgotten the most basic aspect of their act.

“Ah,” he murmured, feeling stupid. “Right. Of course.” He nodded quickly. “Sorry, Seungcheol.”

The name felt strange — almost profane — on his tongue.

Seungcheol relaxed slightly. “It’s a habit of years. I understand. But try to break it quickly. It would sound odd if my parents heard it. Now, I want a Coke.”

Jihoon turned to the machine, trying to buy the soda for the Alpha, but the can got stuck, wedged between the spiral and the glass. He tried again. Nothing. He gave the machine a small shove, but it didn’t budge. He was small, twenty-seven, and didn’t have the strength to shake the thing properly.

He sighed, frustrated.

Seungcheol stood beside him, watching the scene. The Alpha tilted his head, peering over the rim of his sunglasses. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Need help?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Jihoon bit his lower lip. He turned, forgetting the rule that had just been established.

“Yes, Mr. Choi. Please.”

Seungcheol’s smile vanished. He simply looked at Jihoon — calm, but firm — waiting. Even his scent seemed to question the Omega’s mistake.

Jihoon closed his eyes for a second, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Yes, Seungcheol, please,” he corrected himself softly.

The Alpha smiled openly this time. “Of course, Jihoon. Whatever my Omega wants, he’ll have.”

Seungcheol extended his arm, and with a single, silent, firm push at the center of the machine, the Coke dropped instantly — along with the bottle of water Jihoon had bought earlier. The force Seungcheol used was a physical reminder of his Alpha nature, a casual strength that Jihoon could feel vibrating in the air.

Jihoon bent down to pick up the bottle of water and the Coke that had just dropped from the machine. When he turned, Seungcheol was already grabbing Jihoon’s large rolling suitcase. “I’ll take this one,” the Alpha said casually, giving it a small push toward the exit. “You carry your backpack and the drinks. A fair trade.”

Jihoon was a little surprised by Seungcheol’s gesture, but he nodded. He felt slightly childish, yet didn’t argue. He slipped on his backpack and held the Alpha’s cold Coke.

The two of them walked side by side toward the exit. They weren’t holding hands, but the closeness — and the shared weight of the luggage — already marked a significant change in their usual professional dynamic.

“They should be around here somewhere,” Seungcheol murmured, his scent carrying a trace of caution.

Then, the Alpha stopped abruptly. His eyes fixed on a point near the exit gate, and the relaxed demeanor from seconds ago hardened.

“Damn it,” he hissed, pulling Jihoon back, out of immediate view from whoever stood at the door.

Jihoon felt the Alpha cover him with his body, Seungcheol’s imposing frame shielding him almost completely. The proximity was startling. The strong scent intensified — deeper now, slightly defensive.

“Apparently, it’s not my parents who came to pick us up, but one of my cousins,” Seungcheol whispered tensely, his voice coming from just above Jihoon’s head.

Jihoon tried to ignore the racing of his heart caused by the sudden closeness.

“Ah, Mingyu? Or Jeonghan?” Jihoon asked, mentioning the flirtatious cousin and the other one he knew to be close to the Alpha.

Seungcheol shook his head, clearly displeased.

“No. It’s Kim Jaemin. He’s Mingyu’s middle brother — but he’s completely different. He’s… he’s not someone you want around, Jihoon.” Seungcheol paused, shifting slightly so he could meet Jihoon’s eyes, his expression serious and shadowed. “He’s a filthy Alpha. If he says anything strange to you — any nonsense at all — you tell me immediately. And please, don’t be alone with him. Okay?”

The seriousness and protective tone in Seungcheol’s voice hit Jihoon hard. The Alpha was genuinely concerned. It was the first time Jihoon had ever heard Seungcheol speak with such open disgust about a family member.

Jihoon only nodded, taking in the warning but unable to fully process it.

Seungcheol kept his gaze on Jihoon for a few more moments, as if trying to gauge his resolve. The Alpha seemed slightly frustrated by the lack of a more explicit response.

Jihoon, confused by the intensity of that stare, finally spoke.

“Okay, Seungcheol.”

The use of his name seemed to have an immediate effect. The tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders eased noticeably, and his scent lost its sharp edge, settling back into something steady and commanding. The Alpha seemed less irritated now that he’d received verbal confirmation.

“Good. Let’s go. Stay close to me,” Seungcheol instructed, pushing the suitcase and adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.

They stepped out from behind the pillar, Jihoon’s gentle morning Rain scent trying to nestle beneath Seungcheol’s strong, protective storm.

The mission had begun. And at the exit, a tall Alpha with cold features and an ironic smile was waiting.

Chapter Text

Seungcheol quickened his pace, Jihoon’s rolling suitcase gliding effortlessly beside him. The Alpha’s strong scent was tense and steady around Jihoon, a silent warning of the disdain he felt for his cousin.

Jaemin was tall, dressed in designer clothes that seemed a touch excessive for an airport. His smile was wide, but, as Jihoon noticed, forced — a charisma that didn’t reach his cold eyes.

“Seungcheol! Finally!” Jaemin exclaimed, stepping forward to greet the Alpha with a quick, performative hug. “I thought you’d come on donkey from Seoul. Everyone’s so excited!”

Seungcheol kept the hug brief and stiff, his scent barely mingling with his cousin’s.

“We’re here, Jaemin. Air traffic delays. Nothing major,” Seungcheol replied curtly, his CEO voice brooking no argument.

Jaemin’s attention soon shifted from Seungcheol to Jihoon, who stood discreetly beside the Alpha, holding his backpack. The younger Alpha paused for a moment, his eyes scanning Jihoon from head to toe in a slow, rude evaluation.

“Well, what do we have here?” Jaemin finally said, opening a wider smile, though it carried a cruel undertone. “I can’t believe it, Seungcheol, you finally found someone to put up with you. Be honest, darling, is this grumpy Alpha paying you for it?”

The question, laced with a hint of truth cleverly disguised as a joke, hit Jihoon square in the chest. He felt Seungcheol’s shoulder tense beside him, the strong scent threatening to explode in anger.

The older Alpha began to speak, his voice rough: “Jaemin, I don’t know what you’re insinuati—”

But Jihoon interrupted.

The Omega clenched the hand holding the water bottle and stepped forward, defying Seungcheol’s expectations. He looked directly at Jaemin, his Omega eyes unflinching in the face of the other Alpha’s insolence.

Jihoon responded in a soft voice, a sweet smile on his face — the complete opposite of the defensive reaction anyone would expect.

“Dating Seungcheol for money? Never, why would you think that?” The question was rhetorical, but the tone was pure, naive surprise.

He turned slightly toward Seungcheol, expression gentle, then back to Jaemin with disarming calm.

“Seungcheol is so nice. You don’t spend enough time with him to see how fun he is. He’s just… reserved at work. He takes such good care of me. And he’s so thoughtful.” Jihoon deliberately used Seungcheol’s name, familiar and sweet, making sure the other Alpha heard the intimacy. “I’d never trade him for money.”

As Jihoon spoke, Jaemin’s mask of confidence crumbled. Seungcheol, standing beside Jihoon, froze completely, staring at the Omega with an expression of total shock, as if Jihoon had just spoken a foreign language. The scent hesitated, confused, but there was also a hint of pleasant surprise mixed in.

Jaemin, visibly embarrassed and caught off guard by the sweetness and conviction of Jihoon’s response, could only laugh awkwardly.

“Ah. I was just joking, of course.” He shook his head quickly. “Seungcheol really must be a sweetheart with you. An Omega as sweet as you wouldn’t stay with him if he were the same as always.” Jaemin had stepped back, reluctantly accepting Jihoon’s narrative.

Seungcheol finally regained his composure, placing a hand on Jihoon’s waist — a possessive, unexpected touch that electrified the Omega.

“This is Lee Jihoon,” Seungcheol said, his voice deep and slightly rough, turning to Jaemin with a warning glance. “Now, where are Mom and Dad? They said they’d come pick us up. Let’s go home.”

Jihoon barely registered the continuation of the conversation. His mind was processing the audacity of his lie and the shock of Seungcheol’s touch.

The unexpected grip on Jihoon’s waist lasted only an instant, but it was enough time for the boldness of his performance to merge with the electrifying reality of contact.

Seungcheol released him quickly, reverting to his cold CEO demeanor, but there was now an added layer of protection in his scent.

“The car’s over here,” Jaemin said, forcing a smile as he led the way, his irritation at Jihoon’s unexpected defense still palpable.

“Let me help with that backpack, dear,” Jaemin offered, extending a hand toward Jihoon’s bag, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jihoon shot an interrogative glance at Seungcheol, seeking permission or a veto. The Alpha, however, seemed merely tired of his cousin and the trip. He nodded, a quick gesture that said: Just let him take it.

Jihoon complied, allowing Jaemin to pick up the backpack.

As they walked, Jaemin began talking loudly, filling the silence with unnecessary details: “Your mom and dad spent way too long shopping to prepare for the lovebirds and ended up running late. So, since I was just sitting around doing nothing at home, I came to pick you up. I’m glad Seungcheol finally found someone. I thought he’d marry his work.”

Seungcheol merely nodded, contributing nothing to the conversation.

Feeling the tension radiating from the Alpha, Jihoon leaned slightly and asked in a low voice, “Do you want me to carry one of the suitcases?”

The Alpha looked at him, a soft, genuine smile appearing on his lips. He chuckled lightly, a sound Jihoon rarely heard. “No need. They’re not heavy.”

Jihoon nodded, comforted by the familiar, silent care of the Alpha.

They arrived at the car: a black luxury SUV of imposing size. The vehicle exuded the Choi family’s wealth, and Jaemin seemed almost starstruck as he pressed the key fob.

Seungcheol stopped at the rear passenger-side door, opening it for Jihoon with a gentle gesture.

“Get in,” he instructed.

Jihoon obeyed and settled into the soft leather seat. With Jaemin’s help, Seungcheol loaded the luggage into the trunk. Jaemin then jumped into the driver’s seat, and Seungcheol returned to Jihoon’s side, closing the door with a decisive click that isolated the trio in the luxurious enclosure.

As soon as Seungcheol fastened his seatbelt, Jihoon offered the can of soda.

“Hmm. Sorry, it’s not that cold anymore.”

Seungcheol took the can, opened it with a fizz, and took a long sip.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping the corner of his mouth. He looked at Jihoon. “Want some?”

Jihoon glanced at the Coca-Cola. “No, thank you. The water I had at the airport filled me up.”

The Alpha nodded, not insisting.

Jaemin started the engine, and the luxury car glided through the streets of Daegu toward the Choi family residence.

⋘ ──── ∗⋅✦⋅∗ ──── ⋙

Jaemin’s luxury SUV glided through the avenues of Daegu. Jihoon pressed against the window, his eyes absorbing every detail of the unfamiliar city. He had never been there before, and the scenery offered a welcome distraction from the silent Alpha beside him and the insidious Alpha driving.

Seungcheol and Jaemin were engaged in a conversation about the Daegu branch of Choi Holdings. Jaemin offered elaborate compliments to Jeonghan, their cousin managing the branch, but Jihoon could sense that every word was cold and insincere. Seungcheol’s scent remained quiet, signaling that he was merely tolerating the conversation.

At one point, Jaemin glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Seungcheol, do you mind if we stop at the supermarket? Your mom sent me a message asking us to pick up more drinks. Seems like Uncle invited some friends over to spend the afternoon at the house.”

The mention of “friends” made Jihoon’s stomach churn. He looked at Seungcheol, but the Alpha had already nodded, his expression blank.

“All right. Take the next exit,” Seungcheol authorized.

Jaemin promptly cut across and parked the SUV in the lot of a large supermarket.

The three got out. As Jaemin stepped a few paces toward the shopping carts, Jihoon turned to Seungcheol, nerves overcoming his usual discretion.

“How many people will actually be there? You said it was just for your family…” Jihoon whispered urgently, his Chuva scent slightly agitated.

Seungcheol turned to him, furrowing his brow as he tried to calm him.

“Probably just one or two of my father’s old friends. He has a particular fondness for barbecues and loves inviting friends over for drinks, especially when there’s a ‘celebration’ at the house,” Seungcheol explained, gesturing to indicate it was trivial. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Jihoon. They’ll barely notice you. Stay close to me.”

They walked through the supermarket, following Jaemin toward the frozen foods section, where they seemed to deem Jihoon unnecessary. Seungcheol was doing his best to divert Jihoon’s attention from the stressful situation.

Then the Alpha stopped abruptly. His eyes scanned the ice cream section, and he paused at a familiar container.

Chocolate ice cream with nuts.

Seungcheol looked at Jihoon, a subtle smile curling his lips. He knew Jihoon liked it. He had once seen Mingyu buy that flavor for the Omega, a random memory Seungcheol had stored.

Without a word, Seungcheol grabbed a two-liter tub of the exact flavor and placed it in Jihoon’s hands, along with the black card the Omega had used the day before.

“Take this and go pay,” Seungcheol instructed, his voice returning to the practical tone of a boss. “Jaemin and I will grab the drinks.”

Jihoon stood frozen, the cold ice cream in his hands, Seungcheol’s card on top. He felt a wave of emotion he couldn’t quite identify.

“But, Seungcheol, I can wait—”

“Go,” the Alpha interrupted, though his tone was gentle. “You’re doing a good job, Jihoon. Consider this a reward for handling Jaemin so well. Meet us at the exit.”

Jihoon nodded, unable to argue. He turned and walked toward the registers. While he waited in line, the tub of ice cream on the conveyor belt, Jihoon felt the weight of his lies and the depth of his feelings. He was Seungcheol’s fake Omega—and now he had an ice cream bribe.

⚘

Jihoon stood outside the supermarket, the ice cream tucked into a small bag, Seungcheol’s card back in his pocket. The cold Daegu air felt more tolerable, but the nervous tension of anticipation still lingered in his scent.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Soon, he spotted the two Alphas coming toward him, pushing a shopping cart that looked like it might collapse under the weight. It was overflowing with bottles, cans, and boxes—from sodas to various alcoholic beverages. The sheer amount suggested a party, not just a casual get-together with friends.

Jihoon couldn’t hide his surprise. He threw a questioning glance at Seungcheol, who pushed the cart effortlessly, though his expression was resigned.

Seungcheol met the Omega’s gaze and simply returned a neutral look. His scent carried a hint of boredom. What’s the matter? This isn’t enough, okay? His expression seemed to mock Jihoon’s innocence regarding his family’s extravagance.

“Time to load,” Jaemin said, his tone upbeat.

The three now faced the arduous task of fitting everything into the SUV’s trunk.

Seungcheol, Jaemin, and even Jihoon, who helped with the lighter boxes, worked quickly. The luxurious SUV’s trunk swallowed most of the haul, but it soon became clear that not everything would fit.

“Excellent,” Seungcheol muttered, massaging his forehead. “Knew Dad would invite half the golf club.”

Jaemin laughed, though the sound was dry. “No problem. We’ll just stack the rest on the seats. Not afraid of a little mess, spring.” He used the word “spring” with an ironic tone, referencing Jihoon’s Morning Chuva scent.

Jihoon ignored the jab. He focused on the task, following Seungcheol’s instructions.

In the end, some boxes of soda and whiskey had to be stacked on the seat beside Seungcheol, while other cans were placed on the passenger seat next to Jaemin, leaving the car filled with the heavy scent of alcohol and sugar.

Once everyone was back in the car and seatbelts fastened, the tension was palpable. Jihoon was wedged between his backpack and the Alpha, surrounded by evidence of Seungcheol’s family’s extravagance.

The drive to the Choi mansion would be short, but the pressure on Jihoon was at its peak. He was about to enter a nest of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas of high society, with a bribe-ice cream in the trunk and a love story he had invented in the airport corridor.

⚘

The luxurious SUV glided up a long gravel driveway and came to a stop, the engine shutting off silently, in the inner garden in front of the house. Jihoon was stunned. The Choi Mansion was not just large; it was colossal. Classical Korean architecture blended with modern touches of glass and stone. This place didn’t just accommodate five families—it could house an entire city block. Jihoon’s scent became almost imperceptible, intimidated by the sheer grandeur of the estate.

Jaemin stepped out first and, with a dramatic sigh, began unloading the boxes of drinks. Jihoon, still nervous, opened the car door and stepped out cautiously. He knew Seungcheol was wealthy and came from a rich family, but knowing it and actually experiencing the scale of that wealth were completely different things.

The Alpha soon got out and started helping Jaemin place the boxes on the porch.

Seungcheol was crouched down, trying to salvage a whisky box that had torn, almost losing five bottles, when the distraction arrived.

Two children, whom Jihoon guessed to be around ten years old, came running from somewhere.

“UNCLE CHEOLLL!”

They leapt onto Seungcheol’s back while he was still crouched.

Caught completely off guard, Seungcheol laughed—a full, loud, warm laugh Jihoon had never seen on the normally controlled Alpha. It was disarming, honest, and made Jihoon feel his own Omega fluttering inside him, instinctively responding to that sudden happiness.

The Alpha stood up with the children hanging on him. The strong scent now mingled with the joy and warmth of family, becoming surprisingly gentle.

“You’re going to knock me over! What are you doing out here?!” Seungcheol said to the kids, his eyes sparkling.

He soon noticed Jihoon standing there, watching the scene. Seungcheol cleared his throat, slightly returning to CEO mode.

“All right. Guys, come here.” He helped the children down. “Jihoon, these are Donghun and Seoah, the children of my youngest sister, Harvey. You’ve met her at a meeting in the office, remember?”

Jihoon nodded, waving and smiling at the two children, who looked at him with pure curiosity.

Donghun, the boy, tilted his head, looking at Seungcheol, and then at Jihoon.

“Ah, is this your boyfriend?”

The silence was immediately broken by Seoah, the girl, who rolled her eyes in childish disapproval.

“No, dummy! He’s Uncle’s Omega!”

Jihoon blushed violently. The flush spread up his neck and across his face, and his scent turned sweeter, betraying his embarrassment.

Seungcheol choked, suddenly flustered.

“Donghun! Seoah!” The Alpha scolded them, but the tone was more of shocked amusement than anger. “You two! Go! Go get more people to carry these bottles! Now!”

The children laughed and ran inside the house.

Seungcheol looked at Jihoon, his eyes wide and embarrassed. “I’m sorry. The kids… they can be a bit much.”

Jihoon barely managed to form a sentence. “It’s okay, Seungcheol.”

He had just been introduced as the Alpha’s “Omega,” with no chance to prepare. The facade was firmly established.

Before Seungcheol could apologize further, a firm, melodious voice, carrying the soft and authoritative scent of Sandalwood and Roses, echoed from the porch.

“Seungcheol, you never warn me about your Omega. And now you’ve barely arrived and are already yelling at the children. Come here, now.”

The matriarch Choi had arrived. An elegant, imposing woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes fixed on her son. Her scent commanded respect.

Seungcheol pushed the remaining boxes aside and, before moving, placed his hand on the small of Jihoon’s back, guiding him forward with a touch of possession.

“Jihoon, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lee Jihoon.”

Chapter Text

The possessive touch on the small of Jihoon’s back guided him forward, toward the woman who emanated a soft yet commanding scent of Sandalwood and Roses.

“Jihoon, this is my mother. Mom, this is Lee Jihoon.” Seungcheol’s voice was deep, laced with both formality and nervousness.

Matriarch Choi, elegant in an impeccable light dress, wore an expression of initial anger directed at her son. Her eyes looked ready to scold the Alpha for being loud and late.

But the moment her gaze met Jihoon’s, the anger dissolved. Her expression softened with startling speed, replaced by fascination and immediate affection. The scent of Sandalwood and Roses grew sweeter, less intimidating.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, her voice transforming into a tone of pure delight. She stepped forward, completely ignoring her son. “So you’re Jihoon—the sweet voice that answers me whenever this grumpy Alpha is being spoiled and refuses to pick up his own phone?”

Seungcheol began to protest, his scent rising in complaint. “Mom, I wasn’t being spoiled, I was—”

The woman cut him off with a wave of her hand, as if swatting away an annoying mosquito. Her attention was entirely on Jihoon.

Matriarch Choi moved with surprising quickness, pulling Jihoon into a warm, unexpected embrace.

“You’re so handsome, Jihoon,” she murmured, pulling back to hold the Omega’s shoulders. “If I’d known Seungcheol had you around for so long, I would’ve made him bring you over much earlier. I adore your scent—it’s so… clean.”

Jihoon was utterly taken aback by the outpouring of emotion. He was being praised and embraced by the Matriarch of one of Korea’s wealthiest families. Forcing his internal panic to settle, he slipped into his practiced social mode.

He smiled, allowing his scent to turn pleasantly gentle.

“I’m very happy to be here,” he said, his voice naturally soft. “You’re beautiful as well, Mrs. Choi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after all this time.”

Jihoon finished the sentence with a sweet laugh—slightly nervous, yet perfectly charming. The Matriarch’s smile widened even more, completely won over.

“Oh, you’re a treasure! Come, you need some water and something to eat. I know my son probably doesn’t feed you properly. Come, tell me all about yourself!”

She released Jihoon only to pull him along through the house, quickly disappearing into the grand foyer, Jihoon following her, already swept up in conversation.

Seungcheol remained on the porch, staring at the boxes of drinks. His scent carried a mix of relief and stunned surprise. He quickly started complaining—but from a safe distance away from his mother.

“Mom, don’t do that! You’ll scare him! He barely had time to breathe!”

Jihoon was pulled along by Matriarch Choi through the grand entrance. The woman spoke nonstop, describing plans for the week, what they would cook, and the activities they would do together. Jihoon was barely listening; he was too stunned by the size of the house. Vast hallways adorned with artwork, impossibly high ceilings, and the unsettling certainty that he was walking on carpets more expensive than his annual rent. Jihoon’s scent was tense, though hidden beneath the warm veil of the Matriarch’s Sandalwood and Roses.

He thought the house would never end—until she led him to the back.

Jihoon’s world came to a halt.

They stepped into a garden even larger than the one in front, impeccably maintained. There was an enormous leisure area that included a gazebo, professional grills, and an equally massive pool lined with lounge chairs.

But it wasn’t the opulence that made Jihoon’s stomach twist. It was the number of people.

The garden was filled with guests—Alphas, Betas, Omegas, and a few children—all elegantly dressed and laughing loudly. The so-called “two or three old friends” of Seungcheol’s father had turned into a sprawling family and social gathering. There had to be at least thirty people there.

The moment Matriarch Choi arrived, “carrying” him by the hand, everyone turned to look at Jihoon. The chatter stopped, and dozens of eyes focused on the Omega who had entered alongside the Matriarch.

Nervousness flooded Jihoon’s system. His scent grew faint—almost nonexistent—subdued by his anxiety. Is this all Seungcheol’s family? He swallowed hard. He was really going to have to fool a lot of people.

The panic rose so sharply that his instincts screamed for cover. Without thinking, he moved—stepping back slightly and curling behind the older Alpha’s body, using the Matriarch as a shield against all those stares.

Fortunately, the woman didn’t seem to notice his panic, mistaking the gesture for shyness or respect. She spoke loudly, her voice brimming with enthusiasm, addressing the crowd:

“Did you all see? Coups’ Omega is so handsome! Look at that face!”

The nickname hit him. Coups. Jihoon had never heard CEO Choi Seungcheol called that before, and he found it both adorable and surprisingly cute. The contrast between the commanding, suit-clad Alpha and the family’s affectionate “Coups” made his heart race in a way that eased his panic just a little.

Seungcheol’s mother continued proudly, presenting him like a prized trophy. “This is Lee Jihoon! And he finally got my son to stop hiding at work! Come, come meet him!”

Still hidden behind that shield of Sandalwood and Roses, Jihoon realized his first major challenge had just begun. He would have to step out from behind the Matriarch—and face the entire family.

⋅✦⋅

Matriarch Choi continued showing Jihoon off to the crowd, which had now gathered in a semicircle around them. The Omega felt his panic growing; he was being bombarded with questions from every direction.

“Where did you two meet, dear?”

“What family are you from? Your scent is so fresh—it really suits Seungcheol!”

“How do you manage Coups at the office and at home?”

Jihoon’s cheeks were flushed, and he struggled to maintain the sweet smile and soft voice the act required, answering with vague comments about work. His natural shyness and the overwhelmed flicker of his scent barely registered amid the noise.

At that exact moment, Seungcheol arrived at the garden area. He was slightly out of breath—an unusual sight for the Alpha—since Jaemin had held him back outside, yelling at him not to be lazy and to help with the rest of the boxes.

Seungcheol immediately took in the scene.

His father had really invited a crowd. Although Seungcheol knew everyone—most of them family—there were also many acquaintances and neighbors mixed in, all adding to the circle of attention. Jihoon stood at the center, cheeks red, clearly overwhelmed by the intensity of the interrogation.

Having known the Omega for four years, Seungcheol recognized exactly what was happening: Jihoon was shy and hated excessive attention. His secretary was on the verge of a social breakdown.

The Alpha swallowed hard. The anger he felt toward himself for putting Jihoon through this spurred him into action. He strode firmly through the crowd, his Strong Rain scent asserting itself and momentarily silencing the conversation. He reached Jihoon and, without hesitation, pulled him close, placing him possessively by his side.

“Excuse us, everyone,” Seungcheol announced in a loud, firm voice, ignoring the murmurs of protest. His hand stayed on Jihoon’s waist—a clear, nonnegotiable mark of possession. “We just got back from a trip. We’re exhausted and haven’t eaten anything decent. We need a minute.”

He smiled, though the expression never reached his eyes. “Please, enjoy yourselves. We’ll grab a bite and be right back.”

Seungcheol didn’t wait for replies. He led Jihoon away from the crowd, guiding him toward the house through a side door that opened into the interior.

As they walked off, Jihoon heard the Alpha woman’s voice ring out across the garden, loud and irritated:

“Let them talk to Jihoon, you useless Alpha!”

Jihoon, still breathless and leaning against Seungcheol’s solid frame, let out a soft laugh—the shock giving way to relief and an unexpected warmth in his chest. He had been rescued.

Seungcheol dragged Jihoon inside the mansion at a brisk pace until they reached a side kitchen, closer to the main entrance. The kitchen was vast and modern but empty, offering a rare pocket of peace. The Alpha’s Strong Rain scent calmed, settling into something merely protective.

Jihoon sat on one of the tall stools by the central island, releasing a long sigh of relief.

Seungcheol leaned against the counter, looking both embarrassed and tired. “I’m sorry about the chaos. I should’ve been clearer about how social my father is.”

Jihoon shook his head, catching his breath. “I didn’t know your family was that big. I mean, that garden looked like a convention.”

Seungcheol gave an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, it’s a big family. But my father really got carried away and brought more people than necessary. Sorry for throwing you into that.” He paused, his gaze fixed on Jihoon. “Jaemin held me up at the entrance—otherwise I would’ve gotten there sooner. No one said anything weird, right?”

Jihoon let out a small, relieved laugh. “No, Seungcheol. They were just curious. But there were so many voices I couldn’t really understand the questions. I’m just glad you rescued me.”

The Alpha relaxed, his scent warming into something softer. “That’s only for today. The next few days will just be actual family. It’s much calmer, I promise.” Jihoon nodded, accepting the promise.

Seungcheol then straightened his posture. “Do you want something to eat? They must’ve prepared a ton of food.”

Jihoon nodded, but then remembered the logistics. “I do, but shouldn’t we take our bags to the rooms first? That way we can settle in before the next round.”

That was when Jihoon noticed something rare—clear embarrassment flashing across the Alpha’s face. Seungcheol’s ears were starting to turn red.

Confused, Jihoon raised an eyebrow at him.

“Jihoon, about the rooms,” Seungcheol began, avoiding eye contact. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and busied himself opening it. “We… we’re going to have to share my old room.”

The Alpha took a deep breath, looking ready for a lecture or rejection. “See, I tried telling my mother that we’re still in the courting stage, hoping she’d calm down a little. But she wouldn’t listen and, well… the house is full. There aren’t any rooms left.”

Seungcheol finally looked at Jihoon, honesty and embarrassment clear on his face. “If you don’t mind, I have a pullout couch in my room. I can sleep there. You’ll have the bed. It’s only for a week.”

The revelation made Jihoon blush furiously. The heat that rose to his cheeks was even stronger than the flush of social embarrassment. Sharing Seungcheol’s room. For a week… The charade was reaching a level of physical intimacy Jihoon had never dared to even imagine.

He felt the urge to shout yes! and the fear to shout no! all at once. But his voice came out calm.

“It’s fine, Seungcheol,” he said, forcing a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I understand the situation.”

The relief on Seungcheol’s face was immediate, and his strong scent softened into something impossibly gentle.

“Great. Thanks, Jihoon. You’re the best.”

“Let’s go get the bags, then,” Jihoon suggested, standing up.

The two left the kitchen, the new reality of sharing a room hanging heavily between them, thickening the air with the promise of a forced—and dangerously intimate—proximity.

⋘ ──── ∗⋅✦⋅∗ ──── ⋙

The two made their way through the maze-like hallways up to the second floor. Seungcheol carried both rolling suitcases, while Jihoon held the backpacks.

They stopped in front of a dark wooden door.

“This used to be my room. Come in,” Seungcheol instructed, opening it.

The room was spacious, with a large double bed and neutral tones, but it didn’t have the coldness of a hotel suite. It was clearly the room of a young Alpha who had once grown up there.

Seungcheol set the suitcases down and went straight to the built-in wardrobe, opening its doors.

“Here—it’s big enough. I only keep a few clothes here for when I stay over,” he explained. “You can use the left side. I’ll take the right. That way we don’t mix things up.”

Jihoon nodded, still feeling the warmth of a blush lingering on his cheeks. The idea of his new clothes hanging next to Seungcheol’s casual pieces felt almost unbearably intimate.

They began unpacking. Jihoon carefully took out his neatly folded shirts and cashmere sweaters from the new suitcase.

At one point, Jihoon suddenly stopped moving and grew very still.

Seungcheol, who had been folding a T-shirt, lifted his head. He noticed Jihoon standing by a side shelf, staring intently at what looked like a private museum of the Alpha’s life.

The shelves were filled with photographs: Seungcheol as a child with his sister, messily eating ice cream; older photos of him and Mingyu as teenagers; and even some from his college days—Seungcheol smiling effortlessly, his shoulders leaner, his expression carefree.

These were glimpses of the Alpha the corporate world never saw.

Seungcheol’s scent immediately tightened, and his ears burned with embarrassment. It was his private past, exposed.

Jihoon, however, finally turned back to him, a gentle smile curving his lips.

“Your home is really beautiful, Seungcheol,” Jihoon said softly, his voice sincere. “It’ll be nice staying here for a few days.” He didn’t mention the photos, but the warmth in his smile made it clear he’d liked what he saw.

Relief washed through Seungcheol. He exhaled and smiled back, feeling oddly vulnerable and grateful all at once.

“Yeah. I hope you like it,” he said.

Their eye contact lingered just a moment longer than professionalism allowed before both returned to unpacking, a comfortable silence settling between them.

⋅✦⋅

After unpacking, the two went downstairs again. The Alpha guided Jihoon toward the social area, his firm hand resting on the small of Jihoon’s back — a gesture of possession that now felt like an anchor to him.

This time, they didn’t go where the Matriarch was. Seungcheol led them directly to the area near the grill, where Seungcheol’s father was.

The patriarch was an imposing Alpha, and Jihoon immediately noticed where Seungcheol had inherited his bearing and physical resemblance. The two were almost identical, though the father carried a calmer dignity, less turbulent than his son’s. The father’s scent was a rich, aged Oak Moss that harmonized perfectly with the Storm Rain of his son.

Seungcheol’s father greeted him with more restraint than the mother had.

“Seungcheol. It’s good to see you. And you must be Jihoon.” He smiled, extending his hand. “I’m glad to finally see this Alpha calm down with someone.”

Jihoon shook the elder’s hand firmly and returned the smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Choi.”

Relieved by the calm reception, Seungcheol began to talk with his father. Jihoon stayed close, his gaze fixed on everything but the people, feeling the constant eyes on his back.

Everything was going smoothly — conversations about business and the trip — until an older Alpha, a friend of Seungcheol’s father, joined the talk.

He gave Seungcheol a friendly pat on the back and asked in a teasing, good-natured tone,

“And what about the pups, Seungcheol? Your father’s getting old, you know? You can’t wait too long!”

The Alpha’s father laughed and added, “That’s true, Seungcheol. Soon I won’t be able to run after an energetic pup.”

The question — common at family gatherings — struck the fragile bubble of their pretense hard.

Seungcheol tensed immediately. His scent grew momentarily thick with stress.

Jihoon blushed like a tomato. The idea of having pups with Seungcheol, even as a joke, was overwhelming. He kept his eyes fixed on a spot near the grill.

Seungcheol merely grumbled in response. “Father, please. Don’t say things like that. Jihoon and I just started.”

His father only laughed and, noticing their embarrassment, patted Seungcheol’s shoulder. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two alone.” The patriarch joined a group of friends, leaving Seungcheol and Jihoon near the grill.

A moment of tense silence followed. Jihoon knew Seungcheol was irritated — not with him, but with the intrusion.

Seungcheol broke the silence, his voice low and considerate. “Do you want to eat now? You haven’t eaten anything since Seoul.”

Jihoon nodded in confirmation.

The Alpha began assembling a plate for the Omega, picking up tongs and serving from the large table full of barbecue options. Jihoon just watched, seated at a nearby table. Seungcheol served him everything — meat, salads, kimchi — building a balanced, generous plate.

Jihoon felt the warmth of the Alpha’s quiet care.

“Here,” Seungcheol said, placing the plate in front of Jihoon before quickly serving himself. “It’s around three in the afternoon already. We need to eat.”

As Jihoon picked up his fork, the urgency and stress of their act faded momentarily, replaced by hunger and the comfort of Seungcheol’s protective presence.

The two ate in silence. The relief of being alone and their accumulated hunger made the moment surprisingly peaceful, despite the strong scent of barbecue and the distant murmurs of the gathering.

Seungcheol was explaining to Jihoon that his mother’s potato salad was legendary when a new interruption arrived.

A child, even younger than Donghun and Seoah, came running across the porch and threw themselves at Seungcheol with surprising force.

“UNCLE CHEOL, YOU CAME!”

Seungcheol, who had his mouth full of meat, only managed a muffled sound of agreement as he set his plate aside to balance the little one. He adjusted the boy on his lap, sitting between him and Jihoon. The scent of Storm Rain mingled with the childish scent of the boy.

The child looked at Jihoon, his eyes wide and curious. Jihoon smiled gently, pausing his chewing.

The boy didn’t hesitate, looking from Uncle Cheol to the Omega beside him. “Are you Uncle’s Omega?”

Jihoon only heard the sound of Seungcheol choking. The Alpha began coughing violently, the guttural sound echoing in the quiet of the kitchen. His face turned red as he leaned forward, struggling to breathe. The scent of Storm Rain grew thick with panic and embarrassment.

Jihoon immediately dropped his fork and, with the kind of familiarity that only intimacy born from shared emergencies could create, began rubbing the Alpha’s back in rhythmic motions, his expression worried.

“Easy, Seungcheol! Slow down!” he murmured, then turned toward the child.

“He’s not your Omega?” the boy asked, confused.

Jihoon answered with the softest voice he could manage, keeping the steady movements on Seungcheol’s tense back. “I’m Seungcheol’s boyfriend.” He chose the safest word, the one that least evoked the biological nature of their arrangement.

The boy simply nodded, disarmed by Jihoon’s smile. “My name’s Eric!”

“Nice to meet you, Eric. I’m Jihoon.”

Seungcheol finally stopped coughing. He grabbed a glass of orange juice and downed it in one go, draining the liquid quickly. Only then did he take a deep breath.

He looked at Eric with a stern expression, though his voice remained controlled. “Eric, go find your mom. Tell her you’re thirsty and need some juice.”

Eric hopped off Seungcheol’s lap and ran off.

Jihoon chuckled softly at the chaos. Leaning back, he resumed eating. “I didn’t know Harvey had three kids.”

Seungcheol shook his head, regaining his breath and composure. “He’s not Harvey’s son. Eric’s the son of Mingyu’s older brother, Baekho. He calls me Uncle because we’re close.”

Jihoon nodded, chewing on a piece of meat. The family talk felt strangely normal, despite the forced intimacy and the near choking disaster. The two went back to eating, the scent of Storm Rain now a little warmer, touched with gratitude for Jihoon’s care.

Jihoon and Seungcheol finished their late, hearty lunch in comfortable silence. Out of convenience — since the Alpha had served both their plates — Jihoon stood and gathered the dishes from the counter, carrying them to the sink. He began washing them, an automatic, familiar act that came from his domestic nature.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol received an older Beta — one of his father’s friends whom Jihoon didn’t recognize — who leaned casually beside him. The two started a quiet conversation about the Choi Holdings branch in Daegu and how business had been going well. Seungcheol spoke calmly, though his scent stayed focused on Jihoon the whole time.

When Jihoon finished washing and was drying his hands, Seungcheol said goodbye to the older Beta and stepped closer.

The Alpha lowered his voice to a confidential tone, speaking near Jihoon’s ear.

“Unfortunately, we need to interact with the rest of the family. Lunch was a good shield, but if we stay here, we’ll offend Mom,” he whispered. “Do you mind sitting for a while at the larger table by the pool?”

Jihoon, who had been quietly listening, felt the warmth radiating from the Alpha’s body. He nodded.

“I won’t leave your side,” Seungcheol assured him. “And we only need to stay for a little while; it’s almost five o’clock. My mother won’t keep us there much longer.” The Alpha looked at Jihoon seriously. “If anything happens, Jihoon—if you start to feel overwhelmed—just squeeze my arm. I’ll understand that you want to leave, and we’ll go. We’ll say we’re tired and excuse ourselves early.”

Seungcheol paused. “My mother won’t argue. Especially if you fake a yawn.”

The rescue plan—complete with a secret signal and the fake-yawn trick—was so absurdly detailed that Jihoon, who had been listening with his head lowered, let out a small laugh.

“All right,” Jihoon agreed. “Arm squeeze and yawn. Got it.”

The scent of Seungcheol softened in relief.

Then the Alpha did something unplanned, an impulsive gesture. Instead of guiding Jihoon with a hand on his back as before, he reached out and took Jihoon’s hand in his own. The touch was firm and warm, their fingers interlacing in a gesture that was both a public claim and a private intimacy.

“Let’s go, then,” Seungcheol said, and began to lead Jihoon out of the kitchen toward the lively area by the pool and dining table.

Seungcheol guided Jihoon forward, his hand warm and steady around the smaller one. They approached the large outdoor table where the Matriarch and Patriarch sat, surrounded by close family members and guests.

Despite Jihoon’s initial anxiety, the moment turned out to be lighter—and far less awkward—than he had expected. The Choi family was loud and meddlesome, but also genuinely cheerful. Everyone talked over each other about random topics: local politics, the growth of the branch under Jeonghan’s control, and gossip about other magnates in Daegu.

Every now and then, someone would ask Jihoon a question, and the Omega responded with that soft voice and restrained smile he had perfected. He sat beside Seungcheol, and the Alpha was close enough that Jihoon could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the cool evening air.

In a gesture Jihoon couldn’t quite decipher—whether protective or habitual—Seungcheol placed his arm along the backrest of Jihoon’s chair. It didn’t touch him, but it surrounded him, a subtle and silent barrier of protection from the rest of the world.

Even Jaemin remained quiet, nursing his drink and chatting with a few family friends, keeping a respectful distance from the pair.

Time slipped by in a bubble of warmth and conversation. When Jihoon finally noticed, the sky had already turned completely dark, and the garden was glowing with strings of party lights. The cool Daegu night had deepened, and the Omega began to feel the weight of drowsiness pulling at his eyes—a result of the sleepless night and the long, stressful day.

His body gave in. Jihoon leaned back in his chair, his head lightly bumping against Seungcheol’s outstretched arm.

The Alpha didn’t move. He simply leaned closer to Jihoon, his voice low and husky as he whispered directly into the Omega’s ear:

“Do you want to go inside?”

Jihoon didn’t need words. Seungcheol could feel the Omega’s scent shift—softening, calming, fading into pure exhaustion. Jihoon simply looked at the Alpha, who was dangerously close, and nodded.

Seungcheol straightened in his chair, drawing the table’s attention.

“Well,” he announced, his voice firm but polite, “we’ll be heading in for the night. The trip was long and tiring.” He glanced at Jihoon, the look carrying a silent apology for his fatigue.

Everyone began to wish the couple goodnight. The Patriarch smiled, and the Matriarch expressed mild disappointment, but she didn’t object.

Seungcheol stood up. In one final gesture, he didn’t just guide Jihoon with a touch on the back—his arm settled securely around Jihoon’s waist, steadying the drowsy Omega as they left the table.

Jihoon felt the weight of Seungcheol’s hand, the warmth of it, and the unspoken promise of safety it carried. He was Choi Seungcheol’s pretend Omega—and he was being led to the Alpha’s room.

⋅✦⋅

As they entered the room, Seungcheol closed the door gently behind them.

“You can take your shower first,” he said, nodding toward the door that led to the en suite bathroom. “You’ll find everything you need in there.”

Jihoon, his eyes heavy with sleep, just nodded. He shuffled toward the wardrobe, opened the left side, and took out his pajamas—a white cotton set, the shirt and pants both a few sizes too big. He hadn’t known they’d be sharing a room, and honestly, he was far too tired to care about fashion or modesty.

Dragging himself into the bathroom, he took a quick, hot shower.

When he returned to the bedroom, Seungcheol was lying on the pullout couch facing the large bed, scrolling through his phone. The Alpha was still dressed in his black T-shirt and sweatpants.

Jihoon mumbled something about it being Seungcheol’s turn to shower. The Alpha didn’t need more prompting.

He stood up immediately, pajamas in hand, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Jihoon sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. He was half-awake, half-asleep, his body swaying slightly under the weight of exhaustion.

When Seungcheol came back out, his hair damp and the scent of Rain now clean and fresh, he found Jihoon still sitting on the bed, nearly asleep.

Seungcheol frowned softly. “Why aren’t you in bed yet, Jihoon? What’s wrong?”

Jihoon’s voice came slow and drowsy. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the pullout.”

The Alpha chuckled quietly—a low, affectionate sound—and shook his head. “The couch is for me. That was the deal. Go to bed, Jihoon. We start early tomorrow.”

Jihoon didn’t have the energy to argue. He simply crawled toward the middle of the bed, sinking into the soft sheets that smelled faintly of the Alpha. The lingering Rain scent in the pillows was the last comfort he felt before closing his eyes.

Seungcheol watched the Omega settle in. He sighed, then glanced toward the door. He knew his mother was meddlesome and might burst in the next morning without knocking, just to check on her “lovebirds.” Seeing them in separate beds would be a disaster to explain.

So, as a precaution, he returned to the couch and quietly locked the door.

The rest of the night passed peacefully, filled only by the calm rhythm of their breathing in the quiet room.

Chapter Text

Jihoon woke up first, his body already accustomed to interrupted sleep. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand: seven in the morning. He was simply tired from the trip.

He moved carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed. He saw Seungcheol still sleeping soundly on the pullout couch, lying on his stomach, his body motionless from exhaustion. Jihoon knew the Alpha had probably spent Thursday night into Friday awake, working. At least one Saturday morning could be spent resting. Jihoon decided he wouldn’t wake the Alpha just yet.

He stood and went to the wardrobe. He grabbed the “home clothes” he had brought along: a soft white cotton polo shirt and loose black shorts, completing the look with black slippers. For the first time since he arrived, he felt at ease.

His hair was a bit messy—it had grown quite long, already reaching his shoulders, and he really needed a cut. He combed it through, feeling the soft texture between his fingers.

Jihoon’s stomach grumbled with hunger. With lazy steps, he left the room, taking care not to make any noise that could wake the man asleep on the couch.

He went downstairs to the first floor. The house was strangely quiet. Maybe no one else was awake yet. Jihoon first checked the kitchen near the entrance, but it was empty. Guided by instinct—and the faint smell of coffee—he headed toward the kitchen near the back garden.

There, he found Seungcheol’s mother, Hyeri, already making coffee. A few servants were quietly preparing other dishes.

The woman greeted him with enthusiasm and a warm smile. “Good morning, Jihoon! Did you sleep well?”

Jihoon approached her, smiling. “Good morning, Mrs. Choi. Yes, very well. Seungcheol’s room really feels like him.”

Hyeri chuckled softly and nodded. “That boy has been stubborn since he was little. I’m glad you slept well, dear.”

After a while, only the sounds of the servants moving around the kitchen filled the air. When the coffee was ready, Hyeri and Jihoon sat at a table near the pool. The morning sun broke through, bathing them both in a warm, gentle light.

Hyeri finally spoke again, her gaze both serious and affectionate.

“Jihoon, I just wanted to say that I’m very grateful that you’re here.”

The seriousness in her tone caught Jihoon by surprise.

“And that you made Seungcheol come home.”

Jihoon laughed softly, trying to keep up the pretense. “I’m sure he missed home, Mrs. Choi. He would have come back with or without me.”

But Hyeri only laughed, a sad and resigned sound.

“Unfortunately, no. In fact, it’s been more than six years since Seungcheol last came home.”

The revelation shocked Jihoon. Six years. That meant the Alpha had cut off contact long before Jihoon ever joined the company.

The woman continued, the scent of Sandalwood and Roses around her heavy with melancholy.

“The last time he came for one of the family gatherings, he and his father had a terrible argument. You know how older Alphas are—stubborn and proud. We were really worried about Seungcheol. He lived only for work, but he wasn’t really living. Then everything just escalated. He left so angry that I swore he would never come back.”

Hyeri reached for his hand. “But who would have thought the next time he came back would be with his mate? I know he’s not easy. He has a difficult temper and can be a bit rough sometimes, but thank you for being with my son. I was so afraid I’d leave this world without seeing Seungcheol with someone.”

Jihoon felt a lump in his throat at the woman’s sincerity, crushed by the weight of the truth he was hiding and the depth of her concern. He looked at the woman before him, so open and vulnerable, and knew the only way to comfort her was with the most honest lie he could offer.

He squeezed her hand and smiled—but this time, his smile carried the ache of his secret love.

“As long as it depends on me, Seungcheol will never be alone.” Jihoon took a deep breath, gazing at the morning sun. “You know, Hyeri, I really love Seungcheol. I’ve loved him for four years, but I only managed to get his attention recently.”

The veiled confession of his one-sided love fit perfectly into the charade.

“I’m the one who should be afraid,” Jihoon continued, his voice soft but steady. “Afraid that Seungcheol will find someone more deserving of him.”

Hyeri looked at him, and the scent of Sandalwood and Roses filled the air with pure, overwhelming affection. She clasped both of Jihoon’s hands, completely won over.

“Oh, nonsense. You’re more than deserving. You’re the reason he finally came home.”

Jihoon and Hyeri continued chatting about trivial things under the morning sun. The Matriarch’s scent of Sandalwood and Roses surrounded Jihoon—a warmth that was both comforting and a bittersweet reminder of the weight of his lie. Gradually, the table began to fill with more people.

It was then that Harvey, Seungcheol’s younger sister and the mother of Donghun and Seoah, joined them.

“Mom! Good morning!” she greeted Hyeri with a quick kiss before turning to Jihoon, her face lighting up with a wide smile. She had already met Jihoon before, but technically, the Omega’s “relationship” with her brother didn’t exist yet.

“Jihoon! I’m so glad you’re finally here!” she said, wrapping him in a cheerful hug. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Coups finally pulled himself together and asked you out. You’re the only one he can stand for more than five minutes! And look at where you two are now.”

Jihoon only laughed, trying to hide his nervousness. Hearing the nickname “Coups” coming from Seungcheol’s sister made everything sound even more intimate.

The morning carried on peacefully. The atmosphere was that of a relaxed family weekend—children running around while adults talked leisurely. Harvey was busy putting sunscreen on Donghun, while Jihoon, naturally gentle, helped Seoah apply sunscreen to her small back.

Seungcheol’s sister looked toward the sparkling pool.

“Aren’t you going to get in the water, Jihoon?” Harvey asked.

Jihoon shook his head, a little embarrassed. “Ah, no. I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Seungcheol didn’t tell me there was a pool here.”

Harvey huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “That Alpha! So brilliant about complicated things, yet absolutely clueless about the basics.”

Jihoon shrugged, amused, and Harvey suddenly seemed to have an idea.

“Tell you what,” she said, “I’m heading to the market now to get some fruit for Seoah and Donghun. Why don’t you come with me? We can stop by the mall afterward so you can buy a swimsuit. You can’t spend the whole week here without going for a swim.”

Jihoon smiled softly. The offer was a relief—he needed a moment away from the intensity of the household. He nodded right away.

“That’s a great idea, Harvey. Let me just grab my wallet and phone from the room.”

Harvey nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll wait for you in the car. It’s a red one, parked just outside the house.”

Jihoon climbed the stairs quickly. When he entered the room again, he found Seungcheol lying on his side, clutching a pillow that was already creased from the Alpha’s strong grip. The scent of Heavy Rain hung in the air—thick and deep, like a cocoon of sleep.

Jihoon thought about waking the Alpha to let him know he was leaving but stopped himself. He wasn’t really his Alpha. It felt better to stay quiet, not risk disturbing him over something so trivial.

He grabbed his wallet and phone from his backpack and slipped out of the room as quietly as he had entered. The absence of Seungcheol made the public pretense easier, but it complicated any private communication between them.

Soon, Jihoon was on his way with Harvey.

⋅✦⋅

Jihoon and Harvey drove to the market. The conversation in the car was surprisingly easy, free from the tension that usually surrounded his interactions with Jaemin.

At the market, Jihoon helped Harvey choose the best fruits, listening as Seungcheol’s sister talked about her chaotic but beloved life with the twins. Jihoon’s scent was relaxed, softened by the rare feeling of normalcy.

Soon, the two headed to the mall. Harvey led Jihoon straight into a beachwear store. Jihoon felt embarrassed, unsure about what to wear. He had avoided swimwear for years, always preferring discretion.

His embarrassment peaked when Harvey returned from a rack holding up the smallest swimsuit Jihoon had ever seen in his life. It was tiny—and incredibly revealing.

“Look how cute! It’s pink! It’ll look perfect on you, Jihoon! Coups will love it!” Harvey exclaimed, holding the piece up against Jihoon’s body.

Jihoon felt heat spread in waves through his cheeks; he was certain he’d turned into a tomato.

“Ah, Harvey, I don’t think that’s very appropriate for a family gathering by the pool,” Jihoon said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the flush burning his skin.

Harvey huffed and reluctantly agreed. “You’re right. Those old perverts that hang around Dad don’t deserve to see you like this.” She laughed and went to look for something else.

Jihoon took the opportunity to browse too. He found a simple black swimsuit—safe, minimal, and far less revealing. Yet the thought of standing around in just that, surrounded by Seungcheol’s family—and worse, under the Alpha’s gaze—made him feel like he might faint.

He remembered all of Minghao’s teasing about his body. Jihoon was short, but he enjoyed working out. He considered himself in good shape; his arms were toned, and his chest—Minghao’s favorite target for jokes—was firm enough that his brother often said he’d need a bra soon. His thighs were solid too, and his ass… well, Jihoon liked to think it was decent. Still, the idea of showing all that in front of everyone was far too much.

Then he spotted a light pink pair of swim shorts hanging nearby. They were slightly short, revealing more than he was used to, but infinitely safer than the tiny swimsuit.

Harvey returned and immediately approved. “Perfect choice! But don’t forget—you will be wearing just the swimsuit when we’re alone!”

Jihoon laughed, the tension easing at last. He paid for both pieces quickly. It was around ten in the morning now, the sun already high in the sky—and the Alpha was probably awake by this time.

“Let’s go,” Harvey said, grinning. “Before Coups starts calling to ask where his Omega went.”

The two had barely left the store and were walking through the mall when Harvey’s phone started ringing. She glanced at the caller ID, her expression puzzled.

“Hmm, it’s Coups,” she murmured.

Harvey answered, and Seungcheol’s voice came through the phone—clearly not pleased.

“Harvey, is Jihoon with you?!”

Harvey confirmed, her tone laced with mild sarcasm. “Yes, he is. I told Mom I was taking Jihoon with me, Coups!”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply on the other end. “Mom said she saw you leave alone. Where the hell are you two?”

Harvey rolled her eyes and looked at Jihoon. “Jihoon went upstairs to grab his wallet while I was talking to Mom. We’re at the mall buying him some swimwear, since you, being the useless Alpha you are, didn’t mention there was a pool at home.”

The Alpha’s voice dropped lower, laced with possessive authority. “Fine. Just come home soon. What the hell were you thinking, taking my Omega without telling me?”

Walking beside Harvey, Jihoon could only hear her side of the conversation—and the faint, low rumble of the Alpha’s voice on the other end. It was then that Jihoon realized he had left his phone inside Harvey’s car. Seungcheol had probably been messaging him non-stop.

Harvey ended the call with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re doomed, Jihoon,” she said with mock sadness. “That Alpha of yours is such a control freak. I swear, I thought he was about to reach through the phone and drag you back himself.”

She shook her head, but amusement soon replaced her annoyance. “Alphas and their protective instincts, honestly. My husband Minho was unbearable after he marked me, Jihoon. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without an Alpha hovering over me.” Her voice carried fake irritation, but there was a sparkle of affection in her eyes.

Jihoon laughed, picturing CEO Choi Seungcheol—the most serious man he knew—acting possessive and jealous.

Harvey then pointed a finger at him, her expression turning mock-stern. “Keep laughing. When your turn comes, I know Coups is going to be worse than Minho!”

The mention of “your turn” and Seungcheol’s jealousy instantly silenced Jihoon, his smile fading into a sudden flush of pink across his cheeks.

Harvey, noticing his reaction, burst out laughing.

“Come on, sweetheart. It’s only a matter of time. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Jihoon just nodded, quickening his steps. The thought of being marked by Seungcheol—even in jest—caught him completely off guard.

On the way back to the mansion, Jihoon checked his phone and found ten missed calls from his boss. That confirmed it—the Alpha had spent several minutes in a quiet panic, thinking Jihoon had vanished, before going to his mother to find out where his “mate” was.

As they entered the house, Harvey put the fruit in the refrigerator. Jihoon followed right behind her, holding the shopping bag in his hands.

From a distance, he noticed Seungcheol down in the clearing below, past the pool. The Alpha was with Eric, his nephew, who was riding on his shoulders. The powerful and serious Seungcheol Jihoon was used to seeing had transformed into a goofy “Uncle Cheol”—a surprising and tender sight.

As soon as Jihoon stopped under the shade of the porch, he watched the two from afar for a few seconds.

The time the Omega took just to observe was enough. Suddenly, Seungcheol turned his head toward the house. He didn’t see Jihoon right away, but his instincts and his sense of smell alerted him to the Omega’s presence and scent.

Seungcheol began walking back toward the house, even as Eric complained in his arms.

“Uncle Cheol, where are we going? We haven’t finished the race yet!”

As he got closer, Jihoon saw Seungcheol’s expression change. The Alpha set Eric down, and the boy immediately ran off to find his father.

Seungcheol quickened his pace and approached Jihoon, his voice soft yet filled with concern. He sniffed the air slightly, as if making sure Jihoon was unharmed.

“Didn’t you take your phone with you?”

Jihoon set the shopping bag down, feeling the Alpha’s concern. “Ah, no. I left it in Harvey’s car when we went to buy the clothes. Sorry, sir—” Jihoon stopped himself, almost saying the formal Mr. Choi. “Did you need something?”

Seungcheol shook his head, the alarm in his scent fading.

“No. I just got worried when I woke up. You weren’t anywhere in the house, and no one had seen you leave. I thought… I thought something might’ve happened.”

Jihoon chuckled softly at the excessive concern, but the warmth of being sought after was real.

“I’m fine. I had breakfast with your mother. It was early, around seven.”

Seungcheol sighed, horrified. “You woke up at seven? Jihoon, you should’ve rested more. You didn’t have to get up early just because of my mother.”

“I’m fine, Seungcheol. I just couldn’t sleep anymore. I’ll take a nap later if I need to.”

Seungcheol huffed, crossing his arms, his protective stance returning. Jihoon smiled, quietly appreciating the care.

The moment, which seemed on the verge of turning into a serious conversation about Jihoon’s sudden disappearance and lack of communication, was interrupted.

“Seungcheol! Come here, son! Help me carry these bags of charcoal!” The Patriarch’s powerful voice echoed from outside the porch.

The Alpha turned, visibly annoyed by the interruption.

“I’ll be right there, Dad!” Seungcheol grumbled, then turned back to Jihoon. “Don’t go out again without your phone, understood? And if you’re going to do something, let me know.”

Jihoon simply nodded, his cheeks flushed. The Alpha had spoken to him as if he truly were his Omega.

Seungcheol ran off to help his father, and Jihoon took the chance to finally head upstairs with the shopping bag. The new swim shorts were about to make their debut in the pool.

⋘ ──── ∗⋅✦⋅∗ ──── ⋙

Jihoon reached the top of the stairs. Harvey, already ready to jump into the water, was waiting for him, sitting on the hallway sofa, wearing a bikini and a pair of black shorts. She looked visibly irritated, grumbling about having to wear shorts because of the “privacy invasion” caused by Alphas from outside the family.

Jihoon laughed at Seungcheol’s sister’s indignation and stepped into the room.

He put on the black swim brief first—it fit perfectly, giving him just the right support. Over it, he slipped on the light pink swim shorts. They were short, stopping halfway down Jihoon’s thighs, but definitely not indecent.

Jihoon glanced at himself in the mirror before leaving. He didn’t look bad. His body, the result of a few years of weight training with Minghao, was toned and balanced.

He left the room, and Harvey let out a whistle.

“Wow, Jihoon!” she exclaimed with genuine admiration. “I didn’t know you were hiding all that under those old-fashioned cardigans!”

Jihoon’s face instantly turned crimson. “My cardigans are beautiful,” he defended himself, pretending to be offended.

Harvey laughed as she stood up. “Of course they are. But this—this is a crime. Come on, before Coups comes back and stops us from having fun.”

The two of them headed toward the pool area.

The garden was calmer than the day before, but still lively. The children were already splashing in the shallow end of the pool. Baekho—the eldest brother of Mingyu and father of Eric—was keeping watch, his tall and calm presence overseeing everything.

Jihoon greeted everyone politely. He and Harvey joined Baekho, and the three struck up an easy conversation, covering topics from local foods to gossip about people Jihoon had never even heard of.

Before long, Jihoon was soaking in the cool water beside Harvey, feeling the refreshing contrast against the warm morning sun. Seoah and Donghun were playing happily at his feet, while Baekho swam peacefully with Eric riding on his back.

Jihoon managed to relax. He was in the water, his back turned to the area where the rest of the family was having lunch under the veranda. The calmness of the pool was a balm. Harvey was now splashing water over Donghun’s head, making him laugh, while Seoah clung to Baekho, who was helping her float. Jihoon simply watched them from behind his sunglasses and smiled, feeling the sun warm his back.

The peace was abruptly broken.

They heard a loud noise, followed by Seungcheol’s mother’s sharp voice scolding someone inside the kitchen.

Jihoon turned to look. The target of Hyeri’s wrath was none other than Seungcheol himself, standing in the middle of the kitchen, visibly flushed and surrounded by spilled charcoal at his feet. It was a clear and embarrassing domestic accident. Hyeri was complaining about him not paying attention and making a mess, while the Alpha sighed heavily and began cleaning up, frustration written all over his face.

Instinctively, Jihoon got out of the pool. Water dripped down his light pink shorts, tracing the shape of his body. He walked toward the Alpha.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Jihoon asked, concern softening his voice as he noticed Seungcheol’s tense expression.

Seungcheol looked up. His eyes met Jihoon’s—then quickly darted away. The Alpha seemed slightly flustered, speaking to Jihoon while keeping his gaze fixed somewhere near the top of the Omega’s head, carefully avoiding the sight of his wet body.

“I’m fine. Just a disaster,” Seungcheol muttered. “You can go back to the pool. I can already feel Harvey’s glare from here, blaming me for ruining her fun.”

Jihoon noticed the Alpha’s discomfort. He leaned slightly, trying to catch Seungcheol’s eyes.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Jihoon asked softly.

Seungcheol was about to refuse, his expression tight, when Jaemin appeared at the worst possible moment, stepping out from inside the house.

“Well, well! Perfect day for a swim, isn’t it? Hello, Jihoon. I hope Coups has been behaving himself,” Jaemin greeted, his tone smooth and teasing.

Seungcheol’s expression darkened instantly at the sound of his cousin’s voice. The scent of Heavy Rain turned sharp and acidic. The Alpha clearly didn’t want to leave Jihoon alone with Jaemin.

“Go stay with Harvey, Jihoon,” Seungcheol ordered, his tone slipping back into that of a commander. “I’ll get changed and join you in a minute.”

The promise that he would come to the pool eased Jihoon’s tension.

He nodded, picking up his sunglasses from the table and walking back toward Harvey, who was already waiting with a mischievous smile.

As Jihoon walked away, Seungcheol felt his face burn.

⋅✦⋅

Jihoon was in the shallow end of the pool; he didn’t know how to swim and was content just dipping his legs in the cool water. Harvey was a short distance away in the deeper section, helping Donghun dive. The two drifted farther off, leaving Jihoon alone by the edge of the pool. Seungcheol still hadn’t returned.

That was when Jaemin approached from the side. He stepped into the deep end with a condescending smile.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not going to swim? The water feels amazing.”

Jihoon just smiled, silently grateful for the sunglasses that hid the fact that his smile never reached his eyes. He explained politely that he didn’t know how to swim.

That seemed like an invitation to Jaemin.

“Oh, that’s nothing. I can teach you. Come with me.” Jaemin extended his hand toward Jihoon, his grin wide and presumptuous.

But the moment the Alpha reached out, a large shadow blocked the sun between them.

Jihoon stiffened instinctively when Seungcheol’s broad chest lowered beside him. The Alpha was now sitting at the edge of the pool, wearing only black swim shorts — just like Jaemin and Jihoon himself.

Jihoon had never seen the Alpha with so little clothing, and his face instantly flushed red, the heat rising sharply to his ears. If anyone asked, he would blame it entirely on the sun.

Seungcheol ignored his cousin, though his scent — the heavy stormy aroma of Rain — became a cold, solid barrier between Jihoon and Jaemin. He turned his gaze toward Jaemin, his voice low but filled with quiet authority.

“There’s no need to worry, Jaemin. I’ll help Jihoon myself.”

Jaemin scoffed, but feeling challenged and unwanted, he backed off and swam away.

Seungcheol then turned to Jihoon, extending his large, steady hand.

“Come.”

Jihoon hesitated. “I really don’t know how to swim, Seungcheol. It’s better if I don’t.”

The Alpha’s eyes were calm, firm, unyielding. “I know. Relax. I won’t let you sink.”

Trusting the Alpha more than he probably should have, Jihoon took his hand. Seungcheol seized the contact, guiding Jihoon closer, his large hands steadying the Omega’s slender waist as he led him toward where Harvey and Baekho were.

They joined the rest of the family in the water — Harvey was holding Donghun, Baekho had Eric on his back, and little Seoah clung to him like a barnacle.

Then, the water suddenly became too deep for Jihoon. His muscles tensed, his voice trembling.

“Seungcheol, please— I think you should take me back to the shallow end.”

The Alpha looked down at him, immediately noticing the panic flickering in Jihoon’s eyes.

But Seungcheol didn’t take him back. Instead, he moved swiftly, turning Jihoon around in the water.

“Hold onto my neck,” he instructed.

Before Jihoon could even protest, Seungcheol’s voice deepened with command.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, Jihoon.”

Jihoon didn’t think twice. His fear of the water was stronger than any sense of propriety. He clung to Seungcheol’s neck, his legs wrapping around the Alpha’s toned waist.

They were now pressed together — the Omega clinging to the Alpha’s back in the middle of the pool — a display that was both intimate and unmistakably possessive. A scene that, to the entire Choi family, could only look like a public confirmation of their bond.

With Jihoon clinging tightly to Seungcheol’s back, the pair finally reached the others. The Omega could feel the heat of the Alpha’s toned body pressed against his own—an overwhelming intimacy that was only tolerable because of his panic at the water’s depth.

Harvey observed the scene and laughed.

“What’s wrong, Jihoon?” she asked, her voice filled with amusement. “Don’t tell me you really don’t know how to swim?”

Jihoon huffed, embarrassed and irritated at being the center of attention. Everyone laughed, including Seungcheol, who let out a low, rough chuckle.

Jihoon looked at him, incredulous, feeling the warmth of the Alpha turn into betrayal.

“Why are you laughing, Seungcheol?” Jihoon demanded, his voice slightly muffled as he still clung to the Alpha’s neck. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Seungcheol sighed, his laughter subdued but the amusement still dancing in his eyes. His scent was calm and protective.

“I am on your side, Jihoon,” the Alpha replied, his tone dripping with irony. “Didn’t I bring you here myself?”

On instinct, Jihoon tried to pull away to confront him, but panic struck the moment he felt his body slipping.

The Alpha laughed again and held him firmly. He turned Jihoon around, securing him in his strong arms, facing him now.

Then Seungcheol lifted Jihoon slightly. It was only then that Jihoon realized there were some kind of submerged benches or steps along the deep area of the pool.

Seungcheol placed him there, seated safely but still only a few inches away from the Alpha’s wet body.

The Alpha then took the opportunity to grab Eric, who was chattering non-stop about wanting to swim. Seungcheol placed the boy on his lap, sitting beside Jihoon on the submerged bench.

A few minutes later, their leisure time in the pool came to an end. Baekho and Seungcheol lifted the children out of the water and set them by the poolside. Baekho’s wife, Jihyo, who had just arrived, took the three children inside toward the kitchen area to dry them off and get them dressed.

Baekho pulled himself out of the pool, and Harvey began swimming toward the shallow end.

Seungcheol, still in the deep end, stepped down from the submerged bench and turned to Jihoon, who was sitting at the edge. Jihoon expected the man to take him back to the shallow end quickly, in the same protective way he had brought him.

But when Seungcheol faced Jihoon and reached out his hands, there was a different intent in his gaze.

Jihoon froze slightly, his body hesitating, but he didn’t resist. He felt that he might only ever get a moment like this once in his life.

He let himself fall into the Alpha’s arms.

Seungcheol caught him, the wet, direct contact between their bodies electric and potent. He guided Jihoon’s arms around his shoulders, while one large hand wrapped around Jihoon’s slender waist. Then the Alpha positioned the smaller man’s legs around his firm waist.

The Alpha began to push them both slowly toward the shallow end, as if merely floating, savoring the warmth of Jihoon against him.

It confused Jihoon so much that he didn’t even realize when they had already reached the shallows. The Alpha’s body was too much of a distraction. Jihoon was so enveloped by Seungcheol’s presence and the grip around his waist that he barely noticed when they were suddenly standing outside the pool.

The intimate moment ended when Seungcheol handed Jihoon a clean towel, wrapping him in an aura of possessiveness. Without a word, the Alpha began to guide them both inside for lunch.

The charade was becoming indistinguishable from physical reality.

⋅✦⋅

Jihoon and Seungcheol joined the large table under the porch, which was now set for lunch.

Jihoon shivered slightly from the cool breeze coming in from the garden, just like the children did. He sat down, and Seungcheol took a seat very close to him. The Alpha, still shirtless and with droplets of water clinging to his skin, radiated warmth. Jihoon could feel the occasional brush of wind sending tiny droplets from the Alpha’s damp hair onto his own skin—a cold, intimate touch. The scent of Heavy Rain was strong and clean after the pool.

They were already served when Seungcheol’s mother, Hyeri, made an announcement to the table.

“Seungcheol, dear, Jeonghan and Joshua said they’d be coming this afternoon. They should be arriving any minute now.”

The name Jeonghan—the cousin Jaemin had falsely praised during the trip—made Jihoon lift his head.

The Alpha simply gave his mother a thumbs-up and kept eating, his face unreadable.

The meal continued, with Seungcheol displaying a kind of casual possessiveness: every now and then, he would take something from the table and place it on Jihoon’s plate, or move a glass closer to him—a quiet, public demonstration of care.

Jihoon was just about to ask about Jeonghan when a familiar voice cut through the family’s conversation about business.

“Well, well. We arrived right at lunchtime. Lucky us!”

Jihoon and Seungcheol both turned. Two Alphas stood at the top of the porch. One was Yoon Jeonghan, long-haired and angelically smiling, and the other was Hong Joshua, whose calm beauty and gentle eyes drew attention instantly.

One of them—Joshua—was visibly seven months pregnant. Seungcheol’s mother, Hyeri, immediately rushed to help him, settling him into a softer, cushioned chair.

Jeonghan went straight to the side of the table where Seungcheol was sitting, only to pause, confused, when he saw his cousin hovering protectively beside an Omega.

Jihoon, in the middle of a sip of juice, startled at the sudden appearance of the Alpha. He choked, the juice spilling down his chin and onto his shirt.

Alarmed, Seungcheol immediately began rubbing Jihoon’s back with his still-damp hands and offered him water.

Jeonghan apologized for startling him. “Didn’t mean to scare your… guest.”

Seungcheol frowned at him, and Jeonghan merely laughed at his cousin’s reaction.

Jihoon recovered, wiping his face with a napkin. “It’s fine. I’ll just go to the bathroom—I spilled my juice.” He grabbed the napkin and hurried away.

While Jihoon was gone, Jeonghan took a seat.

“So, who’s the distinguished guest, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? You don’t know?”

Jeonghan smiled innocently. “Should I?”

Seungcheol didn’t have time to respond before Donghun, ever the nosy child, shouted from across the table:

“Jihoonie is Uncle Cheol’s Omega!”

Jeonghan gaped at his cousin, jaw dropping. “What?! What do you mean, Seungcheol? And you didn’t tell me? Man, I thought we were best friends!”

Seungcheol forced a strained smile, feeling the full weight of the charade press down on his shoulders.

“It’s recent,” the Alpha lied quickly. “I didn’t even want to tell Mom, but Mingyu did me the favor of running his big mouth.”

The Alpha used the moment to change the subject. “Speaking of, where’s Mingyu, Baekho?”

Baekho, the oldest Alpha, replied, “He won’t be here until Monday. Said he’s staying in Seoul for the weekend, but he’ll spend the rest of the week here.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply and nodded. Mingyu’s absence was convenient, but his lie now held everything together.

Right then, Jihoon returned from the bathroom—clean, but with his cheeks flushed red from both embarrassment and what he’d overheard.

Jeonghan stood. “Yoon Jeonghan,” he introduced himself, shaking Jihoon’s hand, then gesturing toward Joshua.

Jihoon shook the Alpha’s hand, sensing his warm aura. “Lee Jihoon.”

Jeonghan stared at him for a second, astonished. “Ah! You’re the famous Jihoon?!” He laughed. “Oh, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you!”

Jihoon nodded politely. “The pleasure’s mine.” The two had spoken several times by email and phone because of Seungcheol’s work, and Jeonghan immediately recognized the voice.

The Alpha laughed heartily, the tension breaking. “Well, Seungcheol loves his work so much, he even found his own Omega there! You’re the only one who could make him take a week off!”

Seungcheol, clearly embarrassed and cornered by the situation, told Jeonghan to go take care of Joshua, who needed attention. The entire table laughed, and Jihoon felt his cheeks burn again.

The charade was now on every Choi’s lips.