“Oh, yes. I’m Kang Taejin,” the CEO said a beat later, standing up to return the greeting. He offered his hand, but Jaekyung had already turned away. As if he hadn’t even seen the outstretched hand, he walked over to a single-person sofa in the corner and sank into it.
It was an expensive piece—lined with what looked like fox fur—but far too small for someone who stood 192 centimeters tall and weighed 84 kilograms. Not that Jaekyung seemed to care. He leaned to the side, almost lying down, and closed his eyes.
It was clear he had no intention of participating in the conversation. Taejin’s body went slightly rigid.
“He must be tired after the treatment,” Jaekyung’s mother said in his stead, covering for him.
“Of course. I know how draining massage therapy can be,” Yujeong added quickly.
“It's because he hasn’t been in Korea for long. Jet lag, you know?” Choi said with a smile.
Jet lag? Jiheon thought. He’s been here for over a week. And there’s barely any time difference between here and Australia. Just one hour.
“Yes. Right. Only a week,” Taejin said, his tone wry as he sat back down.
With all interested parties now present, the contract talks finally began—though talks might’ve been too generous a word. It was more of a presentation than a discussion. Taejin and Yujeong walked through the perks Jaekyung could expect, listing out the figures with enthusiasm. Mrs. Shim chimed in now and then with the occasional question. But Jaekyung, the one person the contract was about, remained silent. He stayed where he was—leaning sideways on the sofa, eyes shut, as if he couldn’t care less.
Mrs. Shim, who had seemed upbeat at the start, gradually began to deflate.
“I see... So this is the most you can provide at the moment...” she said.
She didn’t seem to like the terms much—especially the signing bonus. Jiheon wasn’t surprised. The CEO had offered the maximum allowed under standard policy. There was no way ProEdge could compete with a company like Kavva, which practically swam in money.
The longer the conversation dragged on, the more it felt like Jiheon was sitting on pins and needles. He hadn’t expected things to go smoothly—but he hadn’t thought it would be this painful to watch, either. She had to know—any agency that wasn’t Kavva would be in the exact same boat.
Jiheon held back a sigh. That was when he felt it—a gaze. He looked up. Their eyes met. Jaekyung had been watching him all along.
It wasn’t the fact that the guy who was supposed to be asleep had his eyes open that made Jiheon freeze. It was the intensity of his stare—sharp enough to make him go rigid.
How long has he been watching me?
Jaekyung continued to stare even after Jiheon looked back. Instead of looking away, he rose from the sofa and walked over to the table.
“My goodness! You scared me,” his mother exclaimed, jumping slightly when she realized he was suddenly standing next to her. She blinked in disbelief, apparently stunned that her son was actually engaging in the meeting.
“Mr. Gwon. Do you have any questions for us?”
Taejin straightened in his seat, seizing the moment to address Jaekyung, who was now standing right in front of him.
“Or if you have any requests, please feel free to let us know,” he added with a smile. But Jaekyung wasn’t listening. He didn’t even pretend to look around. He had been watching only one person all along—Jiheon.
Jiheon was not only taken aback, but he was starting to feel genuinely uneasy. He couldn’t even muster the courage to ask him why. Instead, Jiheon quietly picked up a folder from the table and held it up, as if to shield himself. The moment he did, a voice came from above.
“Hyung?”
Jiheon felt his heart sink.
“You mean Mr. Jung?” Taejin interjected.
“Yes. Mr. Jung,” Jaekyung said, switching to the title Taejin had prompted—though his tone hadn’t changed at all.
“You’re a beta, right?”
Jiheon’s eyes widened. That was the last question he had expected. He raised his head. It wasn’t just Jiheon who was surprised. Everyone in the room was staring at Jaekyung with the same look of stunned confusion.
“Why... do you ask?” Taejin asked, stepping in for Jiheon.
“Can’t I ask a simple question?”
Jaekyung said, finally turning his head toward Taejin. Jiheon glanced at him as well. Kang Taejin was clearly starting to lose his patience.
“I was talking about the contract.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Kang,” Mrs. Shim said quickly, then went on without waiting for a response.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, Jaekyung is an alpha. If this contract goes through, they’ll have to work together quite often. If it turns out Mr. Jung is an omega, there could be... complications. I believe that’s why he asked.”
If that really was the reason, it was easy to understand the need to check. Jiheon hoped that was all it was.
Taejin, however, didn’t seem convinced.
“Most omegas have chip implants these days. They hardly produce any pheromone at all. Athletes, in particular, take regular medication that dulls their pheromone sensitivity. In most cases, they wouldn’t even know if someone were an omega. If your concern was genuine, you could have brought it up at the time of signing—as a request to work only with beta staff, considering Jaekyung’s status as an alpha.”
Taejin’s tone grew colder with every word. In the end, he turned directly to Jaekyung, his eyes sharp.
“Excuse me, Mr. Gwon, but I have to ask. Did you really say that because you want to work with us?”
Jaekyung watched him for a moment, then answered.
“No.”
“Jaekyung!” Mrs. Shim shouted.
Taejin let out a hollow laugh. Then, without another word, he began to gather up the documents on the table. Yujeong quickly followed suit, collecting the papers in front of her, and rose along with Taejin.
“We apologize for taking up your time,” Taejin said curtly.
Then he eyed Yujeong and Jiheon—a silent signal that it was time to go.
They left in the reverse order from how they entered. Jiheon was the first to walk out. Behind him, he could hear Choi from Korea Aquatics and Jaekyung’s mother trying to soothe Taejin. But Taejin wasn’t listening anymore.