“Gwon Jaekyung is downstairs!”
“We saw him in the first-floor lobby on our way in.”
The entire office erupted in disbelief. Most laughed it off, thinking it was a joke, but a few dashed out, saying they just had to check.
“What? Seriously?” Seungmyung asked, staring at Jiheon in disbelief.
“No way. They must be mistaken,” Jiheon said.
The phone rang the instant Jiheon replied, loud and jarring. With a vague sense of dread, he picked up—slow and hesitant.
“Mr. Jung of ProEdge? This is reception. There’s someone here asking to see you.”
Is this really happening?
Jiheon tightened his grip on the receiver. That can’t be right.
He could have just asked if he wanted to know—but he didn’t.
“All right. I’ll be right down.”
As soon as he hung up, Jiheon stood. He took the stairs without a second thought. The elevator didn’t even cross his mind.
When he reached the first floor, he knew it was all true—the words of the employees, his ominous gut instinct, everything.
Jaekyung was at the information desk, wearing a baseball cap and a hoodie despite the summer heat. He was probably trying to stay anonymous, but it was no use. Anyone could tell who he was, even with shades and a face mask, unless he somehow disguised his height and build.
People in the lobby were glancing at him and whispering among themselves. Unfortunately, the building housed not only sports agencies, but celebrity agencies, ad firms, and more. So, of course, everyone recognized him the moment they saw him.
Saying his name out loud in a place like this was basically telling everyone to get their phones out. Jiheon had no choice but to go right up to him and speak in a near-whisper.
“What brings you all the way—”
“We need to talk.”
Jaekyung cut him off before he could finish. Jiheon felt a flicker of irritation, but he kept it in check and gave a calm reply.
“Is this about the contract? You should be speaking to the CEO, not me—”
“No, I’m here to talk to you,” Jaekyung cut him off again. He didn’t stop there.
“We really should go somewhere.”
Fine. You’re a busy person. Jiheon nodded as if he understood.
“Would you like to go to a nearby cafe, then? We go there often for business meetings. It’s quiet and empty most of the time. Great place to talk.”
“I don’t have time for that,” Jaekyung was already pressing on.
“Let’s just go anywhere we can be alone. Anywhere’s fine, as long as there’s no one else. Even the bathroom.”
Judging by his tone, he clearly wasn’t here to talk about the contract. Jiheon wanted to send him back, but he couldn’t turn away someone who had come all the way here just to talk to him.
But taking him to the bathroom wasn’t really an option, either. Jiheon turned around.
“Come this way.”
Since a cafe was too far for someone in a hurry, the meeting room on the fourth floor would do. It was usually empty at this hour, and as long as it was under ten minutes, no permission was needed.
As it happened, the elevator was coming up from the basement. He hit the up button, thinking this was great timing. The elevator soon arrived. When the doors slid open, he found himself locking eyes with someone inside.
“Oh! Hyung!”
It was Song Yunho. Yunho, a twenty-five-year-old fencer, was one of the few true stars under ProEdge. He had already made the national team back in high school—and with his height and looks, the press dubbed him the Chiseled Sword Prince.
“Hey, Yunho. It’s been a while,” Jiheon said.
They had first met at last year’s Asian Games, when Jiheon had been dispatched as part of the field support team. Yunho, two years younger than Jiheon, had never called him Mr. Jung. He just called him Hyung, like they were close. Since then, he had called Jiheon that every time they ran into each other in the building. Jiheon had tried correcting him a few times at first, but eventually gave up and let the guy call him whatever he wanted.
“Are you going to the fourth floor? Not the third?”
Jiheon asked, noticing that the button for the fourth floor was already lit.
“Oh, I have some documents to drop off at General Affairs. That’s why I came today. But more importantly, did you know I won the individual Presidential Cup?”
“Of course. Who do you think wrote the press release?”
“I knew it,” Yunho said, giving Jiheon a thumbs-up. Jiheon grinned.
“So you’ll be in the Olympics next year, huh?”
“Of course. I’m ranked number one—even by the International Fencing Federation.”
“Hey, congratulations. Well done,” Jiheon said, patting Yunho on the back of the head.
Yunho smiled triumphantly, but kept sneaking glances at the man beside Jiheon. He looked like he was trying to decide whether Jaekyung was who he thought—or just someone who looked a hell of a lot like him.
Jiheon stood there nervously, wondering if Yunho might try to start a conversation. Thankfully, the elevator arrived before that happened. The moment the doors opened, Jiheon stepped out.
“Well then, I’ll be seeing you later, Yunho.”
“All right! I’ll come by and say hi to the Promotion Team!”
Yunho gave a cheerful wave.
“Okay,” Jiheon said with a smile. Then he walked off in the opposite direction. Jaekyung followed him in silence.
Past the office shared by HR and General Affairs was the meeting room he was after. Jiheon opened the door and peeked inside. Seeing it was empty, he turned to Jaekyung.
“Go on in.”
Jaekyung went in first, and Jiheon followed. Jiheon flicked on the lights.
“We shouldn’t be interrupted in here.”
A soft click came from behind. Jiheon flinched and turned. Jaekyung had locked the door.
After checking the lock, he slowly walked toward Jiheon. Jiheon backed up until his back hit the wall, looking up at Jaekyung. Jaekyung leaned in close.
“I came here to ask you a question.”
“What question—”
“Are you really a beta?”
Jiheon thought he’d misheard.
“Hey...”
The words slipped out before he knew it—he was too confused to think straight. You came all the way here to ask me that?
Jiheon laughed and called him by his name.
“Jaekyung.”
But it wasn’t real laughter—he just didn’t know what else to do.
Jaekyung didn’t smile back.
“Are you?”
His tone was sharp, but his expression gave nothing away.
“What’s gotten into you? You were acting like this earlier, too. Why does it even matter to you?”
“Tell me already.”
“Hey!”
“You’re an omega, aren’t you?”
Jaekyung rephrased it. Jiheon’s smile faded at last.
“You are,” he said again—not as a question this time, but like he already knew.
“You do realize this counts as sexual harassment, right?”
Jiheon didn’t raise his voice and continued calmly.
“Say that to the wrong person, and you’ll get sued.”
“When was the last time you got your chip replaced?”
Jiheon clicked his tongue.
“Did you even hear what I just said? And now you are just jumping to conclusions—”
“I can smell it.”
Jiheon froze.
“I mean it.”
Jaekyung's voice was flat, his expression unreadable as their eyes met.
“What exactly do you smell?”
Jiheon kept his voice even, doing his best not to show that he was shaken.
Jaekyung stared at his face, then turned his head away.
“There’s this smell. It’s yours. Kind of grassy, kind of weird.”
“Jaekyung.”
“I’ve been smelling it ever since we were at the swimming center.”
The words knocked the air out of Jiheon. He suddenly felt like he might lose his balance, so he leaned all the way into the wall and folded his arms.
He wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out. His mind had gone blank, and not from shock. It was a disappointment. The disappointment was so heavy, it left him hollow. Jiheon had been rooting for him all along, because once, however briefly, they’d shared a piece of their lives. He had never expected anything in return—but he hadn’t thought Jaekyung’s grudge ran this deep.
Actually, I don’t care what he thinks of me. What got to Jiheon was the way he was choosing to vent all that bitterness. He’d never thought Jaekyung was the kind to hurt someone on purpose.
To him, Jaekyung was just someone who didn’t bother with other people. Never cruel. Never twisted. Just indifferent.
That was why Jiheon had simply brushed off the question at the hotel without a second thought. He’d even convinced himself that Jaekyung had lashed out back then because he’d been hurt as a kid. Jiheon had been willing to take the blame. Or so he told himself. But this...
“Do you get a kick out of this? Huh? Making fun of people?”
Jiheon asked, his voice calm despite the irritation. It would have been perfect if he could have said it with a smirk, but honestly, he didn’t have the energy.
“Are you done?”
Jiheon pushed off the wall. He started toward the door, but Jaekyung grabbed his arm.
“What the—let go.”
Jiheon flinched and tried to pull away, but Jaekyung didn’t let go. The same hand that had slipped off ten years ago now gripped him even harder.
“...!”
Jiheon winced as pain shot up his arm. He bit his lip. The sound that nearly escaped him wasn’t a word—it was a groan. Holding it back was all he had left. His last scrap of pride.
Jaekyung glared at Jiheon quietly. He spoke at last, his voice low and edged with anger.
“Believe it or don’t. That’s on you. But if it’s been over three years since you had your chip replaced, go get it checked. I’m on meds—my pheromone sensitivity’s basically zero. So, if I can smell it? It’s bad.”
The moment he finished, he reached over and yanked the handkerchief from Jiheon’s shirt pocket. He tossed it to the floor, let go of Jiheon’s wrist, and walked out of the meeting room.