Chapter 41

Watching them, Oh Ga-on felt as though half his brain had quietly powered down. He could no longer tell whether the pair in front of him were both unhinged or whether he, somehow, had become the abnormal one.

Director Oh’s father had served as the personal physician overseeing Gye Do-hyeop’s grandfather’s sub-gender care. He had even treated Gye Do-hyeop’s father and his omega husband on several occasions. Due to the genetic traits of dominant alphas and the clandestine nature of the Gye family, all medical data had to remain strictly confidential, passed from one primary physician to the next, a duty Oh Ga-on had now inherited.

Both Gye Do-hyeop’s grandfather and father had only ever brought a single partner to this clinic. In other words, for a member of the Gye bloodline to present someone here signified a lifelong companion. It was highly probable that Geum Seoul was Gye Do-hyeop’s future spouse, even if the young man seemed entirely oblivious to the fact.

Knowing all that, the sight of Gye Do-hyeop whispering crude, filthy remarks into the youth’s ear immediately after hearing that he was infertile made him look like a genuine madman. More bewildering still was Geum Seoul, who merely swatted at his burning ear without appearing particularly disturbed. Oh Ga-on could only shake his head in solitary confusion.

“What, are you fucking sleeping with your eyes open?” Gye Do-hyeop snapped. “Finish your report.”

Dr. Oh cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Ah… yes. There are no other abnormalities. To summarize today’s results, Geum Seoul is statistically a dominant omega, and conception is impossible.”

A dark smirk deepened around the corners of Gye Do-hyeop’s mouth, carving deep creases beside his lips. Even Geum Seoul’s inability to conceive suited his tastes to perfection.

Gye Do-hyeop possessed not a shred of reproductive desire. As his rut approached, he routinely chose injections that included contraceptives. He had no intention whatsoever of passing on this cursed bloodline. There was nothing in it he considered worth preserving, and he knew himself well enough to fear what would happen if a child irritated him: he might kill it with his own hands and feel nothing afterward. A weak, breakable creature resembling himself, with no convincing reason to spare it. Better to avoid the problem entirely than ever confront the possibility of filicide.

“He says you’re a dominant omega,” Gye Do-hyeop drawled.

“…Yes. I heard.”

To an outsider, Seoul’s answer might have sounded calm. In truth, none of it felt real enough yet to provoke a proper reaction. Being told he was a dominant omega bewildered him far more than learning he was infertile, and he needed time simply to make sense of it. Then Gye Do-hyeop spoke again, and that fragile attempt at processing shattered at once.

“And his gemstone grade jumped eight full levels out of nowhere,” Gye Do-hyeop added. “Explain that too.”

“Eight levels?”

The director stared. Seoul whipped his head around so quickly his ears practically perked beneath the cap. Gye Do-hyeop chuckled and poked his soft cheek, mildly annoyed that the low brim hid those wide, startled eyes.

Gye Do-hyeop gave his cheek another nudge. “It turned pink.”

“What? Mine?” Seoul asked in sheer disbelief.

Thinking it was impossible since his tears had always produced white stones, Seoul shook his head in denial, but Gye Do-hyeop merely flicked the brim of his cap with a casual forefinger.

“Then who the hell was leaking juices and dropped a gem on my sofa a few days ago?” Gye Do-hyeop whispered into his ear. “No one else in this world would dare make that kind of mess in my house.”

The words came in a low, perfectly clear murmur against his ear. Seoul reacted by clapping a hand over a mouth—not his own, but Gye Do-hyeop’s. Crimson rushed all the way to the roots of his hair, and his eyes widened in horrified disbelief.

“See? It was you,” Gye Do-hyeop murmured against the trapped hand.

A low chuckle vibrated against Seoul’s palm. Startled by the unmistakable movement of lips beneath his hand, he jerked it back and cast an anxious glance toward the center director. Oh Ga-on had already turned away to study the monitor with great concentration, politely pretending he had heard absolutely nothing.

Regardless of the physician’s presence, Gye Do-hyeop took his time ensuring Geum Seoul understood the situation.

“When did you last have your gem appraised?” Gye Do-hyeop asked.

Seoul lowered his gaze, recalling the distant memory. “A long time ago, right after President Park arrived in our village. He said it was a terribly low Grade D.”

“D-10,” Gye Do-hyeop clarified with a grin, “and after getting thoroughly fucked at my place, it became a Grade D-2.”

Seoul’s lips parted. He might have spent his life in an abandoned slum, but years spent assisting Park Gil-pyeong at auctions had taught him gemstones with ruthless practicality. He did not know how people in central Seoul lived or where they poured their enormous wealth, yet he could distinguish grades by cloudiness, estimate rough market values, and recognize which colors collectors coveted most.

Yet an eight-level surge was something he had never once encountered.

“That shouldn’t be possible—nothing like that has ever happened,” Seoul whispered in denial.

Gye Do-hyeop chuckled darkly. “Never heard of it, right? That’s why it’s so fucking unique.”

“…”

Geum Seoul fell silent, still thoroughly bewildered. He knew that physical condition could produce modest changes in gemstone grade. From Grade B upward, even a single step could mean an enormous difference in market value; that was precisely why Rin had been spared the compound’s menial chores. That much made sense. But eight levels? How could I possibly jump eight full levels all at once? He stared at the humidifier breathing white vapor into the room and blinked in a daze.

“It’s certain,” Gye Do-hyeop stated. “I had the chemical analysis done yesterday.”

He had no choice but to believe him. The man seated beside him was a Deputy Director of the Special Security Agency. He probably had access to several state-of-the-art gemstone spectrometers more advanced than the single machine Park Gil-pyeong had spent years struggling to acquire. Someone like Gye Do-hyeop had no reason to make such a basic mistake.

Knock, knock.

Yu Jeong-ham’s voice came through the panel. “It’s Yu Jeong-ham.”

The gentle knocking broke the fragile silence as Yu Jeong-ham stepped inside. Watching Geum Seoul flanked once more by two protectors, the center director quietly began sifting through data in his mind.

“Could it be…?” Dr. Oh murmured, adjusting his glasses.

Oh Ga-on wanted badly to solve the contradiction. Beyond the long-standing ties between their families, the case struck directly at his scientific curiosity as a physician who had devoted his career to sub-gender endocrinology. He rifled rapidly through the mental archive in his head, tapped several keys, and finally ventured a tentative hypothesis.

“Well… though exceedingly rare,” the director began, “cases have been documented where dominant sub-genders instinctively suppress their metrics for personal survival. If that is the case here, it would explain earlier anomalies.”

He quickly manipulated his tablet to project research data onto the wall display. Having had to search through multiple databases to locate it, he muttered, “Here it is,” as he enlarged several medical journal pages.

Dr. Oh pointed to the screen. “As you can see, a dominant alpha captured by enemy forces in wartime suffered a drastic plummet in pheromones, temporarily registering as a beta. And here, a dominant omega underwent a complete physiological transformation after their village was wiped out by bombings.”

“Hostages? Bombings?” Gye Do-hyeop demanded.

The few comparable cases were all that extreme: bombings, captivity, active war zones. Places where life remained under constant threat, where dying today rather than tomorrow would surprise no one. If the comparison held, then Geum Seoul’s own body had judged his life in the slum by the same standard. To survive, it had strangled his pheromone responses down to almost nothing. Gye Do-hyeop rose from the sofa.

“So what’s the verdict?”

Things that had been incomprehensible at the time now fell into place: why the home test kit had classified him as a regular omega, and why he had retched with visceral disgust at regular alpha pheromones. Having synthesized the facts, Gye Do-hyeop muttered under his breath.

“Because staying alive was so fucking unbearable, his body masqueraded as a recessive omega on its own,” Gye Do-hyeop growled in realization. “Even suppressing the grade of his gemstones.”

Dr. Oh shook his head. “For now… there is no other plausible explanation.”

“Hah.”

Piecing the puzzle together, Gye Do-hyeop fell silent.

Hadn’t Seoul expected to be left behind from the very beginning? He had believed with complete certainty that Gye Do-hyeop would abandon him in that gutter. The instant the objective—the ledger chip—was secured, he had offered over every won he owned without the slightest attempt to cling. And yet a few days beneath an air conditioner, a few proper meals, a little rest curled against someone whose pheromones soothed him—apparently that tiny measure of safety had been enough to send him eight full steps upward. This ridiculously small, painfully endearing little brat.

Normally, curiosity, exhilaration, or cold calculation should have taken precedence. Instead, an unidentifiable grain of irritation churned deep within his gut.

Geum Seoul, knocked aside by Park Gil-pyeong’s huge hands. Geum Seoul, wearing disguise putty against his skin day after day. Geum Seoul bent over boiling cauldrons, cooking for people who treated him like filth. Asking whether spoiled kimbap could still be eaten. Hanging laundry beneath a sun hot enough to blister skin, all to scrape together a few hundred won. Clinging to life with both hands at the very bottom of hell.

Thud.

Gye Do-hyeop dropped onto one knee in front of Seoul. The movement brought his towering frame level with the youth’s gaze. Seoul flinched at the sudden closeness, but Gye Do-hyeop reached out without hesitation, lifting away the cap that hid his face and brushing back those grayish-brown bangs. As expected, the pale forehead beneath them looked far prettier uncovered. When trembling amber eyes finally met his, Gye Do-hyeop smiled as though offering a reward.

“Geum Seoul,” Gye Do-hyeop called softly.

“Yes?”

Gye Do-hyeop looked straight into his amber eyes. “You heard him, didn’t you? You’re a smart kid, so you understand what that means.”

“…Yes,” Seoul answered in a faint murmur.

In theory, Seoul understood. He curled his fingers tightly into his palms and stared at the fine creases gathering at the corners of Gye Do-hyeop’s smiling eyes. Smiling suited the man so unfairly well that warmth spread through Seoul’s chest before he could stop it. As though he had read the thought directly from Seoul’s face, Gye Do-hyeop smiled wider. Seoul’s heart began pounding like someone hammering against a locked door. Then those perfectly curved lips parted, and a soft, resonant whisper slipped free.

Gye Do-hyeop’s lips parted in a gentle murmur. “Aren’t you curious to see just how bright you can shine?”

The words were so unexpectedly beautiful that Geum Seoul could only stare. Gye Do-hyeop kept smiling as long fingers threaded slowly through his grayish-brown hair. Wherever the man’s fingertips passed, heat kindled across Seoul’s skin as though tiny matches were being struck one by one.

“I’m damn excited,” Gye Do-hyeop added with a low chuckle, “to see how much prettier you can become.”

Seoul’s plump lower lip parted slightly with a faint gasp as Gye Do-hyeop leaned in so close their lips nearly brushed.

“…”

Seoul felt as though he were being swallowed whole by those pitch-black pupils. Yet oddly enough, it felt somewhat welcoming. Goosebumps rippled across Seoul’s arms. Gye Do-hyeop leaned in a fraction closer, until their breaths mingled in a warm haze.

“I’ll show you how,” Gye Do-hyeop whispered against his ear. “So do it. Something dazzling.”

At those words, the other two men in the room unconsciously held their breath. First, because the phrasing itself sounded impossibly romantic coming from Gye Do-hyeop. Yu Jeong-ham in particular, well acquainted with a superior who normally wielded his tongue like a butcher’s cleaver, stood with his jaw hanging nearly far enough to dislocate.

Gye Do-hyeop. Saying something like that. In that gentle, almost sweet voice. Had anyone repeated the scene to Jeong-ham secondhand, he would have slapped them for spreading ridiculous rumors. Then a delicate fragrance drifted through the room, and he snapped his mouth shut at once. Instinct understood before thought did.

It was the omega, Geum Seoul.

“…”

It was a deep, lush scent unlike anything he could remember encountering. Nothing like the sharp greenness of weeds crushed along a roadside—this was richer, cleaner, almost startlingly pure. His pulse kicked hard. His pupils contracted as something ancient and instinctive inside him surged awake, measuring the unfamiliar fragrance before conscious thought could intervene.

Whoosh.

Whoosh. The languid atmosphere vanished as cleanly as if someone had cut it away with shears. A crushing pressure filled the room instead, settling deep inside the lungs. There was no mistaking it: Gye Do-hyeop’s pheromones. Both the director and Yu Jeong-ham instinctively choked back a breath. A dominant alpha’s warning pheromones were vicious enough to numb the olfactory nerves. Brow furrowing as his senses cleared, Jeong-ham hurried the center director toward the adjoining room and opened the door, putting distance between them and the pair.

“It won’t take long, will it?” Gye Do-hyeop asked with a smirk.

Damn endearing. Even after blatantly flooding the room with oppressive pheromones, Gye Do-hyeop showed not a flicker of shame. He only grinned and rolled Seoul’s crimson earlobe between his fingers. He understood perfectly well that the brief bloom of omega pheromones had been Seoul’s answer. Though Seoul’s lips still fidgeted as if struggling for words, his gaze never left Gye Do-hyeop’s.

When they had first met in that slum, those eyes had wandered anxiously everywhere, yet in such a short span, he had learned to hold the man’s gaze steadily. Looking thoroughly pleased, Gye Do-hyeop rubbed the soft cheek.

The desire might prove fleeting, but for now Gye Do-hyeop wanted him. Whatever potential Geum Seoul’s gemstones held no longer mattered in that moment. The urge to strip him bare and devour him until every inch of skin turned flushed pink had nothing to do with curiosity over what grade of stone he might cry. It came from something much simpler and more dangerous: Geum Seoul, leaking pheromones at the promise that he could become beautiful, was devastatingly pretty. That response said more than any spoken answer could have.

Gye Do-hyeop prompted gently, “Seoul. I’m asking you a question, aren’t you going to answer?”

Coloring like a ripe peach beneath the caress to his cheek, Seoul finally bowed his head in surrender. “…I will.” This time, Gye Do-hyeop’s lips closed warmly around that smooth, porcelain cheek.