Chapter 17

Yi-seon’s vacation routine was always the same: make a simple breakfast, wash the dishes, and head to school. After self-study, go to cram school, grab some bread for dinner, study a little more, then head home.

On the way home, there were times he met up with Mugyeol at the park to hang out. Occasionally they played basketball, or simply sat on a bench shooting the breeze. Mugyeol had chosen all-day private tutoring at home instead of school self-study, but from time to time he grumbled that he should have signed up for self-study after all.

“Hey. What’s the point of buying a bike if you can’t even maintain it? Aren’t you glad you have this hyung?”

“Thank you, hyung.”

Today, Mugyeol had brought tools and was oiling Yi-seon’s bicycle. The brakes and chain had been making noise, so he had insisted on fixing them himself. In cotton work gloves, bent over the chain, he looked remarkably professional.

Yi-seon loitered behind Mugyeol while he repaired the bike. Mugyeol sat hunched on the ground, his short-sleeved shirt pulled taut across his broad back and outlining his shoulders.

Why did this guy turn into a full-grown man all on his own?

Yi-seon tore his gaze from Mugyeol’s back and fiddled with the tools scattered over the ground. Every one of them gleamed.

“Are all of these brand-new, by any chance?”

“Yeah.”

“You bought them?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have any.”

“But you don’t have a bike, so you don’t need them.”

“Gotta fix your bike. It’s fucking loud every time we meet.”

Mugyeol tilted the bicycle, spun the pedals briskly by hand, then stood. Triumph was written all over his face. As he peeled off his work gloves with a smirk, he looked almost like a seasoned mechanic.

Lately, Yeon Mugyeol had changed. He had become nice—too nice. The guy who used to pick fights and glare whenever they crossed paths had suddenly mellowed into someone almost overwhelmingly sweet and affectionate.

Mugyeol wiped his hands vigorously with a wet wipe and dropped onto the bench.

“I’m supposed to go to the Han River swimming pool this weekend. Come with me.”

“Can’t. I’m going on a family trip to Guam this weekend.”

“What? Guam? Out of nowhere? Without even telling me?”

“…? Do I have to tell you about my family vacations in advance?”

Mugyeol remained completely unabashed by Yi-seon’s baffled retort. As far as he was concerned, best friends were apparently required to report schedules like that in advance. Only after Yi-seon promised to tell him next time did Mugyeol finally stop glaring.

Mugyeol pulled something from his bag and tossed it over: a prettily decorated assortment of cookies and macarons from his private tutor. Between Yu Harin giving him cookies in class the other day and this, Yi-seon wondered why everyone kept bringing Mugyeol sweets. Then again, Mugyeol did eat with an enthusiasm that made food look especially good.

“The cat shape is cute. But your tutor gives you things like this too? Looks homemade.”

“Guess so.”

“Didn’t she give you some kind of cake last time too?”

“She did.”

“Your tutor must really care about you.”

“Must be.”

Yi-seon took a crisp, crunchy bite of a cookie. A belated realization began to take shape. Yu Harin’s cookies. The tutor’s macarons. Maybe they meant exactly the same thing.

Come to think of it, there had been signs. The other day, while they were hanging out, Mugyeol’s phone had buzzed and Yi-seon had glimpsed a text from the tutor: What are you doing? Have you eaten? Here’s what I’m up to… Yi-seon had assumed she was simply an unusually friendly teacher. Apparently not.

“Hey. I think that teacher likes you. You’d better be careful, both of you.”

If the tutor made a serious move, or Mugyeol unknowingly led her on, things could get awkward fast. Yi-seon offered the warning out of needless concern, but Mugyeol merely smirked and gestured for him to keep eating.

…Ah. He already knows.

“Why don’t you just get tutored by a male Beta?”

Honestly, it was hard to imagine spending that much time face-to-face with Mugyeol and not developing feelings. When Yi-seon asked why he did not eliminate the possibility from the start, Mugyeol frowned. “Don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I’d have to put my face close to other guys. They reek like shit.”

“…For a completely different reason than I expected, you really are girl-crazy.”

Mugyeol laughed easily, readily agreeing that he was indeed a girl-crazy bastard.

Yi-seon shifted slightly away from Mugyeol, suddenly worried that he smelled too. He had ridden his bicycle all the way from school in the summer heat and was sweaty enough to make the thought especially embarrassing.

Noticing Yi-seon pull away, Mugyeol deliberately scooted closer until their sides touched. Yi-seon rummaged through his bag and pulled out a fabric deodorizer spray. He had bought it after liking the scent of the communal spray kept in his study hall.

Yi-seon spritzed the fabric spray into the air.

“The scent you smelled last time, it was this, right?”

“What scent?”

“You told me to control my pheromones back then. Wasn’t the scent you smelled back then this?”

“Maybe it was.”

Mugyeol shrugged. Yi-seon remembered the day they had run into each other at the basketball court: Mugyeol asking whether pheromone control was hard because Yi-seon was recessive, then warning him to manage his heat properly…

“Thinking about it is pissing me off all over again.”

The memory made Yi-seon angry all over again, and he grabbed Mugyeol by the collar. Mugyeol had said plenty of ridiculous things to him, but that one had been the worst. Mugyeol merely raised both hands in surrender, laughing at Yi-seon’s grudge. “Sorry. I was on edge back then because my rut was coming up.”

“You were the one in rut, so why take it out on me? Seriously, the more I think about it, the madder I get. I don’t even get heats, so I don’t release pheromones!”

When Yi-seon finally released him with an angry huff, Mugyeol smoothed down his crumpled collar. “You don’t get heats at all? Because you’re an extreme recessive?”

“Yeah. Got tested when I first manifested, and they said so.”

“Good for you. Ruts are inconvenient as hell. You have to take a shitload of suppressants. When mine gets severe, I even get hospitalized. Having an IV constantly hooked up is really, really annoying. Sometimes I wake up to find my hands and feet tied down. Like I’m some kind of beast.”

As if offering comfort in his own way, Mugyeol patted his shoulder. But Yi-seon, not particularly disheartened, merely shrugged. “I actually prefer it. I would’ve been more shocked if I’d been diagnosed as a normal Omega. Thanks to being an extreme recessive, I barely have any Omega hormones, so there’s nothing inconvenient.”

He did not understand why everyone was so eager to offer condolences. What was wrong with a male Omega who did not get heats? Did they think he was some defective product that had failed inspection, when he was perfectly healthy—and handsome, for that matter? Yi-seon was much more comfortable with a constitution closer to a Beta’s than a typical Omega’s. There was no danger from pheromones and no misery of heat cycles.

Mugyeol nodded and leaned closer. Yi-seon heard him draw a quiet breath, as though testing the air for a scent.

“Still, I’m kinda curious what you smell like…”

Mugyeol’s low voice brushed close to Yi-seon’s ear. A breeze skimmed the same spot, raising goosebumps along the nape of his neck. They were not even touching, yet the warmth of Mugyeol’s breath made his skin burn.

Startled, Yi-seon scratched the back of his neck to hide his fluster. He suddenly worried that Mugyeol might hear how hard his heart was pounding.

Mugyeol chuckled under his breath, straightened, and leaned back against the bench. “Guess I’ll never get to smell it in my life, huh?”

“Most likely. Since I won’t ever smell it either.”

“That’s a bit of a shame.”

“Smell this instead.”

Yi-seon spritzed the fabric spray into the air. Then he immediately covered his eyes with both hands.

“Ah! My eyes!”

He had aimed toward Mugyeol, but a sudden gust blew the mist right back into his own eyes. Watching this, Mugyeol burst into laughter.

“What kind of circus act is that now?”

“If you’re gonna mock me, pay up first.”

Mugyeol casually tossed him a thousand-won bill and a few coins. Still rubbing his eyes, Yi-seon groped around the bench for the money while Mugyeol laughed even harder. Yi-seon ground his teeth.

After extracting about 1,300 won from Mugyeol, Yi-seon found himself thinking about something else.

Alphas and Omegas began releasing pheromones with their first cycle. Alphas could generally control theirs at will, releasing or suppressing them as needed, but Omegas were different. Outside of heat, they usually could not release pheromones intentionally.

In other words, for Mugyeol to learn what Yi-seon’s Omega pheromones smelled like, he would have to encounter him during a heat.

…Does he not know what that means?

Mugyeol was bizarre. In some respects he was fiercely obsessive; in others, almost absurdly indifferent.

It showed in the casual way he talked about his tutor, in how he handled girls who liked him, even in how he spoke about Su-ah. Something about his standards seemed skewed, though Yi-seon could not have explained exactly how.

“Your eyes turned red.”

“Because I got attacked by fabric spray.”

Brushing away Mugyeol’s finger as it lightly tapped near his eye, Yi-seon rose from his seat.

“Leaving?”

“Yeah. It’s late. Let’s go.”

Mugyeol brushed off his clothes and stood up after Yi-seon.

Wanting to walk alongside Mugyeol, Yi-seon pushed his bike. They chatted easily all the way to the edge of the park. Only after they parted at the fork did Yi-seon climb onto his bicycle. It no longer rattled. That was all thanks to Mugyeol.