It happened when I first manifested as an oga. As is often the case with rare traits, I didn’t experience my first heat cycle until puberty. My father imdiately called the family physician and had him administer a suppressant, but the pheromones that burst out showed no sign of settling down.
“Due to the young master’s constitution...”
With a troubled look on his face, the physician explained my body’s condition and how it responded to suppressants. They had tried five different types of injections, but none had any effect. It was a rare case, he said, though not impossible.
“As of now, there’s no suppressant that will work.”
To , a dominant oga, that was effectively a death sentence. It ant that whenever a heat cycle ca, I would have to endure it completely alone, with no form of aid. And he didn’t stop there. He added sothing even crueler.
“And the pheromone glands are malford.”
In truth, it wasn’t sothing that shocked . I was overwheld by my first heat cycle, barely conscious, and it was the doctor and my father speaking over .
“You probably didn’t know before manifestation, but your body doesn’t release pheromones at all. Normally you present like a beta, with no pheromones—but during a heat cycle, they’ll burst out all at once. That’s likely why the suppressants aren’t working either.”
Even in my dazed state, I vividly rembered my father’s expression. Disappointnt. Betrayal. A trace of regret, followed by disgust.
“Well, at least he’s dominant, so the cycle should be regular...”
The physician said my health was otherwise fine, but that clearly didn’t matter to my father. After the physician packed up and left, my father looked down at and said:
“Picked up a defective one...”
An oga who couldn’t even regulate his own pheromones must have been a glaring flaw in the life of a perfectionist like him. Now that he realized the golden opportunity he’d taken in was a broken piece, he had no reason to treat with sincerity.
And so, for three days, I endured my first heat cycle staring at a tightly shut door. By the ti the symptoms had passed, I was in the exact state the doctor had described—devoid of even the faintest pheromone trace. I vomited up the rice porridge the house staff brought , and for that, I was locked in the room for another four days.
“Fucking useless brat. Shouldn’t have picked up sothing like you.”
I knew what my father expected of . People praised him as a kind-hearted conglorate chairman, but in reality, he was worlds away from that image of charity. I wasn’t a promising heir to Haesin Group—I was just an expensive ga piece.
“What use is an oga who can’t even function as one?”
It couldn’t be helped. The change in his gaze, the deep disappointnt whenever I was referred to as a defective oga, the way Minjae mimicked that attitude—treating more like a pet than a brother.
I was a flawed product, a discard even my birth parents had thrown away. I was simply receiving the treatnt I deserved.
After that, whenever a heat cycle ca, I would hole up in an empty room and wait for it to pass. On the rare days soone in the family discovered , I had to endure their disgusted expressions, like they were looking at filth. That’s why I beca obsessive about tracking my cycle and made a compulsion of hiding sowhere I couldn’t be seen.
“But Mr. Jung Sejin, you’re really an oga, right?”
Yes, I am an oga. A dominant one, in fact. I just have a body that doesn’t release pheromones well, so I probably seed like a beta to you. But there’s nothing else to worry about...
“You’re not taking suppressants?”
Soone’s voice cut through, sharp and cold enough to make my skin crawl, even in my fevered state. A long, drawn-out sigh. Then a sneer.
“Trying every trick in the book, aren’t you.”
A cool hand gripped my jaw roughly. Each ragged breath carried with it an unbearable heat. I couldn’t even open my eyes, and still, he spoke again with that sa cold voice.
“Jung Sejin.”
It felt like being beaten. No one had laid a hand on , but my entire body throbbed like I’d been struck. My hands and feet trembled, my gut twisted like I was going to be sick.
It didn’t take long for to realize it was all because of the man’s pheromones. The oppressive air crushed like a bug. His scent sliced into my lungs, sharp and rciless, and only withdrew after I finally started retching.
“Whatever you thought you were getting out of this... I’m not giving it to you, so figure it out yourself.”
My head felt like it was lting. I curled up on instinct, but the suffocating air didn’t change. Half resentnt, half sorrow I couldn’t explain. Each shaky breath brought tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Um, what about food—”
“If he won’t eat, force it down his throat. As for suppressants, get a doctor to inject him.”
There was so much I wanted to say. That it wasn’t like that. That this was a misunderstanding. That this situation wasn’t sothing I had planned, I had just missed the timing—
But before I could say anything, the presence had already disappeared. Reaching out wouldn’t bring it back. The hand I extended into empty air fell limply to the floor. Through tear-blurred eyes, I saw a door tightly shut—just like back then.
***
“......”
My eyelids slowly opened. I blinked sluggishly, taking in the dark surroundings. A high ceiling, and a layout that didn’t match my own room. The dim twilight seeping through was slightly different from what I’d seen monts ago.
“...A dream?”
Maybe my mind was still hazy. I couldn’t tell what was real—whether this was the dream, or what I’d just rembered, or even if last night had all been a dream.
I turned my head and ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) stared blankly at the closed door. My body felt strangely refreshed, and everything that touched my skin felt soft. Even my breathing, which should have felt tight, was as calm as if I’d taken a sedative.
I instinctively understood: ah, the heat cycle was over. Since it had arrived early, maybe it had ended early too. What should have been a week-long fever was gone in just one day.
I sat up chanically and reached for the empty space beside . Even stretching out both arms, the bed showed no trace of anyone else. The pheromones lingering in the air were definitely Kwon Yido’s—but where had he gone?
“Well... it’d be stranger if he were still lying next to .”
I ran a hand through my ssy hair without much care. Slowly, my foggy mind began to piece things together. The sudden heat cycle. Crawling across the greenhouse floor trying to hide. And Kwon Yido coming to find .
Sejin.
What Kwon Yido gave yesterday was a lifeline—a shower of pheromones. Unlike the useless suppressants, his pheromones soothed my hypersensitive body. My heightened senses responded to only one person: Kwon Yido.
I thought we’d have sex. We’d shared pheromones, even breaths—it seed natural that bodies would co next. I assud he’d skipped giving suppressants to make it easier to cross that line.
“Don’t provoke .”
But Kwon Yido didn’t do anything beyond kissing . He coaxed and comforted , but always stopped before going too far. No matter how dominant he was, he must’ve felt so pull from my pheromones. And yet, he hadn’t even tried to touch .
“...Should I call that good manners?”
It was incomprehensible. An oga in heat—he could have done whatever he wanted. There was no reason to hold or waste his ti.
It was practically charity. I gained warmth and comfort; he just lost precious ti. What might’ve been an extravagant luxury for was likely a minor inconvenience for him.
Why didn’t he give the suppressant?
Why did he hold through the night, even as I clung to him?
Why did he endure my scent and fever until the very end?
Of the countless questions, none had an answer. If it were sothing I could figure out with logic, it wouldn’t be such a mystery to begin with. The real problem was sothing else entirely.
“Just a little longer...”
His pheromones, his warmth, everything that should’ve felt unfamiliar—felt familiar. So familiar, I wanted to cling to him and beg for more.
It was longing. More precisely, it was sorrow.
“......”
Only then did I realize the clothes I was wearing were quite different from last night’s. The shirt, slightly long in the sleeves and loose around the chest, was saturated with soone else’s pheromones—presumably the owner’s.
The scent of wet wood. Or maybe rain-soaked earth.
I pulled the end of the sleeve toward my face and buried my nose and lips in it. I knew it was a perverse thing to do, but the act was almost unconscious. One breath. Then another. With each inhale, my tangled thoughts slowly unraveled.
“Are all alphas like this...”
Vaguely, I thought I understood why he hadn’t touched . An alpha with such intoxicating pheromones probably had no need to fool around with an oga like . Maybe the sense of familiarity I felt was just... the result of a frayed ntal state.
Shaking off the wandering thoughts, I pushed aside the blanket. The pants, too long for , were clearly not mine either. As I grasped the roomy waistband and got down from the bed, I noticed a draft between my legs.
“......”
Well, this is probably better than finding out the underwear was his, too.
I opened the door and stepped into the dim corridor, glancing around. With no sign of anyone nearby, Kwon Yido must’ve been in another room. With a house this large, he’d have no trouble finding sowhere to rest, but the thought that I’d inconvenienced him made uncomfortable.
First, I’d go back to my room, get changed, and wait for breakfast. When the sun was up, I planned to stop by the greenhouse and apologize. Then I’d explain that sothing like this wouldn’t happen again...
“...?”
A light flickered in the corner of my vision. Not from my room, but from a room at the far end of the opposite hallway. Normally I’d have ignored it and turned back, but sothing about it at this hour piqued my curiosity.
“Why is the study...?”
As if drawn in, I moved toward the door with the light spilling from it. The hem of my oversized pants kept catching under my bare feet. Not enough to trip , but still annoying.
Step by step, I carefully approached the door. Once I stood in front of it, I hesitated. No matter the hour, just because the light was on didn’t an I could barge in. This was Kwon Yido’s space, and I’d only been given permission for my room and the greenhouse.
That thought had turning away without hesitation. Or—it would have, if not for a sudden sense of wrongness.
“Why is the study...”
Why did I think this was a study?
“......”
The carved wooden doors were identical to every other door in the corridor. Nothing marked this room as special. I had never even been inside. So why had I instinctively assud this was the study?
The vague sense of déjà vu stirred a curiosity I normally would’ve suppressed. Rationally, I knew it was impolite—but the impulse to know outweighed that. Like Pandora opening the box, my hand reached for the doorknob on its own.
It made uneasy. I didn’t know if it was anticipation or anxiety. My racing heart pounded as if it might burst.
Click. The mont the door opened felt strangely slow, like tape winding at half speed. The feel of the doorknob turning, the sensation of pushing open the sealed door, the soft light spilling through the growing gap—
The first thing I saw was the wall, covered in bookshelves. Rows of tightly packed books confird that this really was a study. I was stunned that my guess had been right—only for my gaze to lift and lock eyes with a pair of dark irises.
“......”
“......”
It was Kwon Yido. His face expressionless, his eyes devoid of emotion. He didn’t even blink. I almost mistook him for an illusion.
“...Jung Sejin?”
He murmured my na, barely audible. It sounded more like an involuntary exclamation than a proper address. A flicker of life returned to his dull eyes, and a flash of surprise crossed his usually unreadable face.
“Why are you—”
This was my cue to apologize. To say I was sorry for walking in unannounced, that I only checked because the light was on. That I wouldn’t bother him and he could go back to what he was doing.
“...That.”
But before any of that, there was sothing I had to ask. My gaze had shifted—drawn to sothing that should never have been there.
“Is that real?”
The glint of a gun barrel flashed coldly. Unless my eyes were mistaken, what he was holding... was unmistakably a gun.
***
Clatter. The sound of cutlery eting porcelain echoed softly. When I glanced over, Kwon Yido was eating his breakfast in that sa composed, unruffled manner. Even the act of lifting a bite of soft olet to his mouth looked like a scene from a well-made film.
I stared down at my plate, barely half-empty, a fork and knife in each hand. The golden-brown bacon looked good enough to whet my appetite, but I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it like usual. As I poked at my salad in silence, he spoke lightly.
“Should’ve gone with Korean food.”
His tone was unaffected. As if the conversation we had at dawn had never happened. From his expression alone, you’d think nothing was wrong.
“I can have sothing else prepared, if you’d prefer.”
“...No, it’s good. I just don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Then at least drink so juice. You’ll get hungry later.”
He nodded toward a drink made from blended apple and chicory. It didn’t look particularly appetizing, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked. When I reluctantly picked up the glass, he set his utensils down with a small sigh.
“Mr. Jung Sejin.”
“......”
There was a subtle force to his voice. One that made it hard to look away—even if I wanted to.
“You’re not trying very hard to hide your expression.”
He was right. Ever since breakfast began, I hadn’t been able to keep my discomfort off my face. My lips kept turning down, and I hadn’t said a word in my usual pleasant tone.
“If I upset you—”
“If you say you’re sorry, I’ll probably get more upset.”
He cut off firmly and checked his wristwatch. Was he going to work even on the weekend? Since breakfast had started earlier than usual, at least he had a bit of ti.
Tap, tap. He idly tapped the watch, then asked casually:
“Are you afraid of ?”
His deep eyes looked completely different from how they had at dawn. Then, they’d been hollow, empty. Now, they were vivid, full of life.
“...No.”
I made sure my voice didn’t tremble and forced myself to stay calm. His smooth eyebrows arched slightly, as if to say, “Then what are you afraid of?”
“It’s not you, Mr. Kwon...”
My lowered gaze caught the ring on his finger. And every ti I rembered what that hand had been holding, a chill ran through my chest. As he’d said—what I felt could only be called fear.
“...It’s the gun. I think I’m afraid of that.”
“Is that real?”
Back in the study, Kwon Yido had definitely been holding a gun. Even at a glance, it hadn’t looked like a toy. The way it reflected light—everything about it felt threatening. When I asked, he hadn’t denied it.
“Yes, the gun is real.”
When I finally heard those words, I had to freeze like ice. He put the black gun away in a drawer and added, as if it were nothing:
“The bullets are all gone, though.”
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