By the time the part-timer had made several trips to clear all the bottles, Yong Cheonha was wracking his brain for something to say to keep him there.
He needed to come up with something fast and hold him back — but nothing was coming to mind. All he could picture was grabbing him by the wrist and spouting some nonsense like “You’re beautiful?” only to be met with contempt.
Four empty bottles left now. He was clearing four at a time, so this would be the last trip.
“Excuse me.”
“……Yes?”
Half-lidded eyes and a sluggish response — he was clearly exhausted.
“……It’s nothing major?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not normally the type to do this.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
Yong Cheonha chose his words carefully, again and again. As appealing as possible — unhurried, at an even tone, easy on the ears.
“……Could I get your number?”
The part-timer, who had been quietly working, finally looked up and met his eyes. He stared at Yong Cheonha’s face, and then his eyes went wide with surprise.
Being asked for his number by a drunk customer mid-shift — how uncomfortable would that be? And not from a woman, but from a man asking for his number — it made sense that he’d be flustered and surprised.
But Yong Cheonha was sincere, and he was desperate. He had no idea what would happen if he let this chance slip by. Alpha, omega, beta — it didn’t matter anymore.
For now, he just felt like he’d only be at ease once he had someone this outrageously pretty tucked safely away.
Thinking about that alpha he’d lost, just like Cinderella before midnight — it still left a bitter taste. His life already had enough bitterness between cigarettes and herbal tonics.
“Your number.”
The part-timer looked uncomfortable — glancing up at the ceiling, then making a show of looking around as if distracted.
He’s uncomfortable. Right. That was understandable. Switching positions in his head, he’d probably react the same way.
Asking for someone’s number while they’re literally working. The other person might feel disrespected. He’d made a mistake out of desperation. He needed to correct it quickly.
“Ah — no, never mind. I’ll give you mine instead. Or my Instagram handle——”
“Give it to me.”
“Oh! Yes! My Instagram handle is dragon——”
What was it again? He was always logged in automatically, so he’d forgotten.
“I don’t do social media, so……. Give me your number.”
An old-model phone was slid across Yong Cheonha’s table. He fumbled terribly trying to type in his eleven-digit number.
After entering it, he immediately pressed the call button to save the part-timer’s number on his own phone as well.
He thought about what to save the name as, then in a rush, just added a flower emoji. Because he smelled like flowers.
Now that he had the number, he wanted to talk right away. What his name was, whether he was free tomorrow, whether he was seeing someone, and if not — how he felt about male omegas. Things like that. When would it be convenient to reach out? I have a lot of free time starting now.
“When do you get off work?”
His aggressive approach seemed to make the part-timer uncomfortable — he clasped his hands in front of him and let out an uncertain “Um, well……”
“I’m not trying to be clingy about it, like oh, it’s dark out, let me walk you home or anything like that. I’m just wondering what time works for you to be contacted……”
“Closing time is midnight.”
So around 12:30? 1:00 a.m. at the latest, he’d be done — would it be okay to reach out then? But wasn’t texting someone in the early hours bad manners? What time would actually be appropriate?
He glanced at his phone screen without thinking. 11:45 p.m.
That explained why the part-timer had looked so uncomfortable.
The chicken place had been fully reserved tonight by the Business Administration, Economics, and Accounting departments, and the moment the college students cleared out, the staff could go home — yet here they still were.
Once he realized that, he felt a sudden determination to get the part-timer — who would very soon be his — off work on time.
Yong Cheonha shot to his feet and started nudging everyone to get up and head to the next spot.
More than half of them took off to catch the last train home, and the number thinned noticeably. There was some back and forth about whether to go to a karaoke place or a pojangmacha for round two, and the debate dragged on pointlessly.
“Go to karaoke, work off the alcohol, then hit the pojangmacha for round three. Hey. Get up. Get up, I said.”
He cut through the argument cleanly and rounded up the ones who couldn’t get themselves together.
How drunk could you even get on that much? University students who came here to study, honestly.
He forced them sober, made them take hangover patches, called their homes for the ones with unlocked phones, grouped the ones who lived nearby together and got them into taxis — and by the time he was done, it was 1 a.m.
He’d become class president because the teaching assistant had been decent-looking — and it really didn’t seem like something a person should do. What made it worse was that the TA, who’d seemed promising, had turned out to be far less so than expected, which made him regret it even more.
He coldly turned down his classmates begging him to come to round two, and headed back to the chicken place.
By then they’d finished closing — the sign was dark. The part-timers who looked like they’d just clocked out were exchanging light chatter about how rough it had been, then bolted off saying they’d miss the bus.
The good-looking part-timer Yong Cheonha had been waiting for was the very last one out.
He must have been worn out too — the moment he stepped outside, he tilted his head back and looked up at the sky.
Even the sight of him spacing out in exhaustion looked like a scene from a film. As expected — when someone had the physique and the face for it, just standing still was enough to make a picture.
Yong Cheonha had been watching him with a grin wide enough to dry out his gums — then the moment the part-timer’s eyes met his, he quickly schooled his expression.
The part-timer hadn’t expected him to be waiting, and he blinked in surprise before quickening his pace toward him. As the beautiful face drew closer and closer, Yong Cheonha’s lips kept threatening to curl upward.
“Ahh.”
Pretty.
“Pardon?”
“Ah, no. Just — happy to see you. I’m not usually the type to go around asking for numbers like this, but I just — really like what I see.”
He was confident he could accommodate most things. He was prepared to work around whatever was needed — material or otherwise.
The part-timer tilted his head as if he hadn’t quite understood.
Should I call the uncles over tomorrow for a sparring session……
Even the head tilt was so beautiful and endearing that a fierce urge to break something rose up in him.
“Ah……!”
The part-timer seemed to understand what he meant and pulled his mask down.
That single small action completely erased even the tiny, one-in-a-million chance that his lower face might be a disappointment.
He had radiated good looks even with the mask on — and now, without it, he made it plainly visible that he was significantly better-looking still.
The beauty was genuinely shocking. But more shocking than his looks was his identity.
“Do you by any chance not remember me?”
The man from the club.
The beauty who hadn’t left his head for days.
The very person who had been driving him toward what felt like every mental illness simultaneously — lack of focus, insomnia, anxiety — and had him chain-smoking three packs a day.
He was enormously surprised, and yet somehow, not surprised at all.
There were beautiful people in the world, but someone like him — there could not be two of them under the same sky.
He seemed like a being assembled through meticulous, repeated selection of every element that made up Yong Cheonha’s ideal type — elements even Yong Cheonha himself hadn’t known he had. He was the living embodiment of Yong Cheonha’s ideal, made real.
Wait — is this, like, fate? Is that what this is? Completely?
He was dazed, but strangely, he could almost hear bells ringing — and it felt as if an angel above his head were playing the wedding march on a trumpet.
“I’d actually been worried about you……. I’m glad you seem to be doing well.”
Good heavens. Not just an angelic face — an angelic heart too. He was worried about him! But — what had he been worried about?
“I behaved so badly at the club that night……. I wanted to apologize, but when I came to, I was already at the hospital.”
“Ah. Right. Are you feeling okay now?”
“It was rough for a bit, but I’m much better now. I think it’s thanks to you.”
Ah, damn.
He nearly let the curse slip out loud — he was that overwhelmed.
The soft, measured voice. The shy smile as he said he was feeling better. Both were so exactly his type that he was angry at himself without even meaning to be!
You’re smiling? You dare? You’re smiling? You’re giving me a cute little smile? A pure, sweet smile? You have a dimple on one cheek? Why do you look down slightly when you smile so your lashes show?
Those long, dense lashes of his were constantly tempting him to look, without any shame about the time or place.
His eyes sparkled as if stars had been set inside them, and the corners were dewy, as if a galaxy were flowing through them — tinged with a quiet, melancholic beauty.
“Thank you for helping me that day.”
He bowed his head in thanks, and the hair on top was so thick it was impossible to see his scalp through it.
Sweetheart, our kids won’t have to worry about hair loss. Right?
Yong Cheonha looked at him, thinking the kind of thoughts only a naive virgin would think at the slightest brush of a hand. He had to make a constant effort not to drool.
“Did anything violent happen to you at the club that night? Or were you threatened in any way?”
“Hm? Well……”
Something violent had nearly happened — but ultimately hadn’t, so.
“Um. It might be overstepping, but — places like that tend to have a lot of dangerous situations in many ways, so please never go alone.”
He offered the advice carefully.
Setting aside the warmth that came through — his visible effort to give honest counsel while trying not to offend — everything about his careful manner was Yong Cheonha’s type. The gentle voice, the kind way of speaking, the warm gaze, and above all, the goodness written into his face — all of it was exactly his type.
He felt like he’d been thinking about nothing but that face since earlier, but he couldn’t help it. He was his ideal, after all. Honestly, if it weren’t illegal——
“Even though I’m an alpha, it was still dangerous — and since you’re an omega, it could be even more so. Crimes targeting omegas are far too frequent, and the penalties are……. There are a lot of problems there. I’m sure you already know, but when you’re drunk and all, your judgment gets clouded.”
Wait — what is this adorable little fawn going on about? Is he actually treating me like the omega right now? Me? Wow. He’s so cute I could die. Genuinely.
Yong Cheonha clenched his fist to suppress the surge of violent impulse rising within him.
“I probably said something unnecessary……. Ah — it’s gotten really late. Which way is home for you?”
What? The sun hasn’t even come up yet, what do you mean late. Well — I guess it is too late for someone as pretty as you to be wandering around. Where do you live? I’ll take you home.
“Where do you live?”
“Ah. I’m over in the Hoyong-dong area.”
Hoyong-dong? Yong Cheonha groaned internally. He lived in Yongho-dong — the complete opposite direction. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on them. The Weaver Star and the Cowherd weren’t this far apart.
“Oh. I actually live near there too.”
But Yong Cheonha said it shamelessly, without a blink. If you looked at it from a different angle, it wasn’t entirely a lie. They were both within Seoul, after all.
