“Ha.”
Could anything be more anticlimactic? Still, it wasn’t a total waste. His stamina had improved, at least. If a zombie virus suddenly broke out and he ended up being chased by the undead, he’d survive longer than most people.
Sure, there was no alpha worth pursuing in this truly organic meet-your-match gathering, but finding workout partners this clean-cut and unobtrusive would be just as difficult — so he’d keep it going at a comfortable pace.
He ran hard enough to call it a shower in sweat, then came home, washed up properly, and sat in front of the air conditioning.
The breeze from the AC made his damp hair sway gently. His water-heavy hair kept falling over his forehead, grazing near his eyes, but his body was tired enough that he didn’t particularly care.
Right. When your head is a mess, you have to move your body.
He was exhausted, so sleep was finally starting to creep in, and the memory of that pretty alpha was growing faint at the edges—
“Ugh!”
It’s. So. Clear. Vivid. Sharp. I’m going insane.
He had two exams as early as next week, and he couldn’t remember a single thing from his major coursework — all that floated through his mind was that fawn-like face.
He couldn’t have seen him for more than ten minutes at most, and yet the image was this sharp — even he was surprised at himself.
But what good did it do? He didn’t know his name. He had no idea how to find him again.
He’d tried reaching out to the uncles just in case, but they weren’t responding — probably asleep. That was the problem with people who worked nights.
He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t study, couldn’t run anymore. He let out a heavy sigh and did the one thing he could still manage — placed a delivery order.
It was morning, so he couldn’t order anything elaborate, and he just went with whatever would arrive fastest. While he waited, he tried to prepare for the exam in two days and worked through the pile of messages on his phone.
The social butterfly persona he’d adopted to scout for decent alphas was proving more annoying and cumbersome than he’d anticipated. Why did university have so many events? Human relationships required surprisingly delicate maintenance, too.
It was so different from high school.
This is what they call adult social life, I guess.
I’m a good son, so.
Unlike his three older brothers, Yong Cheonha had gotten into a prestigious university, and he was planning to either land a position at a respectable company or start a business that had nothing to do with the Yongmun faction whatsoever.
It was partly because his parents wanted him to get a job or start a business — legally, of course — and partly because Yong Cheonha himself didn’t have any particular passion he wanted to pursue.
He had a vague sense that the alphas in the legitimate office world would be of better quality than those from the underground.
Of course, that would only be possible if he achieved his great mission by the age of twenty.
“Ah, damn it. That shaman……”
It was superstition. Clearly superstition. But the moment he got anxious, that hack of a shaman felt like she’d cursed him.
Come on — born this perfectly from head to toe, and he was supposed to live his entire life a virgin? How did that make any sense?
The whole world had eyes, didn’t they?
He glanced at himself in the mirror for reassurance — unnecessarily — and then his phone buzzed with a notification that his delivery had arrived, so he headed to the front door.
He’d asked them to leave it at the door, but the delivery food was nowhere to be seen. The elevator was on its way up, which meant they’d marked it as delivered before actually arriving.
He didn’t think much of it and waited by the door — and when the delivery rider stepped out of the elevator, the man flinched as if startled. It shouldn’t have been the first time he’d seen a customer come out to meet their food, yet he seemed awfully flustered.
The delivery rider had a scraggly, bandit-like beard that made his face look puffy, but there was something oddly boyish about him.
And suspiciously, he kept lingering — gazing at Yong Cheonha with this distant, wistful look. When a delivery was done, weren’t you supposed to immediately head off to the next one?
From his demeanor, it was pretty clear this was someone he knew — but that scraggly beard. That was a quality that had absolutely no business entering Yong Cheonha’s orbit.
He stared the delivery rider down with a flat look — the man hadn’t even pressed the close button on the elevator, just standing there gazing at him like he was a long-lost first love — then shut the door. It was only a beat later that it clicked.
He’d been someone from high school — decent-looking enough back then that Yong Cheonha had kept him close. He’d changed fast, day by day, and ultimately gone through a reverse transformation.
The face that used to look like a pretty boy when you squinted — gone without a trace. He’d started wearing the most hideous fluorescent lime-green shorts he’d fished off somewhere, and on top of that, he smelled weird.
He’d been one of those connections Yong Cheonha had quietly let go of. They’d had something like a flirtationship going, but the moment the guy stopped being good-looking, his feelings had cooled rapidly — there was nothing he could do about that.
It wasn’t like the guy had done anything wrong, but it was still awkward enough that he figured he’d have to avoid ordering delivery from that app for a while.
After eating a decent meal and stepping outside for a post-meal cigarette, his head cleared a little.
When things get too frustrating and exhausting — check whether you’re low on calories or nicotine.
He’d been planning to order in for dinner too, but now he had the vague, uncomfortable feeling that the same guy might show up again.
Leaving it at the door would be fine, technically — but the alphas Yong Cheonha had let go of were mostly not great people.
It had been worse because, as a minor, he’d chosen purely based on looks. The kids with flashier visuals tended to be the ones who skipped school and hung around doing nothing — more his type than the diligent studiers — so it couldn’t be helped.
“Hmm.”
For all he knew, the delivery guy might be nursing a grudge after being cut off by Yong Cheonha, or might try to pull something to get back in his good graces.
Because it had happened more than a few times — guys who didn’t realize how precious he was while they had him, treating him carelessly, and then only starting to cling after being cut off. Yong Cheonha was the type who’d put up with almost any nonsense and spend freely, as long as someone was pretty enough.
So many trash-tier guys had come crawling back, missing the comfort he’d provided. Without fail, they’d start with a “You awake?” text around 3 a.m., then go on and on about how they hadn’t realized how much he’d meant to them.
It happened so often it was like they’d all taken the same class. The first time, it had stung a little — but once it crossed ten occurrences, he’d learned to block immediately the moment his feelings left.
Based on past experience, there was a chance the delivery guy from earlier might stew in nostalgic bitterness and eventually decide to act out —
Knowing his address wasn’t enough to actually do anything harmful, but he might try something funny with the food. Couldn’t be helped — he’d cook for himself for a while.
Having made that decision, he went to the supermarket to stock up, then came back and spent the rest of the time preparing for finals — and before he knew it, the view outside had gone dark.
The uncles, finally awake, gave him an update on the alpha from the previous night.
The uncles who’d taken him away would have handled the settlement generously on their own, so not to worry — and along with the complete nonsense about please for the love of everything calm down — he felt a vein pop at his temple for a split second.
But then the other uncles started piling on, saying things like “Is there a group chat without this guy? Someone cut his hand off or shut him up, one of the two” — and the warmth that brought to his chest smoothed things over.
But that was all. Unfortunately, there was no news of what Yong Cheonha actually wanted to know.
It seemed the alpha hadn’t been in a condition to move on his own, so they’d taken him to the hospital and covered the bills — but he’d disappeared while they were at the payment counter.
Not just his name — they didn’t know his age, or where he lived. He was speechless.
They took him all the way to the hospital and couldn’t find out even that much. He wasn’t some underage kid who’d snuck into the club, was he?
“……”
What if he’s a minor without an ID yet?
Yong Cheonha shook his head vigorously from side to side as if to scatter the thought, then pulled out a cigarette.
“Alright. I’ll smoke exactly one pack, nice and clean, and then put this to rest.”
He had another exam tomorrow — he couldn’t keep thinking about this.
He strode out to the smoking area with conviction and got to work, chain-smoking steadily. His mind was restless, so he made smoke rings and loops while turning over the things he’d memorized, trying to review.
He couldn’t concentrate, but he had to force it in anyway. The end of the semester wasn’t far off, and keeping his grades at a certain level was what kept Plans B, C, and D on the table.
If someone that striking had been more common than expected — he wouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble.
They probably weren’t common, but surely there were plenty of people who came close.
……Were there, really? He doubted there was anyone like that domestically.
Should he go abroad during the break? People over there tended to be more open-minded — it might be easier to finally shed his virginity there.
“Tch.”
Even thinking through Plans B, C, and D, he still felt bitter. He kept coming back to the lingering attachment he had for the alpha he’d met at the club.
It had been such a brief moment — the memory must have been embellished — and yet he couldn’t stop fixating on it. It felt even worse because it seemed like he’d finally met his true ideal type, one he hadn’t even known he had.
He’d tried fasted cardio, he’d tried strength training, he’d picked up his major textbook — all in an attempt to forget that face. None of it worked.
All he ever saw on the street were shaved-headed guys with tattoos and bulky builds, or scrawny tattooed guys carrying ugly-ass clutches. Why did they all have the exact same style and still manage to be ugly in so many different ways? Was it too much to ask for something fresher and prettier?
Even through an entire pack of cigarettes, Yong Cheonha couldn’t shake his ideal type from his mind. All he could do was indulge in daydreams about the alpha whose name he didn’t even know — dressing him up like a little doll in his head.
With such pale skin, any color would suit him — but putting him in a baby pink cardigan, the kind most guys couldn’t pull off, he’d look like he belonged in spring.
Or just throw him in jeans and a white tee and set him under natural light.
Come see the cherry blossoms with me next year. If you hate the crowds, I’ll book the hotel with the best view. Or I can start buying up land right now and plant rows of cherry trees just for you.
“Haaah……”
Even he had to admit — there was no solution. What was he even thinking, after meeting someone just once?
Yong Cheonha was a face-first person, and he’d never denied it. He owned it.
When someone caught his eye, he’d give them everything — liver, gallbladder, the works — put up with all manner of awful behavior, and cycle through meeting and breaking up over and over. When a beautiful person threw a tantrum, it felt more like an exciting industry perk than something irritating. It didn’t hurt his pride — it was more endearing than anything, so letting them win was nothing.
The only condition was the face. The moment he felt that the looks he’d settled for weren’t cutting it, he ended things quickly.
It was fine if his feelings cooled because of looks — that was just a matter of not making it past the entrance, so there was nothing to feel bad about.
But the ones who were passable after you made enough concessions — those he felt slightly worse about.
Yong Cheonha shook his head.
Actually, thinking about it again — he didn’t feel bad at all.
No matter how passable the looks, how were you supposed to date a mama’s boy? Or someone who was dating someone significantly younger than him and insisted on splitting everything to the last penny and setting up a joint dating account?
