In the end, he went over to Ha-geon’s desk and held out the vanilla latte he’d bought for himself. As if he’d only just noticed Hee-won’s arrival, Ha-geon let out a small “oh” and took the coffee with a puzzled expression.
“You didn’t mention wanting coffee today, so I just picked something. Enjoy it. And thanks for the sandwich yesterday — it was good.”
Hee-won finished speaking quickly, not giving Ha-geon a chance to respond, then turned and walked back to his seat. That sandwich was probably meant as an apology for the misunderstanding or something like that. And in that brief moment, he definitely got a good look at what this was.
Glancing over at Ha-geon, he found him staring quietly at the coffee before letting out a soft laugh. At that laugh, Hee-won dropped his gaze back to his own desk. Another coworker had just arrived for their shift. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong — so why had he been in such a rush?
Hee-won let out a sigh. It felt like everything Chae-won had worried about was unfolding right before his eyes. If it ever came to the worst-case scenario — if he actually, by some chance, fell for that man — he had every intention of handing in his resignation that very day.
That man would probably end up with an alpha or omega of similar standing, get married, live the kind of royal-class life that shows up on TV every now and then, and someday put Hee-won’s name on the chopping block — “there was this beta once.” So falling in love was absolutely out of the question.
He was in the middle of hypnotizing himself with that thought when his phone screen flashed with a pop-up notification.
[No rose scent on you today. So I put a little mint on instead.]
Hee-won had started marking his days by reading roughly one chapter of that strange book per day. At first, Chae-won had been furious about the mint scent Hee-won kept coming home with. She’d made such a fuss that he never even got the chance to complain about the rose scent.
After about two days of that, Chae-won’s attitude shifted from “Who the hell is that lunatic?” to “Is he giving you a hard time?” and then, by Monday morning of the following week, it had settled into something like “I’m watching.”
I guess people really do get used to things. Someone who’d spent the entire weekend singing about how suspicious that mint scent was — how it had soaked into his very bed — had smelled it so many times that she’d simply adapted. If Chae-won had adapted, it felt like he’d be next.
“If something actually happens and you don’t tell me, I’ll track down whoever that mint smell belongs to myself.”
“How are you planning to take on someone like that — a parachute hire?”
“I feel like you occasionally forget, but your sister is dominant too, you know. I do better than you think.”
Chae-won laughed and gave Hee-won a nudge on the back as if to send him off. If she’s doing so well, she could at least buy her little brother a car. The monthly transportation costs are nothing to sneeze at.
Getting on the subway about ten minutes before the morning rush started had become a sort of habit. Leave just a little earlier and you could find an empty seat. It also lowered the chances of running into alphas and omegas at the company.
By now, he seemed to have built a reputation — the fearless beta who showed up reeking of some unknown alpha’s scent. Whether it was because dominant pheromones had their perks, no one dared give him any real trouble, which suited him just fine.
Except for the owner of that mint scent making things difficult for him. Hee-won let out a sigh as he sat down and opened his book. Just thinking about Ha-geon’s face was enough to drag another sigh out of him.
What kind of situation is it to know a team leader’s pheromone scent before you even know his age? Though, to be fair, he was the one who’d never bothered to ask. Knowing what others don’t and not knowing what everyone else does — it wasn’t exactly a comfortable position to be in.
[Vanilla latte.]
And the inexplicable coffee-fetching arrangement with Ha-geon had been going on for a week now. Two days without it over the weekend had been enough to make things feel strange. At least he wasn’t making Hee-won pay out of his own pocket — so he had some conscience, apparently.
On top of that, Ha-geon always bought something for Hee-won too, so it wasn’t as though Hee-won was getting the short end of the deal. All he had to do was bring the coffee and go on living the way he always had.
If anything, Ha-geon seemed to be the one losing out — though apparently, this level of spending and attention meant nothing to him. Buying two six-thousand-won coffees every day, plus food on top of that — even just for a week, it added up to a sum that couldn’t be ignored.
Maybe I’m projecting my own unemployed lifestyle onto this. Either way, Ha-geon is a parachute hire — practically a chaebol. Feeding the subject of his observation and being mildly fond of her might not even register as an effort to him.
He bought two vanilla lattes and headed to the office. It had only been a week, yet the whole thing felt as natural as if he’d been doing it for at least twenty years — a thought that baffled even himself. The kind of adaptability that could survive being dropped into the Sahara in a parka.
“Morning.”
“Why are you always in so early, Team Leader?”
“Why is coming in early something to pick a fight over?”
The sight of Ha-geon already at his desk, alone in the marketing office, getting work done before anyone else arrived — that, too, had gradually become familiar. If there are a thousand team leaders in the world, they’re all a thousand different kinds. Someone like this exists too. Somewhere out there, there’s bound to be someone like this.
But still — he just asked a simple question and you call it picking a fight? The response to his offhand question left Hee-won blinking in bewilderment. Ha-geon scratched his cheek, looking a little sheepish. He was just joking around…
At Ha-geon’s slightly deflated tone, Hee-won made a face, vaguely irritated. Who makes a joke with an expression like they’re about to kill someone? You don’t have to laugh and smile while cracking a joke, but regardless — Kim Ha-geon was in the wrong here.
Ha-geon self-consciously pushed his glasses back up. Hee-won set the vanilla latte down on his desk with a quiet thud. He’d wanted to put it down harder, but spilling latte on Ha-geon’s laptop — or on his own hand — would be a problem.
“Beta.”
“Yes, Team Leader.”
“Is anyone at the company giving you a hard time?”
“Not particularly, not yet. People just look at me the way they always have — a little sideways. The kind of look you get when a beta’s mixed in among alphas and omegas.”
He bowed his head slightly to Ha-geon, who was frowning as if genuinely puzzling over what that kind of look might be, and returned to his seat. You calling me “beta” when I have a perfectly good name is one of those looks — he’d almost snapped that out loud but stopped himself just in time.
It’s like I’ve become something of a cute little animal. Hee-won had arrived at that conclusion after quite a long period of deliberation. Ha-geon thought of him as some kind of wild animal to be mildly fond of and observe. Nowhere near the level of a pet.
The kind of cute where, if you spotted it lying on the ground while walking by, you’d pause for a second, hold up your phone, and snap a photo. The kind you’d scroll past unless you happened to open your gallery. The kind you’d forget about otherwise.
Could it be okay to accept that kind of kindness? If he was being honest, he’d landed on this conclusion specifically to justify things to himself. He needed it — to quiet the instinct that told him any excess of interest from an alpha or omega must come with impure motives.
Shut your eyes and take what falls into your lap. It’ll all be over in six months, won’t it?
“Hee-won.”
“Yes, Yeo-jin.”
Around the time people were trickling in one by one, Yeo-jin arrived as well. Usually, Yeo-jin showing up meant everyone was in — but today, the order was a little off. Yeong-min, who normally came in early, was still absent.
His seat was still empty. Hee-won checked the time just in case, but sure enough, the clock had already passed the start of the workday. He’s actually running late. His head tilted on its own.
As Hee-won kept stealing glances at Yeong-min’s empty seat, Yeo-jin naturally leaned over from where she’d been getting settled with her own work.
“Heat cycle leave. HCL.”
“Ah…”
“The rest of us can kind of tell from the lingering pheromones, but I completely forgot Hee-won was on our team for a second.”
It’s less that she forgot I was on the team and more that she forgot I’m a beta. Hee-won didn’t bother pressing that point. When one in ten people is a beta, it’s easy enough to forget.
Omega here, alpha there, another alpha, then an omega, and another omega. Everyone radiating their own distinct scent — and slipping through it all like a speck of dust, a beta with nothing to give off.
Or maybe they’d all been smelling that mint scent on him and just assumed he was an alpha, treating it like it was his own pheromone. The scent you can’t smell on yourself. The second hypothesis feels more plausible.
Hee-won pulled his gaze away from Yeong-min’s desk and refocused on his work. If it was heat cycle leave, there was nothing for him to understand or worry about. He simply thought: as long as I don’t make any mistakes today, I won’t have to do anyone’s work twice.
He focused on his tasks, sipping the vanilla latte he’d bought for himself. Work is the last thing I want to do, but if you’re not born with a good hand, the least you can do is be diligent. Hee-won resolved to move with tact.
“Let’s break for lunch.”
One thing Hee-won had quietly picked up from watching Ha-geon was that the man seemed to function like an alarm clock. He called for lunch at exactly lunchtime and called for the end of the day at exactly the end of the day.
Meanwhile, Ha-geon himself was the one who sometimes missed meals and seemed to be the last one out the door each evening. Hee-won wasn’t close enough to Ha-geon to invite him to lunch, and he had no particular desire to — so he usually just caught a glimpse and walked on.
Having no issue at all with eating alone, Hee-won stepped out of the marketing office — where Ha-geon had stayed behind again — and started walking. What should I eat today? He took out his phone. Since he couldn’t use it while walking, he stopped where he was.
What to eat. Maybe pasta… He was tapping on the pasta place sitting at the top of the search results when someone’s shadow fell over him.
“That place isn’t good.”
“Oh — you startled me…”
He’d half expected it, but sure enough, it was Ha-geon. There wasn’t really anyone else who could have appeared behind him. A tall guy who moves this silently — it’s unsettling. Could’ve at least made some noise.
He turned and looked at Ha-geon’s face. Ha-geon met his gaze with a composed expression. Tilting his head slightly, Ha-geon reached out and tapped one of the results in the browser on Hee-won’s phone.
“This one’s good.”
“Are you asking to eat together?”
“If you’re asking me to eat together, then yes.”
Someone’s a little rusty at making requests. Hee-won barely managed to swallow that one down. Then again, has this man ever had to ask anyone for anything?
Come to think of it, this was someone people came to with requests — not the other way around. Ha-geon wasn’t the type to propose something as casual as a lunch outing. Hee-won found the effort admirable enough to give a small nod. Though I genuinely have no idea why this man wants to eat with me.
If it’s meant to be some kind of friendship… yeah, I’d still rather not. Friendship between a beta and an alpha? Give me a break. Hee-won decided to drop any unnecessary notions and live within his means.
Save that kind of thing for omegas. Though, granted, eating alone every day did look a bit sad — so he’d keep him company just for today. He looked up the location of the place Ha-geon had pointed out and began walking slowly.
“The cream pasta here is good.”
“Did you come on your own? Or with the flower shop owner you’re apparently head over heels for?”
