The Scent is a Drug

The car he sent arrived at a grand mansion situated where the Hong Kong nightscape could be seen in full. The grounds were so vast that it took another two or three minutes by car just to reach the steps at the main entrance from the lower gate, where security guards were checking and admitting each vehicle.

This was a party hosted by a major gallery with significant influence in the Asian art market — one that had started in Hong Kong, continued its rapid growth, and successfully expanded by opening a branch in Singapore the year before last.

"It's the gallery where the Director and Manager Han used to work together," Yuni nuna said, snapping the clasp of her small clutch shut after slipping a mirror inside.

"They probably rented this place just for tonight's party. Hong Kong has a vibrant high-society culture, so there are quite a few places like this — mansions rented out solely for wedding receptions, luxury brand events, or private parties for the wealthy."

It was a world with no connection to me.

Many cars were lined up along the road that curved around a large installation piece — seemingly symbolizing a pair of lovers — leading up to the mansion's main entrance. Juhan hyung explained that they had likely invited almost all the major galleries that attended the fair, as well as art enthusiasts who had traveled from around the world to see it.

"Honestly, it's a show of force. This is their chance to demonstrate to every art-world figure across the globe that a gallery with this much power exists in Asia. It might seem like a nouveau riche mindset, but when you're targeting the global market, your clients are all extraordinarily wealthy, so you do need to make a display of economic power and influence to some extent. This is a business where works sell for billions, sometimes tens of billions of won. In a way, it's all promotion and investment."

As our car slowed to a stop, a doorman dressed in a black suit opened the door for us.

He had arrived earlier and was waiting at the entrance to greet us.

It was a different suit from the one he'd worn at the VIP Preview. Perhaps because it was black, he gave an impression of being far more formally dressed today. Even completely enveloped in that restrained all-black suit, the raw, primal energy and the deep sexual allure of his physique were unmistakably present.

Whether you were someone like me — young and unacquainted with the wider world — or a sophisticated member of high society who had attended countless such functions, no one could help but look at him. Like a leading man who had stepped out of a classic Hollywood movie poster, he was in his suit both timelessly classic and intensely sensual.

After complimenting nuna and hyung's styles in turn, his gaze finally settled on me. His eyes swept over me as if appraising a piece of work, and I found myself fiddling with my collar for no particular reason.

"Thank you for the suit."

"You must have been put in a difficult position having to attend so suddenly — of course I had to prepare something for you."

When I returned to the hotel after the final day of the fair, there was a suit hanging in my closet. A hotel employee had come directly to my room to deliver it, saying the Director had prepared it for me to wear to the party. It was the first suit I had ever worn in my life.

Juhan hyung had let out an almost envious screech when he recognized the brand — apparently coveted even among the most fashion-conscious — but the design felt too fashionable compared to the ordinary suits I knew, and I lacked the confidence to pull it off. It just felt awkward.

"It suits you well."

The man who had actually arranged the suit looked satisfied, though. He even took a couple of steps back to take in my whole figure at once.

"This looks expensive…"

"Did Yuni do your hair?"

The suit clung to the lines of my body with a supple softness, and the fabric alone looked so luxurious that it seemed like it would slip away at a touch — which kept me fixated on the price. He simply brushed the subject aside, lightly smoothing my hair.

"Yes."

His fingertips traced the edge of my neatly styled hair, grazing my earlobe as he smiled.

"You look even younger with your swept back."

He seemed to be in a good mood, and since he was unusually not hiding it, I decided against pressing him about the price of the suit and shoes right then. It wasn't money I could repay on the spot anyway, and I didn't want to spoil the mood.

As we ascended the stairs to move deeper into the party hall, nuna sidled right up next to him, buried her nose near his shoulder, and sniffed.

"Oh? What's that, Director — did you put on cologne?"

"……"

Following a few steps behind, I nearly lost my footing on the stairs.

"A little."

"Mmm, it smells good. Dark, totally my style. But this is custom-made, isn't it?"

To nuna's wistful question about a fruit hanging just out of reach, he only offered an ambiguous smile.

Scent is molecules spreading through the air — naturally indiscriminate in its effect — yet I suddenly realized I had never once acknowledged the possibility that others beside me could enjoy his unique fragrance.

Could there be a more foolish lapse of awareness?

Anyone standing as close to him as nuna was right now could smell his scent just as easily. Scent was something that could make an entire alley hungry from the smell of curry cooking in just one house.

And yet I had only ever focused on his scent as I experienced it.

The thought that someone else might smell that scent filled me with aversion. Whether I had any right to feel that way was a secondary concern. The fact that such presumptuous emotions were unsettling my mind was the problem itself.

Outside was a late evening that had turned completely dark, but inside, dazzlingly bright lights poured down — golden lighting designed to make everyone in the venue stand out spectacularly.

"Wow… this is the best party I've ever been to. Just how rich a gallery did you work for before, Director? I'm genuinely speechless."

Not just nuna but hyung and I as well widened our eyes at the interior: a spacious first-floor hall anchored by several makeshift bars, a grand piano where jazz was being played live, a grandly installed DJ booth — still empty — and perfectly arranged table and couch seating distributed throughout.

"I'm going to go find Manager Han. I'll follow her around and make sure to hand out business cards aggressively today. You never know, right? If I keep at it, maybe someone will check my blog or social media and recognize my talent."

Nuna — whose sparkling black sequined clutch was stuffed with business cards — pushed up her gold-framed glasses on their chain and disappeared toward the center of the hall. Juhan hyung headed upstairs, declaring he was going to find some shy Alpha struggling to fit in somewhere and burn up his last night in Hong Kong.

Just like that, in an instant, it was the two of us.

"Well... let's go together. It might not be the most exciting place, though."

He shrugged, hands shoved into his pants pockets. I thought about my own insufficient English and dry personality — which would only make a not-fun gathering even less fun — and shook my head.

"I'll just have something to drink at the bar. It's my first time at a place like this, so just sitting and people-watching should be interesting enough for me. Please don't worry about me."

"I went to the trouble of inviting all our gallery staff, so don't be like that. At least you, Seo Yeehyeon, could go over and show your face to the gallery hosts. You only need to stay long enough to make polite introductions, and then you can leave."

Seeing his slightly troubled expression, I couldn't refuse any further.

His former colleagues were gathered at the most central table on the first floor. He introduced me as a staff member he was currently working with in Seoul, and the group of six or seven men and women welcomed me with polite smiles. They were all dressed splendidly and sophisticatedly, and naturally, they seemed accustomed to occasions like this.

"He's still very young. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the teasing to a minimum."

"Wow… what's this? The great Liu Weikun saying that — it actually makes me want to tease him more."

Before we sat down, he placed a hand on my back and gave them a look that asked them to go easy. Someone made a joke, and everyone let out light laughter.

There were moments like this when the ten-year age gap between us felt suddenly real. It wasn't that he acted frivolously in daily life — but perhaps because of his generally non-authoritarian atmosphere, sometimes cool yet not fundamentally domineering, or perhaps because his appearance made it hard to gauge his age, I rarely felt that ten-year difference in our everyday interactions.

His introduction — that I should be treated gently because I was so young — didn't feel entirely unwelcome today, for some reason.

"What's it like working with Kun? It can't be easy, can it?"

To the question from his former colleague — who was apparently now a first-tier dealer — I smiled at Kun sitting beside me instead of answering. Everyone seemed generally familiar with his way of working, and the person who asked didn't seem to be looking for a specific answer.

"Ah... where would that temper have gone? He made several people cry and quit before, didn't he? Go on, tell us. Does he still say whatever comes to mind without filtering anything?"

The one who made that remark — cutting through the otherwise amicable atmosphere — was the man seated to my left.

Compared to the others at the table, he was dressed more loosely and looked free-spirited, blond hair slightly disheveled. He was smiling, but I could feel the thorns in his words aimed at Kun. The corners of his mouth, curling into a smirk, were twisted coldly.

"Um… please be kind to him."

At the thinly veiled hostility cloaked in a superficial smile, I found myself leaning my upper body back slightly as I replied. The man didn't seem inclined to back down.

"Hey, when else can you openly badmouth your boss like this? It's fine. I went through plenty of rough patches working with him before. Nobody here doesn't know Liu Weikun's temper."

Whether he was unaware of the table's atmosphere stiffening or pretending not to notice in order to achieve his goal, the face of the man who was so eagerly trying to cut Kun down under the guise of jokes betrayed a strange sort of agitation.

"No, really… he's very considerate."

The early Kun — who prioritized those precious to him, making me feel alienated, sometimes drawing out an unfamiliar defiance in me — had already faded within me. The excessive hurt I'd felt at his words and actions wasn't solely due to his attitude; it was also tangled up with my own feelings toward him.

"Considerate? Wow… considerate? Did everyone hear that? Liu Weikun is considerate to his staff?"

The man, who had been leaning back so loosely he seemed about to slide off his chair, sat up straight and raised his voice to the others at the table. The party had probably only been going for about an hour, but the smell of alcohol wafted out every time his clothes shifted.

Someone tried to calm the man down with a few gentle words, but he showed no intention of settling.

"Considerate — to what extent? Kind? Or sweet?"

"Stop it. I asked you not to be like this."

Unable to stand it any longer, Kun finally stepped in as the man persisted.

"Is this considered bad behavior at a party? Come on, you're being overprotective. This isn't the Liu Weikun I knew. Since when did you care so much about your staff?"

Kun leaned in and whispered to me in Korean — that I didn't need to engage with him one by one. An apology came with it.

"Ah — maybe he's not just staff?"

The man, reaching for his drink, bent his upper body sharply to peer at my face. His pale green eyes, the whites bloodshot, were filled with intense emotion.

"That's it, isn't it? People don't change that easily. Seems like you're doing other stuff besides working at the gallery?"

Beneath the man's relentless, almost passionate prodding and pushing, there was a kind of desperation.

Unless my instincts were wrong, the man seemed to want Kun to look at him — even in this way — to elicit some kind of reaction. It was a psychology I couldn't understand, but not all emotions in the world can be explained by clear logic.

"That said, you can't really blame Kun, can you? Anyone can see he's overflowing with charm. It would be harder not to make a move on him when you work together every day. But he really does look young. Kun — what's the story? He's not a minor, is he?"

The Asian man who had briefly called Kun away during the VIP Preview stepped in to ease the atmosphere, steering the conversation toward cosmetic procedures popular in Hong Kong these days for maintaining a youthful appearance. It wasn't a subject that would interest me — or, I suspected, Kun.

Letting out a breath of relief, I lifted my glass to wet my throat with champagne when the blond man addressed me again, this time privately.

"I'm sorry if I made things awkward. It was just a joke — Weikun has always been a bit of a purist about these things."

His voice was lower than before, perhaps somewhat calmed.

"No, I'm fine."

"Is this your first time in Hong Kong?"

"Yes."

Turning slightly toward him as a courtesy while keeping Kun behind me, I answered.

"You probably didn't get to do much sightseeing because of the fair."

As he spoke, he rested his chin on the table. The man looked generally disheveled, but up close his features were delicate. Above all, his blond hair was beautiful even in its tousled state, shimmering even in this light. It was my first time seeing such blond hair up close, and I found it somewhat novel. It might have been an odd observation given the circumstances, but the pale, fine blond hair — with very little yellow in it — suited the man's nervous and willful air well.

"You haven't even been to Victoria Peak yet, have you? The night view from a drive up the hill at this hour is truly romantic."

The man's eyes suddenly lit up and he looked directly at me.

"Why don't we slip out now, just the two of us, and go see it?"

I had assumed the man's real interest lay clearly elsewhere — namely, behind my back — so the suggestion was quite unexpected.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned his upper body forward, bringing his lips close to my ear.

"You look incredibly bored too."

"……"

Before I could react, a hand reached over my shoulder and pushed the man back into his seat.

"Don't do anything unnecessary. He's a Beta."

The next moment, my body was gently pulled backward. Turning around, I found Kun glaring at the man with a fierce expression. The effort he had been making to suppress his displeasure until just moments ago had completely vanished from his face.

Only after hearing his words did I realize the man had been releasing pheromones. Just like with Inwu hyung, I hadn't sensed anything at all.

The man raised both hands as if to prove his innocence and leaned back.

"I didn't think he was an Omega. But you know — this isn't something you can control."

Even while feigning a defensive posture, the man was smirking.

"If you can't even control it around a Beta — letting it leak out like that — maybe you should be on medication?"

Kun grabbed my arm and pulled me toward his side, his voice tight and sharp as he warned the man across from us, each syllable clipped cleanly.

"Ah, right — for you, any Alpha who isn't Golden basically has a condition that requires medication. Not everyone gets to be a lucky Golden Alpha like you."

"Lucky?"

"……"

His voice snapped on that word, cracking sharply. The man seemed to realize he had poked a nerve, and closed his mouth, averting his gaze.

Kun took a sip of champagne, set it down, and stood up from his chair.

"I think it's best we get going. I apologize for needlessly disrupting the mood."

I followed him, rising awkwardly from my seat.

"What — do cheap pheromones disgust you that much?"

The man was still desperately trying to elicit some extreme reaction from him until the very end. Despite the sharp jabs in his words, the eyes looking up at Kun from his seated position wavered with a confused mixture of resentment and pleading.

Suddenly I recalled my past self — the one who had once wondered what it would feel like to be specially hated by him. Among the crowd surrounding him at the Phantom exhibition hall, there must have been people who had wished to become special to him even through the vehicle of his hatred.

I could only vaguely guess that perhaps what the man wanted from him now was that same kind of misguided expectation.

"Still acting so refined on your own. Since pheromones that aren't Golden's disgust you, I suppose what you keep around is just a boring Beta?"

Knowing that Kun reacted sensitively to pheromones and held a near-obsessive fastidiousness about them, the man was relentlessly digging at exactly that. I wondered whether he had once been severely criticized by Kun because of pheromones, but no matter how I looked at it, the man's attitude didn't seem rooted in hatred or revenge.

As Kun finished buttoning his jacket and turned to leave, he finally paused and looked back at the man. The downward gaze held no temperature — not even coldness. It was lukewarm.

He let out a faint scoff.

"For someone who can't land a one-night stand without relying on pheromones, you certainly put on the airs of an Alpha."

If my hunch was right, I thought I would never understand what satisfaction the man gained from eliciting this kind of reaction from the person he craved. I turned my gaze away from the man, whose face looked carved open despite having been the one to provoke all of it.

"Even among Alphas, a Beta is better than trash like you. Even without the label of Alpha or anything else, anyone in this room would choose him over you."

"……"

"So don't ever let those cheap pheromones flow toward him again."

His voice was steady, devoid of agitation, yet the words came out as if ground between his teeth. He pulled me around by the back and changed direction. The rigid set of his jaw suggested he regretted bringing me here at all.

From what I understood, it was generally common for Omegas not to be able to smell each other's pheromones. Alphas could distinguish each other's pheromones by scent, but it didn't lead to sexual arousal.

Only Alphas and Omegas were supposed to be sexually stimulated by the pheromones they detected through smell.

The higher the ranking of a Golden Alpha, the stronger their reproductive ability — and they could emit powerful pheromones that Omegas found difficult to resist. Conversely, they also possessed excellent resistance to Omega pheromones. They could reliably protect themselves from the sudden acute heats — Ruts — triggered by Omega pheromone stimulation, making it entirely possible to live a life almost indistinguishable from a Beta's, according to their own will.

Not only were their offensive and defensive capabilities regarding pheromones simultaneously high, but they could also sensitively distinguish between the pheromones of Omegas and other Alphas. So it wasn't an exaggeration when Inwu hyung called him an Omega diviner. If he belonged to the very highest echelon among Golden Alphas, distinguishing between Alpha, Omega, and Beta would require about as much effort as telling an apple, a strawberry, and a banana apart by smell.

Knowing how strict he was about pheromones, I could gauge the extent of his displeasure caused by that man.

No — even setting aside his fastidiousness, the man had provoked him with excessive rudeness. If anything, I thought he had shown considerable patience. I didn't want to blame him, thinking his final retort was unnecessarily cruel.

Moreover, the reason he — who had tried to avoid conflict by leaving — ultimately reacted was, probably, because of me.

If the man hadn't expressed it as dragging around a pathetic Beta, he would have ignored the provocation and left. It might have been a reaction to being treated as someone who keeps pathetic things around, but that wasn't the whole story.

It meant that, at least now, I was not an entirely insignificant person to him — not someone whose insult could simply be walked past and ignored.

I was grateful for that, and a sweet resonance settled in the edge of my heart — a feeling of being moved. Why wouldn't I feel that way?

But perhaps because of the complex emotions I had seen reflected in the man's eyes as he looked at Kun, I couldn't feel purely relieved or happy about it. It wasn't for good reasons like sympathy or empathy for the man. It was a more self-centered thought.

Who could guarantee that if I spent more time by his side, I wouldn't end up looking just as pathetic as that man?

"Let's go out to the terrace and get some air."

Only after they had walked well away from the table — all the way to the stairs leading to the second floor — did he finally speak. The space between his brows was still tense, and he wasn't quite meeting my eyes, but his suggestion was soft.

The second floor was mostly arranged with comfortable couch seating. Groups of several people, or couples, leaned back in plush sofas enjoying music, drinks, and conversation.

Under dimmer lighting than the first floor, we passed a couple locked in a deep kiss — oblivious to those around them — and stepped out onto the terrace.

"Ah…"

Without any need to go up to Victoria Peak's observation deck, the Hong Kong nightscape unfolded right at our feet. It was a view spectacular enough to draw an involuntary gasp even from me — someone who isn't quick or intense with reactions.

It was a cliché, but the entire city glittered as if stardust had been scattered across it. Even knowing it was artificial light created by civilization, for a moment I felt overwhelmed — as though I had become a witness to some mysterious phenomenon crafted by nature.

He glanced back at me, my mouth hanging open in wonder like a child watching fireworks, and offered a faint smile. I felt embarrassed again for showing such a childish side, but if I could make him smile even a little in this moment, that was enough.

Large candles enclosed in transparent windscreens served as gentle lighting across the wide terrace, where plush sofas were spaced out just as they were inside. Jazz drifting up from the first floor flowed from speakers fixed to the walls, adding to the impression of the night view before us.

Whether they were couples who had arrived together or lovers hastily formed at this very party for tonight only, people had slipped away from the crowded hall in twos to whisper sweet nothings or exchange close, physical tenderness.

We sat side by side on a sofa at the far edge of the terrace. Champagne was set before us as soon as we settled in.

"We worked together before, and we never really got along even then. He's someone who wears being an Alpha like a medal, and he has a history of causing problems at the company because of pheromones — we clashed over that issue more than once. As expected… he couldn't let things pass quietly today either."

He frowned deeply once and shook his head, as though regretting that he'd said more than suited him.

In my estimation, the man seemed to be craving Kun's attention with his whole body rather than being hostile toward him… but that was only my uncertain instinct, coming from someone with zero romantic experience.

A breeze blew in, cool enough to make the air conditioning seem entirely unnecessary. Directly in front of our seats, dense garden trees obscured half the night view. That was probably why this spot — the most secluded on the terrace — had been empty.

His distinct profile, leaning forward with his arms resting on his thighs, still seemed to be chewing over the unpleasantness left behind by what had just happened. I was looking at him and wondering if there was anything I could say to comfort him when an unfamiliar scent drifted under my nose.

The source of the fragrance was clearly him, sitting beside me. But it wasn't the scent I was familiar with — the scent I knew. The dark, heavy fragrance that nuna had called his signature was different from the one I recognized as his. The realization brought a deep wave of relief.

As it was his cologne, it shouldn't have mattered which one it was — and yet I couldn't explain to myself what criteria made that scent unpleasant while this one was acceptable. In any case, it wasn't something I could stop even if I disliked it.

And still — foolishly — I was simply relieved knowing that at this moment, I wasn't sharing that other scent with anyone else.

After a long moment of staring at a spot on the floor, lost in thought, he looked up at me with a bitter smile.

"I'm sorry. For showing you a pathetic scene. It was rather unseemly for a grown man."

I shook my head firmly several times.

"Saying one can't even seduce someone without pheromones. Honestly… I don't really have the right to criticize in that way, either."

Muttering as if to himself, he emptied his glass in one go.

I didn't know why he judged himself so harshly. Even Inwu hyung — his close friend — had described him as someone who didn't use his pheromones, like a person trying to become a Beta.

Perhaps the argument over pheromones just now was driving him — already strict with himself — toward excessive self-criticism.

"Director… I'm sure you could seduce anyone without pheromones. Whoever you wanted."

He paused mid-pour and turned to look at me. It had been an attempt at a joke meant to make him smile, and I worried it might have come out sounding like a remark that completely missed the mood.

"You think so?"

But seeing his faint smirk, it seemed the joke had gotten through.

"Yes. I don't think you'd need anything like pheromones."

I don't really feel that way, though. — He muttered that in English, as if to himself, then lifted his refilled glass and immediately drained half of it again.

"Director, you're handsome… brilliant at business… always impeccably dressed…"

He suddenly burst out laughing. A low, distinct sound. And with the last traces of his laughter still playing on his face, he looked at me.

"Are you trying to cheer me up right now?"

"It's a little… clumsy, isn't it?"

Heat rushed to my earlobes at the sheer immaturity of trying to comfort him by listing one-dimensional compliments worthy of a kindergartner. I was glad it was too dark to see clearly.

"Still — it's not a lie. You know it yourself, honestly. If you pretended not to know, that would be even more irritating."

Sneaking a glance up at him, I saw that the initial stiffness and self-reproach had faded considerably from his eyes and around his mouth. That was enough. The embarrassment was momentary. He hadn't laughed at my childish attempt to console him. Rather than laughing… his gaze as he looked at me had deepened.

I tensed automatically beneath his eyes as they traveled slowly over my face, carefully tracing every feature as if touching them. Was this way of scrutinizing someone's face a habit of his?

The scent stirred my senses, carried on the wind rustling through the branches. This time, it was the one I knew well.

I leaned forward without realizing it and breathed in. His shoulder was barely a hand's breadth away from mine.

"I thought you weren't wearing that perfume today."

"I mixed several. Having my scent overlap with someone else's bothers me even more than running into someone wearing the same clothes."

He said that as he emptied his glass and set it on the table. Then, resting his arm over the back of the sofa, he turned his body to face me. His firm, long arm stretched out behind my back.

Just him turning toward me intensified the fragrance. With his arm hooked over the back like that, it felt as though the scent was pouring out from the opening of his chest.

"Do you really want to cheer me up?"

I nodded. The arm resting on the back bent, and he began fiddling with my hair. His hand, lightly rubbing the ends of my hair, slipped down, brushed past the edge of my ear, and softly cupped the nape of my neck.

He slid closer, sharply tilting his head and pressing his lips right against my ear. Even just the moist warmth of his breath made my shoulder flinch.

"There is… a way, you know."

His whispered voice was like the promise of a secret that piqued curiosity. The husky low tone was sweet, as if gently scratching the inside of my belly.

His high nose grazed lightly past my ear, then slowly swept across my cheek. When it neared the tip of my nose, his face tilted, changing its angle. I pulled back just slightly — but it wasn't a rejection. It was only an action born from panic, surprise, and a touch of fear.

Our lips brushed against each other, fleetingly. Then the next moment he pressed in a little deeper, and firmly. Each time he moved his head, the soft weight of him pushed and yielded against me. Even from that shallow contact, I couldn't move at all.

His hot, dry lips took hold of my lower lip first, then my upper lip, in turn. He held them between his lips and drew at them as if coaxing out the juice within — sucking strongly and then releasing, over and over.

Caught in a distant, dizzying sensation, I fumbled with my hand and grabbed the hem of his jacket. My breath trembled; my shoulders and back stiffened rigidly and then went limp, repeatedly. I didn't know how to regain control of myself.

When I slowly blinked, there were his eyes staring at me from an impossibly close distance.

"This is our first kiss."

He whispered, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at me from a distance where our lips could brush.

My memory hadn't failed me.

I had replayed that night's events countless times since then, but I couldn't find a single instance where our lips had met. It wasn't that I had forgotten — a kiss simply hadn't been part of what happened that night.

I couldn't understand what it meant that a kiss had been omitted, even though we had rubbed ourselves together until we both came.

"I didn't want to take a kiss from someone who was in a mental panic."

It felt like an explanation that had somehow read my mind.

He added, slowly sucking my lower lip in once more and then releasing it.

"Intuitively — it felt like it might be your first kiss too."

"……"

Something deflated at the thought that he considered me the kind of person who hadn't even kissed anyone by this age, and a sudden urge to deny it rose up — even though his guess was correct.

And yet, thinking that even in that situation he had deliberately held back from kissing me because it was my first, his unexpected delicacy and self-control coaxed out a small, almost involuntary smile and eased some of the tension from me.

Had he imagined I had treasured my first kiss and assigned it great significance?

I hadn't set some high standard and deliberately saved it — but I also hadn't thought it was okay to just do it with anyone, anyhow. If a kiss had happened that day and I couldn't remember it, I might have regretted it.

Thinking about it that way, his judgment had been right. It couldn't exactly be called excessive or unnecessary consideration.

He gently stroked the back of my neck as if massaging it, then lightly scraped the surface of my lips with his teeth.

"How much of that day do you remember?"

"……"

Up until now, I had taken his behavior since that day as an unspoken message that we should treat the entire incident as if it had never happened.

But for me, it was my first sexual experience with another person, and it had been a shocking enough stimulus to change even my mechanical, joyless masturbation patterns.

I couldn't meet his eyes as I thought of the times I had come while remembering his lewd words — the ones that had fueled my excitement — and the strong grip of his hand working between my legs.

As I bit my lip and lowered my head, his lips followed. The tickling of his tongue at the spot where I'd bitten made me release it, and as if he'd been waiting, his lips sucked me in. The sensation of him chewing gently at the flesh made my shoulders curve inward.

"Judging by your reaction... you didn’t completely forget."

At the end of his voice, which held a hint of amusement, he moistened his lips with his tongue as if savoring a taste. Before I could say anything, my lips were swallowed again. From the moment our lips had first met, he hadn't pulled away for more than ten seconds.

The density of his scent, breathing at such close proximity, was intense. It felt as though he were breathing the scent itself into me through his lips. That fragrance, at this moment, was layering itself over my memories of last time, summoned by the stimulation being applied right now. It seemed that for me, this scent had become firmly linked to sexual imagery.

The hand stroking the back of my neck moved down to caress my shoulders and back, while his other hand unbuttoned my jacket.

His hand slipped inside my jacket and moved across my chest through the smooth fabric of my shirt. He found my nipple easily, pushed the bud upward with his middle finger, and pressed his lips back against mine. Lips still overlapping, he slowly rubbed them side to side, then up and down, drawing out the inner moisture until the deeper contact of wet flesh against wet flesh coaxed a faint moan from between my lips.

Beneath his middle finger, my nipple bent this way and that, growing harder. The harder it became, the more my body contracted — a thirst for his touch to crush and suck that spot more forcefully — and I grabbed his wrist in fear. But this time he pinched the flesh between his index finger and thumb and twisted it until it hurt. Yet it wasn't pain. It tingled.

"Here. Remember how I sucked here? You put it right in my mouth yourself."

I bit my lower lip. My brow furrowed without thinking, and my back arched. And yet, ridiculously, I wanted him not to stop this caress and teasing.

Because I remembered all of it — the pleasure that had shaken my whole body when he licked, sucked, and bit that spot I had never even been consciously aware of before.

His lips left mine and hovered near my ear, whispering low and slow.

"Ah… I want to suck it again."

His voice, playfully reminiscing about the sweetness of something delicious — yet undeniably full of want — made my blood vessels twitch and tighten. Instantly, that feeling surged powerfully upward. I felt like I might go crazy with the need to have him bite my nipple again, just like last time.

I clutched the lapel of his jacket as if clinging to something and let out a breath. Not missing the opening, his tongue pushed inside. He thrust it in so deep it felt like it could block my airway. My lower jaw fell open and his wet, supple flesh churned all through my mouth. It felt like drinking his scent as a liquid.

His hand wrapped around my thigh. The touch, gentle and soothing at first, gained viscosity and slid deeper. His hand rubbing the warm skin beneath my pants made not just my upper body but everything below my waist start to clench and tremble.

"Hhngh… ugh…"

Continuing the kiss was becoming difficult. I tore my lips away as if fleeing and buried my forehead in his shoulder. Embarrassingly, I was half-hard.

He, having lost the tongue he was sucking on, hugged my back as if patting it, lowered his head, and whispered close to my ear.

"Shall we go to the hotel?"

Already enveloped in his scent, I tilted my head toward the nape of his neck. The fragrance inhaled directly from his skin was like a drug. Greedily, I took one deep breath after another.

Looking down at me, he muttered a low curse and tried to quickly stand up.

"I…"

I grabbed him urgently and pulled him back. He shifted from standing to sitting back down beside me, made a show of sweeping my neatly styled hair behind my ear — there was nothing to sweep — and lowered his head close to my ear.

"What's wrong? I know you’re eager, but we still need to move. I have no intention of stopping within the limits of what's possible here, you know?"

"……"

Rather than confessing out loud that I was hard, it felt like it would be easier to simply open my shirt and show him my nipples. I resented my cock, swollen to the point of bursting from nothing but a kiss.

I lifted my head and looked at him. My eyes were clearly damp and swimming with desire and longing for him, but I had no choice but to hope he would notice my state.

He looked into my left eye, then my right, slowly, and then bumped his forehead gently against mine.

"I'm sorry. I was teasing, even though I knew. Honestly, I don't have any room to spare right now either… so there's no need to be embarrassed."

After calling for a car to be brought around, he made me take off my jacket. He draped it over my arm to roughly cover my lower half, and we stood up.

We squeezed through the crowded first-floor hall — where the jazz piano melody had by now been replaced by the DJ's dance track — and ran down the stairs hand in hand.

A different car from the one nuna and hyung had arrived in — probably the one he came in — was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The moment he put me in first and got into the back seat, he lunged and kissed me before the doorman could even finish closing the door.

As I received the cascade of his shoulders and lips, I glanced toward the front seat, and he cupped my cheek with his hand, forcing me to focus only on him. The moment the car started moving, a sliding blind dropped down over the window separating the front and back seats.

His strength, pushing me toward the door, kept my body from facing forward; I was half-reclined with my back against the panel. He, too, ungracefully climbed halfway onto the seat and wedged himself between my legs.

Like a boy discovering someone else's lips for the first time and falling completely captive to them, he clung to mine. He kissed me countless times — pecking, biting with his teeth, pressing deep, sucking and chewing. He rubbed his tongue against mine, coaxed my tongue into his mouth, filled it, and squeezed down.

These were not the kind of kisses where you close your eyes and savor each other's presence. We never broke eye contact the entire time.

He pulled my shirt out from my pants and shoved his hand inside. The contact of his bare hand on my skin made my back arch. I let out a groan and grabbed his shoulders. Still kissing me, he yanked off his jacket and tossed it aside carelessly. Then he grabbed my arm, guided it around his neck, pulled me onto his lap and held my back tight.

My cock, already hard, pressed against his body and my whole frame trembled. Shame forgotten, I tightened my grip around his neck and ground my erection against his lower abdomen. Feeling the hardness of his shaft below my balls gave me a measure of reassurance.

In that locked position, we indulged in each other's clothed bodies and tangled our tongues. With half-lidded, languid eyes, we openly showed our desire. His scent — like music creating a seductive atmosphere, or a hallucinogen that numbed reason — made me bold.

If a Beta could detect an Alpha's pheromones, we'd probably be halfway down the stairs, tangled up in the back seat of my car by now.

Inwu hyung's words came back to me.

Along with his assertion that Alphas and Omegas could be drawn to someone regardless of pheromones.

It was exactly as he'd said. He, a Golden Alpha, and I, a Beta, were burning with desire for each other without pheromones — so much so that we couldn't even wait the short time it took to reach the hotel room, already entangled in the back seat of the car.

"Having to hold back again just to get to the room. This is absolute hell."

He muttered in despair as he confirmed we were entering the hotel's driveway. Even as he spoke, his hand hadn't left my ass.

"I'm sorry. Can you endure hell for five more minutes — no, just three?"

His serious expression as he said it made me laugh. I was surprised I could still laugh in this situation. I nodded.

Holding his hand, our clothes disheveled and our breathing ragged, we crossed the lobby. Fortunately the elevator hall was empty late on a Sunday. If we'd run into a family with a young child, I might have been consumed by self-loathing while hiding my erection under my jacket.

The express elevator shot up to the forty-second floor in an instant.

It should have been instantaneous, but it felt agonizingly long. Just as he'd said — it was hell.

Feeling something about to overflow inside me, I covered my mouth with my jacket to hold it back, and he pulled me into an embrace from behind.

His arms, joined over my lower abdomen, gripped my waist tightly. If anyone had seen us, they'd have thought he was holding me upright because I couldn't stand on my own.

Two opposing urges pulled at me simultaneously: the desire to twist away and flee, and the desire to turn around, pull him close, and grind my body against his solid frame.

The former was the me still clinging to reason and inertia. The latter was a new me — one who had awakened to the pleasure that comes from satisfying desire, and to the domain of instinct.

Though it had only happened once, based on experience, I already knew which hand I would let myself be led by.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he snatched my wrist and strode quickly across the hall, and I followed, my legs barely cooperating, nearly dragged.

The moment he opened the door, we tumbled inside. No — he yanked me in forcefully. He tossed the card key carelessly onto the console table next to the entryway and wrapped his long arms around my back.

My jacket fell to the floor, and the next instant my back hit the wall of the corridor leading to the living room. But I didn't feel the pain. Our lips met again — as sweet as a single drop of liquor fallen at last onto the tip of the tongue after a long wait — and everything else was forgotten.

I, too, wrapped my arms around his back and held him so tightly his shirt wrinkled. As he bit and released my lips over and over, all my senses converged on my mouth, drawn by the stinging, dizzying suction.

Unable to withstand the force of him lunging as if to drive me to the bare floor, I staggered backward and hit my thighs against the back of the sofa. Then the round dining table — where we had all gathered for breakfast meetings throughout the fair — was shoved backward by him. A couple of chairs toppled over, but neither of us cared.

"Ugh."

After nearly losing my balance and falling several times as we pushed and shoved each other back, the dead end where we finally stopped was the floor-to-ceiling window.

He had cornered me against the forty-second-floor panoramic window overlooking the Tsim Sha Tsui nightscape, and for a moment he simply stared into my eyes from close range, breathing heavily.

His broad shoulders heaving right in front of me looked angry, as if I had betrayed him. Beneath his furrowed eyelids, his pale blue eyes seemed to fizz like carbonation. It was strange — even someone like him could become this undone because of desire.

Feeling the cool glass behind my back, I simply looked back at the desire radiating from him — a desire that felt like anger. I breathed in his scent, growing denser and darker in the space between us.

The next moment he tilted his head and pressed his lips against mine again — deeply this time, and despite his gaze, his mouth was purely soft. A shower of small kisses rained down, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing.

As if demanding something, he grabbed the nape of my neck with one hand, then spread his fingers and traced downward. His hand moved down the smooth fabric of my shirt, drawing a large curve down to my lower abdomen, where he deftly undid the belt buckle and pulled down the zipper with just one hand.

The moment the zipper parted in a V-shape, his hand pushed urgently inside my briefs.

"Ugh, hng…"

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sensation of his fingers wrapping around my cock and bit my lip. His large hand working inside my underwear created a volume that pushed my pants down until they fell to my ankles with a soft thud.

Instinctively I opened my eyes and looked down. The movement of his hand stroking my cock through the fabric was starkly visible. More obscene than if I'd been exposed directly, it made my skin throb.

His hand disappearing inside my underwear felt like it symbolized the intimate friction of coupling — sex itself.

The arm that wasn't inside my briefs braced itself on the glass pane at the elbow, and he pressed his lips close to my ear.

"I thought this last time, too."

He continued in a rough voice, rubbing my cock with his entire palm from the base upward.

"You're bigger than I expected."

I leaned my forehead against his shoulder, which stood before me like a solid wall, and shook my head.

"Why? It's pretty big, isn't it?"

You shouldn't compare yourself to me. Next to mine, anyone else would seem pathetic. — He added in a teasing voice, licking the curve of my earlobe with his hot tongue. It sounded like a joke, but I couldn't laugh. Even if it was a joke, the content was also true.

My hearing, growing damp and sensitive, left me with nothing more than a twitch of my shoulder.

"You look so innocent, but when I actually got you undressed your cock was big — it made me think you'd be insatiable… and then grinding it against my stomach… God, it was so hot."

I shook my head vigorously again. I didn't know if I wanted to deny what he said, or if I wanted him to stop whispering these things in my ear. But honestly, I didn't dislike the content of his words, or his whispering.

In my lowered head, my eyes were fixed on his hand fumbling inside my underwear. My shoulders hitched as if I were about to burst into tears. I covered my mouth with one hand and grabbed his side with the other. His arm, propped on the glass above my shoulder, gently but firmly pulled my hand away from my mouth. Deep inside my briefs, his fingertip tapped my balls. My hips jerked involuntarily.

"Don't just say no… Tell me how mine was. You were staring so intently."

"……"

"Look up."

At the soft command, I reluctantly lifted my forehead from his shoulder. His lips immediately came to mine — swallowing me, pressing as if to wring out the juice, then releasing. By now I couldn't tell if these lips were mine or his. From the continuous suction I could feel their swollen weight even when he wasn't kissing me.

He pressed his forehead against mine to keep me from bowing my head again and rubbed his nose tip against mine. At this distance there was no gap to breathe in that wasn't thick with his scent.

"How was it? Mine."

"Hng, hngh."

The rhythm of my breathing shattered completely as his broad palm pushed deep between my legs, past my balls.

The repeated friction below revealed his own arousal while simultaneously dragging my desire — still hesitating at the edge of daily inertia — roughly outside the bounds of reason.

To support my body, which felt about to collapse, I moved my hands from his side to his shoulders. His arm rubbing below with a force that could have lifted me was bunched hard as rock. I could tell he was restraining himself considerably.

Yet the movement of his hand — demanding an honest confession — remained blatant. As the stroking sped up, my legs spread apart, unstable. It became a ridiculous posture, but neither of us laughed. If anything, that awkward stance seemed to announce the sexual meaning of the act, only heightening my excitement.

"It was… big…"

And the excitement finally forced my mouth open.

"Is that all?"

He was grinning right in front of me, his face looking strangely exhilarated. My thoughts were tilting — preoccupied with images conjured by the hand moving between my thighs: insertion, thrusting, sex.

Each time his palm swept past below and pushed toward the back of my ass, the force jolted my body. His palm, slick with the pre-cum that had been dripping from me, created friction against the tender inner flesh and built heat down there. My heels lifted off the floor on their own.

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. If I was honest, it would be a relief. The torment would stop too.

"I wanted to touch it…"

It was the beginning of the confession. I held his neck tighter so he couldn't see my face.

"I thought it was… dirty… and exciting, too."

The memory of the distorted pleasure I had gotten from whispering forbidden words into his ear, and the sweet praise he had given me afterward, urged me on from deep inside.

"It felt like it was made for sex... Just looking at it made my thighs go numb… Ugh."

I had to stop the confession and bite down.

His hand, which had been rubbing my behind, was now pressing hard against my closed entrance. He hadn't pushed inside, but the force was such that he could have at any moment. If the angle of pressure shifted even slightly, it felt like his fingernails would dig in.

"What do you know about sex."

"……"

As if angered by the careless words of someone who didn't even know what sex was, his breathing grew ragged. He turned his head and bit my ear, then began to lightly scratch around my entrance. At the primal itch — as if he were scratching my internal organs — I did the unbelievable: still clutching his neck, I shook my hips impatiently as if urging him on.

He roughly shoved my underwear down.

As he worked, my cock — wet and a mess — was exposed, and I pressed it against his clothed hardness myself. It was a succession of unbelievable things, but I had no choice but to accept that this was me, or at least part of me.

You look so innocent, but when I actually got you undressed your cock was big — it made me think you'd be insatiable. That was his assessment of me in bed, and somehow, no matter how things had turned out this way, I didn't dislike the way he looked at me like that.

His cock was also hard, pulling the front of his pants completely taut.

The distinct shape of his erection, suggested by the heavy, rising volume, sent an exhilarating wave through my head. As I writhed and panted, he grabbed my ass with both hands and squeezed the flesh.

"I want to put it in…"

His voice was one that savored pain, swallowing each word whole.

"You know what I mean, don't you? Seo Yeehyeon — I want to enter you."

A moan escaped me at his desperate, anxious whisper. As my lips parted, he twisted his head and sucked on my lower lip. Simultaneously, he slid his hand — slick with my pre-cum — into the cleft between my cheeks and began rubbing in circles over my entrance.

"Will you let me find that sweet spot inside you... and rub against it with my cock?

"S-stop…"

I turned my head away from the excruciating arousal. As if he wouldn't allow me to look away, he immediately pursued me and swallowed my lips. He sucked both upper and lower lips in at once and pulled at them repeatedly. As he swallowed and sucked and ravaged me, by now I too had become part of his scent.

"Why? That's what sex is. You said mine was made for it. So I should do that for you."

A curse longer than his usual short Fuck followed. I couldn't be sure, lost in my daze as the fast-spoken words blurred past, but it sounded like he wanted to completely ruin me.

He gripped my ass hard enough to make the flesh ache, then forcefully spread my cheeks apart, stretching my unseen entrance to the side.

"I can't take it anymore. I want to put it in right now, thrust, and have sex with you."

It was the voice of a man desperate for penetration and release. The fact that I was the object of that desire made my insides throb. I, too, wanted him inside me.