The Scent is a Drug

He was waiting for me in the back seat, dressed casually rather than in a suit. Even though the sun had completely set, he was wearing sunglasses inside the car.

Though momentarily puzzled, I didn't press for a reason — he was someone with occasional odd whims.

The dull ache still lingering between my legs and the strange sensation of not quite being closed up made it awkward to settle into my seat. The reality that I — a male Beta — had just had sex with him — a male Alpha — was suddenly striking, made all the more pronounced by the discomfort that followed penetrative sex.

The doorman closed the door, and the car pulled away. It was the same driver from the day I went to meet Ms. Suki Kim.

"I'm sorry."

Just as the car completely cleared the hotel vicinity and merged onto the elevated highway, he spoke for the first time — an unexpected opening. I turned to look at him, but I couldn't tell where he was looking from behind the sunglasses.

"You must have been uncomfortable all day."

"I didn't think there would be any issues the next day… I'm fine. You really don't need to worry about it anymore. I've gotten much better while resting."

Frankly, I felt it would be awkward to receive any more consideration from him regarding my physical discomfort. Besides, the pain wasn't as unbearable or as bad as he seemed to fear.

Above all, this wasn't something he needed to apologize for. We had spent the night together because we both wanted to, and he had been perfectly considerate — taking his time to ensure I was fully relaxed, even though we weren't lovers. An apology from him would only make me feel used, and I would rather not hear one if at all possible.

"You're quite resilient, Seo Yeehyeon. I thought you might be a little more… shaken."

Tapping the slender paper bag in his hand against his crossed leg, he muttered without looking at me.

"I'm glad you're a resilient person, Seo Yeehyeon."

I couldn't be entirely certain what he meant by shaken.

If he meant the kind of upheaval that comes from mistaking impulsive sex — born of mutual attraction and chemistry — for the kind that naturally follows after confessing feelings and confirming them. Mistaking the intimacy felt after a night together for genuine romantic feelings.

It might not have been entirely untrue.

No — to be precise, the sex was merely the catalyst for any upheaval, but it was true that my current state was far from stable or serene.

"Well… you just have to accept things for what they are after they happen, right?"

Whether you liked it or not.

I added that almost to myself, looking out at the Hong Kong cityscape receding in the opposite direction from when I'd arrived.

The experiences and emotions that filled me — in different colors and textures — were things I never could have anticipated when I first encountered the city while listening to Prince's Kiss in the Phantom vehicle, as Yuni nuna and Juhan hyung had been so wild about.

Looking back, ever since meeting him, it had been a relentless series of variables I couldn't foresee or prepare for. Not just the events — the feelings I had facing him as well.

I recalled myself just a few days ago, thinking the meeting with Ms. Suki Kim was the biggest event of this trip to Hong Kong, feeling a shy excitement from just a single glance meeting mine in the rearview mirror. To put it kindly, I had been naive; to put it bluntly, I had been emotionally naked — without even a thin layer of fabric to protect myself from danger.

I hadn't expected anything.

I couldn't claim I hadn't held any expectation that last night's incident might become the catalyst for a change in our relationship, in his stance toward me. That was why I was ashamed of the hope that only I knew about.

I searched his demeanor — consistently flat-toned as he stared at the screen attached to the back of the seat in front of him — but couldn’t find a trace of anything resembling attraction, desire, or affection.

He handed me an envelope, explaining that he had arranged for me to expedite departure procedures upon arrival at the airport. Inside were the fast-track documentation proving my VIP status and a first-class ticket.

"Take tomorrow off. I told them you were showing the same symptoms as last time, so everyone will understand."

The excuse he offered skillfully danced between a lie and the truth.

"I'm fine. Thanks to your consideration, I rested well. I expect to be back to full condition by tomorrow."

The first class printed on the ticket, combined with the day off I was receiving as the person he had spent the night with — it all felt inappropriate.

I think I finally understood the source of the discomfort that had been building inside me the more consideration he showed.

It wasn't just the awkwardness of unfamiliarity with such luxurious treatment. Within all that kindness, I felt something akin to an obligation.

From his perspective, I knew that not pretending to be unaware of someone whose body was made uncomfortable by sleeping with him was simply good manners. I understood that. But still.

Manners. Kindness.

At first glance, those words sound rooted in affection — but they also meant treating someone outside a certain boundary with politeness.

Perhaps I had expected everything he provided to resemble the affection one shows a lover. That was the naked truth of my feelings — my unguarded self.

I let out a hollow laugh thinking about whether returning the ticket — rejecting the kindness he extended equally to all his partners — was the way to preserve my pride. I wasn't the heroine of a drama, after all.

Suddenly, I remembered something he had said when he was absentmindedly eating the nuts Juhan hyung had brought to the VIP Preview. It had been an insignificant comment, tossed out casually as he passed by.

"Someone take these away. I don't even like these, but if they're in front of me, I just keep eating them."

If our first time together had been emergency first aid for him, perhaps last night's sex was just an incident that occurred on the same principle as reaching absentmindedly for a snack.

It just so happened that a sensitive spot had been attacked in a rather messy way, and I happened to be the one right beside him trying to ease the mood — which somehow led to a sexual atmosphere. Perhaps having slept together once before had made the temptation easier to give in to. This isn't an attempt to paint him as depraved by casting myself as a victim of the encounter. After all, I was the one who willingly gave in to that temptation.

But if I had felt even a flicker of genuine human affection for him — if I hadn't been certain I could stay composed after sleeping with him — I should have protected myself by being more cautious in my choices.

The car slowed as it approached the departure gate area.

"I hope this business trip turns into a good opportunity for you."

"……"

I turned to look at him, but his face remained fixed on the dark, unlit screen — entirely blank.

"I look forward to a positive response regarding the paintings."

I briefly considered the possibility that an experienced man like him might have his emotions shaken by a sudden one-night encounter. The answer was already evident in his demeanor: a steady calmness and composure, neither more intimate nor even colder than before we had spent the night together.

The car came to a complete stop. His face, still hidden behind sunglasses, turned toward me. I couldn't be sure if he was looking at me even behind the lenses.

"See you in Seoul."

Perhaps it was a relief that I couldn't confirm the look in his eyes as he regarded me.

Sitting in seat 1A — a seat I'd likely never occupy again in my lifetime, given as a kind of payment for the night — I looked down at the last receding view of Hong Kong and calmly accepted the reason why I had been reacting to him with such uncharacteristic emotion.

It was no more than a slight emotional release from having to witness the ending I had already braced myself for. Because of that, I felt neither shocked nor as if I were plummeting to the ground.

I was starting to like him.

The hopes and disappointments that existed only in my own mind, the uncharacteristic sensitivity that caused me to exaggerate things beyond what they were — those were signs that, unfortunately, I liked him.

There wasn't a distinct starting point from which this had begun. At least, I couldn't identify that point now.

I had been bothered by the way he treated me, sometimes felt rebellious toward him, and had hoped that he, too, would feel provoked by me — that his expression would change, that he would see me again.

Perhaps the feelings had begun to take root much earlier than I had expected.

It wasn't particularly strange to dream of him as someone I could be with romantically. He wasn't a gentle or easy person to deal with, but he was undeniably someone I wanted to know better, to get closer to — a person I found deeply attractive.

I simply hadn't known I would develop feelings of expectation and desire for another person. Even less did I know I would harbor the foolish greed of choosing, as the object of those feelings, someone who stood at the very pinnacle of everyone's attention and favor.

Because the me I knew was a coward who tried to minimize the exhaustion of emotions like disappointment and misery by asking for the absolute minimum, and choosing accordingly.

Did I, by wanting him, become brave?

Not at all. I had simply witnessed a new side of myself — one that responded to the temptation of sex far too easily, even before I had truly acknowledged the feelings themselves.

A flight attendant approached and asked if she could prepare the meal. Staring blankly at her flawless, neat smile, I requested a glass of beer. A cold can of beer and a glass were quickly set on the small table. The world he lived in was like magic, where everything was instantly prepared with just a word.

The flight attendant closed the sliding door and disappeared after telling me to rest comfortably. Though isolated from my surroundings and alone, I began drinking the beer straight from the can in an unfamiliar comfort that offered no ease at all.

He had said, after the Old Future shoot, that sleeping with someone who wasn't a lover didn't automatically make one promiscuous — that an adult of his age couldn't always resolve their sexual urges through masturbation just because they didn't have a partner.

That's what he had said, and nuna and hyung — and even I, though I didn't say it aloud — had generally agreed with that view.

Back then, I had wondered if someone I liked could hold the same position regarding others — whether they could avoid being hurt if the person they liked slept with someone else.

In a way, my thinking back then had been wildly off the mark. Someone I liked could feel miserable even from sleeping with me, rather than someone else.

I smiled wryly as I realized, belatedly, that his comment about Seo Yeehyeon being resilient was perhaps another way of saying he was glad I hadn't confused impulsive sex with genuine romantic feelings.

By then, the lights of Hong Kong had completely disappeared from my view.