A neatly groomed Omega sat pressed into the seat on the man’s other side. His expression told Marvin he’d finally met his type. Though he was busy talking business now, it was plain he expected this man’s attention soon and reacted exaggeratedly to every gesture and word, ready to pounce the moment the chance came.
“Enough. We’ve already done intros and a song each—now let’s get down to business. Who wants to sit here all night? Open up the rooms. It’s already gone wild over there.”
Hwang Woo-tae pointed toward a tangle of bodies. A pack of small-time players had come back hoping for a laugh—and they weren’t wasting a second. Before even getting a room, they were dragging one Omega after another off to do their share.
At the back, one guy was panting oddly—maybe high. The Omega pinned under him giggled at being smothered in sloppy kisses. That was the instigator. A staffer who’d been hovering slipped beside Marvin and whispered:
“That’s the mayor’s son. Hwang Yu-sang’s boy.”
Marvin had heard the county governor’s son had been snooping around this scene since his father’s reelection last year. When a non-Omegaverse wants in, they attach themselves to someone powerful—today he’d chosen well. It was the chairman of Jinkang Shipping, Yoon Jo-beom, hosting a prosecutor. Who’d dare make a scene? Marvin forced his sales smile and stroked his chin.
What a pain.
He wanted to tell them to do as they pleased and walk away. Every time he had to handle these clowns, he felt sick. What on earth was he doing in this cesspool? Even so, he pitied himself for trying to dodge the filth.
Marvin sighed, turned to the staff waiting behind him, and said:
“Open rooms 405, 409, and 410. Let them in—and send up any unassigned Omegas now.”
“Now you’re talking,” Hwang Woo-tae spat, grabbing his crotch as he stood. Then Marvin’s next words froze him in place.
“We’ll open the rooms, but first I need IDs from anyone I haven’t met. I’ll verify your Allocation System approval date and escort you right in. Sorry, but I need to see the two gentlemen in the back and one up front. Please cooperate.”
At Marvin’s announcement, Yoon Jo-beom’s animated gesture—mid-explanation—fell silent. “Hey, Director Kim!” Hwang Woo-tae’s shout echoed, but a hotel staffer lunged to restrain him.
The man beside Yoon lifted his head. He realized “one up front” meant him. His gaze, which had been drifting slowly, locked onto Marvin’s face. Their eyes met. Marvin involuntarily faltered.
The man was stunning. No wonder the Omega beside him wouldn’t budge. His nose, jawline, cheekbones were sharp and cool—but his eyes were unexpectedly exotic and deep. Every proportion was perfect.
It was as if he’d been carved, not born. Symmetry, bone structure, even the shape of his Adam’s apple—he embodied every twenty-first-century ideal.
Marvin, struck by how remarkable he looked, stared unabashedly, not noticing the man had been sizing him up too.
The man’s gaze traveled from Marvin’s head to toe, then narrowed into a curious expression. Marvin, however, merely enjoyed the faint smile curling the man’s lips, thinking, He must smile like that often.
Yoon Jo-beom’s voice pulled him back.
“Who are you? You work for Owner Yang?”
Snap out of it, Marvin thought, and offered a crisp greeting.
“I’m Kim Ma-bin. We’ve met before, Chairman.”
He bowed respectfully. Even if someone didn’t recall meeting him, feigning memory lapse was an old trick—just bow and keep silent.
“Kim Ma-bin? What kind of name is that? Lived abroad?”
That was the second time he’d asked.
“I manage here. I know I seem a bit old-fashioned. Hey, Director Kim—stop that and fetch Owner Yang. Tell him the chairman’s here. Wait—don’t just stand there; go bring him.”
“He’s away today. Please speak with me. Those whose IDs are verified may enter.”
Marvin forced another clownish smile to persuade them. He meant: they’d all get what they wanted if he cut the mayor’s son loose. Even Hwang Woo-tae seemed to catch on, his voice rising.
“Damn, why can’t you read the room? You gonna keep us here all night? Even a nutjob needs some sense. Word’ll get around about this place if you keep screwing up.”
He turned once, craning his neck as if amazed anyone would dare argue. Unfortunately, the governor’s son was too busy plunging into his Omega to notice.
“Christ…”
Hwang Woo-tae ground out an expletive at someone unknown.
“Enough. Let him work if he wants, but leave him be. Yang went to Daejeon today, right?”
Yoon Jo-beom cut in, producing his phone with a genial smile, delighted by his own generosity of letting subordinates handle things. He leaned back, tapped through his contacts.
“This guy—teaches the staff and leaves us hanging.”
Muttering, he dialed. “Hey, it’s me.” He was showing off, repeating, “There’s a new prosecutor here.” Three times.
But the new prosecutor merely watched impassively, propped on one elbow as though watching a fire across a river, betraying no emotion.
An outsider. His clothes, watch, shoes—all clashed with this place. Though friendly to Yoon, he kept his distance from the group. Marvin guessed at his thoughts: maybe he was quietly amused by these local buffoons desperate to curry his favor—even if he pretended to mind his manners.
Seoul’s prosecutor.
Marvin speculated about the stranger’s true feelings: perhaps he sat there detached, mocking those who had dragged him to a provincial tourist hotel, waiting to play the grand role once—and only once—before heading back to Seoul.
Frankly, Marvin didn’t care. He’d seen enough of such types. Maybe a few would shine somewhere, but most Korean prosecutors were ugly, self-serving, and obsessed with their careers.
This one had just come down to Oseong—one more he’d least like to be tied to and most want to avoid.