“You work out sometimes?”
After Deputy Director Choi Hyeong-il left, Boss Yang turned to the lone Marvin and asked.
“Yeah, anything,” Marvin replied.
“I mean, we’ve got plenty of people watching the guards already. We’ve got a separate sponsor for that. They’re not even family, so I can’t just throw them into the same pool… Sigh. Just come with me for now. You’ve got a good memory for faces, right? You’ve done similar work before.”
Scratching the back of his neck, Boss Yang led Marvin to the holding area where the Omegas recruited under the Allocation System waited. Most were young men in their early twenties—some burdened by heavy debts, others simply without prospects.
All of them had volunteered. Their sole aim was money. They were desperate to cultivate regulars—big spenders who’d slip the hotel handsome kickbacks.
“First, learn their faces in here and send up whoever’s been assigned a room. If any guest is causing trouble, go sort it out. Don’t let the kids get hurt. Got it?”
And that was how Marvin’s duties began. At first, he was told to clear away trash, run room service—every odd job imaginable. Then, once he’d found his footing, they suddenly made him the hall manager.
Since the room-service team ran separately, they figured he might as well handle the heavier lifting. Besides, the waiters tended to follow Marvin’s lead without complaint.
Marvin paid it no mind. His purpose had been the suppression drugs all along. Though he followed Deputy Director Choi’s orders, what he really needed was Omega suppressant.
Unlike Alphas—who could ride out a rut through sex alone—B-type Omegas had to take suppressants in tandem. The government provided the drug free of charge under welfare, and anyone could get a dose at a hospital by showing their trait-type ID.
But Marvin’s resident registration still listed him as an Alpha, so he couldn’t go through the official channels. The drug had only a week’s shelf life, making it scarce; even if he managed to get some, it cost a fortune—more than he could afford.
Working at Daegyeong suited him perfectly. The Omegas under the Allocation System received an emergency stash of suppressants from the state. Since they couldn’t use it all, it was simply discarded—so Boss Yang lost nothing.
Thus their interests aligned, and months slipped by. These days, they even gave him the title of Manager and worked him hard. In the boss’s absence, he was the acting representative, the staff made clear.
Naturally, others began to suspect their relationship. “A rolling stone kicked out a settled one,” the room-service team muttered, openly hostile.
Smoke curled into the air. Even without inhaling deeply, Marvin’s head throbbed. He knew the cause: he’d need a dose before leaving today. Just as he stubbed out his cigarette and turned to go—
“Mind if I bum one?”
A figure emerged from the shadows. Startled, Marvin froze. It was the man who’d been entertained in the VIP room today.
Marvin’s memory was sharp enough to recognize him instantly—but any man that handsome would be unforgettable.
Despite his imposing air, the man had manners. Now, in a polite, measured voice, he asked for a cigarette, and Marvin found it hard to refuse.
“Of course.”
Marvin bowed slightly and held out the entire pack. The man plucked a cigarette from midair and regarded Marvin silently.
Oh—his lighter.
Realizing late, Marvin stepped forward and struck a flame. In the flicker, the man’s face appeared different from how it had looked under the VIP-room lights.
They say attitude shapes one’s aura. Back there, he seemed in his late thirties; now he looked only four or five years older than Marvin.
Either he was a prodigy or he had an extraordinarily youthful visage. Marvin hoped for the former—if he looked younger than his years with that face, life would be unbearably unjust.
Marvin stared for a moment, but the man remained impassive. Unbothered by Marvin’s gaze, he pocketed one hand and exhaled the smoke. He wasn’t one to savor a cigarette—he’d burn through it and be gone.
Sure enough, after a few drags, he flicked the butt to the floor and ground it under his shoe.
“I’ve been wondering,” he said, turning to face Marvin.
“When you work here, do you cover ‘hits’ for free?”
“Pardon?”
Taken aback, Marvin unconsciously replied with a question.
“You’ve got a boyfriend, right? You wouldn’t let him go this long without care. So I’m guessing you handle it in-house.”
“I’m not sure what you mean…”
“Manager, I think you’re in heat—but do you really think the smell of smoke masks it?”
Marvin’s expression stiffened. His dark pupils, half-hidden in shadow, quivered.
How did he know?
Marvin was certain it wasn’t pheromones. Since his trait shifted, his pheromones had vanished; that’s why even the hotel staff suspected yet couldn’t confirm.
Reading the chill in Marvin’s eyes, the man chuckled.
“So it was a secret. Well, VIPs here probably wouldn’t like that.”
It sounded like he doubted Marvin could entertain. He murmured to himself as he turned to leave—apparently only curious, not particularly invested.
Marvin was the one left awkward.
“Um, Prosecutor—”
He called out. The man paused, but his interest had faded—Marvin seemed to matter little. Again, Marvin panicked.
“Well, no one knows yet. It’s only recently manifested, so it isn’t obvious. And with that look, no one would guess you’re B-type…”
The man waited, expression blank, as if to say, “So?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself. You’ll be back often… so I’ll make sure today’s little scene doesn’t repeat.”
Marvin clasped his hands politely and bowed, but the man gave no response. An awkward silence fell. Marvin’s downcast eyes flicked upward.
Doesn’t like flattery, huh?
The man was hard to read. Given his line of work, Marvin assumed he preferred curt efficiency, so he stripped away the niceties—but it didn’t work.
Sorry, I overstepped—without the boss here, I just meddled. Should I lay it on thicker? These prosecutors are picky.
“‘Take good care’… What do you mean, exactly?”
The man’s words lifted Marvin’s head. He stared impassively again.
“Do you mean you’ll let me in for nothing?”
“Pardon?”
“Or are you going to entice me with the Omegas? You’ve got two at it today—so on a real rut day, how about five?”
It was a teasing suggestion—but the man’s face remained dead serious, staring at Marvin as if daring him to answer.
Marvin realized this might be an outright solicitation. In his short time here, one truth had become clear: the clientele all wanted the same thing. No matter how gentlemanly they pretended, before money and sex they were ever indulgent.
“Here, we operate on fixed rates.”
Marvin cleared his throat and delivered the line. The man sneered, as if Marvin’s words were absurd. Turning back, he strolled slowly toward Marvin.
“In Seoul, few places stick to prices like that. Very honest business. Or is that whiskey you offered me just that expensive?”
“Pardon?”
Hit precisely on the core, the question unnerved Marvin. Yet the man, despite wearing a prosecutor’s coat for free, seemed well versed in the trade.
“Where do you source your Omegas? These don’t look local.”
Marvin’s wide, practiced salesman’s smile faltered. He forced a calm tone.
“I really don’t know.”
There was nothing to gain from playing along. He’d feign ignorance and shut down.
“You’re a tight-lipped manager. Doesn’t suit you to be so reticent.”
The man took a couple of steps and now loomed before Marvin. The glow from the main wing’s lights cast his shadow over Marvin.