Snort, snort, Keith’s horse let out an impatient huff. The sound of hooves striking the ground echoed in Yeonwoo’s ears with unnatural clarity.
In truth, Yeonwoo couldn’t hear anything that wasn’t connected to Keith.
He watched, helpless, like he was licking the man with his eyes.
The match began. Players mounted on horses raised their mallets and dashed forward—but Yeonwoo only saw Keith. As if they were the only two people in existence.
The way Keith expertly tugged the reins, the way he swung his mallet to strike the ball, the way he charged forward and pressured his opponents from horseback—
Even the beads of sweat rolling down his brow entered Yeonwoo’s eyes with stark clarity. His heart pounded so hard it hurt, and before he knew it, he was clutching his chest.
From somewhere far off, a whisper floated through, telling him what he was feeling. And then he realized it—
That Keith was a man,
That Keith was an apex alpha,
And that Yeonwoo, in contrast, was a painfully ordinary beta—none of it mattered in that moment.
His heart was racing for Keith alone, screaming at full force.
Ah. I’ve fallen for him.
That truth struck Yeonwoo like a jolt of electricity. And then, suddenly, Keith was galloping straight toward him.
As if the world were moving in slow motion, Keith approached, each second stretched and surreal. Yeonwoo could only watch, dumbfounded, unable to believe it was really happening. He didn’t hear the shouting from the crowd, nor whatever Keith was yelling. He just stared, paralyzed.
Whack!
A sharp sound snapped him out of it. But it still took several seconds for him to fully process what had happened. Screams erupted from all sides. Yeonwoo’s mind sluggishly began to rewind the sequence of events like film.
With a crash, Keith fell from his horse—right in front of him. Screams rang out again as the unbelievable scene unfolded. Staff rushed in from all directions. The match was halted. Keith struggled to sit up. Yeonwoo just watched him.
Eventually, Yeonwoo pieced it together:
A ball had come flying toward him.
Keith, galloping at full speed, had struck it away with his mallet—
And that caused him to lose balance and fall from the horse.
The match resumed, but Keith didn’t return. His forehead was gashed and bleeding. Everyone around had gone stiff with tension as he was helped to the medical tent. Another player was subbed in, but the whole arena felt deflated.
Yeonwoo stared, dazed, in the direction Keith had gone, then drifted away from the crowd.
When he found Jennifer and asked where Keith had been taken, she pointed toward the tent without hesitation.
<Oh… I just… I was worried. Since he got hurt because of me.>
Yeonwoo added an unnecessary explanation, but Jennifer didn’t react much. Her gaze had already shifted to where Grayson was laughing with ease. That alone made Yeonwoo feel somewhat relieved.
The medical tent stood off in a quiet, secluded area. Hidden like this, it would be hard for the general public to find injured players. Maybe that was the point—especially when the player in question was an apex alpha. Rabid fans would swarm otherwise.
On his way there, Yeonwoo spotted a few people sneaking glances and asking where Keith had gone. He overheard a staff member answer flatly:
<He went to the hospital, obviously.>
Disappointed, they turned away. If Yeonwoo hadn’t been helping with the match, he might’ve heard the same lie. Even if Keith had been injured because of him. That thought stirred something foolishly hopeful in Yeonwoo’s chest as he approached the tent.
But even once he found it, he couldn’t bring himself to go in. He needed time to prepare—most of all, mentally.
After finally gathering his courage, he took a step forward. Every footfall felt like it was weighed down with unbearable gravity. The flap of the tent hung loosely, no sound coming from within. But he knew Keith was inside. There was undeniable proof:
His scent.
Keith’s pheromones floated in the air—sickeningly sweet, impossible to resist.
Gulp.
Yeonwoo swallowed hard. His throat stung and ached, but this might be his only chance to ever see Keith again. As if pushed from behind—or maybe drawn in—he took another step forward. The scent thickened, his mind hazed proportionally.
……
Lifting the flap carefully, Yeonwoo was surprised by the size of the space inside. A metal cart was neatly stocked with medical supplies. Past it, a portable bed stood in the corner.
Keith lay on it.
A large gauze pad covered his forehead. His face was pale, eyes shut. Yeonwoo’s heart plummeted.
What if something was wrong?
But logic pushed emotion down. If it were serious, Keith wouldn’t have been left alone like this. He’d have been taken to a real hospital—not laid out in a temporary tent.
That thought steadied him slightly. Still, the bandage across Keith’s neat forehead tugged at Yeonwoo’s chest.
What if it scars that face?
Even the idea made him feel unbearable guilt. As he furrowed his brows, Keith suddenly opened his eyes. Yeonwoo gasped, breath caught in his throat.
Sunlight filtered through the seams in the canvas, casting golden patches inside the tent. Dust danced in the light. Beyond the glowing haze, Keith stared at him.
Ah.
Yeonwoo just watched as Keith slowly sat up. The words he had prepared so carefully vanished from his head. He simply stood there, dumb.
Keith was the first to speak.
<……Huh?>
Still stunned, Yeonwoo echoed him stupidly. Keith gave a soft chuckle. Yeonwoo’s knees almost gave out. He barely caught himself before collapsing.
Then Keith asked, <You okay?>
Yeonwoo froze. Keith remembered his face—he remembered the person he’d saved in that fleeting moment. The emotion swelled so intensely he couldn’t speak. He only nodded.
Keith smiled. A smile meant for him alone. It made Yeonwoo's heart burn.
He needed to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come. While he was frozen, Keith extended a hand. Yeonwoo stepped forward, eyes fixed only on him. With each step, his heartbeat doubled.
When their hands met, Yeonwoo’s whole body trembled.
<……?>
Suddenly, Keith pulled him forward by the wrist. Caught off guard, Yeonwoo toppled onto Keith’s chest. Keith's arm wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him close. Yeonwoo ended up seated on Keith’s lap.
Keith buried his nose against Yeonwoo’s neck and inhaled deeply. Yeonwoo’s eyes widened in shock, body shaking. Keith sniffed again and murmured:
<……A beta?>
Yeonwoo nodded.
Keith tilted his head. <Really?> Then he smiled. Yeonwoo gasped for breath, trying desperately to swallow air.
Keith opened his mouth—and bit his neck.
<……Hah.>
Yeonwoo sucked in a sharp breath. The sensation of teeth softly but persistently sucking his skin made him shudder. Trembling, he hesitantly lifted his hands and placed them on Keith’s shoulders. Keith grabbed them, guided them around his neck, then—
Bit down.
Yeonwoo flinched. Keith’s hand gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. His palm stroked down Yeonwoo’s back, then came around to the front.
<Even for an East Asian, you really have no chest, huh?>
Keith snickered, hand sliding lower.
Yeonwoo couldn’t stop him. Keith sank his teeth into a nipple.
Yeonwoo gasped and grabbed Keith’s head. Keith alternated between licking and biting, fingers trailing down bare skin.
Yeonwoo couldn’t think. Keith’s pheromones soaked him to the bone. He clung to the man, gasping as Keith groped his body.
When a hand slipped into his pants and grabbed his ass, Yeonwoo’s mouth fell open.
But the one who screamed wasn’t him—it was Keith.
<What the fuck?>
Yeonwoo, dizzy with pheromones, didn’t immediately react. Keith shoved him away hard. Pain exploded through Yeonwoo’s body as he hit the floor.
Keith leapt up and stared at him with murderous eyes. The sweet scent from before had turned chaotic, choking the air. Yeonwoo backed away, sitting up in a daze. Keith hissed:
<You’re… a guy?>
Yeonwoo blinked, startled. But there was no need to answer. It was obvious from the evidence between his legs—his half-undressed pants made it plain.
Keith’s gaze dropped to the small, shriveled penis visible under Yeonwoo’s open waistband. His expression twisted.
He slapped a hand over his mouth—and turned around, dry heaving violently. Yeonwoo could only stare at his broad back as he retched.
<You filthy pervert! What the hell did you just do to me?!>
Keith’s voice was hoarse with rage. His violet eyes now gleamed gold—brilliant like desert sand under sunlight.
What…?
Yeonwoo, barely conscious, blinked in confusion. Some people’s eye color changed with their emotions, didn’t it?
At the time, he hadn’t known.
That when apex alphas released a surge of pheromones, their eyes could change color.
As he sat there, dazed, Keith’s rage spread like a storm. His pheromones flooded the tent, so thick Yeonwoo could barely breathe.
Keith looked around as if searching for a weapon. Panic surged through Yeonwoo. He scrambled to his feet, terrified.
If he didn’t run, Keith might actually kill him. And there was no reason he wouldn’t.
There was no time to explain who had initiated what. Keith reached for a pole.
Yeonwoo shrieked and fled. He tripped, smashed into the ground, but pain didn’t even register.
Keith roared behind him, cursing, hurling insults and threats. Yeonwoo ran. Stumbled. Never looked back.
Not until Keith’s scent had completely vanished behind him—only then did Yeonwoo collapse, gasping for air, on the ground.
***
By the time Yeonwoo returned home, it was already past midnight. Since he had missed Li Wei and the others, he was forced to walk back alone.
Staggering, he stepped into his makeshift room—one side of the living room partitioned off with a cheap panel wall. He was so exhausted he didn’t want to think about anything anymore. All he wanted was to fall asleep and forget everything.
He felt like he had a slight fever, but he ignored it and collapsed onto the bed.
A miserable ache filled a corner of his chest. Keith had mistaken him for a woman. That was why he had saved him, why he kissed him, why he had tried to sleep with him.
That level of disgust…
A long sigh slipped from Yeonwoo’s lips. He suddenly remembered the moment Keith had sniffed out his pheromones. Had Keith been disappointed to find he was a beta? If he had been an omega, would it have been different? Would Keith have accepted that he was male if he were an omega?
There was no way to get those answers now. He was a beta—and a man—and Keith despised him.
Without even washing up, Yeonwoo closed his eyes and fell asleep. He was so tired he could barely breathe. All he wanted, desperately, was to wake up and have forgotten everything that had happened today.
And yet, it was that insignificant decision—that moment of negligence—that would change his life.
That day, he should have gone to the nearest pharmacy and taken something to flush out the pheromones, even temporarily. At the very least, he should’ve scrubbed his body thoroughly to cleanse himself of the scent.
If he had done that, then Keith’s pheromones—clinging heavy to his skin and filtering into him through breath and flesh—wouldn’t have been absorbed.
And if they hadn’t been absorbed, then his body wouldn’t have mutated.
And if it hadn’t mutated, he wouldn’t have awoken nearly two days later, burning with fever… as an omega.
But more unbearable than anything else—was this:
Even though someone’s entire life had been flipped upside down, the person who caused it didn’t remember a thing.
Yeonwoo realized this clearly when, after graduation and a bit of work experience, he was hired as Keith Knight Pittman’s secretary.
Keith didn’t recognize him at all. To him, Yeonwoo was just “that male secretary.”
Standing before him, heart pounding, Yeonwoo had heard only this from Keith’s utterly indifferent expression:
<Whether you're an omega or an alpha, I don't care. I don’t deal with men. Just do your job properly.>
He didn’t know whether that was meant to reassure him—or crush any hopes of something more.
And for the next two years, Keith made good on those words. He ignored Yeonwoo completely.
His romantic partners came and went frequently. Sometimes they were betas. Sometimes omegas. But never—not even once—a man.
The problem had never been that Yeonwoo was a beta.
He realized it not long after:
The problem was the thing hanging between his legs instead of a chest.
As long as he had that, Keith would never turn to look at him.
The day he finally accepted it, Yeonwoo bid farewell to his first love...
He got drunk out of his mind and cried himself to sleep.
***
……
Blinking blankly, Yeonwoo only returned to reality after several seconds of emptiness. He still felt hazy, but the fatigue had lessened. Rubbing at his eyes where they felt gritty, he sat up. The time was ten minutes before his alarm was set to ring.
He rose slowly, smoothed his hair, and checked his clothes. After one last glance around the room, he unlocked the office door. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his appearance. Proof of that came when a secretary from the team, who had just finished compiling the report he had requested, saw him and greeted him with a smile, just like any other day.
Yeonwoo nodded back politely and began reviewing the documents.
In five minutes, the door would open—and that man would walk in. As always, Keith would stride confidently into the room, pass right by Yeonwoo without pause, just like the very first day they met.
Yeonwoo lifted his head with a neutral expression and listened to the approaching footsteps in the corridor.
That moment drew closer by the second.
And in tandem, Yeonwoo shut down his heart—one piece at a time.
What had once felt like a fading illusion—those footsteps—now became reality.
Standing straight, hands lightly holding the report, Yeonwoo waited for the door to open.
And then, it did.
Keith appeared.
With the same faint smile he always wore, Yeonwoo greeted him.
“Did the meeting go well, sir?”
As if nothing had happened.