Setting: Elementary School – Late Afternoon
POV: Ho In-su
It was just past dismissal when Ho In-su felt the air shift. The scent. The weight. Like someone had opened a door to another world—and that world was now standing in the hallway of a cheerful, brightly colored elementary school.
He looked up from his desk just as the door creaked open.
And there he was.
Lee Yohan. In a dark charcoal suit, the top button of his shirt undone, hands in his pockets, looking like a villain who'd taken a wrong turn and ended up in a crayon box.
Every child had already gone home. Thank god.
"...What are you doing here?" In-su asked, half-exasperated, half stunned.
Yohan scanned the room slowly, as if trying to make sense of its soft walls, the little paper stars on the bulletin board, and the tiny chairs far too small for a man like him.
"You didn't answer my message," Yohan said simply.
In-su blinked. "I was teaching."
"You said you'd text when your shift ended."
"I didn't realize I was under house arrest."
Yohan walked further in, his gaze landing on the mess of worksheets and picture books stacked on In-su's desk. He picked up a drawing—a child's crayon sketch of a tree and a smiling Omega holding hands with a lopsided Alpha.
"You teach them about dynamics?"
In-su stood up. "About identity, kindness, and boundaries. Yes."
Yohan's jaw twitched slightly. "And do you teach them that Alphas will protect them, as long as they stay obedient?"
The bitterness in his tone caught In-su off guard. For a moment, the air between them wasn't just soft tension—it was history.
"I teach them to protect themselves," In-su said softly.
Yohan looked at him. For once, there was no smirk. No threat. Just something heavy behind his eyes.
"Good."
He set the drawing down and stepped back, the hardness returning to his posture like armor being refastened.
In-su crossed his arms. "You came all the way here because I didn't text you?"
Yohan shrugged. "I had a meeting nearby."
"Liar."
Yohan smirked faintly. "Maybe."
A silence stretched between them—comfortable, this time.
Then, out of nowhere, Yohan asked, "Do they know?"
"Know what?"
"That you're a dominant Omega."
In-su shook his head. "No need. I'm just their teacher."
Yohan looked at him then with something unreadable. Respect, maybe. Curiosity. A little awe.
"You're more than that," he said quietly.
In-su's breath caught.
Then a loud voice rang from the hallway.
"Teacher Ho! I forgot my—"
A small boy burst in, froze mid-step, and stared up—way up—at Yohan.
"...Whoa," the boy whispered. "Are you a bodyguard?"
Yohan blinked. "...No."
"He's a friend," In-su said quickly, kneeling to the boy's level. "What did you forget, Taemin?"
"My pencil case!" the boy chirped, still sneaking glances at the tall Alpha as he grabbed his things.
Yohan stood silent, awkwardly still.
As Taemin turned to leave, he waved at Yohan. "Bye, Mister Giant!"
Yohan didn't answer. But after the boy left, In-su caught the tiniest quirk at the corner of his lips.
"You didn't growl at him," In-su teased gently.
Yohan shrugged. "He didn't flinch."
In-su looked at him—really looked at him. "Neither did I."
Their eyes held, and something warm passed between them.
Yohan glanced away first. "Come home soon. It's too quiet without you."
And just like that, he was gone—leaving behind the faintest trace of scent, and a heart beating far too fast in In-su's chest.
Setting: Yohan's estate, late evening.
POV: Third Person (with subtle dual focus)
It had been two months since Ho In-su moved in. Two months of tiptoeing around each other at first—Alpha and Omega, predator and prey—but the dynamic had shifted.
Now, it was something else entirely.
The scent of garlic and soy filled the modern kitchen, and In-su stirred the pan with quiet focus, his sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from a recent shower. The scent of warm Omega clung faintly to the steam curling up from the stovetop. Domestic. Gentle.
Behind him, Yohan leaned against the doorway, sleeves rolled up too, watching like he had nowhere else to be.
"You always cook this late?" Yohan asked, voice low and lazy.
In-su glanced over his shoulder. "I had a staff meeting after class. Lost track of time."
Yohan walked in, slowly, barefoot—stripped down from his usual sharp armor. He wore a loose black T-shirt and grey sweats, collarbones just visible. He looked more human like this. Less untouchable.
"You didn't have to wait," In-su said, plating up two bowls of food.
Yohan accepted his without protest, fingers brushing briefly against In-su's.
"I wasn't hungry until you started cooking," the Alpha said quietly, taking a seat at the island.
They ate in companionable silence, the kind that settles in when two people have learned each other's rhythms. In-su chewed thoughtfully. Yohan stole glances when he thought the Omega wasn't looking.
When they finished, In-su washed the dishes, and Yohan dried them—no discussion, just ease. It was odd, how natural it had become.
Yohan handed over the last plate and leaned against the sink, arms crossed.
"You're different here," he said after a beat.
In-su raised a brow. "Different from what?"
"From the rest of this world. This life. You walk into it like it doesn't scare you. You walk into me like I don't scare you."
In-su dried his hands slowly.
"Because you don't," he said, eyes meeting Yohan's. "Not anymore."
That stopped the Alpha cold.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken things—unacted tension, longing, restraint. Yohan's scent flickered—guarded, but soft. Not possessive. Not aggressive. Just... present.
"Why haven't you tried anything?" In-su asked suddenly, voice softer than his expression.
Yohan's gaze sharpened. "You think I'm holding back?"
"I know you are," In-su said. "Most Alphas wouldn't have lasted two weeks living with an untouched Omega. Let alone two months."
Yohan stepped closer, not touching, but close enough that In-su could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Because I don't take what isn't offered," Yohan said, voice low. "And I won't ruin something just because I want it."
In-su's breath caught.
"And you want it?"
Yohan didn't answer. He didn't have to. His eyes did.
But instead of closing the distance, he stepped back.
"Good night, In-su."
Then he walked away, leaving the scent of restraint in his wake—and In-su standing there, heart thudding, stomach still full, and a flush he couldn't blame on the cooking.