The Beta’s Panic

“A freshman textbook? Gross. Who would leave their book there? Doesn’t that mean that person is the one you’re looking for?”

They say when you lie, you should mix in 1% of the truth. Yun Dae-eon began to deduce the culprit, conveniently omitting the fact that the textbook actually belonged to him.

By now, Dae-eon was desperately hoping that Seon Ji-ha would mistake the person for someone else—anyone but him. He figured if Ji-ha ended up with someone else, it would be a win-win for everyone involved. With that mindset, he spoke up.

“Let’s see, which freshman stopped by the department office that day….”

“Dae-eon.”

“Yes?!”

While he chattered away, Dae-eon’s heart wasn’t just pounding; it was practically thundering against his ribs. The moment Ji-ha called his name with that short, sharp “Dae-eon,” he flinched violently. It was the reaction of someone with a very guilty conscience.

Feeling embarrassed a second later, Dae-eon let out a series of dry coughs. Ji-ha was staring at him intently.

“Why did you call me?”

“The freshman who stopped by the office that day.”

“Ah, right. Yes.”

“It was you, Dae-eon.”

Blink, blink.

Dae-eon and Ji-ha’s gazes locked. Exactly thirty seconds later, Dae-eon slapped his own forehead and shouted.

“Ah! Ahhh! That’s right! It rained a little at lunch that day, so we ordered delivery! Hahaha. I totally forgot. Kim Ye-jun and Oh Dong-cheol ate with me. Ahaha.”

“Juniors Kim Ye-jun and Oh Dong-cheol didn’t return to Building 114 in the afternoon. Of the three, you were the only freshman who came back.”

Ji-ha rattled off the names of who entered and exited Building 114 as if he were watching a live feed of the CCTV in his head. With a memory like this, shouldn’t he be a lead investigator at a crime lab instead of a student at Hankuk University?

Being backed into a corner made Dae-eon’s mind wander toward ridiculous thoughts. This was also why a visible twitch developed at the corner of his forced smile. Dammit, he’s actually going to catch me at this rate.

“Hahaha! Then who could the culprit—I mean, your first love—be?”

“I’m not sure. Many freshmen besides you and your two friends visited Building 114. And simply owning the textbook doesn’t guarantee they are my first love.”

The Seon Ji-ha from a moment ago—the one who stuttered so much he couldn’t even meet Dae-eon’s eyes after calling him “cute”—was gone. He was now tracking the culprit with an alarmingly professional, business-like face.

…Is this guy a Jekyll and Hyde?

It was a natural thought. When Ji-ha noticed Dae-eon staring blankly at him, he quickly reverted, covering his mouth with that familiar, shy smile. That side of him seemed real enough, but the cold, analytical man hunting for a target also felt like his true nature.

“So, Dae-eon, why did you come by that day?”

“Huh? Just because. You know….”

“Listen, Dae-eon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ji-ha’s voice dropped an octave. Dae-eon’s attention snapped to him. In that instant, Ji-ha leaned in closer.

Sitting side-by-side with the table in front of them, the space between them became subtly, then significantly, narrow. Ji-ha, still on his knees, braced his hands on the floor and began to tilt his upper body toward Dae-eon, inch by inch.

Finally, when Dae-eon’s field of vision was entirely occupied by Ji-ha and there was nowhere left to retreat—

“Why do you keep changing the subject?”

“If you keep doing that, I’ll start to get suspicious.”

Dae-eon felt goosebumps break out on his arms at that softly added sentence. There was no malice in Ji-ha’s voice. Instead, it made him realize exactly how sincere Ji-ha was about this mission.

Ji-ha was undoubtedly shy and soft-spoken. But once he “selected” something to focus on, he became consumed by it—so much so that he forgot his own timid nature.

Ji-ha stared directly into Dae-eon’s eyes. Dae-eon began to stammer in spite of himself.

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to ch-change the subject, it just happened while we were talking…!”

“…Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrogate you….”

“No, it’s fine. I made a mistake, Senior.”

As soon as Dae-eon apologized, Ji-ha snapped back to his usual self. He straightened his posture, pulling back his leaning frame.

Seizing the moment, Dae-eon continued calmly.

“That day, I left a notebook in my locker. I went back to get it….”

This wasn’t a lie. After giving Ji-ha the suppressants that day, Dae-eon had actually stopped by his locker before heading home. He was preparing for midterms and had indeed left his notes behind.

Dae-eon worked hard to weave a plausible lie using that thread of truth. However, Ji-ha was more formidable than he looked.

“But Dae-eon, you came to Building 114 at 5:48 PM, left at 6:18 PM, and then returned within two minutes. Why did you come and go twice?”

“…….”

Because I went to buy suppressants, obviously.

Most prepared people with a secondary gender carried suppressants just in case. In fact, Dae-eon’s college friend, Oh Dong-cheol, always carried Omega suppressants in his massive bag. Even though he was a Recessive Omega with irregular cycles, he lived in constant fear of a sudden Heat.

But that didn’t apply to Dae-eon, the Beta. A Beta had no reason to worry about Heats or Ruts, so why would he carry spare suppressants? Because of that, he’d been in quite a bind when he found the rutting Ji-ha.

Dae-eon suddenly felt a surge of indignation. He hadn’t harbored any ill intentions; he’d simply helped a stranger who looked like a dying Dominant out of the goodness of his heart. How could this be coming back to bite him like this?

Dae-eon pouted and said, “I was about to leave, but I suddenly had to use the bathroom. So I rushed back. If you check the CCTV, you’ll see I was probably running, right?”

“Ah… so that’s why.”

Ji-ha actually bought the flimsy lie. It helped that Dae-eon added a shameless, “My stomach hurt so much, I thought it was a disaster,” with a straight face. After lying a few times, he was getting used to it.

Ji-ha finally unfolded the paper for the fourteenth candidate—Dae-eon’s page—which he had snatched earlier. He seemed to have accepted Dae-eon’s denial.

Ji-ha asked, his voice sounding somewhat disappointed:

“So, it really isn’t you?”

“Yes, it’s absolutely! Not me. If it were me, I would have just said so. Why would I deny it? It’s not like I’m some crazy person who enjoys hiding.”

“……That’s a shame….”

“Pardon?”

Dae-eon clearly heard him mutter, “That’s a shame.” He widened his eyes and asked again. Ji-ha murmured in a dejected voice.

“I wished my first love had been you, Dae-eon….”

“Why on earth?!”

“Because you’re cute, and….”

Having barely smoothed out the crumpled paper, Ji-ha fidgeted with his empty fingers. Dae-eon looked at the wrinkles on the sheet containing his personal info. No matter how hard Ji-ha tried to flatten it, the marks remained.

Ji-ha kept stroking Dae-eon’s name on the permanently creased paper with a longing gaze. He whispered softly in his clumsy voice.

“If it were… Dae-eon… I don’t think I would be disappointed….”

“No, Senior. If it were me, you’d be completely disappointed!”

“Why?”

Dae-eon swallowed hard, steeling himself for what he had to say. His brain hadn’t worked this fast since he took the CSAT months ago.

“I’ve been single my whole life.”

“That’s… similar to me.”

“And besides, I’m an Omega! Just like you!”

Surely this guy isn’t a ‘homo-gender’ person who doesn’t care if his partner is the same type? Of course, social perceptions had changed enough that laws now allowed marriages between people of the same gender/trait, but most people still preferred the Alpha-Omega pairing. Especially the older generations.

Dae-eon was a Beta, but on his resident registration, he was listed as a Recessive Omega. It was a choice made by his wise parents, and thanks to being registered as a Recessive Omega, he had been able to hide the fact that he was a Beta all this time. He pulled out his fake trait as his final weapon.

He could say this because everyone believed Seon Ji-ha was a Dominant Omega.

“Is the trait that important to you, Dae-eon?”

“Omegas can’t even have kids together….”

“A child isn’t everything between two people, is it?”

Ji-ha spoke with an uncharacteristically calm voice. His dark pupils sank deep. He exhaled a low, rhythmic mutter.

“I wouldn’t care even if my first love was a Beta.”