"You have no control over who they want. And judging by the way you're acting right now? I can see why they're bored."
The wordboredrattles around in my skull like a loose coin in a dryer.
My vision actually goes a little red at the edges. Not a figure of speech. Actual, physiological rage. I’ve spent three years crafting my image. I’m the guy who buys the rounds. I’m the guy who organizes the MTs. I’m the guy everyone wants to be seen with. And this... this overgrown goth kid thinks he can just dismiss me?
I take a step back, needing the space to actually breathe because the air around him is too thin, too cold.
"You think you're funny," I say, my voice low, lacking the polish I usually aim for. It’s raw and ugly. "You think becauseyou have a famous last name and a moody stare that you can just coast? Let me make this crystal clear for you."
I jab a finger toward his face again, though I stop short of touching him. I don't want to touch him. He feels too solid, too unmovable.
"Stay out of my way," I warn him, putting every ounce of venom I have into the words. "Stay away from the omegas I'm talking to. Stay out of my spotlight. You stick to your little piano practice and your gloomy corner, and we won't have a problem. But if you try to step on my toes? If you try to embarrass me again?"
I let my pheromones spike, sharp and aggressive, smelling of burnt sugar and musk. It’s a threat in olfactory form.
"I will make you regret it. I run this department, Kang Donghwa. Don't forget it."
Donghwa stares at me for a beat. Then, slowly, deliberately, he rolls his eyes.
It’s such a teenage, petulant gesture, but coming from him, it looks like he’s just exhausted by my existence. He doesn't look scared. He doesn't look intimidated. He looks like I’m a pop-up ad he can’t figure out how to close.
"If that's the whole speech, I'm leaving," he says flatly. "I have actual places to be."
He doesn't wait for my permission. He just moves.
He steps around me, and for a second, we’re shoulder to shoulder. I brace myself, tensing my core, ready for him to check me, to bump me, to dosomethingaggressive. But he doesn't touch me. He doesn't have to.
As he passes, he lets his scent go.
He doesn't push it out like I do. He doesn't force it. He just... unspools it. A heavy, suffocating wave of cold winter air and dark ink washes over me, drowning out my expensive boosters like they’re nothing but cheap cologne. It’s dense. It’s heavy. It’sthe kind of natural potency you can’t buy in a bottle, the kind that's born of a bloodline so pure it makes my new-money genes scream in inadequacy.
My breath hitches. My knees—just for a microsecond—feel weak. My body recognizes the threat even if my conscious mind rages against it.
He stops at the door, hand on the brass handle. He glances back over his shoulder, the harsh bathroom light catching the sharp angle of his jaw.
The corner of his mouth hooks up. It’s not a smile. It’s a weapon.
"See you around," he draws out the vowels, his voice dripping with a sarcasm so thick I can practically taste it. "Hyung."
The honorific hits me like a slap to the face. He says it like a joke. Like a taunt.
He pushes the door open and saunters out, the heavy thud of the wood closing behind him echoing in the silence he leaves in his wake.
I stand there alone in the bathroom, staring at the closed door, my hands trembling at my sides. The air still smells like him. Cold, clean, and superior.
"Fuck you," I whisper to the empty room, my voice cracking.
I turn to the mirror, expecting to see the King of the Campus staring back. Instead, I just see a guy in a tight shirt, sweating through his deodorant, looking small in the reflection of the glass.
I grab the edge of the sink and squeeze until my knuckles turn white.
Arrogant prick.
Chapter Four
See you around, hyung.
The mockery in his voice echoes in my head for three days straight. It’s like a catchy, irritating pop song I can’t scrub out of my brain. It’s not the honorific that bothers me—Iamhis elder, and I deserve the respect—it’s the way he said it. Like he was patting a yapping chihuahua on the head.
