His expression isn't the usual vapid, flirty mask he wears for the alphas. It’s sharp. calculating. His eyes dart to the empty space where Sihwan just fled, then snap back to me. He tilts his head slightly, lips pursed, like he’s trying to solve a particularly difficult math equation.
He saw the collision. He saw my hands on Sihwan. He saw the way Sihwan looked at me—not with aggression, but with fear and familiarity.
Heesung catches my eye, and for a second, he doesn't look away. Then, a slow, unreadable smile curves his lips. He pushes off the table and turns, disappearing into the crowd without a word.
I stare at the spot where he was standing, a cold knot forming in my gut.
I don't know what he thinks he saw. But I know I don't like it.
The post-exam campus festival is a sensory nightmare.
It smells like cheap takoyaki, burnt sugar, and the desperate sweat of students trying to drink away an entire semester’s worth of trauma in a single afternoon. The bass from the main stage is vibrating in my molars, and the sheer density of the crowd makes me want to climb the nearest building and hide on the roof until winter break.
"Stop looking like you're planning a murder," Soyoung says, shoving a skewer of grilled chicken into my hand. "It’s a festival, Donghwa. You’re legally required to have fun."
I stare at the chicken. "I’m having a blast."
"You’re scowling at a balloon animal."
"It’s shaped like a intestine. It’s offensive to anatomy."
Soyoung rolls her eyes, grabbing my arm and towing me through the crushing mass of bodies. She’s the only person on this campus who can manhandle me without losing a limb, mostly because I respect her refusal to be intimidated by my resting bitch face.
"Come on," she says, dragging me toward a row of carnival games run by the Engineering department. "You need to get out of your head. You’ve been moping for a week. It’s pathetic. You’re a dominant Alpha, not a Victorian widow."
"I'm not moping. I'm observing."
"You're pining," she corrects ruthlessly. "And it’s gross. Now, win me that ugly bear."
She points to a shooting gallery game where you have to knock down a stack of weighted cans with a cork gun. The guy running the booth—a nervous-looking Beta—takes one look at me and seems to debate closing up shop early.
I sigh, handing him the cash. I don't want the bear. I don't want to be here. But the chaotic noise of the festival is better than the silence of my apartment, where the ghost of Sihwan’s scent still lingers on my sheets because I haven't had the heart to wash them yet.
I lift the gun. It’s light, the sights are misaligned, and the cork is probably lighter than air. I compensate for the drift, narrow my eyes, and pull the trigger.
Thwack.The cans go down.
I reload.Thwack.
For a few minutes, the world narrows down to the target. It’s simple. Aim, fire, result. No complicated social hierarchies, no terrified boyfriends hiding behind their popularity, no aching bond in my chest. Just physics.
By the time I’m done, I’ve cleared the shelf. The Beta hands over a neon pink bear the size of a toddler, looking relieved to see me go.
"There," I say, shoving the monstrosity into Soyoung’s arms. "Are you happy?"
Soyoung grins, wrestling the bear into a headlock. "Ecstatic. See? You’re smiling."
I touch the corner of my mouth. I am. It’s faint, but the mindless repetition of the game actually loosened the knot of tension between my shoulders. "Don't get used to it."
"Let's go find the Architecture booth," she says, bumping my shoulder with hers. "I heard they built a dunk tank."
We weave through the crowd, the mood lighter. I actually eat the chicken skewer. I let myself be distracted by the ridiculous sights—a professor doing karaoke, a group of freshmen trying to dance in sync and failing miserably. For a solid twenty minutes, I forget that I’m furious. I forget that I’m bonded to a coward.
Then we turn the corner near the fountain, and the air changes.
It’s subtle at first. A shift in the crowd density. More high-pitched laughter. A wall of Omegas and Betas pressing in toward a large blue tent.
I look up, and the good mood disintegrates instantly.
