Two alphas now. Their scents layered on my skin like signatures. Like claims.
The thought should have made me run.
Instead, it just made me curious about what would come next.
Chapter Twenty-Three
KEIRA
Tae-min's room was chaos incarnate. I stood in the doorway, blinking at the explosion of color and technology that greeted me. Gaming monitors — three of them — dominated one wall, their screens displaying various loading screens and desktop wallpapers. Posters of video game characters competed for space with SIREN's own promotional images. A massive gaming chair sat in the center like a throne, surrounded by controllers, headsets, and what looked like an entire convenience store's worth of snacks.
"Don't judge me." Tae-min appeared at my shoulder, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness even as his ocean-and-mint scent wrapped around me like a cool breeze. "I know it's a mess. I have a system."
"Oh, I'm absolutely judging you." I stepped past him into the room, letting my shoulder bump his as I went, enjoying the way he sputtered behind me. "What system involves empty ramen cups as decoration? Is this some kind of cry for help? Should I call someone?"
"Those are trophies!" He followed me in, his voice pitching higher with indignation, hands gesturing wildly at the cup collection. "Each one represents a ranked victory. I can't throw them away — it would be disrespectful to my achievements."
"Trophies." I repeated flatly, picking up one of the cups and examining it like a museum artifact, turning it slowly in my hands. "You know normal people just... screenshot their wins, right? Like civilized humans?"
"Normal is boring." He snatched the cup from my hands and cradled it protectively against his chest, looking genuinely offended on behalf of the garbage. "You wouldn't understand. You're not a gamer."
"Thank god for that, if this is what it leads to." I gestured broadly at the disaster zone around us, grinning when his ears went pink with embarrassment. "Seriously, do you actually sleep in here, or do the snack wrappers form a nest for you?"
"Okay, wow." He set the cup down carefully and crossed his arms, trying to look intimidating and failing spectacularly, his bottom lip jutting out in what was definitely a pout. "You're mean. You're actually mean. I thought you were this shy, quiet omega, and you're actually a bully."
"Surprise." I wiggled my fingers at him, something light and reckless bubbling up in my chest, a feeling I barely recognized as fun. "Are you going to cry? You look like you might cry."
"I'm not going to cry!" He grabbed my hand, his fingers warm and slightly calloused as he tugged me toward the gaming setup, his grip firm with determination. "I'm going to destroy you at Mario Kart, and then you'll be the one crying."
"Big talk from someone who sleeps with ramen cups." I let him pull me along, deliberately dragging my feet just to be annoying, making him work for every step. "What's next, you gonna show me your sock collection? Your shrine to energy drinks?"
"I don't have a—" He stopped mid-sentence, glancing guiltily toward a corner where several Red Bull cans were indeed stacked in a suspicious pyramid formation, his ears going even pinker. "That's not a shrine. That's... structural engineering."
"Uh-huh." I patted his cheek with my free hand, watching his face go completely red at the condescending gesture. "Sure it is, sweetheart."
He stared at me, mouth open, looking genuinely speechless for the first time since I'd met him, his brain visibly short-circuiting. "Did you just... call me sweetheart? And pat my face? Like I'm a child?"
"You are a child." I settled onto the small couch beside his gaming chair, tucking my legs beneath me and making myself comfortable. "You're literally the youngest. The baby. The tiny little maknae."
"I'm twenty-three!" He dropped into his gaming chair with exaggerated offense, spinning it to face me with unnecessary drama. "I'm a grown man! I have muscles! I pay taxes! I’m older than you!"
"Do you actually pay taxes, or does your company do that for you?" I raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep my face straight as I watched him flounder.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, looking increasingly distressed. "That's not the point."
"So that's a no." I stretched my arms over my head, getting comfortable, enjoying the way his eyes tracked the movement before snapping back to my face with obvious effort. "It's okay. I'm sure the other grown men with muscles are very impressed by your ramen cup collection."
"You're the worst." He said it with feeling, but there was something warm in his eyes, something that looked almost like wonder as he studied my face. "Where did this come from? You literally ran away from me in a convenience store."
"I've had character development." I shrugged, accepting the controller he tossed at me and catching it with only minimal fumbling. "Also, you're very easy to make fun of. It brings out the best in me."
"I hate that I like this." He muttered, booting up the game with practiced movements, his brow furrowed in what looked like genuine internal conflict. "I hate that you being mean to me is doing something for me. This is a problem. I'm having a crisis."
"Work through it on your own time." I examined the controller, turning it over in my hands with exaggerated scrutiny. "Now teach me how to beat you so I can add to your humiliation."
His face lit up with competitive fire, previous crisis apparently forgotten as his whole demeanor shifted into game mode. "Oh, you want to learn? Okay. Okay. Let's see what you've got." He selected a track — something with rainbows and floating platforms that looked absolutely terrifying — and turned to face me with exaggerated seriousness, his expression comically intense. "Here are the rules. Winner gets to ask the loser one question. Any question. And they have to answer honestly."
"That seems like a sneaky way to get information out of me." I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious but intrigued despite myself. "Fine. But when I win — and I will win — I'm asking something mortifying."
