And then the invitation arrived.
Silk envelope. Gold embossing. And, because of course it did, a scent strip.
"Who mails scent samples?" Min-jae muttered, holding the ivory card like it might bite him.
"Rich people," Si-won said, peeling it open with one freshly moisturized hand. "Rich Alphas who want to ruin lives, one pheromone panel at a time."
The invite was for a private event, The Scent of Influence, hosted by none other than Ji-hoon's luxury brand. Rooftop location. Live broadcast. Only twelve people on the panel. Si-won was one of them.
Min-jae stared at the RSVP card.
It was engraved. Engraved!
The rooftop venue looked like someone handed a Pinterest board to a rich Alpha with boundary issues and said, "Go wild." Everything glowed. The floor glowed. The plants glowed. Even the champagne bubbles had tiny LED lights that blinked like they were judging you.
A live string quartet was playing a dramatic remix of a K-pop ballad, which felt unhinged but also kind of iconic. Fairy lights crisscrossed the sky like they were trying to contain everyone's bad decisions in a charming net. Glass panels surrounded the rooftop, giving it the vibe of a very expensive fish tank full of emotionally volatile influencers.
The scent bar was even worse. Or better. Hard to tell. It had twelve scent pods labeled things like "Alpha Ambition," "Beta Burnout," and "Omega in Crisis." Guests could wave their hands over them to get a personalized puff. Someone nearly passed out from the one called "Daddy Issues Deluxe."
There were macarons shaped like noses, cocktails that changed color depending on your mood, and a giant LED sign that read "The Scent of Influence" in cursive, like that was a totally normal sentence.
A wall-length digital screen streamed the event's live chat in real-time, floating commentary like "He's crying, I'm crying, even my scent signature is weeping" in glittery font above the crowd.
Si-won wore a silk shirt tucked into high-waisted slacks with a bow in his hair that looked aggressively expensive. Min-jae, in black jeans and the world's angriest expression, stood nearby holding Mochi's leash like it was a weapon.
Ji-hoon greeted them at the entrance.
"Lovely to see you both," he said smoothly, then looked directly at Min-jae. "You clean up well. Must be exhausting, guarding something so... dazzling."
Si-won fake-laughed so hard it looked real. Min-jae's jaw was clenched tight enough to file diamonds.
The panel was mostly harmless. Alphas, Betas, and a few Omegas in designer fragrance collaborations talked about the intersection of scent and identity.
Until someone asked Si-won:
"What does it feel like to be wanted by the entire internet?"
There was a pause. Then Si-won said, softly:
"It feels like being loved with conditions."
Everyone went quiet.
"People want me when I'm curated. Filtered. Fermented. But at night, when my gloss is off and my pheromones are tired, I wonder if anyone would still love me if I stopped performing."
A pin could've dropped. Min-jae didn't blink.
Si-won added:
"Min-jae does. Even when I cry over dumplings or rearrange the furniture at 2 a.m. Or spend two hours researching scented drawer liners and then forget to buy them."
Ji-hoon cleared his throat. Someone in the audience sobbed.
The live chat exploded:
• @SniffSniffRevolution: "Cried in my car. Healed something in me."
• @FermentedButStillValid: "He's not a brand. He's the whole shelf."
• @MinjaeMarryMe: "If you don't put a ring on him I swear I will."
Min-jae stood up. Walked straight to the stage. Took the mic.
"He's taken. Fully bonded. Permanently claimed. Any questions?"
He dropped the mic. Mochi barked once, with feeling.
The afterparty was a nightmare. For Min-jae.
Si-won? Si-won was floating on social serotonin. Fans were tagging him in fancams with captions like:
• "Cinnamon Boy Redeems the Internet"
• "Protect This Omega At All Costs Even Though He's Kind of a Menace"
Mochi had already been given a gift bag with a tiny designer tiara. She wore it like it was a birthright. Min-jae wore a scowl and a black button-up he hadn't emotionally approved.
They tried to leave quietly. But Ji-hoon intercepted.
"Just one drink," he said smoothly. "For the fans. The moment. The fragrance of legacy."
Min-jae was going to commit a non-violent, fully legal crime.
Inside a glass-walled VIP lounge, Ji-hoon poured something amber into heavy tumblers and began talking about his new scent line.
"Alpha-forward," he said. "But with vulnerability. Like... danger that can be domesticated."
Min-jae stared. "You mean a dog."
Si-won choked on air.
"I meant emotionally," Ji-hoon said. "Like someone who looks like they'll hurt you but actually cooks dinner and walks your dog."
Min-jae stood. "I cook dinner."
"You do," Si-won said quickly. Mochi barked.
"Maybe I should've invited you to the panel instead," Ji-hoon added, just to be insufferable.
Si-won stepped between them.
"Stop," he said. "You don't get to flirt with someone else's Alpha. And you don't get to make me feel like I'm just another viral accessory."
"You're not," Min-jae said, voice low.
Ji-hoon raised an eyebrow.
"You're the whole brand," Min-jae continued, eyes on Si-won. "You're why I code faster. Sleep less. Breathe deeper. You make me want to do stupid things. Like smile in public."
Si-won blinked. His eyes shone. His pheromones flickered around him like heat shimmer.
"Fuck," he whispered. "That was hot."
Ji-hoon exhaled slowly.
"Well. That settles it."
"What?"
"I officially lost."
They left the party in silence. Mochi curled in Si-won's arm, tiara slightly askew. Min-jae carried the gift bag, his free hand hovering protectively at the small of Si-won's back.
Back at the apartment, they barely made it through the door before Si-won grabbed Min-jae by the collar and pushed him against the wall.
"You said I make you want to smile in public," he whispered. "Now say it again while I ruin you in private."
Min-jae kissed him like an oath. Like a fever breaking.
They didn't make it to the bedroom. They barely made it to the couch. The gift bag tipped. Mochi's tiara fell into a bowl of instant rice. No one noticed.
Si-won didn't just take control. He straddled it. Pressed Min-jae down against the cushions and bit into the space just below his jaw with enough force to claim. To promise. To ruin.
And Min-jae let him. Because some things weren't worth resisting.
📱 Si-won's Private Story (closefriends)
"I'm dramatic. He's intense. The walls still remember."
#EmotionallyUnhingedButBonded
Next morning Min-jae woke up with Mochi snoring against his ribs and Si-won starfished across his chest like a particularly clingy octopus in silk pajamas.
Mochi sneezed. Si-won stirred. "What time is it?"
"Chaos o'clock," Min-jae muttered.
Si-won sat up slowly, hair floofed, eyeliner still somehow perfect. "I dreamed you proposed."
Min-jae blinked. "I dreamed Mochi filed taxes."
"Were we rich?"
"She wrote off your mood swings as a business expense."
Si-won clutched his chest. "That's... fair."
He flopped back onto Min-jae's shoulder and sighed. "Do you think this bond thing is almost over?"
"Probably. The sponsors said it was just a short-term research pairing."
Si-won nodded. "And then what?"
Min-jae didn't answer right away. Then, very softly: "Then we choose."
Si-won looked at him. And then Mochi barfed glitter on the sheets.
"Okay," Si-won said, standing up. "We're choosing new bedding first."
Min-jae groaned. "Can the next phase of bonding involve fewer bodily fluids?"
"No promises."