Inwoo, who had been standing in front of the dining table, staring at Liu’s large silhouette standing stock-still in the kitchen’s darkness, slowly walked toward the kitchen. He passed through the frame of the folding doors that divided the dining room and kitchen, left wide open on both sides, and stepped into the dim shadows.
Standing opposite Liu with the counter between them, Inwoo placed his hands on the edge of the marble countertop and leaned his upper body forward.
“Even if Seo Yeehyeon changes into a 100% Omega, he knows nothing about Alphas and Omegas. Knowing the theory is completely useless.”
As if he had decided to stop emotionally provoking the man before him, Inwoo’s tone was subdued. It was now gentle, almost placating.
“No matter how much you go on about how the Ghost’s instinct strongly drew me to you, how the Alpha’s instinct stimulated the impulse to become one with you… He can’t understand it. He won’t accept it. Even if his body has changed into an Omega’s, he’s lived his whole life as a Beta, and his mind is still a Beta’s. You’ve lived as an Alpha for twenty years, don’t you know that a Beta can never understand the power of pheromones?”
Liu, who had remained silent with his side profile to Inwoo, turned his head and shot him a glare.
Perhaps Inwoo wasn’t wrong.
Even though many Alphas and Omegas had advanced into high society, the world still revolved around Betas. The situation was slightly different in relatively open professions like the arts or entertainment, but unless they were Goldens who could control their pheromones—and thus be perceived by Betas as ‘practically the same as Betas’—the proportion of Alphas and Omegas in politics was extremely low. It was the same in any society.
Movies, dramas, and advertisements exaggerated and highlighted only the romantic aspects of pheromones. Even for companies owned by Alphas or Omegas, marketing focused on the purchasing power of their main customers, Betas, was inevitable.
Alphas and Omegas who couldn’t control their sexual impulses.
Less-evolved beings who used pheromones to enjoy animalistic and promiscuous sex lives. Dangerous elements, no different from legal drug possessors…
Outside of romance movies, the image of Alphas and Omegas held by the general Beta public was still at that level. Liu, having lived in such a world himself, knew all too well that it was nearly impossible to make a Beta understand the actual power and effect of pheromones, without leaning toward either romanticism or danger.
But for the same reason, Inwoo couldn’t understand the strong instinct of the Ghost that pulled him toward Yeehyeon, his ‘Diamond Dust.’ And Choi Inwoo would understand even less of what Marcus had said: ‘It will be even harder to resist if you are also mentally in love with him, drawn to his human charm itself.’
Betas, regular Alphas and Omegas, even the most superior Goldens who were close to perfection. No one could understand.
A being that slipped through the thick, solid defensive walls he had built as a Golden, just like a ghost…
Just as no advanced science could stop the changing of the seasons from summer to fall, or the sun rising at the end of the night and the sunset igniting at the end of the day… an existence that could not be ignored, could not be resisted.
Liu bent his upper body, propped both arms on the counter, and rubbed his face with one hand as if to crush it, speaking in a heavy voice steeped in exhaustion.
“Seo Yeehyeon isn’t just a Beta.”
“Then what is he?”
“……”
Liu fell silent on that point. But the look in his eyes as he gazed past Inwoo said it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer, but that he knew and simply wouldn’t say.
“Have him get a detailed examination to see how far it’s progressed. If he’s really only changed about 20%, you can stop it now. There’s a way to stop it now and go back as if nothing happened.”
Liu let out a snort, his shoulders trembling. Then, still leaning on the counter, he crossed his arms and looked up at Inwoo askance.
“Go back? To where?”
His eyes looked weary, as if bleached of color. His deep-set eyes were narrowed, as if standing in the midday sun. Facing those turbid eyes, where the blue vitality had evaporated and gray ash seemed to drift hazily, Inwoo spoke in a low voice.
“You said it yourself, it’s impossible to show self-control next to Seo Yeehyeon. I suppose it would mean going back to before you met Yeehyeon-ssi.”
Straightening up from the counter and stepping back from the faint light seeping in from the dining room into deeper darkness, Liu shook his head minutely.
○
A few years ago, a young artist had garnered the keen interest of the domestic art world. In his mid-twenties (or just entering his late twenties by Korean age), he had made a spectacular debut by signing an exclusive contract with a fairly well-established gallery in New York, the forefront of contemporary art.
His body of work, which put his identity as a gay Beta male at the forefront as its theme, was described as so raw that the art world—long inured to all but the most intense sexuality—used the word ‘daring’ for the first time in a long while.
Having made a successful debut in New York, it was only natural that he was flooded with love calls from his home country. However, the artist rejected all exhibition proposals from domestic galleries at the time.
The official reason was that his schedule was too packed with other exhibition plans to make adjustments, but his attitude strongly suggested that he saw no reason to return to Seoul, a barren land for art, or to Korea, an underdeveloped country in the art world, now that he had already achieved success in New York.
In fact, this month’s ‘Editor’s Preface’ had finished with more time to spare than usual. But a few days ago, I received news from a reliable source that the very same artist from a few years back was searching for a gallery to hold a solo exhibition in Seoul. Just before going to print, I decided to rewrite the preface.
I don’t know how he managed to wash away his arrogant bubble and find the humility to return to ‘a barren land for art like Seoul,’ but as long as the galleries he once snubbed are still active, and as long as they remember that past, his landing in the domestic scene will likely face considerable difficulty. At the very least, an exhibition in an influential major gallery—the kind he now wants, and once rejected—will be impossible.
My career in this industry is not so short that I would be shocked by the reality that an artwork’s charm or perfection does not necessarily align with the artist’s character. However, I rewrite this preface in the hope that he, and all artists of this land, will deeply consider the fact that art, like all other activities in the world, is a collaboration created by people meeting people.
It is also because I am mean-spirited enough to feel more schadenfreude than bitterness at the news of an arrogant artist’s downfall, now bowing his head and looking for a place to land.
His work, which has nothing to say besides sex? Perhaps because he was cast out of New York, it no longer seems ‘daring’ or feels ‘raw.’ In any case, I wish him the best of luck.
○
It was one of the several magazines he subscribed to, published just yesterday and delivered to his home this morning. It was also one of the magazines Liu and Yeehyeon most enjoyed for maintaining a flexible perspective rather than an authoritatively traditional one. Yeehyeon, who had started by carefully reading the ‘Editor’s Preface’ as usual, lowered the open magazine onto his lap and took a deep breath.
Although the name Hong Seonyu or SEONEW was never mentioned in the text, as he read on, he became more and more convinced that this article was aimed at Hong Seonyu.
If that was true, and if the ‘reliable source’ mentioned in the article was Liu… then Liu was currently concerning himself with Hong Seonyu moving his base of operations to Korea, and thus closing the distance with Shushu.
Recalling Liu’s haggard face when he came home late at night these days, busy meeting with Phantom’s artists, clients, and important industry contacts to personally announce the New York expansion, Yeehyeon checked the clock on the wall.
Just as he was about to pick up his phone, he faintly heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Yeehyeon closed the magazine and set it on the table. Feeling impatient, he opened the door before Liu could press the password himself.
“……”
Through the gap of the outward-swinging door, he saw Liu’s face, who had been about to press the password and flinched back.
“Makes me feel good, like you were just waiting for me to get here.”
Yeehyeon’s eyes scanned every part of Liu’s playfully smiling body as he stepped back to let him in. After a short kiss, he carefully watched Liu’s back as he entered the studio and cautiously approached him.
“I heard from Noona. You… were in an accident during the day.”
“Ah…”
Liu’s movements slowed as he was setting his briefcase and jacket down on the armchair in front of the sofa. Muttering, “That brat, I told her not to say anything,” he brushed a hand over his own eyebrow, then quickly put on a lighthearted expression and straightened up.
“Then you must have heard it was nothing, right? It wasn’t even much of an accident. I was just turning left and entering a straight road, and the other car was waiting to make a U-turn, so we were both moving at a very low speed. I’m fine, the other person is fine. No one was hurt…”
He then placed a hand on Yeehyeon’s shoulder and leaned down to look deeply into his face.
“So relax your expression. Okay?”
Looking at Liu’s face as he tried to reassure him that it was such a minor collision that the airbags hadn’t even deployed, Yeehyeon carefully examined each of his features, just as Liu often did to him. As if searching for any sign of discomfort or endurance he was hiding.
“Still… you should go to the hospital. They say you shouldn’t take car accidents lightly just because there are no external injuries…”
After finally getting a promise from Liu to go to the hospital for a check-up, Yeehyeon stroked the arm Liu had placed on his shoulder. Feeling the warmth of the skin beneath the sleeve rolled up to his elbow, he bit and released his lower lip several times, like someone about to bring up a difficult topic.
“And… until you leave, I’d like you to travel with the chauffeur.”
As expected, Liu frowned and averted his gaze, looking displeased. Yeehyeon gripped his wrist tightly.
“Lately, you have so much… on your mind, you’re busy, and you’re tired… it’s dangerous for you to drive yourself.”
“……”
“I won’t go out when A-Wei or the chauffeur isn’t here. So don’t worry about me… please tell me you’ll do it…”
Huh? Yeehyeon added, grabbing onto Liu’s waist. For Yeehyeon, it was rare to see such a resolute face, insisting on having his way. Liu looked down at him in silence for a long moment. With the hand that was on Yeehyeon’s shoulder, he gently massaged his neck, then slowly pulled him closer into an embrace.
“Seo Yeehyeon is the only one who thinks of me now.”
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