The next morning came quietly, painted in the pale gold of early sunlight filtering through the restaurant's tall windows filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of fine silverware against porcelain plates.
At one of the corner tables sat Soo-hyun, his expression unreadable as ever. His posture was straight, almost regal, and though he moved with effortless grace, there was an unmistakable weight of disinterest lingering in his demeanor.
Across from him sat his current date—a well-groomed man in his early thirties, polite smile perfectly in place, saying all the right things and yet, none of it mattered.
Soo-hyun's eyes, cold and detached, stared across the table, but the man's face was a blur in his vision—like an out-of-focus photograph. Only the voice reached him, a stream of meaningless words strung together. Compliments, and perhaps an attempt at humor—it all blended into the background noise.
He cut his steak with precise, practiced motions, each movement silent and deliberate. His fork lifted elegantly, his posture impeccable. He chewed quietly, expression unchanging, as though this lunch were a board meeting rather than a date.
And then, he noticed it—the sudden silence.
He lifted his gaze, slow and deliberate, and found the man across from him staring.
The stranger's eyes were wide, glinting faintly with admiration. There was a certain awe there, a breathless fascination that needed no words.
In that moment, the morning light spilling through the glass hit Soo-hyun just right—casting a soft glow on the line of his jaw, the faint sheen on his black hair, and the crisp edges of his tailored suit.
The light framed his face like a painter's deliberate stroke of brush—cold, refined, and quietly mesmerizing. His every movement was poised, the kind of beauty that felt untouchable—one that commanded reverence rather than desire.
His eyes, sharp and dark, held the man effortlessly still.
Soo-hyun set his fork down, the faint clink of silver against the plate, cutting through the silence. His lips curved, barely. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice smooth yet edged with faint amusement. "You suddenly became all quiet, Mr. Lee."
The man jolted, startled as though he'd been caught staring. "O-Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Je! It's just that... I was—" his eyes flickered, betraying him as they drifted back up to Soo-hyun's face.
Soo-hyun arched a brow, waiting.
Mr. Lee's cheeks flushed a light pink before he quickly lowered his gaze, fumbling for composure.
He cleared his throat. "Ahem!" His attempt at recovery came with a nervous laugh.
"A-Anyway, I heard that you're into paintings, Mr. Je."
Soo-hyun's expression shifted slightly—his disinterest softening, as curiosity flickering in his eyes.
The man continued, clearly encouraged. "There's an art gallery downtown that's holding an exhibition tomorrow night. It'll feature modern painters—some of the biggest names this year."
Soo-hyun said nothing, but the tilt of his head suggested he was listening.
Mr. Lee smiled, hope blooming in his voice. "So... I'd like to invite you to come see it with me."
The invitation itself wasn't bad. Harmless, even. And considering Soo-hyun's schedule for that day was unusually open, there was no reason to refuse. This was, after all, part of the fifteen-trial dating—a task he had promised the Association he would see through, no matter how tedious it felt.
He contemplated briefly, eyes lowering as if weighing the decision.
Then, something caught his attention.
At the far end of the restaurant, standing discreetly near a marble pillar, was a tall, familiar figure. The light caught on the faint sheen of his brown hair, the straight cut of his grey suit—Kiyonari.
Their eyes didn't meet, but Soo-hyun's focus was already lost. His date's voice continued to drone on, a blur of excitement and polite laughter, but none of it reached him anymore.
All his attention had shifted—drawn to the silent presence watching him from afar.
Kiyonari stood there like a shadow, alert yet unobtrusive, a quiet guardian blending into the background. But to Soo-hyun, his existence in the room was impossible to ignore.
He caught himself staring too long, eyes lingering. For a fleeting moment, his lips twitched—as if the corners of his lips wanted to curve into something almost like a smile, but didn't.
And though he turned his gaze back to his date, his mind was already elsewhere.
*****
The night draped itself over the city in quiet silver, the streets glistening faintly under the glow of streetlights. Inside the black luxury car, the soft hum of the engine filled the silence. The faint scent of leather and cologne lingered in the air—expensive, muted, and distinct.
He exhaled deeply, a long breath escaping between parted lips. His fingers slid through his neatly styled hair, disheveling it just slightly before he leaned back against the seat. Even in that small motion, his elegance didn't falter. The crisp lines of his black suit framed him perfectly nowhere else but in control.
But tonight, that composure carried cracks.
From the driver's seat, Kiyonari stole a subtle glance through the rearview mirror. His eyes caught the reflection of Soo-hyun–head tilted back, brows faintly furrowed, the faintest tension on his jaw. Something was clearly wrong.
He hesitated before speaking. "Are you alright, Director Je?" His voice carried genuine concern, tinged with confusion.
Soo-hyun's gaze flicked toward him, sharp and deliberate, the kind of look that could slice through any pretense.
"Well," he replied coolly, "you're the one who arranged today's schedule. I'm sure you'd know what's wrong exactly."
The last word hit like a dart—precise and pointed.
Kiyonari froze. "Ack—!" He almost winced out loud. The jab landed straight and clean.
A beat later, he forced a nervous smile and turned slightly in his seat. "But sir, as part of the fifteen-trial program, it's only natural that you have to at least attend your date."
Soo-hyun didn't even try to hide the sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Oh, so you finally figured it out. You're quick to catch on, aren't you, Mr. Soo?"
Kiyonari mentally groaned. Yup. He's pissed for sure.
Trying to recover, he straightened in his seat. "But, Director, you were the one who accepted the invitation. If you weren't up for it, you had every chance to be honest and decline first hand."
That hit some nerve.
He could feel the weight of Soo-hyun's glare even without looking back. It was the kind of stare that froze the air between them.
"Nagging at me now, are we, Mr. Soo?" Soo-hyun's voice came low, but unmistakably sharp tone.
Kiyonari immediately bit his tongue. "No, sir. Of course not."
I'm just stating the facts! He screamed internally, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Soo-hyun's voice softened, but only slightly. "You don't have to remind me of what I could and couldn't do last time." His tone lowered further, the kind that carried quiet exhaustion behind its arrogance. "Besides, I was being nice to that man. Turning down his invite would've been rude—and frankly, telling him his interests were painfully dull wouldn't have helped either."
Kiyonari blinked, unsure whether to laugh or feel sorry for that man. That was you being nice? He thought incredulously.
Soo-hyun crossed his legs, the faint rustle of his suit filling the silence. "Anyway," he contained smoothly, "just because I agreed to go along with this bullshit doesn't mean I'll be choosing him from some crappy happy ending."
Kiyonari frowned. "You don't? What do you mean, sir?"
A smirk ghosted over Soo-hyun's lips. "I'm simply doing the Association a favor. Showing up in this stupid date, and pretending to be interested in whatever poor bastard they matched me with. It's good PR."
Kiyonari blinked. Is that the reason he's doing all this?
Soo-hyun let out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes half-lidded. "Maybe mother wants me to bring home a perfect pair. Someone respectable, refined, and one who'll look good in their eyes." His voice turned colder. "But in the end, she'll get nothing. Because I'm bringing home nothing—except my defective self."
His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that sent a chill crawling down Kiyonari's spine. His eyes glinted, dangerous and darkly amused—like someone who had already planned a quiet rebellion.
Defective self? Kiyonari echoed in his mind. Unable to hide his confusion.
Soo-hyun's gaze flicked toward the window, his reflection faintly visible against the glass. "All this date, feel more like I'm doing charity to Alphas who failed on finding their mates," he said.
That mischievous curl of his mouth only deepened.
And that was when Kiyonari knew—whatever Soo-hyun was planning, it wasn't something simple.
He swallowed hard, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. I have a bad feeling about this.
*****
The evening air around the air gallery was cool, the faint buzz of chatter from inside spilling softly through the glass doors. Couples passed by, dressed in elegance, murmuring about brushstrokes and symbolism.
Kiyonari, who had been waiting outside by the car, leaned against the hood with his hands tucked into his pockets. He occasionally glanced at the tall building, half-bored, half-worried about how long this date would last.
He was just about to check the time when his attention snapped up—someone was stomping his way out of the gallery, each step heavy and sharp, echoing like a hammer on tile.
Kiyonari blinked. Something feels off...
Then, realization struck. "Director Je?"
It was Soo-hyun—storm-eyed, jaw tight, and fuming. His immaculate suit was still flawless, but the air around him was anything but. His brows were furrowed so deeply that Kiyonari could almost hear his irritation from meters away.
Soo-hyun's expression could have curdled the air. "We're leaving!" He yelled, his voice slicing through the night like a whip.
Kiyonari straightened instantly, startled. "Eh? Director Je, what happened—?"
Before he could finish, a voice shouted from behind them. "Plase, wait! Director Je!"
Both men turned toward the sound. But Soo-hyun only ignored him and turned his head away.
It was Mr. Lee Wooyeon, the very man Soo-hyun had been on a date with—now jogging toward them, breathless and panic-stricken, his coat flapping behind him.
"Oh, M-Mr. Soo!" Wooyeon gasped, catching sight of Kiyonari.
Kiyonari blinked rapidly. "What happened, sir? Why are you running...?"
"Please!" Wooyeon's voice cracked as he reached them, clutching Kiyonari's arm desperately. "Please tell Mr. Je it wasn't what he thought it was! It was an accident!"
"An accident?" Kiyonari frowned, confused. "What accident? What are you talking about, sir? Please calm down and explain to me what's going on."
But before Wooyeon could answer, another voice thundered from down the street—hoarse, furious, and trembling.
"Lee Wooyeon! Take responsibility for your child!"
Heads turned.
[!!]
Kiyonari's eyes widened as another man came running after them. He was flushed, panting heavily, and strapped to his chest—secured with a sling carrier—was a healthy baby.
The onlookers near the gallery doors gasped, whispers rippling across the marble floor.
Kiyonari's jaw dropped. Wait... baby? You mean—that's Mr. Lee's child?!
"No!" Wooyeon shouted, his voice cracking in denial. "That's not true! I don't even remember you, Mister!"
The other man's face twisted in disbelief. "Huh?! That's a fucking lie!"
Kiyonari looked between the two of them, dumbfounded. "Wait, sir—can we—"
But before he could even mediate, the other man lunged forward, eyes brimming with hurt and fury. "How can you say you don't know me when you told me yourself I was your fated partner that night!"
Kiyonari froze. "... His what now?"
Now he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the two of them, caught in a storm of shouting voices and scandalized onlookers.
Wooyeon scoffed, his cheeks reddening. "There's no way someone like you would be my fated pair! Fated pairs don't even exist!"
"That's not true!" The man cried, his voice trembling. "I know what I felt that night!"
"Stop this nonsense!" Wooyeon snapped, turning toward Kiyonari. "Mr. Soo, please don't believe this guy—he's lying!"
Kiyonari didn't know where to look. His gaze darted between the baby, the angry stranger, and his panicked date. His mind spun. What the hell even happened inside that gallery...?
Then, the other man's voice cracked into a sob. "How could you..." He whispered, lowering his head as the baby whimpered softly against his chest. "After what you told me that night—and those other nights—you'd deny our child just like that?"
"Mister, you're mistaking me for someone else!" Wooyeon shouted, desperation creeping in. "I swear it's not me!"
"Excuse me, sir," Kiyonari finally stepped in, raising his voice slightly. "Mr. Lee, please—this is causing a scene. We've already attracted too much attention."
Wooyeon faltered, glancing around. Indeed, several gallery guests had gathered near the entrance, murmuring behind their hands.
Kiyonari sighed. "I think it's better if we take this somewhere private—"
But before he could finish, Soo-hyun's cold, cutting voice broke through. "No!"
The tone was sharp enough to slice through air.
"Mr. Je..." Wooyeon stammered, his voice shrinking.
Soo-hyun's gaze was cold. "We're not going anywhere. It's time people see what kind of spoiled brat Alphas this society keeps producing—irresponsible ones who enjoy their nights with strangers and then deny their children the next day."
His words struck like lightning, echoing loud and clear for everyone to hear.
"You said, it was an accident," Soo-hyun continued, his tone like ice. "Now you claim you don't even know this person? You're not even good at lying, Mr. Lee."
"No! That's not true!" Wooyeon's voice cracked. "I... please, listen—"
"Enough!" Soo-hyun snapped, the patience in his tone shattering. "I've had enough of this circus." He turned sharply to Kiyonari. "I'm leaving. I can't take any more of this shit. Come on, Mr. Soo!"
Without waiting for a reply, he stormed toward the car and yanked the door open, slamming it shut with a resounding thud.
Kiyonari lingered, his heart still racing from the chaos. He turned one last time to face Wooyeon, who stood frozen in shame and panic, and the man with the baby, whose eyes glistened under the soft gallery lights.
"Mr. Lee," Kiyonari said quietly but firmly. "You should take this chance to fix things... before it gets worse."
He gave one last look at the trembling man holding at the small, innocent face nestled against his chest. And trying to comfort his crying baby.
"Sir," Kiyonari stepped forward. "You should go home and take your baby somewhere quiet. What happened today is stressing your baby. And that's not good for an infant. Please go home. I'll call a taxi for you."
The man's eyes glinted with somewhat tears ready to trail down his cheek. His lips trembled, but he chose to control his emotion. He nodded.
Kiyonari pulled his phone and called for a taxi. As soon as it arrived, he escorted the man and his baby to get in the car.
Then, without another word, he turned back and slipped into the driver's seat.
The car door shut, muffling the noise of the commotion outside.
And as they drove off, the scandal they left behind echoed in whispers through the gallery halls.