Jaemin began the next day with his mind fixed on a singular purpose: to catch a private moment with Do-hyun during the break in rehearsal, so that he could apologize for his family's behavior toward him. He needed to apologize for his father's rudeness, for the way he had insinuated that Do-hyun, as an alpha and a musician, was just another Choi Seungcheol.
But as he entered the rehearsal hall, he found the usual murmur of warm-up music absent, replaced by a tense, nervous chatter. Several of the orchestra members were huddled together, abuzz with a nervous energy that was different from their normal cheerful bustle.
Their eyes were fixed on the tablet in Jung Eunji's hands, its screen casting a sickly blue light on their faces. Han Chaewon sat next to her, scowling heavily at the screen.
Off to one side, Kim Seojun was furiously typing on his phone, while Yoon Hyeonwoo, usually full of heavy inertia, was pacing up and down behind his chair with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"What are you looking at?" Jaemin asked as he made his way over to them.
The others startled, scrambling to hide the tablet.
"It's nothing, Conductor-nim," Han Chaewon said too quickly, her hands shooting out to slap the device face-down into Jung Eunji's lap, making Eunji squeak in shock. "Just some garbage."
"Yeah, don't worry about it Conductor-nim," Kim Seojun chimed in, shoving his phone in his pocket. "Just the same old internet trolls."
The rest of the musicians nodded enthusiastically, but their too-quick agreement and the shiftiness in their eyes gave them away.
Jaemin said nothing, but held his hand out, his gaze steady and unwavering. Clearly, there had been a development in the online vitriol, one that was probably far from pleasant. But he wasn't going to be shielded from this. He needed to know.
After a moment of uneasy hesitation, Jung Eunji quietly and reluctantly passed him the tablet.
Jaemin's eyes scanned the screen, taking in the swarm of headlines:
'Symphony Seduces Alphas: An Omega's Pheromonal Ploy for Success'
'Orchestra Uses Omega Conductor for Cheap PR Stunt to Cover Up A Lacklustre Performance'
'A Stale Orchestra's Last-Ditch Effort: Omega Conductor's Pheromones Lure In Both Alphas and Mates'
The list went on and on, each one more vicious than the last, some of them so absurd they might have been funny if they hadn't been so cruel.
Citing multiple anonymous sources, each of the articles claimed that the explosion of Jaemin's omega pheromones at the end of the Seoul Philharmonic Symphony's comeback Revival Gala had triggered several alphas' ruts. One particularly malicious piece reported 'at least three unmated alphas in the audience who immediately went into rut, causing them to become aggressive with the other patrons as well as the concert hall staff.'
("None of the staff reported anything of the sort… or at least, not to the extent that this article is suggesting," Yoon Hyeonwoo grumbled.)
Other articles speculated that the SPS, at the end of its rope after a series of disastrous seasons and declining audience subscriptions, had gone for the cheapest option available to them. When they saw that Seo Jaemin was an omega without much—if any—professional experience to speak of, they picked him instead more qualified conductors vying for the position, but had to resort to luring more alphas into subscribing by manipulatively seducing them with Jaemin's omega pheromones.
("Absolutely nonsense!" Han Chaewon rolled her eyes with disdain. "Why on earth would anybody think we would want to turn our SPS concerts into some reality TV dating game show?? Are they stupid???")
Jaemin barely heard her over the other voice in his head: his father's. Telling him again and again how music was only for those who were absolutely certain they could reach the top, and to give up before he wasted his time and broke his heart; all the snide reminders that omegas faced even greater handicaps, and that even if he did succeed, people would always whisper that he had used underhanded means to do so; a barrage of tiny comments that would all add up to one thing:
I told you so.
The words sliced through him, a phantom pain far worse than the cruel headlines. This wasn't just about his reputation; it was about every single argument, every sacrifice, and every shred of independence he had fought for since coming to Vienna. All of it, now a punchline.
He felt shame burning a hole in his stomach—shame for his secondary gender, and shame for being the cause of so much trouble to the orchestra he had come to see as his tribe.
Feeling the beginnings of a headache, he was just about to put the tablet away when his eyes snagged on another headline towards the end of the page, one that made his blood run cold.
'Dishonorable Duet: Sources Say Omega Conductor's Scent Call on Stage Was Conveniently Hijacked, Not Answered, by Alpha Concertmaster
SEOUL – The romantic crescendo that captivated the nation has been revealed as a "Symphony of Shame," and insiders at the Seoul Philharmonic Symphony are now questioning if the public was ever the intended audience.
What the world witnessed as a fated, once-in-a-lifetime bond between omega conductor Seo Jaemin and alpha concertmaster Kang Do-hyun now appears to have been a stage hijacked for personal gain.
On that now-infamous night, Mr. Seo's sudden scent display on stage was undeniably a public, desperate search for his true mate.
Many have suggested that, instead of a heroic rescue by a true partner, Mr. Kang's public reaction was the opportunistic maneuver of an alpha seizing a rare moment of a desperate omega's scent call.
They allege that while Mr. Seo's omega instincts were in a state of crisis, seeking a pre-existing fated bond, he was unable to articulate who it was he was looking for.
Now, a growing number of voices are asking a more chilling question: Did Mr. Seo, unable to find his true mate on his own, simply settle for the most convenient alpha on hand to soothe his own tragic loneliness?
What was initially seen as a heroic moment of devotion is now being recast as a dishonorable duet, with each party using the other for their own tragic ends.
One source, speaking on condition of anonymity, put it bluntly: "They got what they wanted—the fame, the public's love, the attention. It wasn't a romance; it was a pact."'
Unable to continue reading, Jaemin tore his eyes from the screen. Almost instantly, his gaze was drawn like a magnet to where Kang Do-hyun was standing, strangely silent, just beyond the crowd, a still, unmoving point in the swirling anxiety of the room.
Arms folded across his chest, his posture seemed deceptively calm, but for the tense line of his shoulders, and the hard set of his jaw as he stared with narrowed eyes at the tablet in Jaemin's hands.
"This is ridiculous!" Han Chaewon, who had been rambling on and gaining momentum, finally exploded, her voice echoing shrilly off the high ceilings of the hall. "Who are these people and how are they even coming up with such ridiculous phrases? 'Dishonorable duet?'"
"It was the best performance we've had in years, and all they can do is throw mud by calling it a 'pheromonal ploy?'" Kim Seojun added on seriously, all traces of his usual humour gone. "Some people's jealousy knows no limits."
"It's slander," Yoon Hyeonwoo was muttering under his breath over and over. "All this nonsense about Conductor-nim, Kang Do-hyun-nim… They're slandering us all."
Hwan Se-jin agreed. "We should speak to Manager Park Sangho-nim about suing for libel. They're dragging our orchestra's name through the mud!" he growled.
The nervous chatter erupted into a chaotic storm of furious indignation as the orchestra members, as one, filled the room with their outrage.
Their words began to blur in Jaemin's ears as their fierce loyalty turned into a cacophonous wall of sound, each voice adding to the pounding that had started behind his eyes. The righteous noise of their support, meant to be a comfort to him, was instead becoming an overwhelming sensory assault.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos, quiet yet commanding, a single clear note that resonated above the storm of noise.
"Everyone, to your places," Do-hyun said. "We can't let them get to us; we have a rehearsal." He nodded at Jaemin. "We'll be ready to begin in five."
The room fell silent at the solid, unshakeable command. His dark gaze swept over the orchestra members, and the authority in his expression made them scatter, moving to their seats and picking up their instruments without another word.
As they hurried away, Jaemin gave him a look of gratitude, but Do-hyun had already turned away, his focus shifting to his score. He didn't see Jaemin's look, or if he did, he gave no indication.