Chapter Text
Night had fallen, draping the Byun estate in shadows that felt almost too heavy. Lanterns flickered at measured intervals along the gravel paths, their muted pools of light barely keeping the darkness at bay. Euijoo’s boots crunched softly with each step, the sound stark against the hush of the evening. The cool air carried the faint scent of cedar and damp stone, grounding him as he made his way forward.
He had left before dawn, the sky still pale and quiet then. Now, as he returned, the sun was long gone, leaving the estate cloaked in darkness and silence. A full day had passed, but the bone-deep weariness in Euijoo only seemed to grow heavier with each year. He carried it home every time, though it never grew easier.
A quiet sigh escaped him, clouding faintly in the chill. He glanced across the empty courtyards, void of life. He had returned well into the night and most servants were already asleep. His own body ached after the day’s long journey, and not for the first time, he caught himself yearning for something warm, something that resembled home.
It was a foolish wish—one he had long since learned to silence. Euijoo knew better. He was not in a position to wish for such things.
A flicker of movement to his left pulled him from his reverie. A servant had stepped from the shadows, bowing low in greeting.
“Welcome home, Young Master Euijoo,” the man said with warm formality. “I hope your trip went well.”
“It was fine,” Euijoo replied calmly. The trip had been personal, a quiet visit to a place tied to memories he no longer dared name aloud. Everyone in the household knew what this day meant, but speaking of it was taboo. To mention it openly was to invite Her Grace’s wrath.
The servant smiled before hesitating, eyes flicking up briefly before lowering again. “Forgive me for disturbing your night, Young Master, but His Lord requests your presence.”
“Father has returned?” Euijoo blinked. He was sure they had plans that would bleed late into the night. He had even thought that they would return after himself. “Did he not leave with Her Grace and Yoshiki for the Wangs today?”
“They returned earlier than expected,” the servant said, voice subdued.
Euijoo stifled a small, resigned sigh. Every year, this day was his. A rare chance to walk out of the estate with no eyes on him, to touch memories no one else would disturb. Noticing the worry etched in the servant’s expression, Euijoo softened his own, offering the faintest of smiles to ease the man’s concern.
“There’s no helping it. Bring me to him, then.”
Relieved, the servant nodded before leading the way, their steps hushed and silent against the stones.
Unease started to prickle faintly at the back of his mind. It was weird. Euijoo couldn’t think of any reasons as to why his father would call for him this late into the night, especially on this particular day. The man had always preferred to avoid his son’s presence altogether.
The servant seemed slightly nervous as well and drew in a small breath as if steeling himself. He glanced vaguely into the direction of the western wing.
“Young master,” he began carefully, “It would be best if you could avoid Young Master Yoshiki for the time being.”
At the mention of his half-brother, Euijoo slowed down his pace and frowned. Yoshiki throwing a fit was never a weird occurrence. His temper was short, his pride shorter still. And his alpha traits only sharpened the worst of both.
Still, Euijoo felt that it didn’t hurt to ask. “What’s the matter? Did something happen today while I was away?”
“.....It seemed like the meeting with the Wangs went poorly, but not much is known to us. His Lord and Her Grace spoke little of it.” The servant’s pause said enough, discomfort plain despite his restraint. “He threw a fit upon returning to his quarters.”
A faint hum escaped Euijoo. “I see.”
He had expected it somewhat, though the confirmation still landed with grim amusement. Euijoo’s lips quirked in the faintest smile. He could assume the one reason as to why his half-brother had thrown a tantrum: the sole omega of the Wang family, Wang Nicholas, had refused his proposal.
Yoshiki should have anticipated such an outcome. But then, foresight was never his strength.
“Any injuries?” Euijoo asked, resuming his pace. “Or is the only casualty Her Grace’s precious china?”
The servant’s mouth twitched, though his tone remained steady. “Only one minor injury, Young Master.”
Euijoo exhaled wearily. To throw a fit over a rejection was unbecoming of a dignified alpha. Though, he supposed that someone with an ego similar to Yoshiki, would definitely be upset over it. “See that the servant receives proper care. And tell the others to keep clear of Yoshiki until he calms himself.”
“Yes, Young Master,” he replied, relief colouring the servant’s tone. “She is now resting in her quarters and is relieved of her duties for a day.”
“Excellent work, Hirugami-san.” Euijoo praised softly. He saw the way the man straightened, warmed by the rare acknowledgment. “And do not worry. I’ll keep to your advice.”
They continued towards the study, and Euijoo watched the way the lantern light brushed slightly against the stone pathways and the gardens. The air grew cooler here, touched faintly with the perfume of night-blooming winter flowers. His gaze lingered on the long shadows spilling across the ground, the quiet ache of absence tugging faintly at something inside him before he forced it down.
Tonight had given him enough ghosts already.
At the heavy door of his father’s study, the servant stepped forward and knocked, announcing Euijoo’s arrival. “My Lord, I have brought Young Master Euijoo as requested.”
“Allow him in.”
The door then swung open and Euijoo stepped inside, dismissing the servant with a quiet bid of goodnight. The air within was thick—polished wood, faint incense, and beneath it all, something sharper. It was a mixture of scents, threaded through with agitation.
The Byun patriarch looked up immediately. “Late,” he said flatly, setting aside the brush he had been using.
His father bore little resemblance to him, his features marked by the weight of authority rather than warmth. The silver threading through his hair caught the light like steel. Only the eyes were familiar, though where Euijoo’s held quiet restraint, his father’s were stripped of softness entirely.
“You know why,” Euijoo returned, his voice calm as he gazed at his father steadily. He stepped forward until he stood at the desk. “What happened?”
“Yoshiki was turned down,” his father said without missing a beat. “Omega Wang rejected him outright—said that he wasn’t the least impressed by him.”
Euijoo blinked, taken aback by his father’s bluntness. Yet, as always, he felt a dry flicker of amusement. His predictions had been right. “I see.”
“Not surprised?”
“No,” he answered simply, and let his gaze drift briefly to the side before returning it. “Omega Wang is known to reject suitors, even from prominent houses. I would have been surprised if he had accepted Yoshiki. I don’t think that.… Yoshiki is particularly suited for him.”
“You seem acquainted with him.”
Euijoo shook his head. “By name and reputation only.”
Silence followed, heavy and deliberate. His father’s scrutiny was sharp, the kind that sought weakness rather than truth. Euijoo frowned slightly. This conversation was going nowhere. His father remained wordless, watching him as though trying to catch a lie. The quiet stretched thin between them.
He waited for his father to speak, but when he didn’t, Euijoo finally broke it. “Did Her Grace take it poorly? I assume you argued.”
“Of course she did,” His father sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms on his chest. “Omega Wang insulted her prized, precious son to her face. She wanted me to cut ties with the Wangs entirely, or ostracise them.”
“And you disagreed,” Euijoo said, not a question.
“I had to.” His father’s tone was dismissive, pragmatic. “The Wangs are our key to Taiwan. They are even willing to provide monetary backing and we cannot afford to sever that path. Their support in Taipei is too valuable.”
Euijoo’s mouth pressed into a thin line. It was always business with him. Always profit first, blood second—if at all. Even at the expense of vows.
Even at the expense of them.
Bitterness tightened Euijoo’s chest, though he kept his face still. His patience was fraying. It had been a rough day, and he knew his father cared nothing for the day’s significance. Still, some small, foolish part of him had hoped for consideration.
“I’m sorry,” Euijoo said, his voice carrying a note of weary exasperation. “I fail to see how Yoshiki’s rejection concerns me.”
“You think so?” His father watched him with a thin smile.
Euijoo sighed. He was confused and tired, and all he wanted was to return to his quarters and rest. “Father, I don’t understand what you’re trying to imply.”
His father hummed, tapping his finger on the table in thought.
It was indeed strange, everything was. And unfortunately for Euijoo, nothing could have prepared him for his father’s next words.
“Then why did Omega Wang say he would only consider our proposal if it were you he was to marry, and not your brother?”
Euijoo froze. “What?”
The word fell from his lips before he could stop it. Shock cracked his composure; for a moment, he couldn’t mask it—the widening eyes, the stiffness in his stance.
His father’s smile was wry. “News to you as well, I see.”
“Yes? Of course it is!” The protest slipped before Euijoo could stop it, his words tumbling too quickly. He hurriedly caught himself, forcing steadiness back into his voice, but the bewilderment clung stubbornly.
His knees felt weak, as though the ground had shifted beneath him. This conversation took a turn in ways Euijoo could have never predicted. He now understood the gravity of his half-brother’s anger, as well as his stepmother’s.
He fiddled with his fingers, frowning. “I have never spoken to Omega Wang, Father,” Euijoo said, low. “I can’t begin to imagine why he would ask for me.”
“I expected much,” his father nodded, “Your mother thinks it is a scheme—that you’ve been plotting to gain the upper hand over Yoshiki.”
Euijoo leveled an unimpressed stare, keeping silent. There was a time, perhaps, when such an accusation would have cut deep—when anger might have driven him to prove her wrong, to fight back out of spite, to seize what was denied him.
But that will had long since died with the people he’d lost. The fire in him had gone cold, smothered by grief and disillusionment. Now, he had no desire left for inheritance wars, no interest in clawing for a throne built on blood and resentment.
All he wanted now was quiet. Peace.
And yet, even that seemed too much to ask for in this house.
Still, he found it mildly ironic. Had she forgotten that she was the one who ensured Yoshiki’s every success?
“I told her as much,” his father said, his mouth curling in faint amusement, and perhaps even mockery. “You’ve never had the stomach for such intrigue. You wouldn’t even dare try to win over someone with a similar temperament like Omega Wang. You lack the nerve for it.”
A bitter taste rose at the back of Euijoo’s throat. Insults draped in jest. Of course, his father chose this exact moment to remind him of how little he valued his first-born. Euijoo had long known of it, yet hearing it aloud never failed to sting. His father had always preferred the son born of his lover; children from political marriages were merely pawns, ornaments to satisfy duty.
Euijoo dropped his gaze, fingers tightening against his sleeves, letting silence answer in his stead.
“So, what then?” he asked after a long pause, voice quieter.
“What else, if not to agree?” His father’s eyes flicked back to the papers, returning to his brush with deliberate indifference. “We’ll leave for the Wang estate tomorrow. Be prepared.”
Tomorrow?
It was far too soon. There would be no time to ready himself, no room to anticipate the nuances of this arranged encounter.
And yet, the decree was absolute—like ink pressed into the finest parchment. Nothing could bend against his father’s will.
Euijoo’s chest tightened, a familiar ache of resignation curling through him. He had always known he was a piece in his father’s game, but to hear it stated so plainly, so inevitably, made the chill of powerlessness press deeper into his bones.
He drew in a slow, steady breath, forcing himself into stillness. The mask he had perfected over years—a calm, measured exterior—slipped seamlessly into place.
“I understand,” he said at last.
That night, sleep seemed to evade him.
— ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧ —
Euijoo stood motionless beside his carriage, the faint morning chill clinging stubbornly to his skin. February had only just ended, and winter was still lingering in Tokyo’s breath, thin and brittle. The air smelled of wet stone and dew, ordinary scents that did nothing to soothe the tension winding through his chest.
Now, with his father’s gaze fixed firmly upon him, Euijoo felt the weight of inevitability truly press down.
“Remember, Euijoo,” his father said, voice clipped with the authority of one who had never learned the meaning of refusal, “do whatever it takes to charm Omega Wang. This arrangement will benefit us greatly in the future.”
It was not a request. It was an order.
Euijoo smoothed his expression into its usual composure. Inside, however, bitterness coiled slowly, thick and heavy. He had known this day would come, had always understood he was little more than a piece moved across his father’s board. Yet the sting of the reminder never dulled.
A soft, derisive laugh cut through the morning air. “Why expect good news, when not even Yoshiki could charm Omega Wang? Our darling little Euijoo-kun is hardly on par with him.”
A lady stood on his father’s right, posture upright and composed, her presence a careful contrast of elegance and menace. A cunning omega, carefully trained in the art of observation and subtle control.
Euijoo’s stepmother.
Her dark eyes flicked over him, sharp and calculating. Her hair was pinned with a precise, unyielding symmetry, her tailored kimono emphasizing both authority and meticulous taste. A smile, faint and practiced, tugged at her lips—but the chill beneath it was unmistakable.
Euijoo’s fingers curled against his sides, restraining the faintest tremor. He wished he could laugh as well, at the absurdity of her comparing him to Yoshiki, as though the two of them played by the same rules. But he said nothing. Years in this house had taught him silence was safer than rebuttal.
There was nothing here worth fighting for anyway.
“We’ll arrive at the Wang estate an hour after your arrival,” his father went on, as if her poison-laced remark had gone unheard. “That was what they requested yesterday.”
“I understand,” Euijoo replied, voice steady and calm.
It was definitely peculiar, though. To be sent ahead alone, without escort. It unsettled Euijoo slightly. But perhaps desperation made his father flexible in ways pride never had.
The bitterness in his gut churned stubbornly.
As though the exchange had ended, his father turned away, yet his stepmother lingered. Her gaze was sharp and glinting, fixed on him like the edge of a blade drawn too close to skin.
“You’d best watch yourself, Euijoo-kun,” she murmured, the venom plain in her tone, before she too swept away, leaving him in the cold quiet of the courtyard.
Her resentment clung to him like smoke, as though he had agreed to visit the Wangs on his own volition, when in truth, choice had never belonged to him.
Euijoo ignored the ache rising in his chest and calmly stepped into the carriage. The door shut with a muted thud, and moments later the clatter of wheels on stone and the steady rhythm of hooves filled the silence.
It was almost an hour to the Wang estate, the carriage due to arrive just before noon. Many would call the ride tedious and tiring, but to Euijoo, it was much desired. Time to gather his thoughts, to build a shell strong enough to endure what lay ahead.
Even after a night’s rest, his mind spun in circles. Euijoo had combed through every scrap of memory, every detail he could recall about the Wangs and, more specifically, about Wang Nicholas. And yet, it felt as though it wasn’t nearly enough.
Leaning against the window frame, Euijoo watched the scenery blur past. The trees had begun to bud, branches tinged with pale green. Soon, Tokyo’s gardens would bloom; spring would arrive. His fingers tapped faintly against the wood as he sifted through what he knew.
The Wangs were a Taiwanese family that had entered the city nearly a decade ago. Backed by the Mauses, the Wangs had established themselves and slowly built a reputation through careful calculation, steadily proving themselves a formidable force in the city’s business circles.
Which was why Euijoo had assumed that Wang Nicholas would have been paired with Maus Riki, the only male alpha of the Maus family.
Clearly, the Wangs stood to gain much if Nicholas were joined with Maus Riki: the partnership would have been solid and mutually reinforcing, promising longevity, influence woven seamlessly between two powerful houses. It would have been expected, and undeniably advantageous for the Wangs to solidify their position this way.
Instead, the family had chosen another path, one Euijoo had not anticipated. And he, of all people, was tasked to walk it.
Perhaps, Euijoo considered, it was purely a business matter, and the whispers of a bond between Nicholas and Riki were nothing more than rumors. And yet, the thought lingered, nagging at him like a half-remembered melody he could not quite place.
The carriage rattled softly over stone paths, but Euijoo scarcely noticed. His mind churned, deducing unseen motives, weighing the benefits and losses. From a purely tactical perspective, he could see no immediate advantage for the Wangs in pairing with the Byuns over the Mauses. Yet something had shifted—subtle, elusive—and it had rewritten the expected course.
He exhaled slowly, the sigh quiet in the carriage, and pressed his forehead lightly against the glass. Euijoo remembered what society whispered of the Wangs: how strange they were, how they had uprooted their youngest son at fifteen to raise him in Tokyo, leaving their beta daughter to manage affairs in Taipei. It had been the talk for weeks, and possibly even months, speculation feeding on speculation.
Euijoo then thought of the rumours surrounding Wang Nicholas—the boy his own age, an omega yet possessed of a freedom he himself had never known. He recalled the stir Nicholas had caused in society, the quiet shock that rippled through circles when people realised the young man was nothing like they had expected.
An omega who trained and fought with skill, who carried himself without subservience, who wielded sharp wit as easily as he wielded a blade. He was unafraid to speak up, to defend his rights even against the most domineering alpha. To some, he was a challenge; to others, an inspiration.
He was, in short, a storm contained in human form.
Nicholas did not fit the mold Japan had long expected of omegas. He was reckless to societal norms and boundaries, yet disciplined in his own way. He had scandalised and enthralled Tokyo in equal measure, but he was also a rallying point for some omegas who were tired of playing meek.
Euijoo found himself unconsciously replaying the brief glimpse he once had of Nicholas, an image that had imprinted itself more vividly than reason should allow, lingering stubbornly at the edges of his thoughts.
Tall, well-built, every bit of bravery and confidence he himself wished he had. He remembered the sharp angle, yet gentle slope of his nose, the way his eyes constantly looked menacing and yet captivating, and the way his face would lose its fierceness the moment he smiled.
There was something in the way he moved, the quiet confidence beneath his sharp tongue, that stirred an unfamiliar awareness in Euijoo’s chest. His presence was like a flare in a crowded room, bright and steady.
“Wang Nicholas is far out of my reach,” Euijoo muttered under his breath, the words tasting faintly of longing he did not permit himself to entertain.
A brief glance out of the window told Euijoo that he was nearing the Wang estate. His palms grew clammy, a subtle, unwelcome warmth creeping up his forearms, and his heart began to pick up its pace. He drew in a slow, measured breath, forcing himself to steady the rhythm of his pulse.
The carriage had already passed through the gates of the Wang compound and begun to slow, its wheels crunching softly against the gravel as Euijoo’s thoughts calmed. It was the sound of the coachman’s knock on the carriage door that finally drew him from his reverie.
“Young Master, we have arrived,” the voice called.
Euijoo drew in another slow breath, letting it anchor him. Composure returned almost instinctively, the familiar mask settling smoothly into place—the dignified, controlled alpha of the Byun household. He smoothed the folds of his hakama with meticulous care, the motion both grounding and ritualistic, before opening the carriage door and stepping out.
Sunlight fell warmly over him, highlighting the faint crease of worry on his brow, but Euijoo felt his breath catch as his gaze landed upon the view in front of him.
What greeted him was not merely a residence but a realm unto itself. The Wang estate unfurled before Euijoo in a sweep of red and gold framed by warm, polished wood, each detail carefully measured to impress without ostentation. Sunlight poured over the tiled roofs, glinting against gilt edges and tracing the carved ridges of dragons and suns worked into the beams.
The outer walls breathed with quiet grandeur, stone and timber carved with motifs that revealed themselves only if one lingered: chrysanthemums bending in the wind, a crane lifting its wings, a lotus blooming defiantly from water.
The air here was lighter, freer. Unlike the Byun estate, where shadows seemed to pool in corners and corridors smelled of cold stone, somehow the Wang grounds carried the warmth of sun-soaked wood and distant blossoms.
A delicate, unfamiliar fragrance drifted on the breeze, softly floral, almost luminous, like a whisper of jasmine pressed into sunlight. There was a quiet steadiness beneath it, a subtle warmth that tugged at his senses without reason.
Euijoo inhaled before he realised it, and for a fleeting moment, the tension in his shoulders eased.
“Young Master Euijoo,” a servant in neat livery said, bowing low. Her voice was courteous. “Welcome to the Wang estate. This way, please. Young Master Nicholas is expecting you.”
Euijoo allowed his lips to curve up into a soft smile. “Thank you for having me. Please, lead the way.”
The path curved inward, flanked by courtyards where maples spilled their green into pools of sunlight. A faint wind stirred the budding leaves into motion, and shadows rippled like water across the ground. Silk hangings embroidered with phoenixes and twin koi moved in the draft, alive with shifting color.
They passed a garden, the pond shimmering with flecks of sunlight. Lotus leaves fanned across its water, their blooms cradling light like delicate vessels. Carp glided beneath the surface, sending ripples that fractured the sun into golden fragments.
The air was rich with the green, vibrant scent of growth, layered with that faint note again—that same steady, bright undertone that seemed to follow him, and Euijoo caught himself trying to trace its source.
“Young Master Nicholas is waiting,” the servant said at last, stopping before a pair of lacquered doors.
The servant’s knock was soft, measured, almost ceremonious, before she pressed forward. The doors parted open slowly, the hush of their movement carrying through the air. Euijoo lifted his gaze.
There he was.
Wang Nicholas.
Sunlight pooled across the floor and climbed the omega’s frame, gilding him in a quiet, effortless glow. His changshan, finely tailored and high-collared, drew a precise line along the column of his throat. The absence of a collar that most unwed omegas in Japan usually wore was subtle—another sign of the differences in their upbringing.
Dark hair brushed his forehead, framing eyes that met Euijoo’s with a calm, unyielding intensity. Euijoo, unused to being observed in such a manner, felt a heat creep to his cheeks, a rare flutter of self-consciousness tightening his chest. Each step he took towards Nicholas felt measured, yet Euijoo’s pulse betrayed the tension coiling in his chest.
He drew in a slow, steadying breath, forcing his posture to remain upright. “It is nice to meet you, Omega Wang,” he said, bowing slightly.
Nicholas’ lips curved upward, a subtle smile that faintly held warmth. “Hope your trip here wasn’t too bad, Alpha Byun,” he replied smoothly. It carried a calm that made Euijoo’s own restraint feel almost fragile.
Euijoo felt a flutter of nerves, but he forced himself to meet that gaze evenly. “It was manageable. The roads were clear, thankfully.”
Nicholas shifted slightly, letting his gaze linger on Euijoo with the same sharp awareness. “That’s good. I’d hate to have you arrive here frustrated before we even met.” A glint of humor warmed his words, and against his better judgment, Euijoo felt a faint lightness stir within him.
“Thank you,” Euijoo bowed slightly once more, the corners of his mouth softening.
Nicholas’ eyes glimmered with interest, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward a little more freely. “I’ve heard quite a bit about the Byun family, especially about you, of course.”
Euijoo felt himself go still despite his best efforts.
Rumors about his family rarely carried anything flattering.
“Only the good things, I hope.”
“That depends. Though I hope most of it is true.” Nicholas’ smile deepened, just barely.
The playful weight behind the words tightened something in Euijoo’s chest. He managed a quiet, polite smile. “I hope I live up to any expectations, then.”
The omega said nothing—only watched him, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his lips.
A silence then fell between them. Euijoo flexed his fingers at his sides, steadying himself. Why does he look at me like that? he thought, feeling the faint warmth rising in his throat. He was undeniably aware of the unusual pull Nicholas’ presence exerted.
“It is our first time meeting, isn’t it?” Nicholas added lightly, breaking the pause.
“Yes,” Euijoo said, steady despite the fluttering in his chest. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
Nicholas quirked a brow, eyes glinting with mischief. “All those stories about the Byuns, all those whispers… yet none mentioned how shy the eldest son can be.”
Euijoo blinked, caught off guard, and felt his smile froze in place.
Shy?
He had never heard of others calling him shy.
Polite, reserved, perhaps distant—but shy?
“Don’t look so serious,” Nicholas added, a teasing note threading through his voice. “I promise I don’t bite—unless you give me a reason to.”
For a fleeting moment, Euijoo’s composure faltered. He had heard the stories about Wang Nicholas: the wit, the unshaken confidence, the refusal to yield before anyone. But none of them had warned him about this. How warmth could feel like a blade turned gentle.
“I assure you,” Euijoo said, managing a small smile, “I have no such intentions.”
Nicholas’ sharpness softened just a touch, his eyes catching light in a way that made Euijoo’s chest tighten. It unsettled him. The air between them seemed thinner now, warmer, though no closer than before.
“Relax, Alpha Byun,” Nicholas chuckled, his laughter low and unrestrained. “I’m only curious to see the man behind the name. Though I must admit,” his eyes gleamed, “I didn’t expect the famous Byun Euijoo to blush so easily.”
Euijoo froze.
He wasn’t blushing—or at least he told himself that. But the warmth spreading through his face betrayed him. His throat caught as he struggled to maintain the mask of composure that had served him all his life.
“I… do not blush easily,” Euijoo said, frowning faintly, though the uneven cadence of his voice clearly exposed the lie.
He watched, slightly entranced, as Nicholas laughed again, freely this time. The sound was unguarded, rich, startlingly human. It filled the room and left something warm and unfamiliar in its wake.
“Hmm… we’ll see about that,” Nicholas murmured, his gaze lingering a second too long before he turned, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
Euijoo exhaled slowly, forcing the air back into his lungs. He straightened, trying to steady the pulse that had slipped out of rhythm. Despite the teasing, and the faint, insistent flutter in his chest, he knew he had to remain composed.
“Come,” Nicholas said at last, his tone smooth again but touched with playful authority. “There’s somewhere I’d like to bring you.”
As they walked, Euijoo’s gaze drifted over the expanse of the Wang estate, his mind quietly cataloguing every detail. The place was truly a masterwork of harmony: artistry married to precision. Sunlight spilled across carved beams and polished stone, catching on the gilded curves of dragons that coiled around the doorways, lotuses blooming from shallow basins, and fine etchings of the sun and moon worked delicately into the walls.
“The estate is… beautiful,” he said at last, his voice measured but touched faintly with awe. “Different from the Byuns’. I particularly liked the pond.”
Nicholas glanced sideways, the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it. My mother will be pleased to hear that.”
Euijoo hummed in quiet acknowledgment, his steps even and unhurried. He could tell, even from a brief glance, that every corner of the place had been arranged with purpose. There was elegance, yes, but beneath it, warmth. A lived-in sort of beauty.
And yet, despite the splendour around him, his gaze seemed always to find its way back to Nicholas; the easy grace of his walk, the way sunlight threaded through his hair as if the day itself deferred to him.
They turned through winding paths, the faint scent of jasmine following in their wake, until Nicholas led him into a smaller courtyard—bare, in startling contrast to the rest of the estate.
Euijoo slowed, a faint crease forming between his brows. The openness of the space, the compacted earth, the faint scent of oil and wood, it was all too familiar.
His gaze swept left, and the realisation clicked into place: rows of wooden swords and polearms stood neatly in racks, waiting.
A sparring courtyard.
His pulse lifted, a quiet mix of surprise, confusion and anticipation threading through him. When he turned to Nicholas, the omega’s lips had already curved into a teasing smile, head tilted in challenge.
“It seems you recognise where we are, Alpha Byun.”
Euijoo exhaled, attempting composure. “I’m familiar with it,” he said evenly, though his thoughts tangled in quiet confusion. Did he bring me here to spar? He had expected conversation—an exchange of formalities, perhaps—but this?
Nicholas’ grin widened, his expression almost boyish in its excitement, as though he were about to share a secret. “Why don’t we play a game?”
Euijoo blinked. “A.. game?”
“Mhm.” Nicholas stepped lightly into the courtyard, the silk of his changshan catching the light as he moved. There was a calm fluidity in the way he walked, like someone entirely at home in their body. He approached the rack, fingers trailing briefly over the handles before choosing a random wooden sword. Turning back, he beckoned with an easy tilt of his chin.
“Just two rounds.”
Euijoo froze mid-step. “Wait—” his voice caught in disbelief, “you’d like to spar? With me?”
Nicholas turned fully. The teasing brightness dimmed from his expression, replaced by something cool and precise. “What? Do you share those alphas’ opinions as well?” His tone was deceptively light, but Euijoo caught the steel underneath. “That omegas shouldn’t fight?”
The accusation hit harder than expected.
Euijoo shook his head immediately. “No. I apologise if I offended you, Omega Wang. That isn’t what I meant.”
His eyes flicked from Nicholas to the weapons and back again, words catching in his throat. He could already feel the creeping heat of misunderstanding. “I only thought…”
“Thought what?” Nicholas’ arms crossed, his expression sharpening into faint impatience.
Euijoo hesitated, hating the sudden imbalance. “I thought we were going to talk,” he said quietly. “To get to know each other, before our parents gather.” The statement came out gentler than intended, almost uncertain.
Something in Nicholas’ posture eased. The tension dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. He tilted his head, an amused smile returning to his lips. “Oh.”
Then, with an airy laugh, “But we are getting to know each other now, aren’t we?”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Euijoo admitted, brow furrowing, which only seemed to amuse the omega further. Nicholas’ laughter came soft but unrestrained, melodic in the empty courtyard.
“Well,” he said, eyes glinting, “the winner gets to ask a question. The loser must answer honestly.” His grin curved, sharp and bright. “That’s one way of getting to know each other, don’t you think?”
Before Euijoo could respond, something moved in the air. A wooden sword sailed toward him, and his body reacted before thought could catch up. He caught it neatly, the familiar weight settling in his hand.
He looked down at it, then up again, brows raised.
Strange. Unorthodox. Yet… he found he wasn’t opposed. Against his better judgment, the antics of Nicholas stirred a faint curiosity flickering in Euijoo’s chest.
“Did my brother react badly to your little game?” he asked at last, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He could almost imagine Yoshiki’s expression—the indignation, the disbelief.
To his surprise, Nicholas only grinned wider. “Didn’t even meet him alone. Rejected him before he ever got close enough to try speaking to me personally.”
Euijoo’s lips twitched despite himself. Nicholas was, it seemed, far bolder than rumour had suggested.
“Though,” Nicholas continued, rolling his wrist to spin the sword with easy, practiced grace, “most of the alphas I rejected were either after I beat them here, or because their egos couldn’t handle the idea of losing to an omega.”
Euijoo studied him for a moment, noting the confidence in his stance, the quiet pride in his tone. “And if I were to lose,” he asked carefully, “would that mean rejection as well?”
Nicholas’ smile deepened—sly, unreadable. “That,” he said softly, “depends, Alpha Byun.” He rolled his shoulders, body aligning into perfect form, poise settling over him like second nature.
The air between them shifted.
“Now,” Nicholas murmured, eyes gleaming, “shall we begin?”
— ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧ —
The first clash was polite, almost ceremonial.
Wood met wood with a clean, resonant crack that echoed softly across the courtyard. Nicholas moved with a fluid precision that caught Euijoo slightly off guard. His footwork was light, the rhythm deceptively playful; each step a measured burst of speed that cut through the air with surprising strength. He fought like someone who understood control—never reckless, yet never hesitant.
Euijoo parried, careful and deliberate. He had studied swordplay long enough to recognise skill when he saw it. For all Nicholas’ elegance, there was unmistakable power behind his strikes, each movement threaded with confidence. He understood now why people whispered of the omega’s prowess. Nicholas didn’t fight to prove a point. He fought as if he had nothing left to prove.
Their rhythm fell into place quickly.
Strike, counter, sidestep.
The weight of the wooden swords reverberated through Euijoo’s arms, the sensation grounding him even as something in him began to unspool. His eyes tracked Nicholas’ movements with quiet intensity—the faint tightening of his shoulders, the subtle shift of balance before a feint, the way his breathing steadied between strikes.
Then, without warning, his senses caught something else.
That scent.
Clean, bright, and unforgettably jasmine.
It brushed against him faintly, curling through the warm air, elusive yet distinct. He’d noticed traces of it earlier—threaded through the corridors, lingering in the garden—but now, enveloped by proximity, it was unmistakably his. Nicholas’.
The faint sweetness of jasmine layered with a quiet note of something sharper, bergamot, perhaps, or the edge of sunlight on polished wood.
It was, mildly putting, distracting.
“You’re analysing me too much,” Nicholas said mid-lunge, his voice light but carrying a spark of amusement. Their blades locked, pressure humming between them. “Your brother would’ve just swung blindly.”
“I am nothing like him,” Euijoo replied, his tone clipped yet edged with mock offense. His breath caught as he twisted out of range, Nicholas’ sleeve brushing fleetingly against his arm. The contact was brief, almost accidental, yet it sent a quiet ripple through him; heat, quick and unwanted.
He forced it down, schooling his expression back into calm. Still, the scent lingered, maddeningly delicate, threading through his focus. It pulled at his composure like silk through fingers—fine, invisible, impossible to resist.
Nicholas’ lips curved, playful and deliberate. “That so, Euijoo-san?”
The sound of his given name—unadorned, spoken with that faintly lilting accent—landed harder than any strike. Euijoo faltered, just slightly. It was enough.
Nicholas moved instantly, lunging forward with a sudden burst of speed, wooden blade cutting the air in a blur.
“You—did that on purpose,” Euijoo managed to accuse, blocking desperately, the shock rippling through his arms.
Nicholas laughed, bright and utterly unrepentant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Euijoo’s restraint cracked.
A flicker of something sharp, pride, maybe indignation, maybe something closer to thrill, lit beneath his ribs. He shifted his stance, shoulders squaring as the quiet fire in him stirred.
In a swift flurry of motion, he advanced. Their swords collided again, wood sparking against wood. Nicholas’ guard faltered for the first time—a flash of surprise crossing his face—as Euijoo slipped past his defense and pressed the tip of his blade against the hollow of the omega’s neck.
“I win, Nicholas-san,” Euijoo said between steady breaths, chest rising and falling with exertion. The faint grin tugging at his lips betrayed both relief and restrained pride. His cheeks burned, not only from the fight.
For a moment, Nicholas simply blinked, as if recalibrating. Then his expression broke into delighted laughter, warm and genuine, softening the sharp lines of his face.
“Well, then,” he said, lowering his sword with grace, “what would you like to ask?”
Euijoo stepped back, recovering composure. The game’s rule echoed in his mind—winner asks, loser answers. Several questions rose, each one too cautious or too revealing. He hesitated, tongue pressing briefly against his teeth before he finally spoke.
“I’d like to know,” he said slowly, “what Nicholas-san expects from this union.”
The air shifted, still and tentative. His gaze flickered down, uncertain. He had heard enough of Nicholas’ reputation to know the omega was not easily swayed by status or appearances. Still, part of him feared what the answer might reveal—some ideal he could never fulfill.
Nicholas didn’t answer right away. The teasing air eased from his features, replaced by quiet thought. “I don’t expect much,” he said at last, his tone low, almost gentle. “But I do hope for a friend. A partner, maybe. Someone I can rely on. Trust.”
Something in Euijoo’s chest tightened—softly, unexpectedly. The simplicity of it disarmed him, that fragile honesty beneath the bravado.
But before the moment could settle, Nicholas’ lips curved again, sly and irreverent. “Or,” he added, “someone to disturb always.”
Euijoo blinked. “Disturb?”
“It’s no fun if things are too quiet.” Nicholas tilted his head, eyes bright with laughter. “And what about you, Euijoo-san?”
It took Euijoo a moment before he found his voice again. “That counts as a question,” he said, managing a faint, clever smile. “You’ve yet to win a round.”
“Hah! Cheeky.” Nicholas’ laughter spilled easily this time, rich and amused. “Humour me anyway?”
The mirth in his tone made something warm stir beneath Euijoo’s ribs. Strange, fleeting, but pleasant. His expression softened, the corner of his mouth turning upward.
“It’s the same as you,” he said finally. “Someone I can be myself with.” A pause. His gaze lowered briefly. “And some peace, too.”
Nicholas’ grin gentled, eyes softening in a way that made Euijoo’s pulse trip. “Peace?” he echoed, voice low with an almost fond amusement. “Unfortunately, you won’t find much of that with me.”
Euijoo huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’m beginning to see that.”
Nicholas’ chuckle lingered in the air before he stepped back, twirling his sword in a loose, practiced motion. “Then, shall we play the other round?”
Euijoo nodded, that faint smile still ghosting his lips. “Very well.”
They circled each other once more. The afternoon light slanted across the courtyard, gilding their figures in gold. The air between them tightened again—not hostile, but alive with something wordless and electric.
Then Nicholas moved—swift, precise, a blur of motion that forced Euijoo instinctively backward.
The second round had begun.
It unfolded faster than the first, with Nicholas pressing harder, sharper. His strikes were unpredictable yet clean, each movement deliberate, testing the limits of Euijoo’s defense.
A left, a right, under, before another left—twice.
Euijoo countered with measured calculation, conserving movement, parrying at the last possible moment as he mapped the rhythm of the omega’s flow. The clash of wood against wood rang through the courtyard, loud and intimate in its cadence.
“You’re thinking again,” Nicholas said, breath hitching into a grin. “Do you always overthink, Euijoo-san? Or is it just with me?”
Euijoo parried another strike, tone steady despite his quickened breath. “I prefer not to act without reason, Nicholas-san.”
“Reason?” Nicholas advanced, their shoulders brushing. A faint trace of jasmine threaded through the air—clean, fresh, insistently there. It brushed against Euijoo’s senses, just enough to distract him for a heartbeat. “Where’s the fun in reason?”
Euijoo ignored the flush creeping up his neck and forced his focus back to the movement of their blades. “Fun isn’t always the goal.”
“Ah, but it should be sometimes,” Nicholas teased, slipping close enough that Euijoo could feel the warmth of him before darting away with foxlike agility.
Their swords collided again and again, each impact vibrating through Euijoo’s arms. His muscles burned, yet his mind sharpened, patient and precise, waiting for the opening—
But Nicholas moved with sudden ferocity, a feint blooming into a strike so fast that Euijoo’s sword flew from his hand, clattering across the stone.
He froze, breath shallow, gaze lifting to meet Nicholas’.
The omega’s chest rose and fell with exhilaration, his eyes bright with triumph. “It’s my win this time,” he said, grin unabashed.
Euijoo exhaled, allowing a small smile to slip through. “So it seems.” He couldn’t help but admire the omega’s fluidity. Every movement was polished, effortless, alive.
Nicholas gave his sword a lazy twirl, the polished wood catching sunlight before stilling it at his side. His grin softened into something indulgent. “Since I’m feeling generous,” he said lightly, “I’ll let you ask another question anyway.”
Euijoo blinked, startled. Another question. His mind stuttered, reaching for something—anything—that wouldn’t betray the strange knot tightening in his chest.
A thousand questions pressed against him.
He thought of his brother’s smugness, their father’s appraising eyes, the stepmother’s cold disdain. Of the way he had always been the unwanted child—the ghost of what should have been.
And here Nicholas stood, a prize so many alphas had clawed at, laughing with him, choosing to see him. It didn’t make sense.
His fingers curled around his wrist, the phantom sting of the fight still burning there. The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“…Why me?”
Nicholas tilted his head, brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”
Euijoo’s throat felt tight. “Even if my brother isn’t the best, he’s still more… fitting. I only carry half his charm.” His voice thinned on the last word, the weight of old belief heavy behind it.
Nicholas blinked once, then twice, as if incredulous. “You really think that?”
Euijoo looked away, the edges of regret creeping in. He hated how small he sounded.
Nicholas’ soft sigh broke the quiet. “Euijoo-san, please, don’t ever measure yourself against your half-brother again. You’re not even half the same.”
Euijoo’s eyes flicked up despite himself. Nicholas’ expression was steady, serious but kind. “You think and act with kindness. You carry yourself with dignity. That matters more than you realise.”
The words landed deeper than Euijoo wanted to admit. Praise always felt suspicious, manipulative. Yet Nicholas spoke as though stating simple truth.
Nicholas tilted his head, voice gentling. “Strength isn’t shouting louder than everyone else—or winning every fight. It’s knowing when not to. You’re one of the only few who seem to understand that.”
Something in Euijoo wavered. The conviction in Nicholas’ tone pressed into him like warmth. Unfamiliar, unwarranted, but welcomed.
“And besides,” Nicholas added, grin curling at the corner, “you do realise there are omegas out there who’d gladly fight for a chance to be where I am right now, don’t you? You’re quite a catch, after all.”
Heat shot up Euijoo’s neck, sudden and unbidden. His posture stiffened; his eyes darted away. His ears burned, though he forced his face into stillness.
“…I—” The words tangled in his throat. He drew a quiet breath, regaining composure. “I just don’t want to trap you in a lifetime of disappointment, Nicholas-san. If you reject me, I promise the Wangs won’t face any repercussions in Tokyo.”
“Oh, please,” Nicholas said with a small, amused scoff. “Being tied to you would be far from disappointing.”
Euijoo’s eyes flicked toward him before he could stop himself. The faint flush stayed high on his cheekbones, much to his irritation. The omega, of course, looked quietly delighted.
Chuckling, Nicholas turned away, strolling to the edge of the courtyard. He sank onto the stone steps with a satisfied sigh, sword left beside him. Sunlight spilled across his features, catching in his hair. “You’re blushing again, Euijoo-san.”
The words hung in the air like a tease, light, but knowing.
Euijoo’s jaw tightened; his gaze flicked aside. He smoothed his expression back into calm, though the warmth in his chest refused to fade. “You’re imagining things.”
“Really?” Nicholas hummed, unconvinced. The lilt in his tone was playful, but gentle, less a provocation than a touch of familiarity. He let the quiet linger before patting the empty step beside him. “Come. You’ve earned a rest after making me work for that round.”
For a moment, Euijoo hesitated. Habit pulled him towards formality, towards distance. But refusing would feel almost childish—and Nicholas’ open, expectant look made standing apart feel somehow more revealing than joining him.
The cool stone pressed against his palms as he sat. Their shoulders didn’t touch—Euijoo made sure of that—but the nearness was enough to stir something restless beneath his composure.
Nicholas’ scent drifted faintly between them again. Jasmine, unmistakable. It pressed quietly at the edges of Euijoo’s senses, unsettling in its familiarity.
Nicholas glanced sideways, a smile ghosting over his lips. “You really don’t lose your composure easily, do you?”
“I prefer not to,” Euijoo replied honestly.
“Mm.” Nicholas tilted his head, studying him as though trying to decipher a riddle. “Makes it all the more satisfying when you do crack, though.”
A quiet huff escaped Euijoo, almost a laugh. “You’re relentless.”
“I like to win.” Nicholas’ grin widened, but softened at the edges. “And you make victory interesting.”
The air settled into a comfortable stillness. Euijoo’s eyes drifted toward the training grounds—the scuffed wood, the faint scratches on stone where blades had struck over the years. He wondered how many had stood here before him, how many Nicholas had tested, dismissed, or defeated.
Yet here they were, sitting side by side.
It was Nicholas who broke the silence again, his tone quieter now. “You know, Euijoo-san, perhaps you have a skewed vision of me.”
Euijoo’s brows drew slightly together. “What do you mean?”
Nicholas gave a faint, wry smile, his gaze flickering toward the courtyard floor. “Contrary to what most think, I’m not exactly a popular choice for alphas—despite how many have asked for my hand.”
Euijoo’s pulse quickened before he could stop it. He turned slightly, catching the subtle way Nicholas toyed with the cuff of his sleeve before speaking again. There was no trace of pretense, only quiet candour.
“Many of them come here to win a prize,” Nicholas continued softly. “They don’t see me. They see a feisty omega to tame, or a connection to my family to exploit.”
The words hung between them, heavier than their earlier teasing. The air seemed to shift with it. Euijoo felt the urge to say something, to deny it, to offer comfort. But the words that came to mind felt shallow against the weight of Nicholas’ honesty.
Instead, he let the silence stretch, letting his presence—his listening—be the only answer. Nicholas noticed, and didn’t seem to mind.
He leaned back, eyes half-lidded against the sunlight, a faint smile curving his lips. “Still,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I think I’d rather have one person who sees me for who I am, than a dozen who don’t.”
Then, turning slightly toward Euijoo, he added, tone light but edged with meaning, “So, ‘a lifetime of disappointment,’ as you put it—perhaps that won’t even happen. Who knows? We might actually work well together.”
The mischief in his eyes caught the light, but beneath it was steady sincerity.
Euijoo allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it eased something tight within his chest. The notion of being seen, of not carrying the weight of expectation alone. It was unfamiliar. Dangerous, even.
Hope was a cruel thing. It bloomed only to wither, and he had learned to smother it before it could take root. Yet watching Nicholas—his easy confidence, the way he spoke of possibility without fear—Euijoo felt the faint, reckless stir of wanting to try.
Maybe, just maybe, he could—
Nicholas stretched languidly, voice dropping low with casual teasing, unaware of the turmoil simmering beside him. “Don’t look so worried, Euijoo-san. I’ve survived enough overbearing alphas and impatient betrothals to know—you’re nothing like them.”
Euijoo pressed his lips together, fighting the small warmth that rose at the words. It wasn’t often that he was being spoken to like this—with honesty and humour intertwined. The combination felt disarming. Grounding.
His gaze drifted back to the courtyard. “It won’t be easy if you choose to be with me, Nicholas-san,” he said at last, fingers tugging absently at his sleeves. Then, after a pause, a faint, rueful smile. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of my family.”
Nicholas tilted his head, the mischief in his dark eyes dimming, replaced by something quieter and firmer. “Stories don’t concern me,” he said evenly. “And I don’t break easily. I’m not the kind to wither under someone else’s schemes.”
A small curve tugged at his lips, calm but certain. “Besides, if I ever do need a shield…” His gaze flicked toward Euijoo, deliberate. “I have a feeling you’d be more than capable of being one.”
The words landed softly, but they reverberated deep.
Euijoo’s breath caught. Nicholas had said it plainly, without hesitation. Offered trust where others would have withheld doubt. It left Euijoo off-balance, uneasily so, and yet, warmth threaded through the unease, quiet and uninvited.
How could Nicholas trust him so easily, when they had barely begun to know each other?
Before he could respond, movement stirred at the far edge of the courtyard. A servant lingered under the archway, hands clasped, head bowed low. Her glance toward Nicholas was brief but meaningful. The summons was clear.
Nicholas exhaled, a soft sigh touched with reluctance. Rising, he brushed the dust from his sleeves and extended a hand toward Euijoo. “Come on. Our parents are waiting.”
Euijoo hesitated only a breath before accepting. The warmth of Nicholas’ hand lingered far longer than it should have, and when their palms parted, it left behind a faint echo. A pulse he couldn’t quite steady.
They fell into step side by side, their strides unhurried, the path to the hall stretching long and sunlit. Nicholas filled the quiet with effortless chatter, tossing remarks and sly smiles over his shoulder, each one meant to tease some reaction from Euijoo.
And against his own better judgment, Euijoo found himself softening. The edges of his restraint dulled; faint smiles escaped despite himself. Warmth coiled low in his chest, an unfamiliar, almost treacherous comfort.
But beneath it, unease lingered. He wasn’t used to this kind of lightness, to someone at ease in his company. Each laugh Nicholas drew from him felt foreign, as though it belonged to someone he used to be.
They neared the final corridor of the meeting hall when Nicholas stopped abruptly, as if recalling something half-forgotten. “Oh—before I forget.”
Euijoo turned, faintly puzzled. “Yes?”
Nicholas regarded him with open curiosity, head tilted, tone deceptively casual. “Are you deeply attached to the Byuns?”
The question struck sharper than expected. Euijoo’s steps faltered. Something about the phrasing—its simplicity—unsettled him, as though Nicholas were reaching for a truth beneath the surface.
He searched the omega’s face for explanation, but Nicholas only waited calmly, his silence patient as still water.
Ghosts stirred. Hands he could no longer hold. Voices long faded. The weight of a name he had never asked to carry.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “No. Not really.”
Nicholas hummed softly, unreadable. “Alright then.”
No elaboration followed. He simply turned back toward the corridor and continued walking, as though the question had been no more than idle curiosity.
Euijoo lingered a moment, unease flickering sharp under his ribs. He wanted to ask—why that question, and what it meant—but Nicholas’ calm betrayed nothing.
— ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧ —
The main hall of the Wang compound glowed softly under lantern light, golden hues catching on polished beams and lacquered screens painted with winding pines. The air held a faint trace of incense, mingling with the subtler, fresher fragrance of tea leaves steeping somewhere out of sight.
A long table stretched before them, its surface gleaming faintly, set with porcelain so delicate it seemed almost translucent. Pale cups rested on matching saucers, steam curling in delicate wisps, as if to soothe away tension before it could settle.
Euijoo knew, logically, that these details were meant to calm him. The careful balance of light, scent, and quiet luxury—all designed to put a guest at ease. And yet beneath the table, his nerves tapped an uneven rhythm against his palms. He could only hope the mask of composure on his face passed for indifference rather than strain.
He sat opposite Nicholas and his parents, his own family yet to arrive. The absence left him exposed, an envoy alone from the Byuns. The Wangs, however, did not let the silence linger uncomfortably.
Lord Wang’s gaze rested on him, unreadable but not unkind. “Tell me, Young Master Byun,” he said, deliberately mild, “did my son frighten you this afternoon?”
The question struck Euijoo like a sudden bell. “…Frighten me, Your Grace?”
Nicholas leaned forward, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Father, must you exaggerate? If anything, I’d say he held his ground quite well.” His eyes flicked to Euijoo, glinting with restrained amusement. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Euijoo’s pulse stumbled. “I… hardly think it was anything worth remarking upon.”
Lord Wang hummed softly, a faint crease of humor at the corner of his mouth. “That is not what I heard.”
Nicholas let out a quiet scoff, though the curl of his mouth betrayed his enjoyment. “You make it sound as though I were a rabid hound. Truly, you should have seen him, Father—calm as stone while I nearly tore into him.”
Heat prickled faintly along Euijoo’s ears, yet he kept his tone even. “I was merely doing what was expected.”
That drew a low, genuine laugh from Nicholas, warm and brief, and Euijoo felt his composure falter just a heartbeat. Lord Wang’s gaze lingered, measuring. Not with the ruthless weight he was used to from his own father, but with quiet attention, as though observing how Euijoo carried himself under pressure rather than judging him.
Madam Wang turned to him with a gentle smile. “And did you happen to see the pond in the gardens today, Young Master Byun?”
Euijoo allowed himself a small smile. “I did, Your Grace. It was unbelievably beautiful. I lingered longer than I intended.”
Her expression softened with delight, as if he had handed her something precious. “That pleases me more than you know. Too often, guests hurry past it, searching only for grand halls and painted chambers. The pond is often overlooked.”
Before he could respond, Nicholas’ voice chimed in, smooth with teasing satisfaction. “What did I tell you, Mother? He would notice.”
“So you did,” Madam Wang laughed quietly, reaching to rest her hand atop her son’s briefly. “You see, Young Master Byun, my son has always said the pond reveals which visitors truly pay attention. It seems his judgment was correct.”
Euijoo’s throat tightened faintly. He offered a small bow of his head. “It has a serenity one rarely encounters. I can understand why it would be dear to you.”
Her warmth caught him unexpectedly. For a moment, he almost forgot where he sat. The ease of their exchange—the gentle laughter, the subtle affection—stirred something he could not name. Not envy, exactly, but an ache all the same. He had never witnessed such openness in his own household.
Glancing at Nicholas, Euijoo felt a quiet recognition settle unbidden: this was the source of his warmth, the ease he carried so naturally. It was not calculation or pretense, but a home that had allowed it to flourish. The difference in upbringing stretched before him, stark and uncompromising.
The ache deepened, threaded now with a sharper question he could not swallow. Why would a family like this, so self-contained and steady, choose the Byuns? What could they gain?
Madam Wang’s eyes, perceptive and gentle, seemed to catch the shadow of his doubt. She tilted her head slightly. “Do you have something on your mind, Young Master Byun?”
The words pressed into Euijoo’s chest. For a moment, he debated swallowing them back—the thought of voicing them, of being presumptuous beneath their roof, sat heavily on his tongue. His father would have branded hesitation as weakness, his stepmother as insolence. Yet something in the quiet steadiness of the Wangs’ eyes urged him forward.
He drew a slow, measured breath. “Then forgive my candor, Your Grace,” he began, fingers tightening lightly beneath the table. “I was considering the terms of this proposed union.
“On paper, it seemed to me that there were more drawbacks than advantages for your household. A marriage with the Maus, for instance, might yield greater profit. With the Byuns, the balance appears uneven. I fear that your son might be left at a disadvantage.”
Nicholas stilled beside his parents, brows faintly lifted, a subtle curiosity flickering across his face, though he revealed nothing further. Euijoo realised belatedly that this was the first time the omega had heard him speak at such length, uninterrupted.
Lord Wang’s gaze lingered calmly, like sunlight sliding across lacquered wood. Then, to Euijoo’s surprise, a trace of contemplation softened the elder’s features, as though the bluntness of the question intrigued him rather than insulted.
“It is not that the Byuns would give us nothing,” he said slowly, carefully. “Expansion beyond Tokyo is of interest. Influence that spreads further is no small thing.” Each word carried weight, but no judgment; only measured thought.
Euijoo’s eyes flickered between them, careful not to linger too long, yet he caught the subtle exchange between mother and son. Madam Wang’s lips curved into a secretive smile as she met her son’s eyes, and in that quiet glance, some unspoken understanding passed between them.
Returning her gaze to Euijoo, her voice softened, but retained a subtle authority. “Perhaps you should ask Nicholas again, another time. His answer may satisfy you better than ours.”
The implication settled uneasily in Euijoo’s chest, tangled with hope, caution, and the faintest flicker of apprehension. He opened his mouth, but the quiet knock at the doors halted his words. A servant entered, bowing low. “Your Graces, I apologise for the interruption. The Byun family has arrived.”
The words landed like a chill over the warm lantern glow.
The heavy doors swung open once more. His father entered first, steps measured and confident, followed by his stepmother, her posture flawless, yet every glance she cast carried the faintest sting of disdain.
The Wangs rose to greet them with calm, polished smiles. Euijoo watched quietly as Lord Wang exchanged bows with his father, while Madam Wang inclined her head in practiced grace.
Euijoo remained still, bowing with sufficient formality, eyes lowered. His father’s glance passed over him, indifferent and almost dismissive; as always, he never lingered.
Yet, from the corner of his vision, a steadier gaze held him. Nicholas. Their eyes met across the expanse of polished wood, and in that instant, a small, private reassurance bloomed—a quiet warmth he quickly masked, as was his habit.
Seating followed, pleasantries passed in low, careful tones—acknowledgments of health, of the season, of the Wang household’s meticulous hospitality. The words were customary, polished, yet beneath them, Euijoo felt the ever-present weight of anticipation pressing in.
Finally, his father’s voice rose above the soft murmur, smooth and measured, carrying the authority of one accustomed to negotiation. “Lord Wang,” he said, “your hospitality honors us. If I may be direct—has your esteemed household reached a decision regarding the proposal?”
Lord Wang inclined his head, folding his hands lightly upon the table. His expression remained impassive, but his tone carried a quiet finality. “We have. After thorough discussion, my family has decided to accept the proposal. We agree to the arrangement between your son, Byun Euijoo, and mine, Wang Nicholas.”
A flicker of tension passed through the air. Euijoo felt the subtle exhale of his father, carefully masked as composure. Yet another sensation pressed upon him, sharp and undeniable: his stepmother’s eyes. They were unblinking, glinting with a storm held in check, disbelief curled into something dangerous. For a fleeting heartbeat, her carefully measured composure threatened to fracture.
His father, conversely, allowed a rare, faint smile. “That is excellent news. We look forward to the wedding with great anticipation.” His tone remained polite, detached from emotion, yet there was satisfaction in the rhythm of the words.
Euijoo’s stepmother parted her lips, likely poised to cut the moment with a barbed remark, but Madam Wang intervened with serene precision, her voice warm yet carrying subtle command. “There is one matter yet to clarify,” she said. “Young Master Euijoo shall be marrying into the Wang household, and will remain here effectively from the wedding date.”
The hall sank into silence. Euijoo’s composure faltered; his head snapped up, eyes darting involuntarily to Nicholas. The omega’s gaze met his with quiet steadiness, unreadable yet grounding. In that glance, Euijoo understood—the question in the corridor, the earlier pause, all led to this. This was why Nicholas had asked that question in the corridor.
He turned toward his parents, seeking semblance of support, only to find the familiar calculation in his father’s eyes, and the barely restrained fury in his stepmother’s, before it weirdly smoothed back into composure.
He almost laughed at the clarity of her reasoning: by this arrangement, Euijoo would be distanced from the Byun estate, leaving Yoshiki’s claim unchallenged.
After a breath that seemed to stretch, his father inclined his head once, wordless agreement in motion. “Alright. I don’t believe there will be any complications to it.”
His stepmother’s eyes glimmered, carefully smooth over the undercurrent of displeasure, as if the battle had already been won.
The discussion resumed, polite words exchanged while Euijoo sat with his thoughts taut as threads, each one stretched against the weight of his composure. Occasionally, his eyes drifted to Nicholas unbidden, and too often, he found the omega already watching him.
Sometimes, Nicholas offered a subtle, almost conspiratorial smile, or the faintest teasing glint in his eyes, and Euijoo felt compelled to look away first. Other times, Nicholas was the one to break contact, but only after a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if lingering just to measure the effect.
In that quiet rhythm of glances, the spark of curiosity and something more delicate stirred between them.
Soon, the terms were set, the date fixed: the end of April, scarcely two months away. As the discussion drew to a close, his father spoke again. “Euijoo shall handle the wedding preparations and serve as the primary liaison. Any necessary communications regarding the arrangements may be directed to him.”
A faint ache pricked Euijoo’s chest. His father had excused himself entirely from involvement, leaving the weight squarely on Euijoo’s shoulders. He was to marry, yet even now, his father’s care extended no further than convenience. Grief threatened for a moment, sharp and fleeting, but Euijoo steadied himself, swallowing it down with disciplined ease.
He reminded himself that autonomy had its practical merits. Yet, the bitter tang of loneliness lingered, sharp as glass at the edges of his composure.
Across the table, the Wangs had not missed it. Lord Wang’s expression remained contemplative, hand resting lightly against the armrest, yet the silence with which he regarded the Byun patriarch carried subtle weight—a measured acknowledgment of the distance between father and son.
Madam Wang’s face softened into a polite mask, though a fleeting shadow of disapproval passed over her features. She did not press it further; there was a quiet understanding of boundaries between households.
Lord Wang broke the silence first, inclining his head. “It is understood, Lord Byun. We shall respect the arrangement as it stands.”
Madam Wang restored her gentle smile, extending her hand with graceful warmth. “Then, will the Byuns not stay for lunch? It would give us joy to mark this bond with the beginning of companionship. Even the simplest table is made richer when shared.”
The invitation hung softly, a balm that eased the edges of tension left by his family.
But his father rose smoothly, shaking his head with practiced ease. “We are deeply obliged by your generosity, Madam Wang, yet pressing engagements require our immediate attention.” His voice was courteous, unyielding, his bow precise in every way.
His stepmother mirrored the refusal with her usual polished elegance, smile thin but impeccable. “Indeed. Another day, perhaps, when the season is fairer. For now, we can only extend our gratitude for your welcome.”
The Byun patriarch inclined his head toward the Wangs, voice steady, deliberate. “We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Wang, Madam Wang. Today’s meeting has been fruitful, and I look forward to the continued strengthening of our houses.”
Madam Wang returned the gesture with an elegant smile, while Lord Wang inclined his head, gaze lingering just a moment too long on the departing couple—as though measuring the distance between words and intent.
As his stepmother added a final polished courtesy, with her lips curving in a practiced smile that concealed her earlier displeasure, his father turned briefly to Euijoo, expression unreadable, tone clipped but neutral. “We will see you at home, Euijoo.”
The words, for all their seeming normalcy, landed heavy. It was dismissal rather than care. Euijoo bowed, face composed, hiding the familiar ache threading through his chest.
With final bows exchanged, the Byuns withdrew, their figures receding into the polished corridors. The hush of retreating footsteps dissolved into the hall’s vastness, and when the doors closed behind them, the air seemed to shift—as if the estate itself exhaled. The atmosphere lightened almost imperceptibly, though the silence they left still lingered, faint and cool.
Madam Wang’s gaze returned to Euijoo, softened with polite curiosity. “And what about you, Young Master Byun? Will you be staying?”
He lingered in his seat a moment longer, steadying his composure before rising. “Perhaps another time, Madam Wang,” he said with an apologetic smile and a bow. “I have prior obligations today.”
Nicholas’ lips pressed together, expression clouding with something deeper than fleeting disappointment. For a heartbeat, it seemed he might protest—the subtle intake of breath, the faint shift forward, as if he could reach across the table. But the moment passed. He leaned back, exhaling a quiet chuckle that masked hesitation.
“I suppose I must accept that,” he said at last, words laced with playful reproach, half-disguising his reluctance. His gaze lingered on Euijoo, steady and unhurried, unwilling to let him leave so easily.
“Today was sudden, and I know you are a busy man. Still…” His smile deepened, tinged with stubborn charm. “I can only hope your obligations are worth leaving me behind.”
“Nicholas!” Madam Wang chided softly, tapping his arm with mock reproach. Her eyes turned to Euijoo, apologetic yet warm. “You’ll have to forgive him; he doesn’t always remember his manners when speaking his mind.”
Lord Wang offered a brief smile to Euijoo, gentler than he had shown during the discussion. “There is no offense. Your presence alone has been more than sufficient, young man. We are grateful you joined us today.”
Madam Wang stepped forward with grace, her smile genuine, warm in a familiar way that unsettled him. “We look forward to having you in our household, Young Master Byun. It will be a pleasure to welcome you.”
The words startled him. Where his parents’ approval had been clipped, theirs was freely extended, quietly generous. For the briefest moment, warmth touched the hollowness in his chest.
He bowed politely, voice steady though a faint thread of warmth slipped through. “Thank you. I look forward to it as well. And please, you may refer to me as just Euijoo.”
Madam Wang’s smile deepened, and Lord Wang’s along with it, as though they had caught the note in his tone. Nicholas, too, seemed to notice, his eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction.
As Euijoo bowed one last time, Nicholas rose with him. “I’ll see you to the gate,” he offered simply, words carrying no expectation, only ease—leaving little room for refusal.
Euijoo returned a small, measured smile, though he could not name the faint stir of relief within him. To leave the hall under the shadow of his father’s absence might have felt heavier, lonelier—but Nicholas’ presence at his side steadied the silence.
Together, they stepped into the corridor. Nicholas fell into step beside him, stride unhurried, almost leisurely, as though the estate itself had no reason to press them forward. The vast corridors of the Wang household stretched ahead, polished floors catching the slanting golden light of the afternoon sun through the latticed windows. Each echoing footfall eased the weight Euijoo had borne under his parents’ watch, softening the tension that had pressed relentlessly against his chest.
The air here felt lighter, warmed by sunlight and threaded with the familiar trace of Nicholas’ scent that settled quietly around him like reassurance. The scent drew a deep, steadying breath from Euijoo, and for the first time that day, he felt a fragile calm threading through the habitual tension that clung to him.
Still, the arrangement remained a tether—an unchosen bond that weighed against him. Yet beside Nicholas, that weight felt tempered, softened by the omega’s quiet steadiness and the subtle comfort that came with it.
His mind drifted back to their sparring: the heat of exertion, the careful balance Nicholas held between force and restraint, the quick, unguarded flashes of a smile that unsettled him far more than the strikes themselves.
“Next time,” Nicholas said lightly, breaking his reverie, voice casual yet attentive, “let’s spar again. I really enjoyed our match.” His eyes flicked to Euijoo, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing lilt. “You don’t try to overwhelm me, and you read my moves instead. That makes it…fun.”
The words caught Euijoo off guard, stirring the echo of past dismissals—the sneers of those who had mocked his caution, his carefulness—but now it was replaced by quiet pride.
“Alright,” he said softly, tone clipped yet carrying a subtle comfort, a simple acknowledgment.
Nicholas’ lips curved in a faint, approving smile, as though Euijoo’s single word was enough.
When the gates came into view, and the carriage beyond, Euijoo felt the tug of reluctance, the familiar instinct to retreat tempered by Nicholas’ steady presence.
They stopped before the carriage. Nicholas remained a step away, backlit by the afternoon sun, dark hair catching faint glints, mouth curved in its habitual half-smile, posture relaxed yet poised. Euijoo found himself studying him with quiet fascination—and awareness prickled across his skin as he realized Nicholas was doing the same, eyes calm and attentive.
“I’ll see you back here in three days, Euijoo-san,” Nicholas said, voice gentle, a quirk of a smile tugging at his lips.
Euijoo nodded, the faintest echo of a smile tugging at his own. “Three days,” he replied.
For a heartbeat, they simply regarded each other, a delicate balance of composure and unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Then Euijoo stepped forward into the carriage.
As the wheels began to move, a soft voice drifted alongside him. “And try not to miss me in the meantime,” Nicholas teased, light, playful.
Euijoo glanced out, meeting that glint in his eyes, and allowed himself a private, imperceptible smile. He kept his posture straight, voice even. “I’ll do my best,” he said, enough to acknowledge the teasing without betraying more than his usual composure.
The carriage rattled over the cobbles, each jolt carrying his thoughts forward as he watched the estate recede.
Perhaps this union, though arranged, might hold a promise of something beyond expectation. Euijoo did not want to name it aloud, nor dare hope; he only allowed the fragile thought to briefly linger.
And still, the faint warmth Nicholas left behind remained, a quiet ember in the hollows of his chest.
— ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧ —