No one likes to admit it, but the world was never fair.
Not everyone enters this world on equal ground. Some are born with pheromones strong enough to command an entire room, while others slip through life unnoticed, never once drawing a single glance.
This was what society called secondary genders: Alphas, Betas, and Omegas.
On paper, everyone supposedly shared the same rights. In reality, the job market leaned heavily toward Betas and Alphas. Omegas, meanwhile, were branded unstable, "a risk to business." After all, who would willingly hire someone who disappeared for days every month because of a Heat cycle?
"Oh, but if at least they were an Alpha, it wouldn't be a problem..."
An Alpha's Rut cycle was completely different from an Omega's Heat.
An Omega's Heat was predictable, almost like the phases of the moon, coming and going at regular intervals, leaving them feverish, vulnerable, and overwhelmed by the instinct to mate, an Alpha's Rut was irregular.
Brought on by certain triggers or circumstances, it could sometimes be predicted, but never with certainty. They simply felt it, by then, it was usually too late. In Rut, Alphas became volatile, hypersensitive to the presence of other Alphas, and dangerously fixated on any Omega nearby.
So why did society still prefer Alphas?
Simple: their physical constitution. It was a fact that Omegas were seen as weaker, more delicate, with bodies biologically prepared to conceive life regardless of gender.
Any Omega, man or woman, could become pregnant. The chances were even higher when paired with an Alpha.
Meanwhile, Alphas were seen as robust, strong, geniuses in their fields, natural-born leaders, and inherently more likely to succeed. Having an Alpha in a business, for many, was like having guaranteed success.
Like Omegas, regardless of primary gender, Alphas had reproductive organs specific to dynamic mating.
Betas, on the other hand, weren't bound by cycles or pheromones. They were considered "normal", and made up more than 70% of the world's population.
But beyond these primary divisions, there existed those society called Dominants. A rarity.
A Dominant Alpha or Omega could bend even their own kind. They could make them kneel, lose control, or suppress them with nothing but the weight of their pheromones.
There were even reports that some Dominants could force changes in secondary genders, though this was never officially confirmed.
In the end, it was simple:
A Alpha represented success, power, leadership.
A Omega could drag them into the mud.
And a Beta... well, Betas were invisible.
Or at least, that's what he pretended to be.
***
Lee Min-ho, 23 years old, shoulders hunched with exhaustion. Always running from one job to another, he had no time to rest. He worked mornings, nights, and sometimes until dawn, because if he didn't, who would put food on the table?
His younger sister was still in high school. His little brother, his stepmother's child, was only a kid. And his father? He'd disappeared a long time ago with his latest wife, leaving behind debts and three children discarded like trash.
"That'll be 26,800 won (~20 USD), sir. How would you like to pay?"
The cashier slid Lee Min-ho's groceries across the scanner, tallying everything quickly before flashing a polite smile.
"...could you take these two off?"
Lee Min-ho looked painfully ordinary, someone who could vanish in any crowd. Just over 170 cm, the few muscles under his loose shirt came from endless construction work. He wore thick-lensed glasses, his brown hair falling halfway over his face, making it hard for anyone to really look at him.
"...of course, just a moment."
The clerk tapped on the calculator at the counter before turning back to him.
"That'll be 21,500 won (~15,50 USD). "
Lee Min-ho glanced at the cash in his hands: just over 32,000 won (~24 USD). Hardly anything once rent to the landlord and part of the debt were taken out. He'd been sick a few days earlier, and the lost work had only made things worse.
"Here. Thank you."
He handed over the money and took the bag. It wasn't exactly a meal, but it was enough to keep them from starving, at least for today.
"Thank you, have a good night."
Lee Min-ho left the convenience store with the plastic bag dangling from his hands. The fragile crinkle of plastic accompanied his steps, rustling like it could fall apart at any second.
The street was nearly empty. Only the distant hum of a few cars and the cool smoke from night stalls still open lingered. The streetlamps flickered now and then, casting more shadow than light.
He adjusted his glasses and walked faster.
It was past eleven at night. His body begged for rest, but there was still the walk home and the same routine waiting: separate the food, check the bills, prepare something for tomorrow.
The building he lived in had nothing special about it. Old, with mold-stained walls and stairs that groaned under every step. The landlord never fixed anything, but demanded rent as if it were a palace.
When he pushed the door open, the sight was all too familiar: a small, dimly lit three-room apartment. His sister was lying on the couch, books scattered across the floor, likely fallen asleep studying. His little brother, curled under a threadbare blanket, slept beside her.
Min-ho let out a quiet sigh.
"I'm home."
He set the bag on the table, slipped off his shoes, and walked closer. He draped another blanket over them and adjusted his sister's head so it wouldn't ache the next day. His chest tightened at the sight of his little brother clutching an old stuffed bear, patched so many times it hardly looked like a toy anymore.
In the silence of the apartment, Min-ho could hear his own stomach growl. He opened the bag and stared at what he'd bought: a bag of rice, eggs, and instant noodles. Nothing luxurious, but enough.
He quickly cooked something simple, portioning it into small bowls. He wouldn't wake his siblings to eat; he'd leave it for the morning, because if they were sleeping, at least they wouldn't feel hungry. He himself settled for a glass of water.
He dropped into the kitchen chair, exhaustion pressing down like a weight he couldn't shake. His muscles burned from a full day at the construction site. The pay was barely enough, foremen always claimed he was "too young," "lacking experience," or found some other excuse to cut his wage. Min-ho couldn't afford to argue. He had no choice but to lower his head and take whatever they offered. More shifts, more money, he needed something, anything. Yet no matter how he tried to plan, his thoughts always circled back to the same inescapable burden: his father's debt.
It was like a shadow.
A shadow growing every day with interest, one he knew he couldn't face alone for much longer.
'Rent was 500,000 won (~375 USD). Weekly groceries, 21,500…'
With a small notebook, he did the math.
'Still have utilities: electricity, water, gas, phone… total's about 1.2 million won (~900 USD) in expenses. Then the suppressors, plus school supplies and fees...'
By morning he hauled cement bags on a construction site. In the afternoon he pedaled deliveries until his bones ached, to customers who barely met his eyes. At night he stood behind a convenience-store counter, dealing with drunks and counting coins until dawn. If a gap opened between shifts, he took cash-only cleaning jobs. None of it paid well. Together, it barely covered rent, food, and the suppressors, about 1.8 million won (~1,297 USD).
The numbers didn't add up. No matter how many times he checked, there was no way to make it all fit.
'Even if I cut back on food… even if I skip the suppressors for a month… it still won't be enough.'
His pen pressed harder against the paper until the tip nearly tore the page. He rubbed his eyes, the ache behind them throbbing from exhaustion and frustration.
Three jobs, sometimes four, and still he couldn't keep up. Every won he earned was already claimed before it touched his hands, rent, bills, debts, and the endless demands of survival.
'How long can I keep this up? A month? Two?'
The thought made his stomach twist. Quitting wasn't an option. Resting wasn't an option. Every breath he took felt like it was borrowed, and every day stretched thinner than the last.
He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling of the cramped apartment, where the plaster was cracked and stained with moisture. It felt like the walls themselves were closing in, reminding him that no matter how fast he ran, the debt was always faster.
'Father… what the hell were you thinking? Who takes out 150 million won (~112,500 USD), disappears, and dumps the debt on their kids!?''
The contract his father had signed was for 150 million won, an amount Min-ho could never repay, not even if he worked himself to death a hundred times over. To the company, it was nothing more than pocket change. To him, it was a death sentence handed down to his family.
Every month, he scraped together 200,000 – 300,000 won (~140 – 216 USD) for the collectors. Nearly everything he had left. And yet the debt didn't shrink. The 150 million won sat there, untouched, growing larger every day, turning into a snowball of interest no one could measure.
Three years. He'd been grinding through three endless years, running between jobs, trading nights of sleep, breaking his body piece by piece. And what did he have to show for it? Just over 10 million won (~7,500 USD). Ten million for broken bones, bruises, and exhaustion so deep he forgot what it felt like to be alive. Not even ten percent of the debt. By now, the interest had twisted it into something monstrous, a number beyond calculation.
The harder he fought, the further he drowned.
He stared down at the notebook, the numbers blurring until they were nothing but black scratches on white paper.
'Is it even worth living like this? Working myself to death, just to fall further behind every month…'
The thought slipped out before he could stop it.
His gaze drifted toward the couch, where his sister and little brother slept curled together beneath the blanket he had pulled over them. Her textbooks lay scattered across the floor, pages marked with half-finished notes. The boy clutched his ragged stuffed bear as if it were the only safe thing in the world.
Min-ho's chest tightened.
'...what the hell am I saying?'
Of course it was worth it. Even if his life was nothing but debts and exhaustion, theirs didn't have to be. If he could carry the weight a little longer, maybe, just maybe, they'd never have to know what it felt like to break under it.
He closed the notebook, exhaling slowly, as if burying the thought along with the numbers.
Tomorrow, he would wake up and do it all again.