The alarm rang at exactly five-thirty.
Seo Jinhyeok turned it off before it could ring a second time.
The room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight, the air heavy with the faint metallic scent of suppressants. He sat up slowly on the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the sheets as a dull ache spread through his lower abdomen.
Too early.
Too sharp.
He reached for the small black case on the bedside table and opened it. Inside were three injector pens, identical except for the thin colored lines around their bodies.
Red. Blue. Black.
He picked up the black one.
"Just once more," he muttered to himself.
The injector pressed against his skin. A sharp sting followed, then a burning sensation as the suppressant flooded his system. His jaw tightened. He didn't make a sound.
He never did.
The device on his wrist lit up.
Dynamic status: Stable.
Registered role: Alpha.
Jinhyeok stared at the screen until it dimmed.
Alpha.
That was what the world saw.
That was what the academy files said.
That was what his family had paid an obscene amount of money to make permanent.
He stood and walked into the bathroom. The mirror reflected a tall boy with sharp features and silver eyes that looked almost unreal under the dim light.
Silver eyes were rare.
They were supposed to belong to dominant Alphas with overwhelming presence.
Not to someone like him.
He leaned closer to the mirror, lowering his voice instinctively even though he was alone.
"Don't slip," he said to his reflection. "Not today."
Today was the first day at Haneul Elite Academy.
Failure was not an option.
The academy gates were already crowded when he arrived.
Black cars lined the entrance, drivers opening doors for students who stepped out with confident smiles and expensive scents. Alphas walked openly, their presence heavy and unrestrained. Betas clustered in groups, talking nervously. Omegas moved quietly, many wearing suppressor collars or scent blockers.
Jinhyeok blended in effortlessly.
His uniform was pristine. His posture perfect. His expression cold and uninterested.
"Seo Jinhyeok Carter."
He paused as his name was called.
An academy official scanned his ID, then smiled stiffly. "Alpha class A. Dormitory West Wing."
Jinhyeok nodded once and moved on.
No hesitation.
No questions.
Exactly how an Alpha should act.
But as he stepped onto the academy grounds, something shifted.
The air felt… wrong.
He slowed, his steps faltering just slightly.
A scent brushed against his senses.
Clean. Soft. Subtle.
Not aggressive. Not overwhelming.
Yet his chest tightened as if something invisible had wrapped around his heart and pulled.
No.
He stopped walking.
The scent wasn't Alpha.
It wasn't Beta either.
His device vibrated sharply against his wrist.
Warning: abnormal scent response detected.
His fingers curled into a fist.
"This isn't happening," he muttered under his breath.
Then someone spoke.
"Excuse me."
The voice was calm. Polite.
Too close.
Jinhyeok turned.
The boy standing in front of him looked ordinary at first glance—dark hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck, pale skin, eyes dark and observant. A Beta badge was pinned neatly to his chest.
But the scent—
Jinhyeok's breath caught.
It hit him all at once, flooding through every suppressant barrier he had built.
Warm. Familiar. Dangerous.
His knees almost buckled.
"Y-you dropped this," the boy said, holding out a slim data card.
Jinhyeok stared at it, then at the boy's fingers.
He didn't move.
"Are you okay?" the boy asked, brows knitting slightly. "You look pale."
For a split second, the world fractured.
Snow.
Cold biting into exposed skin.
Small hands clasped in his.
"Promise you won't leave me."
Jinhyeok sucked in a sharp breath and stepped back abruptly.
"I'm fine," he said coldly. "Watch where you're going."
The boy blinked, surprised but not offended. "Sorry."
Jinhyeok snatched the card and turned away.
His heart was racing violently now.
Why does he smell like that?
He forced himself to walk, not daring to look back.
Behind him, the boy watched quietly.
"…Interesting," the boy murmured to himself.
The classroom buzzed with low conversation.
Jinhyeok took a seat by the window, his gaze fixed outside as students filed in. His device continued to pulse faintly, a reminder that his control was slipping.
"Settle down," the instructor said. "We'll begin introductions."
Names were called.
Alphas first.
Then Betas.
"Ome—"
The instructor paused, glancing at the tablet.
"…Never mind."
Jinhyeok stiffened.
That scent again.
"Li Akira Moon," the instructor continued. "Beta."
The boy from earlier stood.
So that was his name.
Li Akira Moon.
Beta.
Jinhyeok's jaw tightened.
There was no way.
And yet his body reacted violently, heat pooling low, instincts screaming warnings that made no sense.
Akira met his gaze briefly.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes—recognition? Confusion?
Then he smiled faintly and sat down.
Jinhyeok looked away.
This academy was dangerous.
That boy was dangerous.
And whatever bond his body was trying to remember—
It could not exist.
Because if it did…
Then the lie he had lived as an Alpha would shatter.
And the truth—
The truth would destroy them both.