Kang-woo's back hit the study door so hard the handle rattled. Ji-woon didn't even touch him—just stood there, close enough that his Alpha scent wrapped around Kang-woo like smoke.
"I'm asking why Choi Kang-woo became Han Seung-ho."
The words hung in the air like a knife to the throat.
Kang-woo's new heart slammed against his ribs. For one stupid second he thought about bolting, about smashing the fancy lamp over Ji-woon's head and running. But the Alpha's eyes pinned him harder than any fist ever had.
He forced a shaky laugh. "River water must've scrambled my brain worse than I thought. Who the hell is Choi Kang-woo?"
Ji-woon didn't blink. "Interesting name to pull out of amnesia."
The silence stretched until Kang-woo wanted to scream. Then Ji-woon stepped back, cool as ever. "Get some rest, Seung-ho. We'll talk again when you're… clearer."
He left the study without another word.
Kang-woo slid down the door, legs jelly. Fuck. He knows. Or he suspects. Either way I'm screwed.
He stayed in his separate room that night—door locked, lights off, pretending to sleep while his brain spun like a broken wheel. By morning the panic had settled into a low buzz. He could fake it. He'd faked tougher things on the streets.
Then the tingles started.
It began in the shower. A strange heat under his skin, like his blood was too warm. Every drop of water felt too loud, too sharp. He stepped out and the scent of his own soap hit him like a truck—sweet, cloying, nothing like the cheap shit he used to buy. His nose twitched.
By breakfast everything smelled stronger. The coffee on the table made his mouth water. Ji-woon's faint Alpha scent drifting down the hall made his stomach clench in a way that was definitely not hunger.
Yoon-ah found him in the dressing room, staring at his own reflection like it might bite.
"Hee-soo-nim… you're flushed."
Kang-woo rubbed his arms. The tingles were crawling lower now, pooling hot and restless between his legs. "Something's wrong with this body. Everything smells too fucking much."
Yoon-ah's eyes widened. She stepped closer, professional but worried. "It's starting."
"Starting what?"
"Your heat. Omegas get them every few months. The near-drowning must have triggered it early. The symptoms—heightened scent, sensitivity, the warmth—you're feeling the warning signs."
Kang-woo's stomach dropped straight through the marble floor. "Heat? Like… the porn kind? The knotting, begging, lose-your-mind kind?"
Yoon-ah nodded once. "It will get worse in the next day or two. You'll need… help."
"No." He backed up until he hit the wall of suits. "Fuck no. I'm locking myself in the room. Bring food, water, whatever. I'll ride it out alone."
He didn't wait for an answer. He bolted back to his bedroom, slammed the door, and shoved a chair under the handle for good measure. His skin was already burning. The sheets smelled like Ji-woon had been in here once—dark, expensive, dangerous. Kang-woo stripped off the suit jacket and paced, breathing through his mouth.
Stay calm. You've survived knife fights and loan sharks. You can survive one heat.
A soft knock. Ji-woon's voice, low and calm on the other side of the door. "Seung-ho. Open the door."
"Go away."
"You're going into heat. I can smell it from the hallway."
Kang-woo's legs almost gave out. The Alpha's scent was leaking under the door now, thick and heavy, wrapping around him like hands. His body reacted instantly—slick warmth, a needy throb low in his gut. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.
"I said I'm fine. I'll handle it."
Ji-woon's voice dropped even lower. "You're my spouse. Let me take care of you."
The words should've been sweet. They sounded like a threat and a promise at the same time. Kang-woo's hand hovered over the chair. The heat was rising fast now, making his thighs tremble, making him ache in places he didn't want to name.
Just one touch. Just to take the edge off. He's right there. He smells so fucking good—
He yanked the chair away before his brain could finish the thought. The door opened.
Ji-woon filled the frame, suit jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, eyes dark. His scent rolled in like a wave. Kang-woo's knees buckled. He caught himself on the bedpost, breathing hard.
Ji-woon stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Let me help."
He moved closer. Slow. Controlled. One hand reached out and brushed the side of Kang-woo's neck, right over the scent gland. Electricity shot straight down Kang-woo's spine. A broken sound slipped out of his throat—half moan, half curse.
For one dizzy second he leaned in. Ji-woon's chest was solid, warm, perfect. Kang-woo's mouth hovered near the Alpha's collar, breathing him in like a drug. His hands fisted in the expensive shirt. He was two seconds from dragging the man down onto the bed and letting him do whatever the hell he wanted.
Then the street-rat part of his brain screamed.
Kang-woo shoved hard. Ji-woon stumbled back a step, surprise flashing across that perfect face.
"No," Kang-woo snarled, voice cracking. "Not like this. Not you."
He bolted past him, out the door, down the long hallway, bare feet slapping marble. The heat chased him like fire. Every breath pulled in more of Ji-woon's scent. His body screamed to go back.
He didn't stop running until he locked himself in a guest bathroom on the other side of the mansion, cold tile under his hands, door barricaded with a towel rack and pure panic.
Outside, he heard Ji-woon's calm footsteps stop in the hallway.
The Alpha didn't knock again.
But Kang-woo could still smell him through the wood.
And the heat was only getting started.