The gala was exactly the kind of torture Kang-woo used to mock on TV. Crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, and rich people in gowns and tuxes pretending they didn't step on throats to get there. He stood next to Ji-woon in a charcoal three-piece suit that cost more than his old life, tie knotted perfectly by Yoon-ah, diamond ring flashing every time he moved his hand.
The heat had cooled to a low simmer thanks to whatever pills the family doctor slipped him, but Ji-woon's scent still clung to him like a warning label. After the study last night, the Alpha hadn't let him out of sight. Not touching. Just… watching.
Kang-woo hated how much he didn't hate it.
He was nursing a glass of something expensive and tasteless when a familiar voice cut through the string quartet like a rusted knife.
"Well, shit. If it isn't Mad Dog."
Kang-woo's blood turned to ice. He turned slow, smile already painted on like the perfect Omega son-in-law.
The guy was low-level trash from his old crew—Park Tae-sik, a weaselly debt collector with a face like a kicked dog and a scar across his left eyebrow from the time Kang-woo had smashed a bottle over his head for skimming cash. Same cheap suit, same gold tooth flashing when he grinned.
Tae-sik stepped closer, eyes wide with nasty delight. "Holy fuck. You clean up nice, hyung-nim. Didn't recognize you at first in that fancy get-up. But that walk? That little head tilt when you're pissed? I'd know it anywhere."
Kang-woo's stomach dropped. How the hell—? The body was different. The face was different. But some things apparently didn't change.
"Not here," he muttered under his breath, voice soft and elegant like Seung-ho would use.
Tae-sik laughed quietly. "Oh, we're talking now? Cute. Follow me or I start yelling your real name in front of all these rich pricks. See how fast your pretty husband drags you out by the hair."
Kang-woo glanced at Ji-woon across the room—deep in conversation with some board member, eyes flicking over every few seconds like he could smell trouble. No choice.
He followed Tae-sik out to the quiet service hallway behind the ballroom. Dim lights, stacked chairs, the faint smell of kitchen grease. Perfect place for old business.
Tae-sik turned, hands in his pockets. "So. Han Seung-ho, huh? Married into the Kwon Group. Living the dream while the rest of us scrape for scraps. Moon Ho-cheol's been looking for you since the river. Thinks you ran off with the last collection money. But I know better. You died. Or you should've."
Kang-woo kept his face calm. "You're mistaken."
"Bullshit." Tae-sik stepped closer, voice dropping to a hiss. "I want ten million won by tomorrow. Cash. Or I tell your husband everything. Tell him his perfect little Omega used to break knees for a living. Tell him you're not even the real Seung-ho. Watch how fast he tosses you back in the river himself."
The heat under Kang-woo's skin flared hot again. Not full heat—just enough to make his hands shake with rage instead of slick.
He smiled. Sweet. Elegant. Then he moved.
First real action in this soft body and it felt ridiculous and perfect at the same time.
Kang-woo grabbed Tae-sik's tie with one manicured hand and yanked him forward, slamming his knee straight into the bastard's balls—hard enough that the cheap dress shoes actually helped for once. Tae-sik folded with a wheeze.
"You want to blackmail me?" Kang-woo snarled, voice still pretty but the words pure gutter. "In my own fucking house?"
He spun the guy, slammed him face-first into the wall. The suit jacket pulled tight across his shoulders but didn't rip—yet. Tae-sik tried to swing, but Kang-woo caught the arm, twisted it behind his back with a move he'd used on bigger men in darker alleys.
"Ten million?" He laughed, low and ugly. "I used to take less than that for a broken leg. You think you can threaten me now?"
Tae-sik gasped, blood trickling from his nose where it had kissed the wall. "You— you crazy bastard— you're really him—"
Kang-woo pressed harder, feeling the expensive watch dig into his wrist. "Listen close, you piece of shit. You breathe one word and I'll find every person you ever cared about. I'll make them pay the way I used to. Then I'll come for you. And next time I won't be wearing a fucking tie."
He let go. Tae-sik slid down the wall, clutching his balls, eyes wide with fear and something like awe.
Kang-woo straightened his jacket, fixed his tie in the reflection of a nearby metal door. Not a hair out of place. The diamond ring caught the light like nothing had happened.
He crouched, patted Tae-sik's cheek twice—almost gentle.
"Tell Moon Ho-cheol I'm dead. And if I see your ugly face again, I'll make sure it's permanent. Got it?"
Tae-sik nodded frantically.
Kang-woo stood, smoothed the front of his suit, and walked back toward the ballroom like he'd just stepped out for fresh air.
Behind him, the low-level thug stayed on the floor, breathing like he'd seen a ghost wearing Armani.
When Kang-woo re-entered the gala, Ji-woon was already watching the hallway door, eyes sharp as ever.
The Alpha's gaze dropped to Kang-woo's knuckles—red from the wall, not blood—and narrowed.
"You've changed," Ji-woon said again, quieter this time, stepping close enough that only Kang-woo could hear. "And I'm going to find out exactly how."
Kang-woo smiled the same sweet, perfect Omega smile.
Inside, Mad Dog Choi was grinning with bloody teeth.
Let him try.