ATGRA 14

The next day, Nam Jungyoon stopped eating lunch mid-bite to ask about Jung Pureum.

“Isn’t that kid into you, sunbae?”

“Hey, why are you saying that while eating kimchi fried rice?”

“What’s wrong with kimchi fried rice? Wouldn’t it be weirder if I said it while cutting steak?”

“Shut up and finish your food.”

Sure, Jung Pureum often says he likes me, but we’re like family.

I’m temporarily looking after him because he became an Alpha because of me. That doesn’t mean our relationship has changed.

It’s too weird for a relationship to change just because someone’s traits shift. I’m not… a slave to pheromones or anything. People should live like people.

“It’s not like that. There’s an eight-year age gap between us. Dating a kid that young would land me in jail.”

“What does age matter in love? He looks like a dominant Alpha.”

“He used to be a Beta.”

“Oh, he’s the one who manifested after taking your Gongjindan? I read about it in an article, but it was anonymized.”

“Why make it public and ruin a kid’s normal life?”

“Normal? He looks like a born Alpha; what’s normal about him? You can tell he’s an athlete just by looking.”

“Anyway, drop it. He’s just my next-door little brother.”

Despite my firm stance, Nam Jungyoon didn’t seem convinced. Instead, he looked at me with great interest.

“Sunbae, you’re still popular.”

“What nonsense is that?”

Did someone spike his kimchi fried rice?

I glared suspiciously at Nam Jungyoon’s food. Noticing my stare, he pulled his bowl closer, saying it was all his.

What a cheap, dirty move. I don’t even want that kimchi fried rice. I stuffed my own kimbap into my mouth.

Jung Pureum hadn’t contacted me since he stormed out, which was already weighing on my mind. Did he get scolded by his coach for skipping practice? Or was he really upset, looking off yesterday?

Unusually, I sent him a message first, but got no reply. Seeing no read receipt, it seemed he wasn’t even checking.

I knew if he were sick, his family—Jung Saebom or his mother—would handle it, but I couldn’t help worrying.

“Sunbae, you’re so consistent.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Consistently clueless.”

“Funny. I’m super perceptive.”

“People who say that are never actually perceptive.”

Nam Jungyoon, having finished his meal, placed his plastic spoon on the empty bowl and chuckled lightly.

I was already stressed about Jung Pureum, and this guy scratching at my nerves killed my appetite. When I didn’t touch the half-eaten kimbap, Nam Jungyoon grabbed his chopsticks again, saying he’d eat it. Taeyangin folks sure have an appetite.

Handing off my food to Nam Jungyoon, I thought about Jung Pureum. Is he really sick?

If not, the idea of Jung Pureum ignoring my messages on purpose was unthinkable unless the world collapsed.

After work, running into Jung Saebom at the convenience store near my house was pure coincidence.

Since I’d been thinking about Jung Pureum since lunch, I greeted Jung Saebom warmly.

But Jung Saebom, looking like she stepped in dog poop, told me not to greet her outside and brushed past. No one could match her lack of manners.

“Hey, one question before you go.”

“What.”

“Where’s Pureum?”

“Why are you asking me about Jung Pureum?”

“You’re his noona.”

“We’re worse than strangers.”

“How can siblings be worse than strangers?”

“Because we’re siblings, we’re worse than strangers. Worse than strangers, always at each other’s throats—that’s what siblings are.”

It sounded convincing.

“If he’s ignoring your messages, he’s either too busy with training to check his phone or you did something wrong.”

“Hah, is that coach jerk harassing him again?”

“Why do you assume it’s the former?”

“Because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…”

“The more I hear, the more I think that coach’s face needs to be ground on a grater. He keeps picking on a kid who’s doing fine. That’s abuse, abuse.”

Jung Saebom looked at me like I was absurd. Meanwhile, she carefully pocketed the ion drink I bought her.

I shouted after Jung Saebom, who was walking away without a goodbye, “Tell Pureum to contact me when he’s back!” Naturally, no reply came.

Jung Pureum and I could meet anytime if we wanted. Ringing the next-door bell wasn’t hard.

Sometimes Jung Pureum was away for weeks or months for competitions or training camps, but even then, he always told me where he was going.

Thinking about it, it’s odd. He doesn’t seem to tell his noona where he’s going, but he always lets me know.

He must trust me more than his noona. Sorry for Jung Saebom, but who’s a better hyung than me?

I pictured Jung Pureum looking at me with those sparkling eyes. Maybe because of Nam Jungyoon’s weird comments, I was unusually preoccupied with Jung Pureum.

So… what was it? Jung Pureum likes me?

As a person, I like Jung Pureum too. Not romantically, though. It’s probably the same for him. Suddenly liking your next-door hyung romantically? That’s tough.

It’s just common sense that it’s impossible. I’m eight years older, and my secondary gender is recessive Omega. Even when he was a Beta, I was always an Omega.

Rarely, Betas fall for Alphas across species lines. Jung Pureum’s parents are exactly that case—a special case that led to marriage.

But usually, like my family, Betas marry Betas.

If Alpha or Omega blood mixes in the lineage, someone like me—a surprising trait-bearer—pops up across generations, so Betas dating Omegas are far rarer than dating Alphas.

Sure, Jung Pureum became an Alpha after taking Gongjindan, but he was a Beta for nineteen years. He knows my traits, and living next door, he’s seen me at my worst. It’d be hard for him to like me romantically. He has eyes, after all.

Jung Pureum even saw me go three days without sleeping, washing, or eating while preparing for exams. He’s probably seen me stab local Alphas with big needles over ten times.

To like someone, you need some illusion, right? If he can still have illusions after seeing me at my worst, he needs another eye exam.

But once I started overthinking, everything felt questionable.

The inexplicable affection Jung Pureum showed me and the subtle wariness toward people around me started coming into focus one by one.

It was weird that I was suddenly noticing these things. Is it because Jung Pureum became an Alpha? If so, that’s really the worst.

I suddenly disliked myself.

This makes me no different from those deus ex pheromone machina people I hate. Thinking so seriously about Jung Pureum just because he’s an Alpha now. That’s not right.

I shook my head vigorously, carrying a plastic bag full of retort food and heading home. Jung Saebom, who left earlier, was long gone from sight.

Everything was going well, but my heart felt strangely heavy. The clinic’s revenue had been steadily rising, and my Gongjindan was selling like hotcakes.

Ms. Kim Miyoung and the new deputy director, Nam Jungyoon, were doing great work. Nam Jungyoon, in particular, was a consultation genius. He had a knack for checking the pulses of Betas wanting to become Alphas and discussing their dosage.

Without Ms. Kim Miyoung or Nam Jungyoon, I wouldn’t have rowed this far even with the tide in my favor. Business is all about improvisation.

So I should be laughing like an idiot in this situation.

Work is going well, and everyone around me—except Baek Wonhee—is great. The TV producer still contacts me occasionally, but I’m handling it fine, so no issues.

Yet my heart felt heavy.

With a heavy heart, my steps were heavy too, taking a full eighteen minutes to reach my house, which usually takes ten. Eighteen, of all numbers. What’s with the curse-like timing?

“Hyung.”

As I grumbled and got off the elevator, I nearly died of a heart attack from shock.

“What the hell, why are you standing there like that?”

As I stepped out, the hallway sensor light turned on, illuminating Jung Pureum standing at my door. It wasn’t like a ghost popping out in a horror movie, but my heart raced.

Make some noise when you’re standing there. A bit more shock, and I’d have thrown my plastic bag at him.

Noticing I was startled, Jung Pureum rubbed his cheek with an awkward expression, apologizing for scaring me. Under the orange-ish sensor light, I faintly saw his busted lip.

“What’s with your lip?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? What happened? Why are you getting hit and looking upset? Is it that coach jerk again? Want me to report him?”

“It’s really not that.”

Jung Pureum had been a swimmer since elementary school. Sports kids usually start young. I don’t know about other countries, but in ours, most athletes follow an elite path. If you don’t manage your accolades from a young age, getting into college is tough.

Jung Pureum was no different, attending schools known for sports throughout elementary, middle, and high school. He competed in countless swimming events since elementary school, with an impressive record of awards. A fitting outcome for a former athlete’s child.

Like me, supported by my grandfather, Jung Pureum got a lot of help from his parents. Unlike before, when he was told he couldn’t have a long career as a Beta, becoming a national athlete—often Alpha-dominated—wasn’t a pipe dream now that his traits had changed.

But from what I’ve seen, the sports world has a strict hierarchy. Especially when the coach is a jerk, everyone else follows suit. It’s not a “let’s all work hard and burn our youth!” vibe.

I’d heard rumors about the sports world’s harsh discipline, but the coach handling Jung Pureum since middle school was a real piece of work in many ways.

Instead of applauding his talent, the coach periodically treated Jung Pureum like a mouse in a trap. Even I, just a next-door neighbor, noticed the coach’s nonsense early on. What a jerk.

Saying he’s tough on him because he doesn’t want a talented kid to get lazy—what kind of logic is that? I still don’t fully understand the idea that good athletes get complacent and need periodic discipline.

To me, it just looks like he’s trying to block a promising athlete’s path, but the coach packages it as “mental training.”

Calling harassment education? The sports world is too harsh.

I reached out and cupped Jung Pureum’s cheek.

His hair was still wet, dampening my fingertips. If he’d been at the pool the whole time, it made sense he couldn’t check my messages. You can’t check your phone underwater.