Si-won had never felt so underqualified to sit on a couch.
The moment he stepped into Min-jae's parents' apartment, he forgot how to breathe like a normal person. It wasn't a mansion. No gold trim. No butlers with tuxedos. But everything whispered money, in that terrifying, tasteful way.
The lighting was soft and indirect. The air smelled like fresh flowers and imported tea. There were slippers laid out in perfect rows by the genkan, each pair wrapped in tissue paper. The floor looked hand-buffed. The dining table was already set, and he swore the rice grains in the bowl were arranged by size.
"Oh god," he whispered, gripping Min-jae's arm. "I can smell the tax bracket."
Min-jae looked mortified already.
"They just flew in yesterday," he mumbled. "It's not a big deal. They're barely here."
"They flew in from France."
"They fly a lot."
"They have a bidet remote built into the wall."
Min-jae cleared his throat. "Please don't touch that."
Too late. Si-won was already planning to steal it.
He wore his most proper outfit: black trousers, a white tucked-in button-up with pearl buttons, and a single thin silver bracelet. His hair was softly curled at the ends. No glitter. No mesh. He even wore cologne that didn't smell like dessert. Just light citrus. Expensive hotel energy.
"Breathe," Min-jae whispered, sliding an arm behind his waist as they approached the formal sitting room.
"I don't know how anymore," Si-won said.
And then the double doors opened. His mother, elegant Omega, was all clean lines and Chanel scent, wearing an ivory blouse and smiling like she knew every secret in the room. His Alpha father stood beside her, hands behind his back, navy button-up perfectly pressed, the scent of fine aftershave lingering like punctuation.
They didn't look intimidating. They looked perfect.
"This must be Si-won," said the mother, stepping forward with a little gift bag looped around her wrist. "You're more beautiful in person."
Si-won bowed so deeply he almost swallowed a floor tile. "It's such an honor to meet you, thank you for having m, I brought tteok from the traditional shop near campus, I'm so sorry if it's not the right etiquette..."
The mother laughed and pulled him upright. "We've been looking forward to this. No need to apologize. We brought you something, too."
The bag was from a boutique Si-won had only ever seen on K-pop unboxing TikToks. Inside: a skincare set wrapped in black tissue and sealed with wax. French. Custom. Limited edition.
"It's the kind they use for photo shoots," she said, pleased. "And we thought of you instantly."
Si-won blacked out for a second.
Dinner was outrageous. Not in volume, in vibes.
There was champagne. Real champagne, not the kind that came in awkward green bottles with confetti labels. The dishes were Korean-French fusion, elegant and bright: bulgogi tartlets, lotus root tempura, gochujang shrimp bisque. And of course, the rice. Soft and pearled and perfect.
Si-won sat straight-backed in his chair, nodding politely, clutching his chopsticks like prayer sticks.
But the weird thing was... it wasn't scary.
The conversation flowed. Min-jae's mom teased him gently about his hair and posture. His dad asked Si-won about university and hobbies with genuine curiosity.
"You work at Brewmates™?" the dad asked. "Is it the one with the glitter coffee?"
"Yes, sir," Si-won said. "I... created the glitter foam recipe."
The dad nodded. "Entrepreneurial. I like that."
Min-jae looked like he wanted to crawl into the floor. As Si-won complimented the lotus root tempura for the third time, Min-jae's mother leaned in with a wineglass and a conspiratorial smile.
"You know," she said softly, "we weren't even sure he liked people."
Min-jae choked on his soup.
"Mom..."
"I'm just saying! He used to hide during family reunions. Cried when his cousin hugged him on his birthday. We thought he might end up married to a server rack."
"Um," Si-won said gently. "He still might be."
The dad, unbothered, nodded. "At least now there will be a hyung-nim to bring him snacks."
After dinner, the mom insisted on giving Si-won a tour of the apartment. And like any Korean mother, she had to show the childhood bedroom.
Min-jae protested. "It's not... it's old... it's not even cleaned..."
But they were already inside. It was a shrine.
Trophies. Framed participation awards. A computer setup from five years ago. Posters of space shuttles and AI theory diagrams. A signed hoodie from a gaming tournament. A plush of some weird anime robot.
Si-won covered his mouth with both hands.
"Oh my god," he whispered. "You were a science fair kid."
Min-jae groaned. "You don't have to look..."
But Si-won was already kneeling by the desk, fingers tracing a cracked corner of an old trophy.
"This is so cute," he whispered. "You were like a little math prince."
"I had acne and anxiety."
"I'm still into it."
The mom, completely unfazed, clapped her hands. "He used to stay up all night coding algorithms. Even for Valentine's Day."
Min-jae buried his face in the doorframe.
"I'm going to jump into the Han River."
Si-won giggled, high and sweet. His pheromones twitched. Just a bit. Enough that Min-jae's mother glanced up. She didn't say anything. But she smiled.
"You're the first person he's ever voluntarily introduced to us," she added, eyes twinkling. "We were beginning to worry."
Si-won blinked. "You mean... he's never...?"
"Never," his dad confirmed. "This is unprecedented."
There was a beat. Then the mom clapped once.
"We were ready to love anyone. But you're wonderful."
When they returned to the living room, dessert had already been set out: matcha soufflé with chestnut cream, a small pitcher of yuzu syrup, and pear tea in crystal cups.
Si-won accepted his plate with trembling fingers.
"I've never had soufflé outside of YouTube," he whispered.
"You've never had soufflé with me," Min-jae whispered back.
And just like that, his pheromones spiked. Strawberry milk — soft, overwhelmed, dizzy-sweet. It flooded too fast. Covered the room. Made Si-won's cheeks go red and his eyes blink fast, like he was trying to stop his own body from exploding.
"Ah," said Min-jae's father mildly. "The pheromonal sync is strong."
Si-won squeaked.
"It's okay," the mom said quickly, waving a hand. "Happens all the time. You two are adorable."
"I'm so sorry," Si-won whispered, practically vibrating.
"You're family," the dad said calmly. "No need to apologize for being compatible."
"You bring out his face muscles," the mom added.
"His... muscles?"
"He smiles now," she said triumphantly.
Min-jae looked like he was ready to flee the country.
Si-won, glowing like a sparkly rice ball, just whispered, "I'll take good care of him."
The room went quiet for a second. Then the dad said, "We hope so. But also — he seems like you're the one who's being taken care of."
And that? That nearly triggered the bond right then and there.
They left the apartment at 9:12 PM.
Si-won walked out like a stunned pigeon, holding his candle and French skincare in one hand, still murmuring thank-you's like a broken voice memo.
The hallway was wide. The lighting was low.
Min-jae turned and leaned in.
"You okay?"
"I'm unwell."
"They liked you."
"They bought me a moisturizer that costs more than my rent."
"You bowed like an Omega at a royal wedding."
"I almost bonded over soufflé."
Min-jae stepped closer. "You smell like heat."
"Don't say that..."
"Say what?" His fingers brushed Si-won's wrist. "That you were perfect tonight?"
Si-won's knees buckled.
Min-jae caught him. Held him still. The air buzzed with heat and static. They didn't kiss. They didn't speak.
But the bond hovered in the hallway like it was waiting.