Elementary school courtyard, early afternoon
POV: Ho In-su
The spring sun filtered through the cherry blossoms, petals drifting lazily across the schoolyard as children laughed and chased one another during lunch break. In-su stood near the playground fence, sipping tea from a thermos, his usual moment of quiet before returning to the chaos of multiplication tables and vocabulary drills.
Everything felt peaceful.
Until it wasn't.
He caught the scent before he saw the face. Familiar, but laced with something sickly. Regret, maybe. Or guilt.
"In-su."
The voice alone dropped a weight into his stomach.
Slowly, he turned.
Standing on the edge of the courtyard, just past the visitor gate, was a man in a cheap jacket, older than In-su by five years, with eyes too much like his own.
Ho Min-jae. His brother.
The Omega who once begged In-su for help—and dragged him into a web of debt, betrayal, and mafia crossfire.
"You shouldn't be here," In-su said, tone even but clipped.
Min-jae offered a small, sheepish smile. "I didn't know where else to go."
In-su took a step forward, glancing toward the school doors. No other teachers were nearby. The kids were out of earshot. For now.
"You don't get to come to my school," he said coldly. "You don't get to show up where I work and pretend everything's fine."
"I came to apologize—"
"You came because Yohan scared you." In-su's voice lowered. "And you think I'm your way out."
Min-jae flinched. "I didn't mean to involve you. I thought they'd let you go—"
"They didn't," In-su snapped. "Because you put my name on that forged contract. You lied to both the debt syndicate and the mafia. You dragged me into Yohan's world without even asking."
Min-jae looked away. "I was desperate."
"And now I'm living with the most dangerous Alpha in Seoul," In-su said bitterly. "Because of you."
A pause.
"...Is he hurting you?" Min-jae asked suddenly, eyes flicking up.
In-su was silent for a beat.
Then: "No."
Min-jae seemed genuinely surprised. "Then why haven't you run?"
Because I don't want to, In-su didn't say. Because he makes me feel seen, even when I want to scream. Because I'm safer with him than I ever was with you.
Instead, he said, "Because he's the only one who didn't lie to me."
Min-jae's face twisted. "In-su, I'm your brother—"
"No. You're a stranger with my blood. And if you ever come near this school again, I will tell Yohan."
Min-jae went pale. "You'd put him on me?"
"I won't have to. He'll come on his own."
As if summoned by those very words, a black SUV rolled to a silent stop outside the school gate. The passenger door opened—but Yohan didn't step out. He stood beside the car, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the door frame. Watching.
His eyes locked with In-su's, unreadable.
But when they shifted to Min-jae, his gaze turned lethal.
Min-jae turned, saw him—and froze.
"I suggest you leave," In-su said softly. "While you still have legs to walk on."
His brother backed away slowly, not running, but close. The moment he was out of sight, the tension didn't lift. Not immediately.
In-su exhaled, chest tight, hands shaking.
Yohan didn't approach. Didn't speak. Just stood there.
Like a silent promise, made flesh.
____________
Yohan's estate, early evening
POV: Yohan
The door clicked shut behind him, but In-su didn't turn. He was already inside, sitting on the edge of the couch, arms resting on his knees, staring blankly at the floor.
Yohan stood in silence for a moment, watching the Omega's stillness. His scent—normally calm, tea-warm and faintly sweet—was tight with unease.
Yohan finally broke the silence.
"You didn't tell me your brother was out."
In-su's shoulders tensed. "Didn't know."
"I have eyes on the school. The second he showed up, I was alerted."
In-su swallowed. "That's how you knew to come."
Yohan nodded. "You handled it well."
"But you're still angry."
"I'm not angry," Yohan said flatly. "I'm calculating."
In-su finally looked up, and the way their eyes met—firm and direct—neither of them flinched.
"Tell me everything," Yohan said. "No edits this time."
In-su was quiet for a long beat. Then, voice low, he confessed.
"Min-jae was desperate for money. He forged my name on a contract tied to illegal arms smuggling. He knew it was tied to the underworld. He just didn't care. He told me it was a loan for a business venture. By the time I realized what it was, your people were already tracking me."
Yohan's jaw tightened. "And instead of running to the police, you stayed silent."
"They wouldn't have helped," In-su said simply. "But you... You didn't kill me. You offered protection. Even if it came with a cage."
"It's not a cage," Yohan said quietly. "Not for you."
The air between them buzzed with truth. Tense, but not hostile.
"You're angry with him," Yohan said, stepping closer, "but you're still protecting him."
"I'm not," In-su said, looking up again. "I'm protecting me. I can't afford to let him drag me down again. And I can't keep pretending it didn't happen."
Yohan stared at him, silent, then nodded once.
"Good," he said. "Because if he shows up again, I won't let you send him away with words."
In-su's voice was calm. "I wouldn't stop you."
Same night, late—Yohan's bedroom
POV: In-su
The house had quieted down. Yohan had gone to his study after dinner, claiming work, but In-su hadn't missed the way his hand lingered on In-su's back when he passed by. Protective. Present. Solid.
In-su stood outside Yohan's bedroom door, hesitating for just a second before knocking.
The door opened immediately.
Yohan was dressed down again—black shirt, no jacket, barefoot. His eyes softened slightly when he saw who it was.
In-su looked tired. Vulnerable in a way he rarely let show.
"I can't sleep," he said quietly.
Yohan stepped aside, wordless.
In-su didn't ask to get in bed. He didn't have to. He simply curled up on the edge, pulling the blanket over his lap, spine straight like he wasn't sure how to fold into rest yet.
Yohan sat beside him, leaving space, but not too much.
"Are you okay?" he asked after a while.
In-su didn't answer right away.
Then, voice rough:
"I keep thinking he's going to show up again. That I'll turn a corner and he'll be there. Begging. Lying. Looking like me but hollowed out."
Yohan didn't interrupt.
"I hate that part of me still feels sorry for him," In-su whispered.
Yohan finally moved—slow, deliberate—resting a hand on In-su's back. Warm. Steady.
"You're allowed to feel that," he said. "It doesn't make you weak."
In-su's voice cracked. "Then why do I feel like a fool?"
Yohan didn't answer with words. He just shifted closer, gently, until In-su leaned into him—head against Yohan's shoulder, body finally relaxing for the first time all day.
They stayed like that, unmoving, as the night settled around them.
And for the first time, In-su didn't feel like he was surviving in someone else's house.
He felt like he was home.