The intense Brahms rehearsals had been a crucible, and the orchestra was emerging from it stronger than ever. The two months leading up to the Revival Gala was not without challenges, but the raw, unifying power of the music had forged a bond between them all. The rehearsal hall, once a place of tension and misery, now hummed with a different kind of energy: a shared focus, a quiet confidence.
At the center of it all was the partnership between Seo Jaemin and Kang Do-hyun. Do-hyun's initial, furious defiance had slowly, almost imperceptibly, melted away. He now followed Jaemin's lead with an intense, almost magnetic concentration. The music wasn't a battle between them anymore; it was a conversation, a give and take that flowed through the entire orchestra. Jaemin's hand would rise, and Do-hyun's bow would move in perfect, synchronized rhythm. His solo passages were no longer a cold, lonely monument to his skill; they were alive, listening, and responding to the orchestra he was now truly a part of.
The orchestra's break room, too, was a livelier place than it had ever been. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, pastries, and the low hum of nervous chatter. The topic, as always, was Seo Jaemin and Kang Do-hyun.
"Don't you think they have a special telepathy?" Jung Eunji, a shy oboist, asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Today, when the strings were rushing, Conductor-nim just gave a look to Kang Do-hyun-nim, and he just... knew. The tempo was fixed in an instant."
Kim Seojun, who had been listening intently, slapped his hand on the table. "I knew it! See? It's not just me! There's a secret language between them, a silent conversation only they understand. I've been telling everyone it's a soul connection, a fated pair!"
"Seojun-ah, it's not a secret language. It's called being professional," Han Chaewon, forever the no-nonsense cellist, said with a sigh. "Conductor-nim is just really good at his job and knows how to communicate with his concertmaster."
"By addressing him as 'Kang Do-hyun-ssi'? No, no, no," Seojun insisted, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is a story! The powerful alpha, alone and isolated, meets a quiet, unassuming beta who is actually the only person who can understand him. They're like two halves of a whole. His scent, his music, his whole demeanor... it's all changing. And it's all because of Jaemin-ssi!"
Chaewon's calm exterior broke as she choked on her coffee as next to her, Eunji nodded, a soft, wistful look on her face. "So romantic…" A thought occurred to her, and she gasped. "What if… What they really are a fated pair??"
"That's insane," Chaewon sputtered. "Fated pairs never involve betas. Everybody knows they only happen between an alpha and an omega. We all know Conductor-nim is a beta, and our Kang Do-hyun is as alpha as it gets. How would that even work? Besides, fated pairs are something that only happens in movies. Why would a fictional phenomenon like that randomly happen within our tiny little SPS?"
"You never know!!" Seojun nodded enthusiastically. "Maybe they just need a little push, that's all!"
Chaewon simply shook her head in a mix of affection and disbelief. "Ya, you two have been watching too many dramas on Netflix. Go warm up. We have a lot of work to do if we want to live up to Conductor-nim's expectations."
As the musicians began to filter back into the rehearsal hall, Seojun watched Do-hyun take his seat, his expression still a little too intense, a little too confused. He then watched as Seo Jaemin took the podium, his posture a mixture of quiet strength and deep concentration.
A determined glint appeared in Seojun's eyes. Maybe it was an insane theory, but he had a hunch. And if he was right, these two needed some help. It was time for a little subtle, comedic sabotage for the good of the orchestra. He just needed to wait for the perfect moment.
…
Back in the concert hall, Kang Do-hyun was making a very difficult confession.
"You were right," he admitted, the words feeling brittle on his tongue. "It's been different. The music feels... alive."
Jaemin gave a nod, fatigue from the strenuous rehearsals shadowing his eyes as he gently massaged the back of his neck. "We cannot make music if we are fighting with each other. It is not about a single genius. It is about a single will."
"But... how?" Do-hyun asked, the word a raw, desperate admission of his confusion. "You don't shout. You don't demand. You give us nothing but... whispers and a look. How does that work?"
Jaemin's calm façade faltered. He sighed, a tired, weary sound that was full of an emotional weight Do-hyun couldn't comprehend. He looked away, his gaze settling on the empty chairs of the orchestra, a profound sadness in his eyes.
"Because the music is already there," Jaemin explained, his voice softer now, almost a murmur. "You just have to be quiet enough to hear it. It is not about forcing a sound. It is about listening to the song that is already there, waiting to be found."
Do-hyun was silent for a moment, before asking, "You really think we can pull this together in time for the Revival Gala?"
"I think so. We just have to keep rehearsing. It will be a lot of work, but we'll make it, somehow." A flicker of exhaustion crossed Jaemin's face, a slight slump of his shoulders that he quickly corrected.
Returning from the break, Seojun's eyes immediately landed on the two figures standing near the conductor's podium. Locked in conversation, the two men were facing each other, a palpable tension hanging between them.
He stole a quick glance around. The orchestra was on a short break. It was now or never.
With a deep breath and a quick prayer to the gods of dramatics, Seojun "tripped" over his own feet, his oboe case flying from his hands and sending a small cascade of sheet music tumbling across the floor, all of it landing directly between Do-hyun and Jaemin.
"A-a-a-ah, my bad!" Seojun stammered, his face a mask of feigned panic. "So clumsy! So, so clumsy!"
Do-hyun and Jaemin, startled, both knelt down to help, their movements synchronized by sheer, strange coincidence. They reached for the same piece of music at the same time, their hands brushing against each other for a second longer than was necessary.
For Do-hyun, it was a sudden, dizzying jolt, an electric current that made his alpha instincts scream in a panicked, primal acknowledgment. It was a thousand times more intense than anything he had ever felt before, even as his angry, confused scent suddenly went muted under an overwhelming rush of warmth. He could feel the cool, precise touch of Jaemin's skin, and for a terrifying moment, his entire body hummed with a resonance he didn't understand.
Jaemin, on the other hand, flinched. The touch sent a powerful surge of his own suppressed essence crashing against his meticulously crafted mental and physical barriers. A wave of sickening nausea hit him, and there was a sudden stabbing pain in the back of his neck, right at the faint scar hidden beneath his scarf. His breath hitched in his chest as he fought to maintain control. The vague sandalwood scent suddenly wavered.
They both froze, their hands hovering over the sheet music, their eyes locked. In that silence, the rest of the orchestra ceased to exist. Do-hyun's face was a mixture of shock and dawning realisation, although his mind hadn't caught up with what exactly he was realising just yet. Jaemin's was a mask of controlled panic.