The day began like any other.
Kang Jisoo's office tower stood tall against the crisp autumn sky, its glass exterior gleaming like a blade. The corridors buzzed with footsteps and murmurs, employees bowing respectfully as their CEO passed. To the world, everything was in order. The empire ran as smoothly as always.
But inside Jisoo, order had shattered.
The heat struck before noon.
He had felt it rising all morning—the restless warmth beneath his skin, the faint sweetness of his scent bleeding into the air. He had tried to bury it under cologne, under coffee, under sheer will. But the moment he signed the last page of a contract, the ache surged violently, stealing the breath from his lungs.
Jisoo gripped the desk, his knuckles white. His body trembled, chest heaving with shallow breaths. He could feel sweat dampen the back of his neck, his pulse racing too fast.
The knock on the door was soft but sharp.
"Sir?" Minjae's voice, smooth and steady. "It's time for your meeting with the investors."
Jisoo tried to speak, but the words lodged in his throat.
The door opened anyway.
Minjae stepped in, tablet in hand, his usual smirk ready. But the moment his gaze landed on Jisoo, the smirk vanished.
Jisoo stood hunched against the desk, tie loosened, eyes glazed with heat. The air was thick with his scent now—sweet, intoxicating, undeniable.
For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Minjae shut the door firmly behind him, locking it with a click.
"Well," he murmured, his voice low and edged with satisfaction. "It seems the mighty Alpha mask has finally cracked."
"Get out," Jisoo rasped, though the command held no weight.
Minjae crossed the room in slow, deliberate strides. "If I leave, the whole floor will know within minutes. Do you want that?"
Jisoo's breath caught. His body betrayed him, trembling, scent growing heavier with every second.
Minjae stopped just before him, close enough that Jisoo could feel the steady heat radiating from him. "No," Minjae said softly, eyes gleaming. "You need me."
Jisoo's pride screamed to deny it. But his body leaned against the desk for support, his knees threatening to give.
Minjae reached up, fingers brushing lightly against Jisoo's jaw. The touch was deceptively gentle, but the dominance in his presence was suffocating. "Look at you," he whispered. "The great Kang Jisoo, unraveling in front of me."
Jisoo jerked his head away, but Minjae caught his chin, tilting it back firmly. Their eyes locked—Jisoo's wild with fear and heat, Minjae's steady, burning with certainty.
"You can't hide anymore," Minjae murmured. "Not from me."
A sharp knock broke through the charged silence.
"Chairman Kang?" a secretary's voice called from outside. "The investors are waiting—"
Jisoo stiffened, panic flashing across his features. His scent spiked, filling the room with frantic sweetness.
Minjae smirked, leaning close to whisper against his ear. "Do you want them to know? Do you want the whole world to see their Alpha king like this?"
Jisoo shook his head, desperation flickering in his eyes.
"Then you'll do exactly as I say," Minjae murmured.
He turned toward the door, his voice smooth and commanding. "Chairman Kang is unwell. Cancel the meeting and reschedule."
A pause. "Yes, Assistant Seo. Right away." Footsteps retreated.
The moment the hall fell silent, Jisoo sagged against the desk, breath shuddering.
Minjae turned back, his expression softer now, though no less dangerous. He stepped closer, pressing a hand against Jisoo's chest to steady him.
"You're burning," Minjae said quietly.
"Don't—" Jisoo's voice cracked, his pride fighting to hold even a fragment of control. "Don't say it."
Minjae's thumb brushed lightly along his collarbone, tracing the line of sweat there. "You can fight me all you want. But your body won't lie."
Jisoo shivered violently, his scent spilling uncontrollably now, wrapping around Minjae like a storm. Sweet. Vulnerable. Begging to be claimed.
Minjae leaned closer, lips grazing the shell of Jisoo's ear. "This is the real you. And I'll be the one to uncover every last piece of it."
For the first time, Jisoo broke.
His knees buckled, his body folding into Minjae's grip. He hated it—hated the way he needed the strength, the steadiness, the presence holding him up. But in that moment, with the heat consuming him, there was no choice.
Minjae caught him easily, one arm wrapping around his waist, the other bracing his back. His smirk softened into something unreadable as he looked down at the trembling man in his arms.
"Don't fight it," Minjae whispered. "Let me carry you."
Jisoo's eyes fluttered shut, shame and relief crashing over him like waves.
For the first time in his life, he let someone else bear the weight of his crown.
Hours later, when the heat finally dulled enough for him to breathe, Jisoo lay on the couch in his office, his tie discarded, his shirt damp with sweat. Minjae sat nearby, watching him with an unreadable gaze.
"You should hate me," Minjae said softly. "For what I've done."
Jisoo opened his eyes, weak but defiant. "I do."
Minjae smirked faintly. "Good. Hate me all you want. But you'll still need me when the next wave comes."
Jisoo turned his face away, silent.
But deep down, he knew Minjae was right.