The penthouse was immaculate, as always.
Floor-to-ceiling glass reflected the Seoul skyline, polished floors gleamed under soft light, and every piece of furniture was arranged with clinical precision. To any outsider, Kang Jisoo's home was the perfect mirror of his persona: flawless, cold, untouchable.
But beneath the surface, something had begun to change.
It started subtly.
A blanket draped carelessly over the couch, when Jisoo had always folded everything with military precision. A pillow out of place, shifted to the corner near the window where he sat with coffee at dawn. An extra sweater left on the armchair, though he never tolerated clutter.
He told himself it was exhaustion. The fallout from the gala had left him drained—balancing rumors, silencing reporters, convincing shareholders that nothing was amiss. He needed comfort, that was all.
But then came the night he woke at three a.m. and found himself stacking pillows at the head of his bed, arranging them into a protective circle around where he lay.
His hands froze. His chest tightened. He knew exactly what this was.
An instinct he had fought all his life.An instinct no Alpha should have.
Nesting.
Jisoo tried to destroy it the next morning. He folded the blankets, put away the pillows, cleared the clutter until the penthouse gleamed again. He told himself it was a moment of weakness, never to be repeated.
But every night, it returned. The ache to surround himself with warmth. The compulsion to build small havens—on the bed, on the couch, even in his office where he found himself folding his jacket into a makeshift cushion.
It frightened him. Infuriated him.
And inevitably, Minjae noticed.
It happened on a quiet evening, after another grueling day of damage control. Minjae had insisted on accompanying him to the penthouse—"to make sure you don't collapse again," he'd said with that infuriating smirk. Jisoo had been too tired to argue.
They entered in silence, the city glittering beyond the glass. Jisoo moved to the bedroom to change, but Minjae lingered in the living room.
And that was when he saw it.
The couch—usually immaculate—was covered in a spread of blankets, layered carefully. Pillows circled one end, a sweater draped on top, a faint trace of Jisoo's scent clinging to the fabric. It was subtle, imperfect, but unmistakable.
A nest.
Minjae's lips curved slowly.
When Jisoo returned, tie loosened, shirt half unbuttoned, he froze at the sight of Minjae standing before the couch.
For a heartbeat, silence stretched. Then Minjae glanced back, eyes glinting with amusement and something deeper.
"Well, well," he said softly. "The mighty Chairman builds himself a nest."
Jisoo's chest tightened. "Don't—"
Minjae stepped closer, cutting him off. "It suits you." His gaze swept over the blankets, then back to Jisoo. "Soft. Warm. A place to hide when the crown gets too heavy."
Jisoo's fists clenched. "It's nothing. Just exhaustion."
"Exhaustion doesn't fold blankets like this." Minjae's voice was calm, but edged with quiet dominance. "This is instinct."
Jisoo turned sharply, as if distance could erase the shame burning his skin. "Leave."
But Minjae didn't move. Instead, he sat on the couch, sinking into the nest with deliberate ease. He leaned back against the pillows, inhaling deeply.
"Sweet," he murmured. "Your scent is all over this. Do you know what it feels like, Jisoo-ssi? To sit in something you built with your own hands?"
Jisoo's heart pounded. "Get out of it."
"No." Minjae smirked, lounging comfortably, arms stretched along the back of the couch. "I think I'll stay. Maybe I'll even make it stronger for you."
The image was unbearable—Minjae, sitting casually in the nest he'd built in secret, his scent mingling with Jisoo's, marking it as much his as Jisoo's.
And yet, deep inside, something in Jisoo softened at the sight.
Minjae stood finally, crossing the distance until he towered over Jisoo. His hand lifted, brushing along Jisoo's jaw before trailing down to his collar.
"Don't be ashamed of this," he said quietly, the cocky edge fading for just a moment. "It's what you are. And it's beautiful."
Jisoo's throat tightened, words caught between fury and something dangerously close to longing.
Minjae leaned closer, lips near his ear. "One day, I'll lie in that nest with you. And you won't push me away."
Then he pulled back, smirk returning, as if nothing had happened. "For now, go to sleep. You look like hell."
He left for the night, the echo of his presence lingering in the room.
Alone, Jisoo stood staring at the couch. The blankets, the pillows, the faint warmth where Minjae had sat.
He hated it.He needed it.And worst of all—he wanted it to be shared.
For the first time, he sank into the nest deliberately, pulling the blankets around him. His chest ached with shame and relief, his scent curling soft and sweet into the night.
He closed his eyes, and Minjae's words whispered through his mind.
One day, I'll lie in that nest with you.
And Jisoo knew—terrifyingly, inevitably—that the day was coming.