The Omega's Alpha

The Eternal Harmony Matchmaking Agency occupied the entire thirty-second floor of a Gangnam high-rise, all glass walls and silk curtains and the subtle scent of money.

Ji-won hated it.

Not the job itself—he was excellent at his job, had been for five years, had matched over two hundred omega-alpha pairs with a success rate that made competitors weep. What he hated was the underlying message in every consultation, every carefully curated profile, every trembling omega brought in by their parents like livestock to market.

Find me a worthy alpha.

Make sure he's from a good family.

My omega deserves the best.

As if omegas couldn't choose for themselves. As if biology was destiny. As if the ability to bear children somehow made them incapable of making their own decisions about who to spend their lives with.

Ji-won had heard every variation of the speech. Had smiled through consultations with wealthy families who barely looked at their omega children while negotiating matching fees. Had watched young omegas—beautiful, accomplished, with dreams of their own—reduced to statistics on a page.

Height. Weight. Fertility projections. Family pedigree.

Never what they wanted. Never who they were inside.

He'd gotten into this business to change things. Five years later, he wasn't sure he'd changed anything at all.

Ji-won smoothed down his charcoal suit jacket and checked his reflection in the darkened window. Twenty-eight years old. Sharp features that clients called "striking" and competitors called "cold." A jawline that could cut glass and eyes that revealed nothing.

Most importantly: scent blockers applied so thoroughly that even other omegas couldn't detect his designation.

That was the trick, he'd learned early. Let them assume you're a beta. Betas were neutral. Professional. Not subject to the same assumptions and expectations that plagued omegas in traditional industries. A beta matchmaker could meet with alpha clients without their instincts getting in the way. Could sit across from wealthy patriarchs without being dismissed as just an omega.

Could pretend, every single day, that biology didn't matter.

Even when his own biology screamed otherwise.

His assistant—Yuna, an actual beta with an actual lack of scent—knocked on his office door.

"Your three o'clock is here, Ji-won-ssi."

"Send them in."

Ji-won settled into his leather chair, arranging his expression into pleasant professionalism. Another wealthy family, another desperate omega, another hour of pretending he believed in the fairy tales he sold—

The door opened.

And Ji-won's carefully constructed world tilted on its axis.

The man who walked in was not an omega.

He was an alpha.

Ji-won's hindbrain r...