Chapter Text
I. Seoul, 2024
Seoul in the summer is a sticky, fragrant mess.
Seokjin did not forget this, but his archived memories of the city do not match the reality of 32 degree celsius weather.
This is what a year in Europe does to a person, he muses in absolute misery at his clammy skin. Just a few minutes outside to get an iced Americano from the coffee shop a few minutes away from his work is enough to make him feel soaked. The semi-bitter coffee cools his tongue, but it is not enough to quench the discomfort simmering beneath his skin. The last thing Seokjin needs is for Manager Choi to spy a single droplet of sweat trailing down his face—he is certain the older man will relish in any hint of imperfection to rail over.
Seokjin imagines the older man singling him out once he goes back to the office.
Look at you sweating like a pig! I don’t understand why you’re sweating when you have barely done any useful work!
Manager Choi is forty years old and unmated, which many of the workers whisper causes his unpleasantness. Seokjin didn’t believe everyone needed a fairytale mating to get a happy ending, but he was certain the older omega did, judging by his snide remarks towards the unmated omegas in the office.
Working in an unorthodox profession for years left Seokjin with an understanding of unpleasant personalities, but working in an office was nothing like he expected. In his former life, agile progression was a feature. He was used to moving from place to place on a whim. Here, he is trapped in a building with the most annoying set of people for at least eight hours. Chained to the mundane shackle of an office desk. And don’t even get started on overtime.
It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?
The taunting voice slithering from the dark corners of his mind has been a familiar companion for months. It is easier to deal with now; the first few months since his return were tortuous to say the least. Seokjin was a prisoner in his own mind, trapped by circumstances he’d escaped, which made it even worse because four walls are easy to bypass, but the porous borders of his own mind were too much to bear.
Things are better now, though. The words come again, slithering to the surface, but he ignores them with blank disinterest as he sips his cold Americano through a slick straw.
Lunch is a brief reprieve from work. Too brief if you asked him.
His colleagues always invite him to eat with them in the cafeteria, but he politely turned down the invitation this time. Seokjin took them up during the first weeks of his employment as a means of getting the lay of the land. It is serendipitous that he works with voracious gossipers willing to spill their guts to a new contract worker over stewed vegetables and rice. In a week, he knew all about Manager Choi’s annoying quirks, what department heads were lazy and which ones took credit for their underlings’ hard work.
Know the forest before you hunt.
He wrinkles his nose to discard the saying. There are better ways to phrase such things these days. Better yet, the entire philosophy has its blind spots.
Seokjin takes another long sip as he makes it to the office building. The corporate behemoth he has temporarily sold his life to for a sparse paycheck is a twelve story cylinder arrogantly piercing into the Seoul skyline. KD Group is a behemoth with fingers in every conceivable industry in the country, meaning they boast of staff in the hundreds of thousands.
Seokjin became one of these thousands six months ago at one of the subsidiary companies. The pay is decent enough to survive on with his subsidized rent, but it is folly to deny he remains at the bottom of the dregs for the time being. It is a far cry from the thriftless existence he once lived when his entire current paycheck was once considered pocket money and price tags meant as much as numbers in a children’s counting book. Now, he counts coins and carefully writes figures in a gifted moleskin every month to ensure he doesn’t go over budget.
“Welcome back, Seokjin-ssi,” says Mr. Wong, the kindly alpha security man. The aged lines on his forehead contracted as he frowned a little. “Is that all you’re having for lunch?”
“I’m not very hungry, halabuji,” Seokjin says bashfully.
The old man made a clicking noise at the back of his throat in disapproval. “You can’t starve yourself. You’re already too skinny as it is. How do you want to find a mate if you disappear?”
The connotation is rather sexist when thought through, but Seokjin chooses to focus on the legitimate concern he hears in the old alpha’s voice. It is quite touching for a stranger to care this much about his well-being.
“Don’t worry, I had a heavy breakfast already.”
Mr. Wong seems to take the excuse but grumbles good-naturedly, nonetheless. “An omega as beautiful as you shouldn’t wither away before your time. Next time, I will ask my mate to make you her jjajangmyeon. It will fatten you up.”
“I look forward to it,” Seokjin smiles pleasantly before crossing to the elevator.
He made a point to befriend as many members of staff as he could, endearing himself to the janitors and secretaries and interns with a kind word and warm greeting. It is an old habit from an entire lifetime ago; one that he is yet to shake off.
Connections matter, he reminds himself. Things go a lot smoothly when people can vouch for you. That matters whether one is in a high-class hotel in Berlin or a company in Seoul.
Law of the universe and all that.
The elevator dings softly and its doors open for entry. Seokjin works on the 6th floor, which is a decent compromise for a 12 story building. Not too high up, yet leagues away from the ground floor. The elevator stops on the 3rd floor and the doors open, revealing a frazzled alpha, eyes wide and a thick wad of papers in one hand splayed in the air.
“Oh!” the stranger exclaims.
It takes the omega a moment to realize this stranger had tripped, probably as the doors open and now barreled toward him. Before he can move out of the way, the alpha crashes into him, spilling his Americano all around them.
“My coffee!” Seokjin swears, instantly infuriated. Ice cubes litter the floor along with sticky coffee puddles which were drying in no time. He looks himself over, then groans when he spies a few drops of coffee on his white dress shirt. This is the last thing he needed today.
“I’m so sorry!” the strange alpha quickly sputters out.
“You should watch where you’re going,” Seokjin says in a tone milder than how he feels. He is irritated beyond belief, but blowing up on this stranger who looks like an intern at most probably isn’t the best course of action. Frustration is best channeled into a more productive emotion.
“I’m so sorry again. Everyone tells me that,” the alpha says with an apologetic but wry smile. He is broader than Seokjin noticed at first glance—tall and broad with striking dimples which complement his apologetic expression.
“Well, you should listen to them more,” Seokjin says absently as he uses a tissue retrieved from his pocket to dab his shirt. It isn’t a big stain but Manager Choi has eyes like a hawk and there is supposed to be some announcement in the conference room after lunch, which certainly requires all the employees to look beyond presentable.
“Let me buy you another coffee,” offers the clumsy alpha.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m already late as it is,” Seokjin says. He looks up at the glowing numbers to see they’re almost at his floor.
“Shit. Me too,” the alpha glances at his watch. It’s a Patek Philippe which makes Seokjin dead silent for a few seconds. He takes this time to let his eyes rake over the other man’s suit, spying the signs of impeccable tailoring only expert craftsmen could boast of. Certainly not an off the rack piece hurriedly purchased for a few thousand won. Perhaps this strange man was not an intern. Upper management? No, all the executives posted on the company website were old male alphas and two middle-aged female alphas. A client then, or maybe another consultant.
“What’s your name?” Seokjin asks.
“Namjoon,” he replies.
Seokjin fishes in his pocket for the business card he received a few weeks ago once his position became permanent. “Well, Namjoon, here’s my number. This way you can contact me about how to make this incident up by doing my dry cleaning.”
The alpha—Namjoon—looks mildly surprised by this gesture, then intrigued before settling into amusement.
Good.
Whoever this stranger is, Seokjin wants to be remembered by him. The omega bends his head a few angles to the right, exposing a decent expanse of pale throat in a manner one might mistake as thoughtless. The outcome is predictable—the alpha’s nostrils flare for a subtle inhale. Seokjin subdues a smile.
Namjoon’s large hands fondle Seokjin’s business card, his left thumb brushing against the black fonts as he reads the text. “Park Seokjin-ssi. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Namjoon-ssi.”
It seems the alpha wants to say something else, but the elevator dings softly and the bright red number indicates they’ve reached the sixth floor. Seokjin watches Namjoon stuff the card into his trouser pocket with a flourish.
“Try not to bump into anyone else today,” Seokjin exits with a bold wink.
It is a risk to flirt this blatantly with a likely executive or client, but he knows how these things work. He sees the interest in Namjoon’s eyes even if the man is trying to cap his scent like a bubbling pot. Alphas; they’re all the same when it comes down to it. A pretty face and a pleasant scent are enough to lead them off a cliff.
Maybe, just maybe, there might be something there. Seokjin tells himself to be reasonable as he paces through the fluorescent halls, but his mind cannot help wandering back to the times of plenty. This is his punishment, he knows. But it is also his second chance.
Perhaps I should be reasonable , he thinks, a little more somber. There is time for big dreams, but today he needs to survive another few hours of soul-crushing employment.
All thoughts of his elevator adventure vanish when he arrives at his department and finds Manager Choi’s red face waiting for him.
“Manager-nim—” he begins, but it is no use. He notices the throbbing vein about to erupt from the other man’s thick neck.
“Where is the compilation of customer demographics I asked you to submit on my desk?!” Manager Choi’s voice thunders through the office, sending curious heads in their direction.
Seokjin grits his behind a closed mouth to keep his ire in check. “On your desk, manager-nim. I put it there before lunch.”
“If it were on my desk, I would not be asking you about it, you stupid boy! I cannot believe the calibre of workers the company is allowing into our ranks every day!” He says this as if he himself is not a simple worker too even if he is management. Not even upper level.
Seokjin risks a sideways glance to Manager Choi’s desk, where the binder he dropped there an hour ago still sits untouched. His eyes crawl back to the ranting man as he smiles with exaggerated saccharine sweetness.
“But, manager-nim, it’s right there beside your monitor.” Seokjin points at it, grateful when some of the other workers also look to legitimize his claim.
“Do I look stupid to you?!” a trail of spittle flies out of the older man’s mouth, much to Seokjin’s dismay.
He swallows hard. “No, manager-nim.”
Bitter curses gather on the tip of Seokjin’s tongue, but his need for sustained employment bids him to swallow them down. He wills himself to stomach embarrassment with a blank expression, thankful that all his fellow workers have all tasted their supervisor’s wrath at least once, so their curious looks carry some underlying sympathy.
Manager Choi turns to see the binder on his desk and snatches it, rustling the papers. He glances at the cover page, then at Seokjin, then back to the page. Seokjin knows he is searching for a reason to sustain this tirade, but it is obvious no justification will reveal itself, so Manager Choi just twists his thin mouth into a grimace. His temper is dying down but still simmering some. It is obvious he just wanted a reason to shout at Seokjin and embarrass him for no good reason.
“Next time, hand it to me. Do I look like an errand boy?” Manager Choi says sharply.
“No, sir,” Seokjin says. He feels little satisfaction at this minute victory since he knows this will stir Choi to find other ways to disparage him. His manager leaves their work space down the hallway, dropping the binder back on his desk without another glance.
Seokjin doesn’t understand why the older omega sets his ire on him, but he can only navigate it since he needs this job. At least he did not notice the coffee stain on Seokjin’s shirt.
He plops down at his desk feeling a loss of the giddiness his elevator conversation brought on. His deskmate, Jihyun, leans close as Seokjin taps his keyboard to awaken his monitor.
“Hey, are you ok, hyung?” Jihyun asks, genuinely sympathetic. He is the only other unmated omega in the office apart from himself and Haesun in accounts. The mated omegas in their department often hung out together, moaning about their alphas and kids with a condescension that was difficult to navigate for anyone without a bite or ring. He had nothing against mating, in theory. But one could only take so many subtle hints about his age being atypical for an unmated omega even in this day and age. Perhaps he should have aged himself down when making his new identity. People often told Seokjin he looked younger than he was—a fact he used to his advantage several times in the past. But it had slipped his mind at the time. The tenuous citation which necessitated the change of identity meant getting his new documents and passport were of greater priority than the details they contained.
“I’m fine, Jihyun,” he insists.
Jihyun taps against his desk with his forefinger looking at Seokjin with huge bug eyes which remind the omega of Jungkook. Jihyun’s eyes were just as dangerous, liable to make him succumb to any request, maybe even more considering he had an omega’s sweet disposition to match. He latched himself to Seokjin on his first day working at KD Group, showing him to the ropes without prompting. They’ve been consistent work friends ever since though Seokjin constantly has to watch his words and deflect when the younger omega tries to pry more personal details from him.
“It’s because of the meeting,” Jihyun whispers.
Seokjin raises a manicured brow. “I thought it was just the higher ups talking about the new department or something.”
“It is but Manager Choi was mad earlier when he got called in by Kim Woojin.” Kim Woojin is the head of their entire branch. Basically, Choi’s boss’s boss’s boss. Further up the chain than a lowly supervisor.
“I’m not sure why but I think he doesn’t like the new department’s head,” Jihyun continues. “He was mumbling something about unqualified hires.”
“He thinks everyone apart from him is unqualified,” Seokjin remarks disinterestedly as he opens Spreadsheets to work on his next task. His peppy mood is no more so he might as well get some work done. If he’s lucky, perhaps he can sneak out before 8PM without Choi noticing. He can text Jungkook to grab them some fried chicken, if the alpha will even look away from his computer screen to answer the phone. Jungkook is the ideal roommate; rather, he could be, if he remembered to exist outside the four walls of his bedroom sometimes.
“I heard the new department head is going to poach people from other departments. I hope he picks us,” Jihyun says in an excited whisper, rattling the pens on his desk when he leans too close against the divider between their cubicles.
Seokjin snorts. “Weren’t you complaining about being busy, Jihyun? You want more work?”
The meeting is called around three in the afternoon, which seems late by office standards, but he doesn’t complain. Any opportunity to leave his desk and the scrutiny of Manager Choi’s tyrant gaze is welcome. The older omega himself is seated in the conference room with both hands interlocked together as they wait for Kim Woojin to make his appearance. It is strange for the company CFO to grace their little corner of this corporate hamster cage but Seokjin isn’t paid enough to care about little details.
Kim Woojin is a stately man with broad shoulders and dark hair artfully littered with white strands. He is undeniably an alpha—the scent of leather which follows him inside the conference room proves that. While most people opt for scent blockers or dampeners, like in Seokjin’s case, old-school alphas like Woojin have no issue letting their scents permeate every room they are in. Deep down, Seokjin finds this obnoxious but knows wealthy men like that want their influence lingering in every way they can. He wrinkles his nose at a distasteful memory.
All thoughts of the potent scent vanish from Seokjin’s thoughts when the alpha from earlier in the elevator follows later. Namjoon was his name. The sight of him arrests the omega who tunes out whatever announcement Kim Woojin is making to stare at the stranger who decorated his shirt with coffee stains just hours ago. He is smiling shyly exposing two dimples, looking around the room with a sort of warmth that seems out of place. Seokjin swallows hard. Well, he’s definitely not an intern then.
“....Kim Namjoon will be the head of our new outreach division,” Woojin says, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
Scattered clapping fills the room. Seokjin sees Manager Choi making a weak attempt at smacking his hands together. Oh. This must be the ‘unqualified hire’ Jihyun said he was mumbling about which could mean several things. The likeliest explanation was that someone pulled strings to get him here.
“Thank you everybody,” Namjoon bows, his deep voice filling the space in the way the previous speaker had not. “I look forward to interviewing every one of you and excited to work with the best.”
“Interview?” Seokjin whispers to Jihyun.
“He’s interviewing people to join his division. I told you that already, Seokjin-hyung,” Jihyun manages to sound admonishing without meaning to. Seokjin’s face heats up as he mumbles a quick apology.
Namjoon’s gaze falls on him and holds his gaze for a few intense seconds. The heat migrates down Seokjin’s neck but he doesn’t blink, reciprocating with a soft smile of his own. Namjoon blinks and clears his throat, looking away.
Seokjin can’t help when his smile grows—it seems there might be something to look forward to in this darn company after all.