The wait lasted longer than expected. I had left the house far too early, and my father had ordered me to remain in the waiting room until I was called. Still, I ought to at least greet the other party. I hadn’t even had a chance to see his face, let alone exchange names.

“Director.”

Unlike me, holed up in the waiting room, Mr. Kim busily moved in and out, relaying my father’s instructions. Once, he came to inform me of the general order of the event. Another time, he brought in something light to eat. On a third visit, he showed me Kwon Yido’s profile on a tablet.

And now, what he handed me was a small, lipstick-sized vial.

“This is from the Chairman.”

“......”

I didn’t even need to open it to guess what was inside. As I absently rolled the container between my fingers, the expected words followed.

“It’s pheromone perfume.”

Pheromone perfume. I’d told my father many times that these things didn’t really °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° work.

“He said to spray it on before the ceremony begins. They’ll be calling for you soon.”

Mr. Kim spoke calmly, though his expression looked faintly sheepish. As if he felt sorry for having to say something like this, he swallowed a small sigh. I opened the cap and took a whiff, letting out a faint laugh.

“He must’ve spent quite some time choosing it.”

The scent wasn’t heavy—it was so natural it could almost be mistaken for a real pheromone. A product manufactured to give off the traits of a special type of scent, aimed at betas who couldn’t detect pheromones. I’d seen plenty of perfumes before, but this one seemed to be the most convincing of them all.

“Did you pick it, Mr. Kim?”

“......”

He silently pushed up his glasses. A habit that surfaced unconsciously whenever he was uncomfortable. Silence meant yes. He’d obviously received the order and gone out himself to search for it.

“I like it. I’ll use it well.”

I said it as a formality, but truthfully, the scent itself was nice. Well, the fact that it had no actual pheromonal effect was something he, as a beta, didn’t need to know.

I pulled down my watch and sprayed the perfume on the vein above my wrist. As I gently pressed my wrists together, Mr. Kim silently observed the amount I used. I then rubbed the lingering fragrance onto the back of my neck and asked,

“Should I put on more?”

“...No. That should be enough.”

There was a certain unease in his gaze. It was the same look he’d had all week. I could probably guess the reason if I really thought about it, but I had never made the effort to look into it.

“Well...”

Mr. Kim hesitated for a long time before speaking. When I lifted my eyes to prompt him, he finally blurted out an awkward question.

“Does something like this... really matter?”

“......”

The room was saturated with the scent of flowers. My dulled sense of smell picked up the unfamiliar scent all too clearly. The calm, gentle fragrance didn’t feel anything like pheromones to me as an omega.

“I don’t know.”

A fleeting illusion. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Perfume on a scentless flower won’t draw butterflies.”

A knock at the door ended our conversation. Mr. Kim closed his mouth, and I rose from my seat, leaving him behind.

A staff member entered and announced the beginning of the engagement ceremony.

“Mr. Jung Sejin, we’ll begin preparations.”

As expected, the folding screen at the back of the room was connected to a garden exit. Two staff members stood by the door, and another gave me small instructions: that the groom would come to escort me when the door opened, that we’d walk hand-in-hand, things like that.

“There’s nothing difficult, so don’t be nervous. Just relax and take it easy.”

It was all real, not a rehearsal. After making me wait for so long, they were having me go through with the engagement ceremony without ever seeing the other party. Not that it would’ve made any real difference even if I had.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, I’m fine.”

I adjusted my wristwatch and straightened my clothes. Mr. Kim, waiting quietly behind me, smoothed out the back of my jacket. After he fixed my tie as well, the staff member exchanged glances with those at the sides.

“Sir.”

Just before the doors opened, a long-unheard form of address stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t look back, but Mr. Kim’s voice came through clearly.

“Do your best.”

Of all people, he’s the one who should know best that I always do.

“Don’t worry.”

The folding doors began to slide open. Sunlight streamed through the narrowing gap, warm enough to sting the corners of my eyes. I squeezed them shut and opened them again, and beyond the door, a wide view unfolded.

“I’m a bit old to be called ‘sir’ anymore.”

The first thing I saw was a profusion of flowers in full bloom. Snow-white petals formed a carpet, and vibrant blossoms decorated the space where guests should have been.

In that radiant, dazzlingly colorful garden, in the middle of a blinding spring—

He stood there.

“......”

That was the first impression. His neatly combed hair was clean, the vest and formalwear he wore were elegant, and his gait, measured as if with a ruler, seemed refined.

Had his face, which I’d seen countless times on broadcasts and in newspapers, always been this striking?

Absurdly, even the cufflinks on his sleeves felt special to me. The engraved dress shoes seemed made solely for him. And it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration—he had a way of making every piece of clothing look like it belonged only to him.

“...Mr. Jung Sejin?”

That I couldn’t reply immediately wasn’t just because I was stunned by his appearance. It was because he, famously named on programs as a businessman who never smiled, offered me a faint smile as he held out his hand.

“I’m Kwon Yido.”

His pheromones, heavy like damp wood, matched his refined voice perfectly. A presence no perfume could imitate. A scent that couldn’t be artificially produced wrapped around me from the ground up.

It was enough to make the perfume I’d just applied feel like a joke. It was also a kind of pressure I had never experienced before. Maybe that’s why—why I couldn’t avoid his gaze or look away from him.

“......”

I felt unsettled. Was it fear toward an unfamiliar alpha, or curiosity toward a dominant presence I’d never encountered? My heart pounded so fast it made rational thought impossible.

“You’re... even more handsome in person.”

But the smile I’d trained myself into over the years came effortlessly, even in this situation. I instinctively curved my eyes and placed my hand in his. The moment our fingers touched, his dark eyes wavered like waves.

“I’m Jung Sejin.”

“......”

He couldn’t speak for a while. He just slightly parted his lips, his face crumbling as if he might fall apart any second. I couldn’t ask what was wrong or if there was a problem.

“...Indeed.”

His large hand slowly closed around mine. He gripped it tightly for a moment, then released it carefully, like handling something fragile. His cold body temperature felt strangely warm.

“You’re better in person.”

“......”

It felt like déjà vu. Or maybe the sensation you get just before crying. Maybe the sunlight was too harsh. Maybe it was his pheromones washing over me in a wave of sorrow. He had no reason to look at a stranger like me that way.

“...People often say I’m not photogenic.”

I answered playfully, but Kwon Yido’s expression didn’t lighten. In fact, the blank face he forced to maintain looked increasingly unnatural.

It was strange. A person I’d never met reacting like this to me. It couldn’t just be that I looked better in person—too many things didn’t add up.

But this wasn’t the time or place to call out that oddity. We were about to be engaged, and we weren’t equals in the situation anyway. I should just be grateful he didn’t seem to dislike me.

“Do you know something?”

Kwon Yido finally opened his mouth, a beat late. He averted his gaze from me and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

“How long I’ve waited for this moment.”

“What...?”

He began to walk, and I couldn’t ask what he meant—I just followed after him. We walked side-by-side down the flower-strewn path, and until we reached the platform, he never once let go of my hand. His face in profile was still full of unreadable emotion.

***

The engagement ceremony played out like a wedding. Following the emcee’s cues, we exchanged rings and cut the cake before both families. On the right were my parents, Minjae, and Seoyoung. On the left, the Seonho Group family. The only thing missing was an audience—it was essentially a wedding.

Kwon Yido, after that brief moment of emotion, maintained a poker face throughout. When placing the ring on my finger, he did hesitate briefly, but it was such a small pause that even I might not have noticed if I hadn’t heard his breath catch.

The ring he placed on my finger had been prepared by Seonho Group, and no matter how I looked at it, the stone in the center wasn’t cubic zirconia. Likely a diamond—or something else entirely. Either way, it felt excessive for an engagement ring.

“I sincerely congratulate you both on your engagement.”

When the formalities ended, the families shared a meal with champagne. It was effectively a formal meeting, solidifying trust between the companies. As Kwon Yido and I sat side by side, facing our families, I thought the sound of shutters would be going off nonstop if there were reporters present.

“It’s an honor to become in-laws with you, Vice President Kwon Sangmi.”

My father, unusually deferential, did his best to please Seonho Group. Minjae quietly ate, and so did Seoyoung. Only my mother acted as usual—though that meant sitting stiff-backed in an attempt to hide her nerves.

“Oh, please. Since it’s the family my son chose, we have high hopes as well.”

Vice President Kwon Sangmi, Kwon Yido’s mother, wore the classic face of a corporate executive as she addressed my father. She didn’t lay on excessive compliments, showed no arrogance, and didn’t bother with false humility either. She simply accepted my father’s flattery with the calm air of someone accustomed to success.

“We regret that our second child couldn’t attend, but we appreciate Haesin’s understanding. Let’s hope this union benefits both companies.”

“Haha, what can you do about work? Yes, Vice President. We won’t disappoint you.”

Beside her sat her husband, and with them were Kwon Yido’s older sister, her husband, and their seven-year-old daughter. That little girl—wasn’t she the rare female alpha? I remembered the media frenzy the day her test results were released.

Though right now, she seemed to be struggling with a steak half the size of her face. Holding a knife with tiny hands, she wasn’t making much progress. If we’d been closer, I’d have swapped plates with her. I was narrowing my eyes with that thought when—

“......”

She suddenly looked up. I was zoning out, so we locked eyes before I could turn away. Her big, round eyes widened, and her tightly shut lips parted slightly.

Before I could say anything, she turned away, face sulking. As if embarrassed by her own struggle, her pale cheeks puffed. While I was feeling oddly apologetic, someone let out a soft laugh.

“Hye-yul tends to be shy.”

“...Ah.”

It was Kwon Yido. I didn’t know how long he’d been watching, but he looked between me and the girl with curious eyes. Right—her name was Kwon Hye-yul. I remembered reading that she was named after the Seonho Foundation’s art museum, Hye-yul.

“Brother-in-law. Could you cut Hye-yul’s meat?”

Kwon Yido, unfazed by my awkwardness, casually addressed his family. The man who’d been discussing cultural foundation funding shifted his attention to Hye-yul’s plate. His sister also glanced at her daughter.

“Hye-yul, you weren’t eating?”

“I was. I’m eating.”

“Really? Then Daddy will cut the rest for you.”

The warm smile was unmistakably that of a doting father. His sister tried to stop him, saying practice makes perfect, but even that was clearly affectionate nagging. Those cold, calculated businesspeople now looked just like any ordinary family.

“You and your wife seem very close, Vice President.”

My father didn’t miss the opportunity to smile fondly and compliment them. He even cast me a sentimental look.

“When Sejin was young, he had a hard time handling knives too... Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Of course. It’s all thanks to you that he got so good at it.”

“I raised our Sejin like my own child. It pains me to let him go now that he’s being sent to Executive Director Kwon.”

Such affectionate words. If anyone overheard, they’d think we were truly a warm, loving family.

“Back then, Sejin needed so much care...”

“......”

The food in my mouth suddenly felt like grains of sand. What little appetite I had left vanished completely.

I quietly lowered my eyes to the plate in front of me. The neatly cut food was indeed a product of the etiquette my father had taught me. Or rather, the etiquette I’d learned in order to survive, after going three days and nights without food.

“Children are always clumsy at first.”

A low voice slipped into my dulled ears. I’d noticed it earlier too—Kwon Yido had an unnecessarily precise pronunciation. Maybe because it was laced with pheromones, there was something subtly entrancing about it.

“It’s a parent’s job to guide them onto the right path.”

There was an edge to his words. At least, I felt one. But my father cheerfully agreed.

“Oh, your educational philosophy suits mine well, Executive Director Kwon. You’ll make a wonderful father someday.”

It felt like too much honorific language for a son-in-law. The funny thing was, I didn’t even find it strange anymore.

“Speaking of which, do you and Sejin have any plans for children...”

Clatter.

Before he could finish, a sharp sound cut off the conversation. It was Minjae, who had been silent until now—he’d dropped his fork onto his plate. Face flushed, he quickly picked it back up.

“Apologies.”

An awkward silence hovered over the table. My father, eyes narrowed, let out a loud cough.

“He’s still a student and not used to this kind of setting...”

“No, I understand.”

My father was cut off a second time. This time by Kwon Yido, so he maintained a strained smile despite the twitch in his lips. Kwon Yido took a sip of champagne and gently set down his glass.

“As I said—children are clumsy. You saw earlier—my niece isn’t used to handling cutlery either.”

Now placed on par with a seven-year-old, Minjae scowled. But perhaps knowing he couldn’t openly object, he lowered his head to restrain his anger. Even someone like him had to endure in this kind of setting.

“H-haha... Thank you for understanding.”

True to his long experience as a businessman, my father managed his expression far better than Minjae. My mother, handing Minjae a napkin, also forced a smile.

Kwon Yido watched them and calmly spoke again.

“You were asking about children, yes?”

No one answered, but he didn’t seem to care. Sweeping his gaze across the table—excluding me—he continued in an even tone.

“Well, I doubt anyone here thinks this engagement is anything but a contract...”

Of course. Even with such a perfect ceremony, my father had shown nothing but subservience. There was a reason for that.

“Since we’re on the topic, let’s talk about the terms.”