An imprint between special traits usually took place between a married couple. The alpha would knot inside the omega, flooding them with pheromones, then bite the spot where the pheromone gland was. A romantic, even sentimental act that bound soul to soul. A magical promise that let them share memories and emotions, and made them feel only each other’s pheromones.

Once imprinted, their cycles—and even their lifespans—became the same. Unless one died in an accident, the bond never broke, so few committed to it lightly. Because they could sense each other’s presence anywhere, being with someone else became nearly impossible.

And not everyone could imprint with the one they loved. Their hearts had to align first, their bodies had to match, and neither could hesitate about belonging to the other. Even then, sometimes the attempt failed for reasons that were simply not destined.

Rumor had it that imprinting was tied closely to the hierarchy of traits. That recessives could almost never imprint, while dominants could force it without consent. Verification was rare—dominants were scarce and usually among the elite—but that was how the stories went.

“Shall we imprint?”

When I asked Yido that, I half assumed he would accept. The atmosphere was ripe for it, and we were both dominants. Though the suggestion had been sudden, my instinct sided with the possibility.

But Kwon Yido did not imprint me. The gentle kiss he gave was the only answer. Though our hearts aligned, though our bodies had joined, that romantic promise was denied.

Well, maybe it had been too much. With even our engagement kept secret, imprinting could only be called a luxury. He might say with empty words that I was his, but truly belonging might have been too much to ask.

I wasn’t disappointed. My feelings had never been the kind that carried such expectations. His kindness wasn’t an obligation, and what I could ask of him was limited.

Only... the faint sting that lingered afterward, like a thorn lodged under my skin, was what hurt.

'...Not sleeping in my room?'

Childish as it was, since that day I had not slept in Yido’s room. The outward excuse was being busy with company work, but the truth was I thought I should rely on him less. The realization that I couldn’t even sleep without him struck me with a sudden crisis. So even after spending hours in his room, when it came time to rest, I forced myself back to my own.

'Jung Sejin.'

Of course, I dreamed nightmares every single night. Until summer was at its peak and the launch of Sejin drew near. Until hearing my father’s name in the news no longer startled me. Even drenched in Yido’s pheromones, even spraying the perfumes I’d made, the absence of his body beside me could not be filled.

'You ought to know your place.'

It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful. The gaze I saw in my dreams was no different from the contempt my father had always shown me. I knew it was self-punishment, and that nothing would change because of it.

Still, in time, wouldn’t I grow accustomed? And if not accustomed, at least dulled? Just as I had survived twenty years as my father’s son, time would carry me forward.

—Chairman Jung Cheol-ho of Haesin Financial Group stepped down from his post earlier today. He is currently under arrest and being investigated....

On my way to work, I heard the news in the car driven by Lee Taeseong. It wasn’t surprising—I’d heard it already. My father had crumbled under public outrage, and soon enough, he would be separated from my mother too.

—Prosecutors are investigating former Chairman Jung Cheol-ho....

“Have you recovered from your cold?”

The announcer’s voice cut off, and Taeseong asked. I glanced away from the passing scenery outside the window toward him. In the rearview mirror, he looked at me with eyes reminiscent of Mr. Kim.

“Yes, more or less... thanks to you.”

The lingering cold had left as slowly as it came. No more cough, no more feverish lethargy. I couldn’t tell whether I should be grateful it hadn’t grown worse, or resentful it had dragged on too long. It should have been a relief, but somehow it didn’t feel refreshing.

“Have you been sleeping?”

Taeseong’s voice carried a surprising note of concern. He reached over and turned off the radio as naturally as if nothing had happened. I leaned my head against the car seat and let out a short laugh.

“You’ve been worried a lot lately.”

“...”

He seemed suited to being a secretary after all. Like Mr. Kim, fussing over every detail. Completely different from when I had first seen him standing at the greenhouse entrance.

“I’ve slept so-so. I feel fine. I ate breakfast, and my health has improved.”

I listed answers smoothly, like reciting. The truth was I hadn’t slept well, and I’d barely eaten breakfast, though my mood and health really were better. Only one thing troubled me—what to do now that the sleeping pills were gone.

“Anything else you’d like to ask?”

“No... that’s enough.”

He ended the conversation quickly. Silence returned. I swallowed a sigh that rose to my throat and fiddled with my left hand. The ring mark on my fourth finger had already faded.

***

The work at Sejin was far lighter than my duties as director at Haesin Financial. The workload itself was smaller, and no severe problems fell squarely on my shoulders. The staff brimmed with passion, each committed to their role.

“Representative, please check these samples too.”

With the label launch imminent, all packaging samples for the new line had been completed. There were five in total, including refreshing scents for summer and steady, versatile ones. My involvement as representative was mainly in the name, design, and marketing.

“I’ll review them and let you know. You can go.”

After sending out Chief Choi, I inspected each perfume bottle lined on the table. Curved like a budding flower, the bottle was designed to become the identity of Sejin. At the tip of the cap, glass /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ petals were attached, and the bottle itself was engraved with the brand’s mark.

When I created a perfume to gift Yido, it would likely be bottled in something similar. A fragrance named by me, in a bottle engraved with my name, carrying a scent drawn from my pheromones.

“...”

I stroked the smooth surface of the glass. The launch was close, and I was about to complete my certification. I might not create it right away, but with the development team’s help it wouldn’t be difficult. And when I finally gave it to Yido, there were countless questions I would need to ask.

“...Haa.”

I sighed deeply. I held myself together in front of others, but sometimes the pressure became unbearable. Life flowed as before, but now I questioned it constantly.

“What is this even for....”

For whom was the gift, and what was the point of this process? What did Yido want from me, and what did I want from him?

What I used to let slide now irritated me too much to ignore. I wanted to crack open his mind, to interrogate him until everything spilled out.

But I had no right to know. If my questions opened Pandora’s box, I would need certainty that what came out last was happiness. For me, Yido was everything. For him, I was only one of many.

So all I could do now was endure until I could be fine alone.

After work, as usual, I went to my certification classes. Taeseong waited outside in the car and picked me up afterward. I used the emergency exit to avoid notice, but I couldn’t avoid every student who happened to pass.

When I got home, Yido was already back. He greeted me with only a single “Welcome” before telling me to wash and come down to dinner. He seemed quieter than usual, and even through the meal, he said nothing.

“Today....”

In the end, I was the one who spoke first. My quiet words made Yido finally look at me. His calm gaze seemed especially still.

“Did something happen?”

“...”

He blinked slowly, lips curving faintly. His usual composed face held a trace of bitterness. He set down his chopsticks and lowered his gaze.

“You only speak first when I don’t.”

“...What.”

Come to think of it, wasn’t this the first time I had spoken first since that day? Things had been awkward since then. For me, at least. Not for him.

“Nothing happened. If anything, it will happen tomorrow.”

He said that and resumed eating, certain I would not press further. But something will happen tomorrow—how ominous.

“Is tomorrow my heat cycle?”

At my sudden question, his eyes rose. I added lightly:

“You sometimes guess my cycle exactly.”

Not sometimes. Every time. But that was all I said. I hadn’t meant to probe him; the words just slipped out. I shrugged and looked away, not pressing for an answer.

“...”

“...”

Silence stretched across the table. Only the clink of dishes filled the heavy air. It was suffocating, but that had become normal lately.

We finished the meal without another word. Yido set down his glass after a sip of water. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Mr. Jung Sejin.”

I lifted my gaze to him. Lately, whenever he said my name, a faint tension ran through me. Even now, my neck stiffened.

“Not sleeping in my room again tonight?”

His eyes were filled with regret. Why was it such a loss to him that I wanted to sleep in my own room? We had spent far more nights apart than together.

“I have much to prepare before the launch.”

I smiled habitually as I replied. He surely understood that sleeping together meant more than just sharing a bed. He tilted his head and answered: 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

“Then just sleep there. I won’t touch you.”

“...”

My eyes slid aside. His brows furrowed slightly.

“You... don’t seem to sleep at all.”

“...”

“If the insomnia worsens, it could be serious.”

I rubbed at my eyes. It couldn’t get worse than this, but living like this forever would indeed be a problem. Still, it wasn’t his burden to solve.

“That’s not something for you to worry about.”

If pills failed, I would go to the hospital. If that failed, I would find another way. I couldn’t see Professor Shim anymore, so I’d need a new doctor.

“If you keep relying on me, what happens when I travel for business?”

He already knew that he himself was the cure for my insomnia. That must be why he never suggested leaving me alone. No matter how much pheromone there was, without him present it was useless.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll handle it.”

“....”

At that, Yido dropped his gaze. Was it my imagination, or did his long lashes look uncharacteristically forlorn? He stayed silent for a long while before speaking slowly.

“I’ll... apologize.”

“...”

For some reason, those words made my chest flare with irritation. Heat surged up, and without thinking I asked:

“What are you apologizing for?”

Was I angry, or was it disbelief? I had never felt this way hearing an apology before. Instead of relief, it only worsened the moment he said it.

“Are you apologizing for not imprinting me?”

“....”

Even at the direct question, he gave no answer. Only silence, his gaze turned away. That silence was answer enough, and a hollow laugh escaped me.

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I wasn’t asking for an apology, and I know I can’t force you.”

I sounded ridiculous, but once I started I couldn’t stop. If he was going to apologize now, then why not before? Saying sorry without giving a reason was exactly like him—both characteristic and infuriating.

“I wasn’t expecting it anyway....”

I swallowed against the burning in my chest. The flare of anger faded as suddenly as it came, leaving my voice quiet and low.

“We’re not in that kind of relationship.”

“....”

His lashes trembled. His face stiffened, then drooped loosely again.

“Not that kind of relationship...”

His muttered words carried his feelings too clearly. Displeasure, bitterness, maybe hurt. He stared straight at me, voice sharp.

“Then what kind of relationship are we?”

“...Why are you asking me that?”

My emotions swung again. I had been fine a moment ago, but the moment he asked, nausea stirred.

“You shouldn’t be the one to ask that.”

It was supposed to be my question. Defining us was his choice, and the right to refuse lay with him. How could he ask me?

“You know I can’t even wear the engagement ring without your permission.”

“...”

At those words, his pheromones cut off like a severed thread. For a second, his gaze wavered. I let out a bitter laugh.

“From the moment we got engaged, I haven’t had a single choice. I took everything you gave me, and now you’re asking me to define us?”

It felt like someone had dropped a stone into a brimming pool. Once disturbed, the surface would not calm until it overflowed.

“You don’t need to apologize. I was only carried away by the mood, and not imprinting won’t change how I act.”

I suppose I had been hurt. By the fact that we’d never even said we liked each other. That we were not lovers, let alone fiancés in truth. That to the world, we were less than strangers, hidden away.

“...If you have nothing more to say, I’ll excuse myself.”

With that, I rose from my seat. I knew it was childish sulking, but I didn’t want to see his face. Yido did not stop me. He remained sitting for a long time after I left.