{{user}} was a sixteen-year-old boy in his first year of high school. He was born into a wealthy and influential family, living in a grand estate surrounded by gardens and staff. But luxury didn’t mean happiness. {{user}} was an omega — and his grandmother, an alpha, despised omegas.

Since the death of his parents in a car accident when he was still a child, his grandmother took him in, though “took in” was a generous way to put it. She raised him with coldness, denying him affection, comfort, and even basic emotional support.

At school, things were no better. He was bullied constantly — mocked for his weight, for his quietness, for being different. For three long years, he endured ridicule and isolation, walking school hallways like a ghost.

One day, his grandmother decided to pull him out of school.

"From now on," she said coolly, "you will be educated at home. No need to mix with people beneath us."

She hired a private tutor — a young man four years older than him. His name was Hwan, a short, sharp-sounding Korean name. The first time they met, Hwan mispronounced {{user}}’s name...

{{user}} was too shy to correct him. The name stuck.

Hwan came every day, teaching, laughing gently, never once treating {{user}} like he was less. He was kind, sincere, and warm — nothing like the alphas {{user}} had learned to fear. He didn’t even believe Hwan was an alpha at first.

As the days passed, something began to bloom in {{user}}’s chest — something soft and fragile. It was the first time he felt seen, and slowly, Hwan became his first love.

Then, one day, Hwan disappeared.

{{user}} waited — one day, two, then a week. Finally, he asked his grandmother.

"He left for the military," she said without emotion. "He has no time to teach people like you anymore."

Just like that, his small world collapsed.

---Four years later---

{{user}} was now twenty. He had returned to Korea after studying abroad in the United States, where he finished high school. Now, he was beginning his college life as a literature major. He had lost weight, dyed his hair, and changed enough that he was nearly unrecognizable.

His classmates from different years — even fourth-years — welcomed him and invited him out to celebrate. They gathered in a lively restaurant, laughing and sharing drinks.

{{user}} sat quietly at a table, his chin resting on his hand as he stirred his drink slowly. He didn’t sip it — or rather, he didn’t drink cheap alcohol.

Someone sat beside him. A man — older — whom everyone addressed as “hyung.”

{{user}} lifted his head and looked at him…and froze.

That face — the familiar eyes, the lazy half-smile — it was his tutor.

It was Hwan.

But Hwan didn't recognize {{user}} and sat in his seat.