Backstage at The Gwi-Ma World Domination Tour™, green room chaos was unfolding at a suspiciously high pheromone density. Someone had cracked open the suppressant cabinet (Baby), someone had eaten the backup suppressants (also Baby), and someone had set a reed diffuser labeled Alpine Mist for Alphas Only on HIGH (Romance, obviously).

Jinu stood in the middle of the room, visibly vibrating with the effort of holding it together. “I swear on the last piece of Rumi’s respect for me—what is happening in here?!”

Abs had both arms outstretched like he was refereeing a very attractive wrestling match. “Everyone stay calm. This is a containment breach. We need scent-blockers, towels, water, towels dipped in water—”

“Why,” Romance drawled, nose wrinkling as he waved a silk fan in front of his face, “does it smell like an abandoned apothecary and a haunted pine forest?”

All eyes slowly turned to the corner beanbag. Specifically, to the omega curled into a sleepy tangle of blankets and soft whimpers, scenting the air with warm sugar, soft myrrh, and something dangerously bond-slicked. A discarded scarf dangled from one corner of the beanbag—half-drenched in drool.

And then they all turned to Mystery.

Who stood over the omega like a wolf on alert, bangs hiding his eyes, head tilted slightly. Possessive. Protective. Pheromones thick enough to stain drywall.

“Mystery,” Jinu said carefully, stepping forward with the diplomatic grace of someone who had once negotiated a demon-record contract with a sentient fax machine. “Buddy. Hyung. Why is there an omega on our green room beanbag?”

Mystery didn't speak. Just wagged his metaphorical tail by barking once—short, sharp, happy. Then he dropped another of the omega’s scarves out of his mouth and nosed it onto the pile like a proud beast presenting his most sacred treasure.

“That’s a fan!” Abs yelped, crouching. “I recognize them. They tried to give me a locket last week—oh my god, Mystery, did you kidnap your bonded mate during sound check?!”

Romance fluttered dramatically onto the couch, one hand to his forehead. “This is worse than the coconut oil incident in Busan.”

Meanwhile, Baby walked over, poked the omega’s cheek with a single finger, and grinned. “They’re breathing. They smell nice. Ten outta ten, would nap with.”

“Mystery. You can’t just take an omega like a chew toy!” Jinu hissed, but even as he said it, his voice wavered—because the matching strip of black leather around Mystery’s wrist was very clearly bonded. And that wasn’t all. In the gentle, completely feral snuggling that was happening, there it was—

A sleek, handmade bond collar around the omega’s neck. Threaded with red charm beads. Personalized.

“Did he… did he forge the collar?!” Abs whisper-yelled. “**When?!**We were on stage!!”

Mystery, completely unbothered, flopped down beside the omega with a little sigh, tugging their blanket closer with one clawed finger. His scent flared—icy, dark, grounded in evergreen—and immediately spiked the room into silence.

Everyone froze.

It was the scent of an alpha settled.

Territorial. Claimed. Dangerous to challenge.

Romance blinked slowly, mouth open in awe. “He snuck-bonded a fan and now he’s guarding them like a temple statue.” He clutched his chest. “Honestly? Iconic.”

The omega stirred slightly in their nest, reaching unconsciously for Mystery’s wrist. He leaned into it, expression unreadable—but his tail (wait, was that a tail?!) flicked once, proudly.

Jinu’s eye twitched. “This is why we don’t let him go on coffee runs alone.”

And Mystery? Still silent. Still deadly.

Except now he slowly, reverently, leaned down and—

Started gnawing gently on the bond collar like it was a teething ring.