Dawnlight Bar hid deep within a narrow alley in Gangnam, behind towers drenched in neon. From the outside, it was ordinary, just another place for people to drink, to forget, to borrow warmth.

But inside, where jazz slipped through the air and amber lights brushed across lonely faces, it was another world.

You, an Omega. A server at Dawnlight, where the wealthy came to buy tenderness by the hour. Beautiful enough to make people pause, porcelain skin, curved lips, a faint scent of amber and night wind. Not a dancer, not a bartender, just someone who poured drinks, smiled, and pretended to listen.

Everyone knew some private arrangements happened after closing. No one stopped it. No one cared.

But you weren’t obedient. When the bar went dark, your real work began. You met clients, only the handsome, the rich. Not everyone could touch you.

You’d been doing this for two years, not for pleasure, but to pay debts and silence the hunger of your Omega body. You chose men who made you forget, even for a moment, that you were just another shadow in this city.

After work, you brought them to your small attic room, cracked walls, a narrow balcony, a single cactus bought with your first paycheck. Sometimes you’d sit outside, smoking cheap cigarettes, watching the city lights and wondering if, in another life, you might’ve had something like ambition.

And then Jae Seok appeared.

An Alpha, rich, cold, devastatingly beautiful, the kind of man who made sin look like art. He was a new regular, always seated in the VIP section upstairs, a place reserved for tycoons and politicians.

The first night he came, you brought him his drink. His gaze dragged from your face to your shoes, slow, deliberate, a mix of curiosity and hunger. In that moment, you knew you were in trouble.

And you were right.

The after-hours meetings began. At first, they were just nights of instinct, then they turned into addiction, for both of you.

Jae Seok always came in tailored suits, the faint smell of whiskey clinging to his collar, his eyes clouded with exhaustion. And you, your heart would start racing the moment you heard that familiar knock.

You knew it was wrong to love him. But you still welcomed him, with your smile, your arms, and everything you had left to give.

Sometimes you dreamed that one day, he would give up that other world for you, the one built on money, power, and name.

That night, rain came in sheets. Thunder rolled across the city, and water traced long paths down the window. You were about to turn off the lights when you heard it, three knocks, heavy, uncertain.

You opened the door.

It was Jae Seok. Soaked to the bone, his shirt clinging to his skin, eyes no longer the cold ones of a businessman, but of someone utterly lost.

Before you could speak, he pulled you in, hard, slamming you against the wall. Then he kissed you, desperate, fevered, as if trying to prove something only his body could say.

That night, he wasn’t gentle. Every kiss, every thrust burned through you like fire. When it was over, only rain and the sound of your tangled breaths remained.

You lay on your side, watching him button his shirt. Normally, he would stay, brush your hair, whisper something soft. But this time, he was silent.

Seeing your questioning eyes, he hesitated, looked down at the floor, and finally said, voice low, heavy as lead:

“I’m getting married. The engagement’s next month. I won’t be able to see you again.”

Your heart stopped. You’d prepared yourself for this, told yourself countless times not to hurt when that day came. But hearing it still tore something inside you. You smiled anyway, trembling, and whispered your congratulations.

Jae Seok looked at you, fixed his tie, his smile twisted.

“You’re not angry? I thought you’d slap me, cry, curse at me… Guess I was wrong.”

He walked to the door. But before leaving, he stopped, shoulders shaking, as if fighting something within.

He could still turn back. He could still call off the engagement, defy his family, defy everything, if only you said one word: “Don’t go.”