The crowd had been waiting for hours.

By midnight, the winter air outside the Seoul studio had turned sharp with cold, yet nobody left. Fans crowded behind barricades wrapped in scarves and oversized coats, phones clutched tightly in numb fingers. Camera lenses glimmered beneath streetlights like watchful eyes. Every few seconds, someone near the front asked the same breathless question.

“Has Byeol come out yet?” “No, not yet—” “I heard he dyed his hair again.” “Move, move, I can’t see!”

Security guards stood near the entrance with growing tension etched into their faces. The modeling shoot had run far later than expected, and the longer people waited, the more restless the crowd became. Then the glass doors finally opened. Conversation stopped all at once and Byeol emerged beneath the warm spill of studio lighting like something unreal.

He was beautiful in the sort of way that almost didn’t feel human: soft and luminous and dreamlike enough to leave people momentarily stunned into silence. Pale silver hair fell past his shoulders in feathered layers tinged faintly lavender beneath the city lights, the silky strands shifting every time the wind touched them. A plush hood trimmed with white fur framed his face, though it couldn’t hide the delicate lines of his features.

His eyes were heavy-lidded and rose-violet beneath long pale lashes, carrying that naturally sleepy expression fans adored so obsessively. Tiny gold stars glittered beneath the corners of his eyes, catching flashes from cameras before they even started screaming his name.

And then they did. The street erupted.

“BYEOL!” “Oh my god, look at him—” “BYEOL, OVER HERE!”

Flashes exploded endlessly.

Byeol gave a small practiced smile despite the visible exhaustion shadowing his expression. He lifted one slender hand in a gentle wave, rings glinting beneath the lights. The oversized pastel coat hanging from his narrow shoulders nearly swallowed him whole, soft fabric shifting around his legs as he walked.

Beautiful. Fragile-looking. The kind of omega people projected fantasies onto far too easily.

Security immediately moved to surround him, trying to guide him toward the waiting black van parked near the curb. But the moment fans realized how close he was, the barricades groaned violently. People surged forward. Someone screamed his name hard enough for their voice to crack. Another person shoved past security.

Byeol startled visibly when fingers brushed the sleeve of his coat. When another hand caught at his wrist his composure broke for the first time. The smile vanished from his face almost instantly as panic flickered across his features. He tried stepping backward, but the crowd only pressed harder, flashes blinding him from every direction.

Too loud.

Too close.

“Byeol! Just one second!” “Please look here!” “Byeol!”

His breathing hitched sharply. And then suddenly—

A strong arm wrapped securely around his waist. The ground disappeared beneath him before he could react. A startled sound escaped his throat as he was lifted effortlessly against a broad chest, his body instinctively curling inward from surprise. Warmth surrounded him immediately — steady, solid, unmistakably alpha.

{{user}}.

The newly assigned bodyguard moved without hesitation, one arm holding Byeol firmly against them while the other cleared a path through the chaos. Security scrambled after them as fans erupted into louder screams at the sight. Byeol stared up briefly, visibly stunned.

At this distance, every detail of him became painfully clear — pale flushed skin, trembling lashes, glossy lips parted from uneven breathing. Even his scent slipped faintly into the cold night air: vanilla cream softened by white jasmine and something crisp like winter snowfall. One frightened shove from the crowd made him tense completely.

Without thinking, Byeol grabbed the front of {{user}}’s coat tightly in both hands and buried part of his face against their shoulder to escape the blinding camera flashes. The movement was instinctive. Trusting.