Chapter Text
The neon sign of the convenience store buzzed a relentless, low-frequency hum that vibrated straight through Taki’s skull. It was nearly midnight. The store was empty, save for the hum of the refrigerators and the overwhelming scent of cheap floor cleaner trying—and failing—to mask the sudden waves of nausea hitting Taki every ten minutes.
He leaned heavily against the counter, his palm pressing firmly against his stomach. It was too early to show, but he could swear he felt a strange, flickering warmth blooming inside him. The free clinic had confirmed it earlier that afternoon: he was pregnant. An omega, poor, dealing with post-trauma epilepsy, and now carrying the child of Kyoto’s most untouchable alpha.
Just get through the shift, Taki muttered to himself, taking a slow breath of his own fading yuzu scent to ground his nausea. Just get home to Mom.
The electronic chime above the door rang out, shattering the silence.
Taki automatically straightened his posture, forcing a polite, customer-service smile onto his face. "Welcome to—"
The words died in his throat.
Walking through the plastic strips of the entryway was Nicholas. Wang Yixiang—though everyone on campus just called him Nicho—was the only heir to the Wang empire, a family whose staggering wealth matched the Hirotas coin for coin. He looked effortlessly expensive in a tailored jacket, his dark eyes sharp but relaxed.
And tucked tightly under his arm, their hands secretly linked in the shadow of Nicho’s long coat, was Byun Euijoo.
Euijoo was an omega, and more importantly, he was just like Taki. He came from a family that struggled to make ends meet, working odd jobs to survive. But the moment Euijoo stepped into the store, his scent filled the narrow aisles—sweet tangerine and honey, laced with the unmistakable, deeply comforting pheromones of Nicho’s alpha protection.
Everyone at the university knew they were together, but it was a dangerous, unspoken rule to keep it from the Wang family, who would never approve of a poor omega heir.
Taki felt a sudden rush of relief at seeing a familiar, friendly face. "Euijoo-hyung," he breathed out.
"Taki!" Euijoo’s eyes lit up, a soft smile breaking across his face. He gently pulled his hand away from Nicho’s to lean over the counter. "I didn't know you worked the late shift here. You look so pale, are you okay?"
Before Taki could answer, the chime above the door rang a second time.
The air in the small convenience store instantly grew heavy, thick, and suffocating.
The sharp, unmistakable scent of crushed mint and smoky vetiver flooded the room, cutting through the sweetness of Euijoo's tangerine scent like a blade.
Maki walked in, his hands shoved carelessly into his pockets. He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on Taki behind the register. For a fraction of a second, Maki’s pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring as if instinctively seeking out Taki’s bright yuzu scent. But just as quickly, his expression hardened into stone. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"You took forever to park, Maki," Nicho grumbled, completely oblivious to the sudden tension as he tossed a bag of chips onto the counter. "Euijoo was freezing."
Maki didn't look at Nicho. His cold, dark eyes remained locked onto Taki, sweeping over his oversized, worn-out uniform vest and the dark circles under his eyes. "I told you we shouldn't have stopped at a place like this," Maki said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "The air in here is sickening."
Taki flinched, the harsh words stinging worse than any physical blow. His omega inner-self whimpered at the rejection from the father of his unborn child, and a spike of distress involuntary bled into his yuzu and wildflower scent.
Euijoo caught it instantly. As a fellow omega, he was hyper-sensitive to Taki's sudden wave of anxiety. He frowned, stepping closer to the counter and looking between Taki and Maki with growing suspicion. "Maki, don't be rude. Taki is a student at our school."
"I don't care who he is," Maki snapped coldly, turning his back to the register to look at the drink cooler. "He's a stranger to me. Just hurry up and pay so we can leave."
Nicho raised an eyebrow, sensing his best friend’s uncharacteristic irritation, but chose not to push it. He slid his black credit card across the counter. "Just these, Taki. Sorry about him, he’s in a mood tonight.”
Taki’s hands shook as he scanned the items. He kept his eyes glued to the register screen, desperately fighting the urge to throw up right then and there.
Maki’s mint scent was overpowering, making his head spin with a mix of intense longing and absolute heartbreak. How could someone who held him so gently two nights ago look at him like he was dirt beneath his expensive shoes?
"Here you go," Taki whispered, handing the bag to Nicho, his voice cracking slightly.
"Thanks, Taki. Get some rest, okay?" Euijoo said softly, his eyes lingering on Taki with deep concern. He clearly sensed something was deeply wrong, but with Nicho and Maki right there, he couldn't ask.
As the three of them turned to leave, Maki paused by the door. Without looking back, his voice echoed coldly through the quiet store.
"Make sure you clean up the scent in here, Takayama. It’s suffocatingly sour."
The door chimed as they left, leaving Taki alone in the silence. The moment the door clicked shut, Taki’s knees gave out. He dropped to the floor behind the counter, burying his face in his hands as tears finally spilled over, his small body trembling as he tried to protect the secret growing inside him.