Falling for the Omega Idol-Chapter 139: TENT STRAINING

A full minute passed before Robin’s words fully processed in Haneul’s mind. Fated mates? Did such a thing really exist? And it all depended on having a high pheromone match with someone?

The first question that surfaced once the concept settled: How exactly was pheromone compatibility measured?

Haneul wanted to ask Robin the same question, but something stopped him. It was understandable that he wouldn’t know Alphas could smell differently to each Omega—after all, he’d only recently manifested, and he hadn’t smelled pheromones before then. But something like how pheromone match rates were measured... wasn’t that general knowledge? If he asked about that now, it would seem strange.

So he kept his mouth shut. But at the back of his mind, one fact kept nagging at him—Taeyang’s scent had been... heavenly— no, that was too strong a word. Just... good. Unnervingly good.

He shoved the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He’d revisit it later.

Much, much later.

"What do you think will happen to Lee Minjae, hyung?" he asked instead.

Robin shrugged. "I don’t know. But worst case, he’ll probably get disqualified. I mean, I don’t know the details of the Alpha contracts here, but in ours, I vaguely remember it saying we have to start taking suppressants about five days before our scheduled heat. The rules for Alphas should be even stricter since they only go into rut every three months. They must have been told to check their rut schedules before joining the show—to make sure they wouldn’t have an episode during filming. Which Lee Minjae clearly didn’t manage to do properly."

Oh, right—Haneul vaguely remembered that clause in his contract too. He hadn’t paid it much attention at the time, figuring it wasn’t as critical as the other terms. Besides, he would’ve taken suppressants regardless of any contract clauses. The memory of his last heat alone would’ve been motivation enough.

Speaking of that last heat, Haneul remembered how it had hit him out of nowhere—right after he’d smelled that warm, honeyed wood scent with just a hint of spice... which he now realized had been Taeyang’s pheromones. He caught himself mid-thought and stiffened. No. Nope. He wasn’t going to entertain that line of thinking.

"Although this would probably explain why Lee Minjae had been such an asshole," Robin continued. "He was about to enter his rut, so it might have affected his emotions and made him lose control. Still, hormones can’t dictate a person’s entire personality. So the fact that he’s been such an ass shows he’s probably just an ass. He’d probably have better control over his emotions if he wasn’t about to go into rut, though."

Haneul couldn’t argue with Robin’s logic, so he simply nodded. It did explain Lee Minjae’s increasingly erratic behavior—the kind of behavior no contestant in an idol survival show should ever display unless they wanted to be painted as the villain by viewers. And becoming a villain was the worst possible strategy if your goal was making the final debut lineup. After all, wasn’t that why they were all here? No one in their right mind would deliberately make themselves look bad on camera. That was practically begging the audience not to vote for you.

Hell, even Park Mirae—who was far from the nicest person aboard this ship—was carefully masking his true personality in front of the cameras. That’s why Lee Minjae’s recent actions had struck Haneul as so bizarre. But if his emotions were being amplified by impending rut... well, that at least made some sense.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. It opened to reveal a female staff member. "Hello," she said. "Are you two feeling alright?"

Haneul and Robin both nodded in polite acknowledgment.

"Then please come with me," the staff said. "PD Song wants to speak with you about what just happened."

Haneul and Robin exchanged a glance before slowly standing up and following the staff member out of the infirmary.

***

Taeyang braced his hands against the sink and splashed another handful of icy water onto his face. Droplets rolled down his neck as he straightened, meeting his own gray-eyed reflection. His irises looked almost silver under the harsh lights, pupils blown wide enough to nearly eclipse the pale color. A vein pulsed at his temple, his jaw working like he was grinding his molars to dust.

His gaze dropped to the unmistakable tent straining against his sweatpants. Teeth gritted, he exhaled sharply through his nose. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to slam Lee Minjae’s head through a wall.

When he first learned about secondary genders and pheromones, he’d assumed it wouldn’t affect him. Because even after being classified as an Alpha, his Pheromone Blindness made him believe he was immune—thankfully so, because the last thing he wanted was to be controlled by biology. But today’s incident proved him wrong. He wasn’t entirely free from pheromones’ influence after all.

At least, not from one specific person’s pheromones.

Taeyang could still smell that caramel scent lingering in his nose. Just the memory of it made the tent in his sweatpants grow even more pronounced. This whole incident had forced his brain to finally admit the truth—that sweet caramel aroma he’d noticed around Haneul hadn’t been some random smell. It had been the other’s pheromones.

He still didn’t understand how that was possible given his condition, but the undeniable evidence straining against his waistband left no room for doubt.

The caramel scent had grown stronger earlier—because of that bastard Lee Minjae. The mere possibility that the other Alpha’s pheromones might have forced Haneul’s body to react, to release more of that intoxicating sweetness, made Taeyang’s blood boil. Now he regretted holding back. He should’ve tackled Lee Minjae when he had the chance, should’ve landed at least one solid punch when he’d blocked the other from chasing after their Omega teammates.

Taeyang shoved his face under the faucet again, letting the freezing water shock his system. The cold bit into his skin, but did nothing to dull the heat coiling low in his gut. Just as he straightened, water dripping from his chin, a sharp knock rattled the bathroom door.