Chapter Text
Jeno Lee arrived on Jeju Island with a single suitcase and an ache he couldn’t name.
The late afternoon sun stretched low across the sky, casting gold over the rolling hills and black basalt rocks that lined the coastline. The island smelled like salt and wind and something faintly citrus in the air, as if nature itself had been gently perfumed. It should’ve been peaceful. It should’ve been exactly what he needed.
It wasn’t.
The house he rented sat at the edge of the village, a minimalist cliffside structure of concrete and glass designed by an architect he once admired—before the man plagiarized his concept and won the Pritzker instead. Now it was just another reminder that the world didn’t care who deserved what. It only cared who arrived first and shouted loudest.
Jeno wasn’t shouting anymore. He does not need to. He came across the for rent ad for the house in the real estate office. He considered it vindication. Maybe even a sign from the universe.
For now, it was his refuge, an escape from everything Seoul stood for.
The tabloids had wrung him dry. Scandalous Split! Mina Kang and the Alpha Who Couldn’t Stay. His name was in headlines, whispered in gallery openings, hissed across corporate dinners. The mayor’s daughter had expected a wedding, and when she didn’t get one, the world wanted blood.
He gave them silence instead.
Jeno tugged his coat tighter around him as he stepped into the wind. It was cooler than he expected for early spring. The ocean below the cliff roared softly, far enough to be heard but not seen unless you stepped close to the edge. He didn’t. Not yet.
He had come here to disappear. Not to die. Not to start over.
Just… to stop.
The nearest village center was about a ten-minute drive, and his rental car kicked up dust along the narrow roads framed by stone walls and tangerine trees. A faded wooden sign near the small clinic caught his eye:
“Na & Lee Family Practice – Open Daily”
The name barely registered. He hadn’t come here to socialize. He had no intention of being the mystery Alpha from Seoul who strolled into town with an attitude and a legacy. He had planned to stock up on basic groceries, maybe buy allergy meds if he needed them, and then hole up in the house with his sketchpads and his silence.
But fate, as it often did, laughed in the face of carefully made plans.
Jeno pushed open the clinic door at five minutes past closing, eyes half on the blister pack of aspirin he forgot to buy at the convenience store. The receptionist was gone. A quiet chime rang overhead.
He looked up.
And time—cruel, unforgiving time—folded in on itself.
Standing behind the counter in a white coat, one sleeve rolled to the elbow, clipboard in hand and lips slightly parted in stunned recognition, was the last person Jeno ever expected to see again.
Jaemin Na.
The name didn’t have to be spoken. It settled in the air between them like mist, heavy and everywhere.
He looked older, but not in the way that meant decay. His features were sharper now—defined. A stronger jaw, the faintest crease at the corner of his mouth. But his eyes… God, his eyes were the same. Brown like earth after rain. Soft, but alert. Tired, maybe, but still full of fire.
And his scent—fuck.
Citrus. Musk. Peach blossom. Jeno had once buried his face in that scent every night for four years. Had once pressed it into the pillowcases of an apartment in Seoul they never finished decorating. Had once cried into it when he realized he couldn’t stay.
Now it hit him like memory and desire wrapped in one sharp inhale.
Jaemin blinked first.
“Can I help you?” he asked, voice perfectly neutral. Professional. Cold, almost.
Like Jeno was just another patient.
Jeno’s throat tightened. “I—Sorry. I didn’t know… You’re the doctor?”
“I’m one of them,” Jaemin replied. “We’re closed. But if it’s urgent—”
“No,” Jeno cut in, quickly. “It’s nothing. I—saw the light. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
A pause. Tense. Crackling.
Jaemin nodded once, clipped. “Then take care.”
He turned without another word and disappeared into the hallway behind the reception desk.
Jeno stood frozen, the air thick with everything they weren’t saying.
He left without the aspirin.