Woosung Alpha’s Sour Grapes

Chapter 1

The omega who gave birth to Tae-geon spent the rest of her life cursing both the alpha who had violated her and Tae-geon, whom she had carried, before eventually taking her own life.

On a bitter winter night, Tae-geon was huddled alone in a corner of the shantytown. Just before his breath could give out, he was taken in by someone who claimed to be his father.

Tae-geon was five years old at the time and hadn’t even been registered at birth. Doctors unanimously agreed that due to his numerous developmental issues, he might struggle to grow into a functioning member of society.

Nevertheless, his father refused to give up custody because Tae-geon belonged to an extremely rare ultra-dominant trait, even among dominant alphas. He judged that even if the boy remained beast-like, he would be worth keeping nearby, even if as a vegetative patient on oxygen.

Fortunately, contrary to the medical staff’s initial concerns, Tae-geon seemed to develop normally as time passed. Simply having a warm bed and quality meals transformed him from his previously unkempt state into someone with the refined air of a well-bred young master.

Born with quick wit and exceptional learning ability, he surpassed the average level for his age group in less than six months after starting private tutoring.

However, unlike his intellectual development, his emotional and social test scores always barely scraped the bottom. Unable to overcome his past trauma, he had been suffering from periodic seizures for two years now, often leaving him bedridden.

When darkness fell, almost every night, the mansion echoed with the desperate cries of a young beast.

The employees in their beds would shrink and toss restlessly. There was a special reason why all employees were betas – the young master of the mansion suffered from severe omega phobia. Among them, Tae-geon’s seizures were known as a curse.

His hatred and rage toward omegas would manifest as seizures, during which he would draw blood from his own body throughout the night, only to remember nothing the next day.

Everyone in the mansion knew why the young master, despite showing exceptional academic achievement beyond his peers, wasn’t brought to the main house and instead remained quarantined like a plague victim when he should have been starting elementary school the following year. Yet no one dared speak of it.

It was an unspoken rule within the mansion to keep silent about the fact that the sole heir to Taeryeong Group, which carried humanity’s fate through life and death, was clearly a failure.

It was late spring that year when Hyeon-woo began visiting the mansion.

The night before, the attending physician, after treating Tae-geon’s new wounds, added a suggestion while reporting his condition as usual. He recommended getting a pet like a dog or cat to help with his emotional deficits, but Tae-geon’s father, Choi Mu-seok, despised furry animals.

So Hyeon-woo was brought in as an alternative to a pet. While it would have been more convenient to bring in an orphan with no blood ties, they determined it would be more beneficial to bring in a bright child from a wealthy, harmonious family, as this would significantly impact Tae-geon’s emotional and social development.

Among four candidates, Hyeon-woo, who was the same age as Tae-geon, was selected. He was the only son of a Taeryeong Group holding company employee, from a prestigious family that had produced only alphas for generations on his father’s side.

Hyeon-woo was likely to manifest as an alpha, or at worst a beta, making him the perfect candidate to place beside Tae-geon, who extremely despised omegas.

Above all, what satisfied Mu-seok was that Hyeon-woo’s father was his subordinate, receiving his salary. This would make handling any potential situations more advantageous.

A sleek black sedan entered the luxury housing complex to pick up Hyeon-woo. Hyeon-woo’s father, holding his son’s small hand while greeting the driver, struggled to contain his smile that threatened to reach his ears.

Choi Tae-geon.

The chairman’s precious bloodline – much rumored but never seen by anyone.

The thought that his son would become the companion to the only heir of Taeryeong filled him with indescribable joy. For someone who had dedicated his entire life to Taeryeong Group, this was the highest honor.

Hyeon-woo visited Tae-geon’s mansion up to five times a week, at least once every three days. Sometimes he even stayed overnight.

Contrary to everyone’s concerns that Tae-geon might attack like a wild beast at the slightest provocation, his wariness toward Hyeon-woo quickly transformed not into aggression but into a form of affection and attachment.

That day too, after Hyeon-woo had finished not only his own strawberry juice but also Tae-geon’s portion and still sweetly asked for more, the maids finally gave in.

After drinking three glasses of ice-blended strawberry juice in succession, Hyeon-woo ended up with an upset stomach and couldn’t return home.

“…Tae-geon, I’m not feeling well…”

Exhausted from frequent bathroom trips throughout the night, Hyeon-woo wobbled in and lifted one side of the blanket on Tae-geon’s bed, crawling inside. Tae-geon stiffened in surprise at the unfamiliar sensation of warm body heat wriggling into his arms.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Hyeon-woo blinked and curiously examined Tae-geon’s bedroom, bathed in the bright light of the full moon.

He had always wanted to visit, and finding the hallway empty, he had taken the chance to run into Tae-geon’s room. For all the stern warnings he’d received since day one about never going near the young master’s room, it was quite an ordinary, unimpressive space.

And here I thought there might be a three-headed monster or something.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get in trouble,”

Tae-geon whispered, stiff as a board, looking down at Hyeon-woo’s apple-like head nestled against him.

“No, I want to stay here.”

Hyeon-woo wrapped his arms around Tae-geon and shook his head, refusing to leave.

“…Go to your room.”

“What room? This is your house. Tae-geon, I don’t feel well.”

“…”

“Being alone in the guest room when I’m sick feels too lonely. I want to stay with you.”

Hmm?

Hmm? Hmm?

Every time Hyeon-woo nuzzled his forehead against his chest, a warm, cozy scent like sun-dried cotton wafted up. He didn’t dislike the scent. Somehow, it made him feel at peace. Finally, Tae-geon surrendered.

“Do what you want.”

“Hehe.”

Having achieved his goal, Hyeon-woo loosened his arms around Tae-geon. Just as Tae-geon felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of contact, a soft, ticklish warmth began to seep into his palm.

Hyeon-woo playfully lifted their hands, fingers tightly interlocked, and laughed.

“Ta-da, hand holding! Let’s sleep like this. So we won’t be lonely.”

Though Tae-geon didn’t respond, Hyeon-woo noticed his expression soften as he closed his eyes. Hyeon-woo’s gaze shifted back to their joined hands. In the moonlight, he could clearly see the red scabs and blue injection bruises he had noticed earlier on Tae-geon’s wrist.

Hyeon-woo pressed his lips together.

Compared to his own stomach ache from strawberry juice, Tae-geon seemed ten, no, twenty times more hurt and lonely. He wanted to stay by his side. That’s why he’d snuck into the room and insisted on staying.

I’ll stay beside you. I’ll protect you from loneliness.

When he lifted his head to look at what he thought was Tae-geon’s sleeping face, Hyeon-woo was startled. Tae-geon, whom he’d thought was asleep, was gazing down at him with bright, open eyes.

In that dark room, where the only light was the pale moonlight filtering through the window, it was inexplicable how Tae-geon’s eyes could appear so clear and bright.

In Tae-geon’s eyes, dark as deep pools, there spread a brilliant galaxy like the one Hyeon-woo had once seen on TV. Time seemed to stop. It felt as if he and Tae-geon were floating alone like specks of dust in the vast, dark universe. His own face filled Tae-geon’s clear eyes, reflected like mirrors.

It felt strange.

Are you feeling the same way as I am right now?

If I disappear, will Tae-geon drift alone in this vast universe?

Suddenly, a piercing loneliness overcame Hyeon-woo. Seven-year-old Hyeon-woo, not yet understanding that this emotion was called solitude, simply felt like crying at the strange feeling that made his nose tingle when thinking about leaving Tae-geon alone.

“I’ll always stay by your side.”

Without realizing it, Hyeon-woo voiced this vow to the galaxy dwelling in Tae-geon’s eyes.

I’ll always protect you.

After repeating his vow to the stars several times, heavy drowsiness began to settle on Hyeon-woo’s eyelids. The shadows cast by his eyelashes on his fair cheeks grew deeper until finally, his obsidian-like sparkling black eyes disappeared completely.

Tae-geon, who had been etching every detail into his retina, couldn’t take his eyes off Hyeon-woo for a long time afterward.

This moment, invaded by soft breathing, comfortable scent, and warm temperature, felt incredibly peaceful and secure.

‘I’ll always stay by your side.’

Hyeon-woo’s small voice whispering those words echoed repeatedly in his ears.

That night, Tae-geon experienced peace for the first time in his life.

*

With Hyeon-woo’s appearance, the mansion’s tense atmosphere softened considerably. He was a child with natural sociability and a vibrant charm that drew people in. When wanting something, he knew how to appeal to adults with endearing gestures, and his attitude toward the quiet and reserved Tae-geon was consistently sweet and kind.

By Hyeon-woo’s side, with his innate warmth and sensitivity that came from being raised with love, Tae-geon felt his heart flutter daily with emotions he’d never experienced before.

Like watercolor paint dripping onto water’s surface and blooming into wisps of color, Tae-geon’s feelings toward Hyeon-woo shifted daily – yellow one day, light green the next day. His monochrome world began to fill with vibrant colors.

Hyeon-woo’s presence had an absolute influence on Tae-geon’s socialization. By watching Hyeon-woo’s every move, Tae-geon’s mind gradually clarified what constituted socially acceptable behavior.

Shortly after Hyeon-woo’s arrival, the doctor’s visits decreased from three times a week to once, and Tae-geon’s social evaluation scores improved dramatically. The moment when the “abnormal” label would fall away seemed imminent.

Abnormal.

The reason for daily psychological counseling, needle pricks in living flesh, and handfuls of bitter pills.

Tae-geon knew the cause lay in the hatred lurking deep in his heart. He was always the first to witness the fresh scars on his body each morning. On days when blood seeped from randomly torn wounds, his fingernails were invariably caked with torn flesh and red blood.

With Hyeon-woo’s appearance, these cursed nights notably decreased in frequency, thanks to various emotions gradually filling the heart that had once contained only hatred.

However, not all these emotions were warm and comfortable. Tae-geon sometimes felt something grating and unpleasant mixed into his feelings for Hyeon-woo, like sand between grains of rice.

When Hyeon-woo happily shared stories about friends Tae-geon didn’t know, he felt his heart race with an emotion as black and wild as his hatred.

A terrible possessiveness beyond jealousy and inferiority surged within him like a dam about to overflow, threatening to consume him at its precarious level.

He wanted to monopolize him. He didn’t want to share even a hint of Hyeon-woo’s warmth with others. Yet he was careful not to show this outwardly. The shrewd Tae-geon understood exactly why Hyeon-woo had been brought to this mansion.

He needed to enter the circle drawn by society – the circle where Hyeon-woo belonged. He knew proving Hyeon-woo’s value was the only way to keep him close. For this, he couldn’t let such consuming emotions control him.

When dark, sticky emotional waves rose toward Hyeon-woo, Tae-geon interrogated and judged himself like a prison warden. He accepted only what his mind could rationalize and rejected everything else.

As he grew accustomed to filtering and measuring his emotions, they both entered elementary school together. Having finally stepped into Hyeon-woo’s circle, Tae-geon drew another red circle around where Hyeon-woo stood – this one with the opposite meaning from before.

A circle never to be crossed.

As long as he didn’t cross this boundary around Hyeon-woo, he wouldn’t be caught in an uncontrollable emotional whirlwind. His hatred toward omegas was enough of an uncontrollable emotion.

Though Hyeon-woo’s presence had made them less frequent, unfortunately, he hadn’t completely escaped the cursed shadows. The curse binding Tae-geon’s flesh still lay in wait, jaws open, seeking a chance to devour his young soul.

These cursed nights continued until their upper grades, and each time, Hyeon-woo stayed by Tae-geon’s side as he struggled between life and death with fever and self-harm. Holding Tae-geon’s hands tightly as they clawed at his own skin amid horrifying screams, Hyeon-woo prayed through tears until dawn.

I hate omegas. I hate them so much.

Please punish the omega who did this to Tae-geon.

The hatred transferred from Tae-geon silently infected Hyeon-woo like a disease. Just as much as Tae-geon despised omegas, an equal hatred grew in Hyeon-woo’s eyes toward them.

Even in his unclear consciousness, Tae-geon’s desperate grip on his hands somehow kept breaking Hyeon-woo’s heart.

Tae-geon, even if I manifest as an alpha, I’ll never pair with an omega.

Let’s stay together forever.

When he whispered these words, as if by magic, Tae-geon’s seizures would seem to subside.

Their clasped hands were hot.

Hyeon-woo’s nose stung as he looked down at Tae-geon, who held onto him desperately as if clutching a lifeline.

Tae-geon wasn’t the only one experiencing heart-fluttering days as these emotions began sprouting through the ground. Just as one feels touched and tender watching a newly hatched duckling following the first being it sees as its mother, Hyeon-woo’s feelings for Tae-geon were similar.

From Tae-geon, who only stayed close to and relied on him alone, Hyeon-woo felt responsibility, a sense of purpose, and most powerful, the value of his own existence.

So Hyeon-woo too decided to stay close only to Tae-geon. He didn’t form deep relationships with anyone else. He believed this was loyalty to each other.

Like clothes slowly soaking in drizzling rain, without even realizing it, just as Hyeon-woo’s existence meant everything to Tae-geon, Tae-geon’s existence began to hold the same meaning for Hyeon-woo.

No one could have predicted that these dozen or so years of finding solace in their own world, becoming each other’s only existence, would later return as a complete disaster.