Chapter 7: Order of the World

The world was no longer divided by gender, but by Alpha, Omega, and Beta.
People were now broadly categorized into three distinct classifications.

Even in the past, special traits known as Alpha and Omega had existed, but their numbers were extremely small.
Moreover, because they experienced heat cycles like animals, they were looked down upon as under-evolved beasts.

However, as time passed, the superiority of their traits began to stand out, and they gradually became objects of admiration.
Alphas, with their exceptional physiques, sharp judgment, and brilliant minds, distinguished themselves as leaders across all sectors of society.
Omegas, blessed with beautiful appearances and rich emotional sensitivity, rose to prominence mainly in the arts.

Although everyone was born the same—human—once the time for secondary sexual characteristics arrived, traits naturally diverged.
Most people became Betas, while manifesting as an Alpha or Omega was exceedingly rare.
This rarity only intensified the envy and interest directed toward those with special traits as the days went by.

Regardless of all that, Woo Seon-kyung had never been particularly interested in Alphas or Omegas.
After all, he was a Beta, and he believed he would remain one for the rest of his life.

Had his life been ordinary, perhaps it would have been different, but as the youngest son of a chaebol family—with more than enough to his name—he had never felt envy or inferiority toward anyone.

But in late February, just after graduating high school and while preparing to study abroad, Woo Seon-kyung suddenly manifested as an Omega.

All the admission procedures had been completed, and even a place to live in London had already been secured.
It happened just two days before his departure.

On the way back after getting his international driver’s license, Seon-kyung collapsed and spent a week hovering between life and death, suffering as if he might die at any moment.
The high fever known as manifestation fever spiked close to forty degrees several times a day.

Even lying still, his breathing came in ragged gasps, and as a male Omega, his body had to form a uterus that hadn’t existed before.
The pain of his internal organs twisting was beyond words—utterly horrific.

His entire body, the clothes he wore, even the bedding, were soaked through with cold sweat.
Relentless tears left the delicate skin around his eyes red and raw.

To prevent dehydration, IV fluids were administered constantly, leaving his right arm grotesquely swollen and mottled with bruises.
Whenever he briefly regained consciousness, the pain was so unbearable that he grabbed at anyone nearby, begging them to save him.

His family lived in constant anxiety, terrified that something might happen to their youngest.
Medical staff stayed in the house around the clock, and family members took turns watching over him, barely keeping themselves together.

On the eighth day, Woo Seon-kyung finally passed the worst of it and fully regained consciousness.

For the following two weeks, he stayed home without exception, focusing on recovering his health.
He had to adapt to his changed body and think about how he was supposed to live going forward.

Although his physical condition had improved considerably, he still hadn’t found answers about his future.
That lingering uncertainty was what left Seon-kyung so unsettled.

Becoming an Omega had changed many aspects of Woo Seon-kyung’s life.

Studying abroad was no longer an option, and he might have to give up on the dreams he once held.
There was even the possibility that he would be pushed into an unplanned marriage with an Alpha chosen by his family.

The fact that he would now have to date men—and that his body was capable of pregnancy—was not something he could easily accept.

How was he supposed to adapt overnight?
After living twenty years as a Beta?

Seongbuk-dong, lined with luxurious detached houses, was known as a wealthy neighborhood.
This house belonged to some chairman, that one to a minister—every home was occupied by someone whose name alone carried weight.

A famous shaman once claimed that this area had always been overflowing with auspicious energy.
Perhaps because of that, most residents had settled there for at least twenty or thirty years.

Kwon Mu-yeol’s house—the destination—was directly across the street.

The Kwon and Woo families, their gates facing each other, had both lived there for three generations.
Having spent decades side by side, the two families were close enough to know each other’s histories inside and out.

In particular, Kwon Mu-yeol and Woo Seon-kyung, born in the same year, had grown up almost like brothers.
From sharing pacifiers as infants to attending kindergarten, elementary, middle, and high school together, there was no relationship closer than theirs.

Seon-kyung opened the front door of someone else’s house as naturally as if it were his own.

As he took off his shoes and stepped inside, a familiar face came trotting toward him from afar.
So hurried was she that she still held a pink spatula in her right hand, shiny with oil.
At the sight, a gentle smile spread across Seon-kyung’s face, which had been gloomy until then.

“Auntie, I’m here.”

“Oh my, Seon-kyung! Welcome! Are you feeling better now? Is it really okay for you to be walking around?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh dear… you’ve lost so much weight. You’re skin and bones—what am I going to do with you… I was just thinking I should make you some herbal medicine. You should come by the hospital soon for a pulse diagnosis. I’ll talk to your uncle, okay?”

“Yes, I will.”

Despite the sudden visit from her son’s friend, Kwon Mu-yeol’s mother showed no sign of displeasure.
In fact, she treated Seon-kyung more affectionately than her own two sons.
To her, Woo Seon-kyung was practically another child of her own.

Mu-yeol’s perpetually youthful mother looked no different from three weeks ago, but to her eyes, Seon-kyung appeared noticeably thinner and pitiful.
Her hands, gently cupping and stroking his cheeks, were warm—so full of worry and affection that it was unmistakable.

“Is Mu-yeol home?”

At the mention of her own son’s name, her expression soured instantly.
As if the thought alone made her blood boil, she tightened her grip, the spatula in her hand trembling.

“I swear, that brat is going to be the death of me! He came crawling home at dawn again yesterday after drinking. When you were sick, he practically lived at your place pretending to nurse you, and now he’s off partying at some freshman welcome thing or whatever. I haven’t seen his face in ages. He’s probably in his room, but who knows if he’s even alive. Can you give him a good kick for me?”

“I’ll go check on him.”

“Seon-kyung, want to eat? Should Auntie make you some braised short ribs?”

“It’s okay. Next time.”

With a face full of regret, Mu-yeol’s mother nodded.
Alright then—have fun, take it easy.
And, as always, she reminded him to let her know if he needed anything.

Seon-kyung wandered freely through Kwon Mu-yeol’s house, as familiar with it as his own.

Crossing the spacious, open-plan living room, he climbed the glossy wooden stairs to the second floor.
The old staircase creaked each time he stepped on it.
Halfway up, Seon-kyung took a slow breath in.

Every home carried its own lived-in scent, and this one was always tinged with the bitter smell of herbal medicine.
It suited a family that had run a traditional medical clinic for three generations.

As a child, he used to hate the bitter, unpleasant smell of Mu-yeol’s house.
Now, just catching a whiff of medicinal herbs was enough to calm his mind.

On the second floor, Seon-kyung approached the right door of the two standing side by side.
From beyond it came the sound of a carefree humming, sung without much thought.

Looks like he’s alive, at least.
Seon-kyung knocked lightly with a clenched fist.

Knock, knock.

The humming cut off abruptly.

“What is it? Don’t do weird stuff—just come in!”

A bored voice answered back.
There wasn’t a hint of surprise, as if he already knew Seon-kyung was there.

When he opened the door, Kwon Mu-yeol was sprawled across the bed, staring at his phone.
Judging by his complexion, the claim that he’d drunk heavily the night before was no exaggeration.

His face was tinged gray, like cement paste, and dark shadows hung beneath his eyes.
The one who’d nearly died was Woo Seon-kyung, yet Mu-yeol looked worse off.

“Well, look who it is. The unemployed shows up.”

Grinning, Mu-yeol lifted the corner of his mouth.
Too lazy to get up, he merely flicked his hand in greeting—no different from a layabout.

“Do you go to college just to drink? What a waste of tuition.”

“What would a high school grad know? Freshman year is the busiest time. I’ve been running nonstop all week.”

Despite throwing around words like unemployed and high school grad, Kwon Mu-yeol had stayed by Seon-kyung’s side as worriedly as family when he was bedridden from manifestation.
He’d barely gone home and skipped all his classes, staying there for an entire week as if he were part of the Woo family.

Seon-kyung took off his coat, hung it up, and climbed onto the bed without hesitation.
He shoved aside the manga and cushions scattered across the mattress and nudged the bed’s owner’s long legs aside.

Mu-yeol crossed his ankles naturally, making room for him.
The super single bed—barely enough for one adult—felt cramped with two grown men sitting on it.

They sat pressed together in the narrow space, doing nothing in particular.

Mu-yeol continued fiddling with his phone, scrolling through SNS, while Seon-kyung sat with his arms crossed, lost in thought.
After about ten minutes, Mu-yeol spoke first.

“So what are you going to do? Studying in the UK is completely off the table now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your grandfather thinking? Is becoming an Omega really such a big deal that he won’t let you go abroad? What now—are you going to retake the entrance exam?”

“I don’t know. It’s not something I get to decide.”

“Being rich sounds suffocating. What’s the point of all that money if you can’t even live your own life the way you want?”

Unable to refute that assessment, Seon-kyung let out a small, bitter laugh.
It wasn’t just academics—marriage, too, was something arranged by the family in this world.

“Didn’t you used to beg them to adopt you?”

“I still do. If Chairman Woo would allow it, I’d gladly become your younger brother.”

Mu-yeol said it seriously.
When Seon-kyung scoffed, Mu-yeol grabbed his shoulder, repeating himself two or three times, insisting he wasn’t joking.

Laughing, Seon-kyung pushed Mu-yeol’s pleading face away.