Chapter 51: Only a Friend

Does Choi Han-geon Like Cha Eun-gyeol?

Every time he tossed out that question, without a single exception, the answer was yes.
In truth, there was no need to ask it again and again.
In every moment spent with him, Han-geon had never once made Eun-gyeol feel confused.

Then—

Did Cha Eun-gyeol like Choi Han-geon?

The answer to that question was always “yes” as well.
There had not been a single moment when it wasn’t.
Cha Eun-gyeol liked Choi Han-geon.
That was an absolute fact that could never change.
As time passed, that truth only grew more solid.

He simply wanted to keep him by his side.
He wanted to be an absolute and irreplaceable presence to him.
Because it was the same the other way around.
To Cha Eun-gyeol, Choi Han-geon was a one-and-only existence.

However, whether he could do anything sexual with him was an entirely different matter.
It was far removed from the ideal type he had carried with him all his life.

Only gentle, beautiful female bodies stirred his desire.
That hadn’t changed even after he presented as an alpha.
No matter how good an omega’s traits were, he had no interest in male bodies.
Let alone someone he had known for nearly twenty years—a dark-skinned beta man at that.
It was unthinkable.

That was why he had never even considered him as a possibility.
Choi Han-geon was simply his “only friend.”
Nothing more than that.
Not a dot, not a single stroke could be added to that rigid title.
That, too, was an unchangeable fact.

***

People around him advised that if he was going to act, he should start as early as possible—even a year sooner would help.
Entertainment agency managers who had persistently approached him since middle and high school said the same.
Some even hurled near-curses, warning that if he kept refusing like this, he’d miss his chance forever.

A warning.

Since it never became reality, it was safe to call it utter bullshit.
As soon as Eun-gyeol graduated from college, he signed with the biggest and most famous agency, and debuted faster than anyone else there.
Snatching up titles one after another—“a rising rookie actor,” “the hottest newcomer these days”—he proved their bullshit wrong while simultaneously proving his own conviction right.

Of course, there was no way he could be satisfied with that alone.
He had no intention whatsoever of becoming a mediocre actor who flared briefly and vanished.
So he kept running forward, eyes fixed ahead.

Fortunately, his agency lived up to its name.
The CEO and chief manager who chose Eun-gyeol took great pride in their eye for talent and believed unshakably in the potential of the actor they had personally selected.
They were also famous for being extremely selective about projects.
Among the countless scripts that poured in, they carefully chose only those with a real chance of success.

They analyzed the actor Cha Eun-gyeol thoroughly.
His strengths and weaknesses, of course, but also every expression, every tone of voice, even each subtle breath he revealed.
Then, with uncanny precision, they picked out roles that suited him best and placed him into them.

The first role Eun-gyeol ever took as a lead, and the second as well, were positions where no one would seat a rookie actor without absolute confidence in success.
They were scripts coveted even by established stars.
Plenty of actors tried to exert pressure using sponsors, desperate to secure just one of those roles.

Naturally, there were senior actors who tried to crush him by flaunting their so-called careers, and there were many instances where the dirty, unseen hands of politics and finance interfered.
Yet Cha Eun-gyeol claimed those roles in the end.
In battles over roles that were like wrestling in the mud, he always seized the brightest prize—and reclaimed it.

And every single time, he delivered.
The solid backing of his agency and CEO, combined with Eun-gyeol’s acting skills, struck the public squarely in the heart.
Praise poured in, calling him an actor who possessed both artistry and commercial appeal, alongside an outstanding face and physique.

Charging ahead without obstacles, Eun-gyeol eventually realized one day that he had reached the position he wanted.
The thrill of recognizing there was nowhere higher to climb did not last long.
Before long, uninvited guests quietly came knocking.

They were boredom and fatigue.

Acting was still fun, and every performance felt new.
But everything else exhausted him.
Above all, the damned cycle that periodically struck him as a trait-bearer was the most irritating of all.

The public idolized and admired the trait of a dominant alpha, but to Eun-gyeol, traits were f*cking useless.
They were no different from being an animal.
Whenever his cycle arrived, even work that had been progressing smoothly came to a complete halt.
It was unfair, irritating, and maddening, but there was no choice except to accept it.

There was another reason the cycle was such a nuisance.
Because he became sexually sensitive at regular intervals, advances naturally came flooding in around that time.
Omega actors in particular, regardless of gender, would grow frantic and throw themselves at him.

He was sick of it.
Watching them contact him discreetly with uncanny timing—as if they had his cycle memorized—filled him with disgust.

Still, he didn’t bother pushing them away.
If they would come on their own and beg to relieve that damned thirst and heat, Eun-gyeol, who needed to resolve his rut quickly and return to filming, had no particular reason to refuse.

That said, satisfaction was never part of the deal.
No matter how good an omega’s traits were, no matter how closely someone matched his ideal type, an unpleasant sense of unfulfillment always lingered.
A pheromone specialist doctor cautiously suggested that the issue might be psychological.

And Eun-gyeol already knew the reason.

It was the emptiness he felt each time he picked someone at random to sleep with in sync with his cycle, releasing his urges on a whim.
Of course, quite naturally, he had never assigned much meaning to s*x in the first place.
He knew all too well that someone with his kind of traits had even more reason not to.

So when partners, flushed with the heat of a single night, occasionally whispered words like love, he scoffed inwardly.
It was reckless and idiotic beyond measure.

A bit of fondness, he could understand.
But feelings beyond that—

Sometimes, as he acted out affection in front of the camera and whispered lines about love, he wondered inwardly what this damn emotion even was, that everyone became so desperate over it.
Love felt like an unnamed star beyond the far reaches of the universe—something that had nothing to do with him at all.
He didn’t know what it was, and more than anything, he didn’t particularly want to know.

That was why resolving his rut by following instinct—getting hard, thrusting, pounding into someone he felt nothing for—felt unbearably hollow.
How was it any different from an animal in the wild, choosing any partner at random to satisfy its breeding urge?
It felt like repeatedly unwrapping an empty box—gaudily wrapped but containing nothing inside.

One more thing.

Embracing someone during heat was the only way to fully release his urges, but it came with considerable risk.
Being a dominant alpha meant he was perfectly suited to impregnate an omega.

Even thinking about that remote possibility was horrifying.
He would rather die than create a child he couldn’t take responsibility for.
Having no desire to be a parent and no right to be one, Eun-gyeol knew bone-deep—having grown up that way himself—how badly bringing a child into the world could ruin a person’s life.

Even while holding a partner, he was so focused on contraception that he had never once been able to relax and immerse himself in the act.
There was nothing particularly wrong with the process itself, but the more s*x he had, the more sensitive and strained his nerves became instead of easing.

The fatigue piled up layer upon layer, sharpening his nerves to their limit.
Naturally, his words and behavior grew rough before and after his rut.
In the midst of that, idiotic managers hovered around him, every last one of them irritating.
The irritation he already felt toward managers who grated on his nerves multiplied severalfold.

There was truly, genuinely not a single person who satisfied him.
Among the countless managers, it was astonishing that not one was someone he wanted to keep by his side.
Some of them even went so far as to quit, then spread absurd malicious rumors out of spite, or fall for ridiculous schemes from people trying to bring Eun-gyeol down.

He was sick and disgusted with a reality where he couldn’t focus solely on his work.
There were far too many things to worry about, all of them exhausting.
On days when he wanted to escape it all and curl up quietly, Eun-gyeol inevitably went to Han-geon’s place.

It didn’t matter whether he was there or not.
Just breathing in the thick scent that filled the apartment was enough to melt away most of his irritation.
Perhaps because he was someone who had steadfastly stayed by his side for so long.
Simply being in his home gradually calmed the inner turmoil that had been raging like a storm.

The password Han-geon had carelessly shared with him never changed.
Even knowing that Eun-gyeol would drop by whenever he pleased, it stayed the same.
Just as he had given him space by his side throughout their school years, Choi Han-geon silently gave him space in his home as well.
Inside that house, Eun-gyeol rested.
He could let both his body and mind go, finally at ease.

Choi Han-geon was that kind of existence.
No matter how much time passed, he remained a place of rest for him.
That had to remain an unchanging truth in the future as well.

And then, luck arrived without warning.

It was the day yet another idiot manager—so many he’d lost count—finally quit.
When he abruptly went to Han-geon’s place, there was unexpectedly someone there who shouldn’t have been at that hour.
With a face that clearly looked like he’d just come out after masturbating, he flusteredly let him in.
When Eun-gyeol asked what was going on, those words came out of Choi Han-geon’s mouth.
That he was considering a career change.

Eun-gyeol looked at his face anew.
A certain thought slowly crossed his mind.
At the same time, a thrilling shiver he had never experienced before swept through his entire body.

Instead of occasionally stopping by Choi Han-geon’s space in his spare moments, what if he brought Choi Han-geon into his own space?
If, beyond just rest, Han-geon stayed by his side through all aspects of his life—

The shiver coursing through him showed no sign of fading.
He made the offer on the spot.
In truth, it was closer to coercion.
Since the answer was obvious anyway, he felt like leaping with joy even before hearing it.
After all, Choi Han-geon would never be able to refuse his request.

Han-geon could stay by the side of the person he loved so dearly as a manager and bodyguard, and Eun-gyeol could have all of Choi Han-geon’s everyday life to himself.
It was a conclusion that couldn’t have been more perfect for either of them.

It felt like finally fitting in a puzzle piece he had been holding onto for a long time.
As if completing a vast painting with that single piece, everything, at last, fell beautifully into place.