Chapter Text
The dance studio’s fluorescent lights buzzed, washing the polished floor in a harsh glow. Park Jimin stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall, sweat dripping down his face. His black tank top stuck to his skin, and his brown hair clung to his forehead. At twenty-two, he was used to pushing his body hard, but tonight’s practice felt like a battle against his own exhaustion. His muscles ached, his lungs burned, but he couldn’t quit. Not now. Not when he was so close to his dream.
Min Entertainment’s trainee program was brutal, a make-or-break grind that turned hopefuls into stars or crushed them. Jimin had been here two years, fighting his way up from nothing. As an omega in a world that saw his kind as weak or ornamental, he’d worked harder than anyone to prove he belonged. The company didn’t officially care about his omega status, but the whispers followed him. Too soft. Too fragile. Not cut out for this. He’d heard it from other trainees, even some instructors. But Jimin wasn’t here to fit their mold. He was here to dance, to shine so bright they couldn’t ignore him.
“Five minutes, then we do it again!” the choreographer, a no-nonsense beta, Mr Lee, shouted. The other trainees groaned, sprawling on the floor or chugging water. Jimin stayed on his feet, rolling his shoulders, eyes fixed on his reflection. He straightened his back, practicing the confidence he’d need for the big evaluation coming up. Debut was close, a shot at stepping out of the shadows and onto the stage. He could feel it.
“Jimin, take a break or you’ll collapse,” a familiar voice called. Hoseok slid up beside him, flashing an easy grin despite the long practice. Hoseok was a beta, broad-shouldered and warm, with a knack for making everyone feel at ease. He was Jimin’s rock in this tough world.
“I’m good,” Jimin said, smirking. “Gotta nail it, Hobi. You know how it goes.”
Hoseok raised an eyebrow, tossing him a water bottle. “You’re already killing it. Save some energy for the real deal, okay?”
Jimin caught the bottle but didn’t drink, his eyes drifting back to the mirror. Hoseok had a point, but Jimin didn’t aim for good enough—he aimed for perfect. Omegas didn’t get second chances. One mistake, one bad day, and the bosses would write him off. He’d seen it happen to other trainees, kids with big dreams snuffed out because they couldn’t handle the pressure or because their omega scent slipped through at the wrong time. Jimin’s scent—sweet, like jasmine and warm honey—was a risk he’d learned to hide with blockers, but it was always there, waiting to mess him up.
“Jimin!” Mr Lee’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Your turn. Solo run. Show me what you’ve got.”
The other trainees watched, some jealous, others pitying. Jimin stepped to the center of the floor, the track’s bassline thumping through the speakers. He closed his eyes, letting the music take over. When he moved, it was like fire—sharp, smooth, every step bold and alive. He spun, dropped low, and rose again, his body telling a story of grit and dreams too big to hold back. The world vanished. No judges, no rivals, just him and the beat.
When the music stopped, Jimin was out of breath, chest heaving, but he held his final pose, head high. The room went quiet, then Lee grunted, “Not bad. Sharpen your transitions. Next!”
Not bad. From Lee, that was a compliment. Jimin hid a grin as he rejoined Hoseok, who slapped his back. “Told you. You’re a monster out there.”
“Monster, huh?” Jimin teased, finally sipping the water. “Thought that was your vibe.”
Hoseok laughed, but his eyes softened. “You’re tougher than you look, man. Don’t forget it.”
Tough. Jimin held onto that word. He had to be, to make it this far.
Practice dragged on until midnight. When Jimin finally stumbled out of the studio, Seoul’s neon streets hit him like a new world. The air was cool, smelling of street food and city grit. He pulled up his hoodie, hiding his face as he headed for the subway. His college dorm was a half-hour ride away, and he had a class at 8 a.m. Sleep was a pipe dream, but he’d manage. He always did.
His phone buzzed as he hit the station stairs. A text from Han Soyeon, his college friend.
Soyeon: Jimin, you free? Gotta talk. It’s urgent. Café near campus?
Jimin frowned. Soyeon didn’t do “urgent.” She was an omega like him, but her life was miles apart—super rich, with a family that owned half the city. They’d clicked in a literature class over snarky jokes and old books, but Soyeon’s world of fancy cars and forced dates was nothing like Jimin’s trainee hustle.
Jimin: Just left practice. Wiped out. Can it wait?
Soyeon: Please! It’s a huge deal. I’ll owe you big time.
Jimin sighed, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to say no, but Soyeon had a way of reeling him in. Plus, she sounded desperate, and that wasn’t like her.
Jimin: Fine. There in 20.
...
The café was a warm, cozy spot with wooden tables and soft jazz, a big change from Min Entertainment’s sleek vibe. Soyeon was in a corner booth, her pricey coat tossed over the chair. Her long hair was in a messy bun, and her makeup was smudged, like she’d been crying. Jimin’s gut twisted. This wasn’t the Soyeon he knew.
“Jimin!” She waved him over, her voice shaky but relieved. “You’re a lifesaver.”
He dropped his gym bag and slid into the booth. “You look rough, Soyeon. What’s wrong?”
She gave a weak laugh. “Thanks a lot. You’re not exactly fresh yourself, Mr. Sweaty.”
“Long practice,” he said, leaning back. “Talk. What’s the big deal?”
Soyeon bit her lip, glancing around like someone might be listening. The café was quiet, just a few students and a barista cleaning up. Still, her nerves made Jimin uneasy. He leaned in, voice low. “Soyeon, come on. What’s going on?”
She took a deep breath, then said fast, “I need you to go on a date for me.”
Jimin blinked. “Huh?”
“A date,” she said again, words spilling out. “An arranged one. My family keeps setting me up with these stuck-up alpha heirs, and I’m done. There’s one tomorrow night, and I can’t handle it. I need you to go instead.”
He waited for her to laugh, to say it was a joke. When she didn’t, he snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not your double, Soyeon. And, newsflash, I’m a guy.”
“You’re an omega,” she shot back. “And you’re good-looking. With a wig and some makeup, you could pass as me. No one’s gonna ask for your ID. Please, Jimin. Just this once!”
“No way.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I’m not playing dress-up to be your stunt double. Get someone else.”
“There’s no one else!” Her voice broke, and she grabbed his hand, nails digging in. “Jimin, you don’t understand. My parents are nuts. If I ditch this date, they’ll cut me off. No money, no place to live, nothing. I can’t lose it all.”
Jimin’s jaw clenched. He knew what it was like to have nothing. Growing up, he’d scraped by on scholarships and odd jobs, his parents barely making ends meet. Soyeon’s “nothing” was a mansion compared to his, but the panic in her eyes was real. Still, this was wild.
“Why me?” he asked, pulling his hand free. “You’ve got rich friends. Hire an actress.”
“Because I trust you,” she said quietly. “And you’re an omega. This guy’s an alpha, so he’ll expect an omega’s scent. You can do this. I know you can.”
Jimin’s stomach dropped. His scent. The one thing he’d spent years hiding with blockers, the one thing that marked him as less in this alpha-ruled world. Soyeon was right—he could pass as her. He was slim, with soft features people often called “pretty.” But the thought of showing off his omega side, even in disguise, made him sick.
“Forget it,” he said, standing. “I’ve got too much going on. Evaluations are next week, and I’m not screwing up my shot for this.”
Soyeon grabbed his wrist, holding tight. “I’ll pay you.”
He froze, heart racing. “How much?”
“Ten million won.”
Jimin’s breath hitched. Ten million won was a game-changer. It could pay his rent for a year, clear his loans, give him time to train without working nights at the corner store. He sat back down, mind spinning.
“You mean it?” he asked.
“Totally.” Soyeon’s eyes were steady now, no tears. “Do this, and the money’s yours. No catches.”
Jimin ran a hand through his hair, torn between exhaustion and temptation. He didn’t trust Soyeon’s family—or this alpha she was avoiding. Arranged dates were about power, tying rich families together. If this guy was some spoiled heir, he’d be trouble. But ten million won… that was a way out. A chance to breathe.
“Who’s the guy?” he asked, voice quiet.
Soyeon paused, then said, “Min Yoongi.”
Jimin’s blood went cold. Min Yoongi. The heir to Min Entertainment. His boss’s son. The alpha who moved through the company like a shark, all sharp eyes and quiet danger. Jimin had never met him, but the rumors were enough. Yoongi was ruthless, a music genius who destroyed anyone who tried to use him.
“You didn’t say it was him,” Jimin whispered, leaning across the table. “Are you crazy? If he figures it out, I’m toast. My career, my life—done.”
“He won’t figure it out!” Soyeon said, urgent. “It’s one date at a fancy restaurant. You go, act like a klutz, tank it, and leave. Yoongi doesn’t know me. He’s never met you. You’re just a trainee, not his assistant. Wear my clothes, use my name, and mess it up. Easy.”
“Easy?” Jimin laughed, bitter. “Yoongi’s not dumb. In fact he's a genius!”
“Not with my blockers,” Soyeon said, pulling a small vial from her purse. “These are special. They make you smell like a female omega. You won’t smell like you. I’ve done this before, Jimin. It works.”
Jimin stared at the vial, his pulse pounding. This was a bad idea. Every gut feeling told him to run, to protect the dream he’d built. But ten million won. And Soyeon’s desperate eyes. He thought of his parents, still working endless shifts. Of the evaluation, where one slip could end everything. Of the freedom that money could buy.
“Fine,” he said finally, voice barely audible. “One date. I mess it up, I get paid, and we’re done. No more favors.”
Soyeon’s face lit up, and she hugged him, nearly spilling his tea. “You’re the best! You won’t regret this, I swear.”
Jimin didn’t hug back. He already regretted it.
In his dorm, Jimin couldn’t sleep. The room was tiny, stuffed with books and his other stuff, the walls so thin he could hear his neighbor snoring. He lay on his narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, Soyeon’s blockers in his hand. The pills inside glowed faintly, a fake shield against the world’s rules. He’d used blockers forever, but these were different. They didn’t just hide his scent—they changed it.
He thought of Min Yoongi. The stories made him sound like a ghost, a man who saw through lies and crushed fakers without a second thought. An alpha whose presence could shake even the boldest omega. Jimin had seen him once, from afar, cutting through Min Entertainment’s lobby. Dark hair, pale skin, eyes that sliced through everything. Jimin had shivered, though he’d told himself it was just nerves.
Now, he was supposed to trick that man. To sit across from him, lie to his face, and walk away clean. It was nuts. But Jimin was no stranger to nuts. He’d beaten the odds to get here—an omega from a small town, now a trainee at Korea’s top company. He’d faced worse than a bad date.
He rolled over, setting the blockers on his nightstand. Tomorrow, he’d go to Soyeon’s place, put on her clothes, and become someone else. Just for one night. He’d done tougher things. He’d survived.
But as he drifted into restless sleep, one thought stuck: What if Min Yoongi knows?