OFFICIAL PROLOGUE: The Anatomy of a Lie
In the glamorous, cutthroat world of the entertainment industry, subgender isn’t just biology. It is marketing.
Alphas are packaged as fierce, untouchable gods—the elite standard of dominance and ambition. Omegas are sold as ethereal, delicate fantasies—rare treasures wrapped in silk and soft lighting. And Betas? Betas are the invisible gears. The baseline. The safe, predictable backbone of society who don’t have heats, don’t drop intoxicating pheromones, and don’t cause multi-million-won public relations disasters.
For Titan Entertainment’s newest rookie boyband, NEO-X, being safe was the only option.
“Three seconds to air! Standby!”
The frantic scream of the floor manager cut through the heavy, humid air of the backstage waiting room. The muffled roar of forty thousand screaming fans vibrated right through the concrete floor, a deafening wave of bass and adoration.
Choi Beomgyu stood in front of the brightly lit mirror, his hands gripping the edges of the marble vanity so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Breathe, he told himself, staring at his own reflection. Just breathe.
To the world, and to the millions of fans chanting his name outside, he was Beomgyu: the charming, sharp-tongued, effortlessly visual “Beta” center of NEO-X. He wore oversized knit sweaters over his slender frame, laughed off personal questions with playful sarcasm, and never let anyone get close enough to look past the surface.
But beneath the flawless makeup and the expensive stage costume, a dark secret was ticking away.
Beomgyu reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, unlabelled amber glass bottle. His fingers trembled slightly as he unscrewed the cap, shaking out a single, bitter blue pill. A high-grade, black-market scent suppressant. Strong enough to mask an army, and toxic enough to wreck his internal organs if he took them for too long.
He didn’t have a choice. He was an unpresented, unregistered Omega hiding in an industry that chewed up and exploited his kind for profit. If the agency found out, his contract would be voided before the ink could dry. If the public found out, the scandal would ruin his group members’ lives forever.
He swallowed the pill dry, grimacing at the bitter chemical aftertaste.
“Hey, Gyu! Are you ready? They’re calling us to the wings!”
The door swung open, and Soobin, the high-stress leader of NEO-X, poked his head in. His gentle Beta scent of clean linen was laced with anxiety.
“Yeah, hyung. Just fixing my hair,” Beomgyu lied smoothly, slipping the bottle back into his pocket and plastering on his signature, mischievous idol smile. “Let’s go crush it.”
As they hurried down the labyrinth of dimly lit backstage corridors toward the main stage, the air suddenly changed. The ambient scents of hairspray and ozone were brutally obliterated by something massive, heavy, and dizzyingly intense.
Smoked cedarwood. Crisp bergamot. A sharp, suffocating hint of black pepper.
An Alpha’s scent. But not just any Alpha.
Walking toward them from the main stage, surrounded by a dozen security guards and stylists, was the senior group SOLARIS. And leading the pack was Choi Yeonjun.
Yeonjun looked every bit the nation’s premier Alpha idol. His midnight-blue hair was damp with sweat, clinging beautifully to his forehead. His feline eyes glowed an intense, residual amber from the adrenaline of his performance, and his jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass. He possessed an effortless, terrifying confidence that commanded every single eye in the room.
As the two groups crossed paths, the members of NEO-X immediately bowed in deep respect. “Hard work today, sunbaenim!” they chorused.
Yeonjun paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the rookies. When his amber eyes locked onto Beomgyu, the air between them seemed to turn to ice. Yeonjun’s nostrils flared slightly, his dominant Alpha instincts reacting to an invisible, inexplicable pull.
Beomgyu held his breath, his pulse spiking. The pill. Please let the pill be working.
“You’re the Beta center, right?” Yeonjun asked, his voice low, raspy, and dangerously smooth. He stepped a fraction closer, invading Beomgyu’s personal space.
“Yes, Yeonjun-sunbaenim,” Beomgyu replied, forcing his voice to remain utterly flat, devoid of the panic screaming inside him. He flashed a polite, completely fake smile. “Choi Beomgyu. It’s an honor.”
Yeonjun leaned in slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Strange,” the Alpha murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant roar of the stadium. “For a Beta... your skin smells incredibly sweet.”
Beomgyu’s heart stopped dead in his chest.
Before he could process the threat, the loud, frantic voice of a head manager broke the tension. “Yeonjun! We have a massive problem! The tabloids just leaked the photos—the framing scandal is going live in five minutes!”
Yeonjun’s expression instantly hardened into stone. The protective, disciplined idol took over, his eyes snapping away from Beomgyu as he turned toward his manager.
Beomgyu took a desperate step backward into the shadows of his own group, his breath shaking. He didn’t know it yet, but the storm that had just hit Choi Yeonjun’s career was about to drag them both into a beautiful, dangerous lie.
