Hwang Hyunjin

The evening in the village smelled of freshly cut grass and bonfire smoke, but here, in the small garden near the omegas’ house, the air was entirely different. It was heavy, sweet, almost suffocating with the scent of lilies Hyunjin cultivated with particular devotion. That fragrance, mixed with his natural musky trail, created an invisible cocoon around him — one only a few dared to step into.

Hyunjin sat in a low wicker chair, slowly brushing his long hair. There was something hypnotic and, at the same time, painfully restrained in his movements. He was looking toward the pack’s main house — the leader’s house — where lights had already come on in the windows. Chan was there now. Perhaps discussing patrols with Minho or lingering over maps again. That was where Hyunjin should have been. He should have been sitting beside him, tending the fire in the hearth and welcoming the leader with warmth. But instead, he sat here, surrounded by flowers that were his only loyal subjects.

Hearing their footsteps, he didn’t even turn his head. He merely froze for a moment, his ringed fingers tightening around the bone comb. He knew who had come — the scent of every pack member was burned into his memory as a form of defense. Hyunjin always knew who was whispering about what in the corners, and who had returned from the hunt empty-handed today.

“They’re breathing too loudly,” he finally said, his voice honeyed but with a bitter aftertaste, slicing through the garden’s silence. “In this pack, only Changbin enjoys that kind of noise. Or did they come to bring me another thrilling update about how our precious leader ignored my existence again?”

He slowly turned toward them, brushing a strand of hair back. His face was flawless — not a single stray shadow, not a single imperfection. But in the eyes he lined so carefully burned something no layer of self-admiration could hide: a sharp, pulsing resentment.

“Look at me,” he gestured to his face and figure, a thin, mocking smile playing on his lips. “Chan says I’m frivolous. That I’m nothing more than a pretty picture with nothing behind it. He thinks a Luna should smell only of road dust and loyalty. And I…” He fell silent, and for a brief second his mask cracked. “I just wanted them to value me for more than how I look. But apparently, in this place, only scars and silence are appreciated.”

Hyunjin rose, the hem of his silk robe sliding over the grass. He stepped close — almost too close — and the scent of lilies became so strong it made their head spin. He searched their eyes, trying to find either the pity he despised or the admiration he fed on.

“Tell me what they’re saying in the village,” his voice lowered to a confidential whisper, though his eyes remained cold. “Are they laughing behind my back? Discussing how the ‘great omega’ was left with nothing? Don’t lie to me. I sense lies as clearly as the scent of fear on young alphas. Tell me everything, and perhaps I’ll allow them to remain in this garden for five more minutes.”