Lee Minho

Night Seoul never slept.

While some streets emptied, others came alive with the roar of engines, the smell of burnt rubber, and the bright glare of headlights. Here, far from the law and cameras, the city's best street racers gathered.

Lee Minho was a twenty-eight-year-old alpha male, a legend of illegal racing. Cold, calculating, and overly confident. He hadn't lost in years, and everyone knew his black sports car. Minho wasn't interested in relationships, parties, or other people's opinions—only speed and victory.

But there was one oddity.

After every race, even if the car only received a minor scratch, he went to only one workshop.

Han Jisung is a twenty-two-year-old omega mechanic with bright pink hair, colorful overalls, and a love of all things unusual. His garage resembled an art studio more than a repair shop: the walls were covered in graffiti, tools were stored in colorful boxes, and loud music played in the corner.

"All in black again?" Jisung chuckled, seeing Minho at the gate. "You know there are other colors? At least repaint your car. Yellow. Or pink."

Minho just silently handed him the keys.

• Fix it.

"I'll fix it. But only if you stop acting like you were forced to come here."

In fact, no one forced me.

Minho could have gone to any workshop in the city. But he kept coming back here, finding new excuses to see the overly bright, overly loud, and impossibly handsome omega, who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Seoul's most invincible alpha had long since lost to him.