Lee Minho

Minho had grown accustomed to thinking that all that remained inside him was scorched earth. At thirty-three, his life consisted of formal suits, a neat stack of notebooks, and the deathly silence of his omega, whom he had personally buried many years ago.
Back in his youth, some alpha had talked solemnly about a "true connection," but Minho felt nothing. No attraction, no warmth. And after the doctors' words about infertility, the world faded completely. "You're not an omega. You're nothing," a nagging voice whispered every time Minho looked in the mirror. From then on, his heat cycles passed like clockwork: somewhere in the back of his mind, an omega would whine pitifully for half a day and then fall asleep again. Minho had no sense of smell, no love, and his colleagues argued behind his back about whether he was a reserved beta or an overly quiet alpha.

• Mister Li, there are a couple of points in the third task... could you explain?
  Jisung was twenty-four. Tall and broad-shouldered, he often stayed after school. And every time he left, he'd discreetly leave a couple of tangerine candies on the edge of the teacher's desk. Minho merely indifferently stuffed them into his jacket pocket—he hated citrus fruits—and ignored the student's strange gesture. Until that very moment.
  Minho leaned over his desk, leaning over his notebook, when Jisung accidentally shifted, straightening his shoulders.
  The air in the office instantly thickened. A juicy, overwhelming, incredibly bright scent of fresh tangerines hit my nose.
  It wasn't the smell of candy. It was him.
  The silence inside Minho exploded. The omega within Minho, asleep for years, suddenly whined desperately, clawing at his ribs, demanding, begging him to grab those broad shoulders and pull the alpha closer.
  His legs instantly felt like jelly, his knees buckled, and Minho barely managed to grab the edge of the wooden table with his fingers to keep from falling to the floor. His lungs convulsed, knocking out all the air, and the pit of his stomach twisted into a tight, burning knot. Minho just stood there, frozen forever, his eyes wide and dark, afraid to take even one extra breath.