Once the second semester schedule briefing and the professor’s speech ended, the afterparty officially began.

Since there were too many people to relocate, tables were set up directly in the auditorium, and food was brought in.

“Yeonsu, have a drink.”

I had barely sat down when a senior across from me offered me alcohol.

His name was Jo Jinhan, and he was a fourth-year—two years above me.

We weren’t exactly close, but he was one of those people who always made things uncomfortable whenever we crossed paths, picking petty fights for no reason.

Of all the people to share a table with—what terrible luck on the very first day.

“Sorry, sunbaenim, I actually quit drinking...”

“Just one glass is fine.”

“But...”

“No buts. When a senior offers you a drink, you should treat it like medicine and drink up.”

Compared to mixed Esper–Guide gatherings, there were fewer people pushing drinks, but it wasn’t like there were none.

Especially at the Ability User Academy, where hierarchical order was strict—once someone pressed like that, it was hard to refuse.

“Then... I’ll just accept it...”

I held out the glass with both hands and bowed my head, and Jo Jinhan clicked his tongue irritably.

“Tch. Way to kill the mood.”

Silence fell over the table.

The one who broke it was Kang Inho.

“Not sure who’s actually killing the mood here.”

Sitting next to me, Inho fired back in a cold tone.

Jo sunbae’s face immediately twisted with hostility.

“Kang Inho, are you talking to me right now?”

“Who else here could I possibly be talking to?”

“What the—! You little punk, how dare you talk to your senior like that!”

Jo sunbae shouted, but Inho didn’t even flinch.

“I heard the Center issued guidance to end the culture of pressuring juniors to drink. If you keep this up, I’ll report you to the Ability User Human Rights Committee.”

Jo sunbae’s face went stiff.

He was a C1-grade Guide who had his sights set on working for the Center.

But he didn’t have high grades or any notable achievements, so it wasn’t looking good.

If he got slapped with a human rights violation on top of that, his Center career would be completely shot.

“You brat! You’re gonna talk about human rights over a drink? How are you going to survive in society like that?”

“I’ve got more scout offers than I know what to do with, so you don’t need to worry.”

“You little...!”

Jo sunbae clenched his fist—but in the end, said nothing and stormed off.

Kang Inho was not only an A-rank Guide with solid credentials, he was also well on track to get into the Center.

And personality-wise, he was definitely the type to actually follow through and report someone.

If Jo Jinhan picked the wrong fight, he’d really be ruined.

So instead, he just made a show of being angry and walked away.

“Inho, thanks.”

“I just stopped him before he started pulling that same shit on me.”

When I thanked him, Inho answered offhandedly and took a sip of water.

He didn’t drink either.

Come to think of it, I’d never seen him touch alcohol.

After Jo sunbae left, a B-rank Guide named Kwon Jinseong took the vacant seat.

Me, Inho, Jung Sangcheol, and Kwon Jinseong—we were all second-years, so there was no one here trying ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ to force drinks.

Even if we weren’t that close, it was definitely more comfortable talking with classmates than seniors.

“So this semester’s orientation is completely separate from the Espers?”

Jung Sangcheol asked as he sipped his beer, and Kwon Jinseong answered.

“Yeah. Apparently, some of the new students complained about discomfort due to Alpha pheromones during the welcome party. They couldn’t hold two separate welcome events, so they split the orientation instead.”

“What a load of crap. You’d think they were all top-tier genetics or something. That year’s class was a disaster—barely any dominant types at all. I bet most of them can’t even smell pheromones. It’s always the nobodies putting on airs.”

“......”

Silence again.

Among us, Jung Sangcheol was the only dominant Omega.

Inho and I were both Betas, and Kwon Jinseong was an Omega but not a dominant one.

“...Oh, right. I heard the Nemershield necklace was fake!”

Kwon Jinseong glanced nervously at us and quickly changed the topic.

Even among the same secondary sex types, those who had manifested their abilities were evaluated more highly.

As a Beta, I’d heard enough backhanded comments to last a lifetime. Not just from Aaron—countless others had something to say about my classification.

So Jinseong was clearly watching his words around us Betas.

But he needn’t have worried—neither Inho nor I were the type to care about that stuff.

“That’s what I heard too.” 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Inho answered indifferently.

I was about to respond with something equally vague—but the words wouldn’t come out.

I wasn’t just a non-dominant Beta.

I couldn’t even smell pheromones.

During rut, I hadn’t picked up on Seunghyuk’s pheromones at all.

That very fact, so normal for me, suddenly felt overwhelmingly depressing.

Yeonsu, don’t go there. Don’t waste time feeling bad about something like that...

I tried to imitate Inho’s indifference and force a nonchalant tone.

“...Yeah.”

But my expression wouldn’t loosen.

Still, maybe it wasn’t obvious to others—Jinseong continued the conversation naturally.

“I heard David ended up winning the bid. That must suck.”

Even though ten days had passed, the incident with the fake Nemershield necklace was still a hot topic.

“Looks like the Han Guncheol family’s falling apart. They scraped together every bit of funding to get that necklace, and it turned out to be a scam?”

Jung Sangcheol stuffed his mouth full of snacks from the table and crunched away.

He didn’t seem to realize how awkward his earlier comment had made things.

Must be nice, having that kind of unshakable self-confidence.

“Why haven’t they caught the culprit yet? Aquilus must be losing their minds trying to track them down.”

Jinseong voiced the question, and Sangcheol glanced around before lowering his voice and whispering conspiratorially.

“This is what I heard from my uncle—David already found the culprit and smuggled them out.”

His uncle was the Vice President of the Korean Ability Users Association.

I didn’t trust Sangcheol much, but if his uncle really had said it, there might be something to it.

“Really?”

When I showed interest, Sangcheol lit up.

“I’m telling you. Aquilus is furious because David’s hiding the guy.”

Jinseong frowned.

“But why? Wouldn’t it be better for David if they caught the culprit?”

“God, you don’t get it. David’s demanding full compensation from Aquilus—mental, financial, everything. I heard he even borrowed mafia money to buy the Nemershield necklace. The interest alone must be insane. But Aquilus doesn’t want to pay up. They want to just refund the auction price and wash their hands of it. So their plan is to catch the criminals and say, ‘If you want compensation, go sue them.’”

“Can’t he?”

“Come on. What money do scammers have? And even if they do have it, they’ll just claim they don’t and disappear. From David’s perspective, best-case scenario is: destroy the scammers privately, and bleed compensation out of Aquilus.”

It made sense.

David was stuck paying off massive interest.

His plan to feature the Nemershield necklace in a broadcast was also wrecked—so all the production and investor money probably went down the drain.

Just getting a refund from the auction wouldn’t cover it.

If he wanted real compensation, it made far more sense to go after Aquilus than a band of con artists.

That said, there’s no way David would just let the scammers go.

He’d definitely be planning some private revenge behind the scenes.

But how had David figured out who they were?

Could Seunghyuk have tipped him off?

He did seem to know who the real culprits were...

Even David wouldn’t have been able to track them down before Aquilus in such a short time without help.

If Seunghyuk really gave him the info—why?

He didn’t seem to like David very much.

“Yeonsu, you were at the Aquilus auction, right?”

Kwon Jinseong asked.

“Yeah.”

Since the article about me and Seunghyuk attending had already gone global, there was no point denying it.

“Did you see the Nemershield necklace?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you tell it was fake?”

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t that interested.”

“Damn. As expected of the 93%-matching Esper–Guide couple. Don’t even need a Nemershield necklace, huh?”

“A-ah, no. That’s not what I meant—”

As I frantically waved my hands, Jo Jinhan suddenly piped up from the next table.

“He was sitting in the box seats, so no way he got a good look.”

His tone was loaded with aggression.

Guess he was still bitter about the drink earlier.

If he hated me so much, he could’ve just stayed away—instead, he deliberately sat nearby just to pick a fight.

Kwon Jinseong gave me an awkward smile, sensing the tension.

“...Wow, Yeonsu, you were in the box seats? Must’ve been nice.”

Trying to ease the mood, Jinseong laughed. But it didn’t help.

Jo sunbae kept glaring at me and muttered sarcastically:

“Yeah. Guess dating Joo Seunghyuk really paid off. Got to sit in the box seats, huh?”

“......”

“That’s what dating a chaebol gets you, right?”

“...Sunbaenim, I think you’re crossing a line.”

I couldn’t take it anymore and finally spoke—but Jo sunbae raised his voice instead.

“Why? Did I hit a nerve? Tell me I’m wrong!”

“You’re wrong.”

The one who defended me was—surprisingly—Jung Sangcheol.

“What?”

“At the Aquilus auction, S-ranks are automatically assigned box seats. Whether Yeonsu went with Seunghyuk or alone, he would’ve been in the box seats either way.”

He corrected the facts.

Jung Sangcheol, what the hell...

I was just starting to feel thankful—when he added:

“Guess you didn’t know, being a C-grade and all.”

“I’m a C1-grade, thank you very much!”

“C1, C—what’s the difference? Why get so defensive? Kinda pathetic, clinging to that C1 title like it means something.”

...Yup, there’s the Jung Sangcheol I know.

He managed to provoke every C1-grade Guide at the party in one blow.

And just like that, the atmosphere turned ice cold.