The discreet, low-lit lounge was silent save for the chime of crystal glasses. Dressed in sleek shades of midnight amethyst that hugged and showed off her curves, Hana sat opposite Han Min-woo, who looked utterly flustered to be sharing a table with her. He was a beta of middling talent, his demeanor tightly coiled, his scent only that of dry parchment and stale coffee—the subtle residue of his daily life. He was a tool, but one Hana had cultivated years ago, sensing his quiet ambition and knowing his predictable affections.
"You haven't changed a bit since school, Min-woo-ssi," Hana smiled widely, her expression warm. "It's so good to reconnect. What are you focused on these days? Still buried in those scores, I imagine?"
Min-woo flushed, fiddling with the stem of his glass. He certainly hadn't forgotten the way Hana carried herself in high school—confident, popular, and far out of his league. "Oh, yes, Hana-ssi. I'm with the Seoul Philharmonic Symphony now—First Violin section. Have been for a few years now."
Hana's eyes widened with surprise. "The Seoul Phil! That's incredible, Min-woo-ssi, congratulations! I heard the talk about your orchestra's recent Revival Gala—sounds like the orchestra is finally having a real comeback."
Min-woo's face darkened instantly, the faint glow of pride extinguished by a deep, familiar resentment. He scoffed, setting his glass down with a slight thud. "A comeback? It's a miracle the place hasn't imploded yet. Frankly, I've been thinking of leaving."
Hana tilted her head, an expression of concern settling on her face. "Oh, surely it can't be that bad? The SPS is an institution with a glorious reputation, even if it has dimmed in the last few years. That's exactly why it relies on brilliant, talented people like you to keep its reputation strong."
"You don't understand the pressure, Hana-ssi. The leadership is unstable! Kang Do-hyun and Seo Jaemin, they're talented, certainly. But talent doesn't equate to reliability, does it? The Concertmaster position demands an alpha of unquestionable control. And Conductor Seo…" he paused, letting the implication of the omega's infamous past linger. "His very presence—an omega on the podium—seems to have destabilized the entire leadership structure."
"What do you mean?"
Min-woo gripped his glass. "He shouldn't be conducting," he muttered, almost to himself. "He just walked in one day. We all heard the whispers about Vienna. An omega who got caught trying to claim someone else's composition as his own, and then hides his designation behind cheap sandalwood… It's a joke. He's a joke."
Expression twisting into one of sympathy, Hana leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Oh, Min-woo-ssi, that's horrible! I am so sorry you have to deal with that. It must be impossible to focus on your own talent when the leadership is so tense. Maybe you should speak to the manager about bringing in a new permanent conductor to settle things down?"
Min-woo scoffed, resentment burning in his eyes. "A new conductor? Please. Conductor Seo isn't going anywhere, not with the way he and Concertmaster Kang are practically joined at the hip these days. But I guess he's the only thing that seems to keep the Concertmaster from completely losing it. No one else can speak up."
Hana maintained her professional calm, but inside, a cold, satisfied thrill ran through her. She lowered her voice further. "That's deeply concerning for the SPS's reputation. But I'm sure you're exaggerating, no? Kang Do-hyun's skill as a concertmaster is legendary, he can't possibly be so unprofessional."
Min-woo's eyes darted to the entrance, but he was hooked. His envy of Do-hyun—the talent, the power, the success—spilled out like spoiled milk.
"Every rehearsal is hell," he began, his voice tight. "Last year with Conductor Park, right before Seo Jaemin even entered the SPS, the first violins kept missing the tempo during rehearsals. What did our wonderful concertmaster do? He didn't just yell. He flung his bow across the stage. Flung it. He started challenging Conductor Park openly, demanding the entire rehearsal be scrapped. It was terrifying."
Min-woo paused, gathering steam. "He had to be physically pulled off the stage by Manager Park, screaming all the while about the damage to the orchestra's reputation. Everyone saw it. Hah! If there's anyone who's an actual threat to the orchestra's reputation, it would be him. It was completely unprofessional! But it was buried because Kang Do-hyun and his family have money, and Conductor Park was only a guest."
"Oh goodness." Hana's face was a mask of shock. "Does he still do that now with the latest conductor?"
Min-woo snorted with derision. "Ever since Conductor Seo arrived, he just stands there on the podium, looking all soft and smug, like he's the only thing that can calm Kang Do-hyun down. They're a toxic duo, seriously, creating an environment where no one else can speak up."
"That sounds terrible, Min-woo-ssi." Hana maintained her professional calm, but inside, a cold, satisfied thrill ran through her. Unprofessional rage. Buried incident. Volatile temper. This was perfect for the initial smear. It painted Do-hyun as a violent time bomb, ready to explode.
"A volatile alpha concertmaster who can't control his temper, and an unreliable omega conductor who enables him… It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, Min-woo-ssi," she continued sympathetically. "Maybe you really should get out of there. Are you thinking of applying anywhere else?"
At that, Min-woo's face fell, but he blustered, "As a First Violinist, all I have to do is speak to some friends, and I'm sure they'll make space for me! But I'd feel bad for the SPS. Some of the other musicians are really good people. What would they do without me? I really couldn't bear to leave them behind…"
Hana smiled supportively, asked a few more inane questions about his life, and then smoothly dismissed him with a fake family emergency and a vague promise to connect again soon. As they parted ways on the street, she watched his retreating back, the polite facade dropping instantly into a mask of cold contempt.
Pathetic man. He still carried that soft, lingering affection for her, for her to exploit with surgical ease. His pathetic need for attention and advancement had just secured her the first piece of solid ammunition beyond concocting rumors off some of the wildest online comments. The information itself—a bow-throwing incident—was merely the starting gun. Her real prize lay ahead.
She checked her phone for the address of Seungcheol's current location, the excitement of proving herself surging like adrenaline. She was not the disposable omega who brought only trouble; she was the indispensable partner who brought victory.
…
Choi Seungcheol sat back in the plush, private booth of the club, reviewing the data Hana had just secured from Min-woo. The details of Do-hyun's bow-throwing rage were laid out on the tablet Hana had brought, while Hana herself sat beside him, composure immaculate as she sipped a ridiculously expensive glass of wine.
"This is better than I expected," he admitted. His scent, sharp and competitive, filled the air. "A scandal last year, repressed by the board… It's almost too easy to paint him as an animal. If we manage to take him down, the SPS will be lost without its concertmaster."
He turned to her, his dark eyes sharp with calculation. "I am, however, still trying to understand your involvement, Hana. What exactly do you have to gain from joining me in taking down the SPS?"
Hana set her wine down and crossed one elegant leg over the other, giving him a cool look. "It's about demonstrating value, Seungcheol. Your last choice was… emotional. I saw what that volatility did to you. It drains you. It makes you lose control. My choices are strategic. I follow logic, not heat."
"Strategic?" he challenged, a skeptical smirk playing on his lips.
"Seo Jaemin is chaos. He brings sentiment, volatility, and unnecessary drama to everything you touch. That's why he failed you," she stated with a measured tone, her eyes meeting his without flinching, even though they darkened at the mention of the omega's name. She had anticipated that her words would spark anger. "I, however, provide stability. I do the necessary, discreet work to clear your path, so that you can get what you want."
She leaned in, her eyes glinting with cold satisfaction, but her hand rested gently, briefly, on his back. "You need a foundation to build your power on, Seungcheol, not a distraction to protect. I'll handle the messy details; you claim the spoils. An alpha of your standing deserves nothing less."
Seungcheol studied her for a moment, before a sharp, wolfish smile spread across his face. He knew the explanation was only half-true—her jealous rage was palpable, but her motivation was useful.
"Very well. Then let's use what you've found, Hana. This bow-throwing incident is enough for the first layer of leaks. Now, we dig for the root."
He tapped the table, thinking, his smile fading into something dangerously focused. "The SPS management covered up a physical outburst from their Concertmaster. Why? Not just for reputation. Someone in his family—someone powerful—must have pulled strings." He looked up at her.
"Let's find out what secrets the great Kang family pays to keep buried. That is where we'll find the real leverage."
Hana smiled back. "I'm already on it."