Chapter 27

[Video Title] Unconventional Love Story — Episode 8

♡12k likes

Came here on a pilgrimage. Please let me get employed.

⤷ Manifesting lottery winnings.

⤷ Manifesting Yo Han all the way.

Is there really a drama rewriting the success story of reverse-climbing popularity thanks to a dating show?!

The Yo Han-Gyeol sexual tension here was insane too holy shit.. no wonder the Ivory Mansion tension was so crazy, Yo Han Sung was way too aggressive

⤷ Can’t believe people are only discovering this now.. this masterpiece..

⤷ Hey.. during that kiss scene.. their fronts ARE touching, right? My brain isn’t just corrupted, right?

The way he grabs his waist and ass while kissing is so fucking hot..

(35:00 playback)

Lee Jung (played by Gyeol Go), dressed neatly, loosens his tie and climbs onto Kwon Taehee’s (played by Yo Han Sung) lap.

Lee Jung kisses Kwon Taehee. Biting his lower lip, stroking Kwon Taehee’s chest, he seduces him.

— What exactly are you trying to do, Lee Jung?

— What do you mean what? It’s what you and I always do.

Sticky, sensual music begins playing as their lips meet again.

Despite Lee Jung’s persistent seduction, Kwon Taehee barely reacts at first. Then suddenly, as though igniting, he grabs Lee Jung’s waist and pulls their fronts tightly together.

— Ah...!

Lee Jung lets out a moan.

Kissing like they want to devour each other, they begin stripping off clothes.

Finally, when Lee Jung’s suit jacket and shirt fall to the floor, Kwon Taehee trails his hand down Lee Jung’s back and slips it into his pants, grabbing his ass.

— Taehee... ah.

A close-up shows Lee Jung trembling slightly as he buries his face against Kwon Taehee’s neck. His flushed face burns red as Lee Jung slowly curls his lips into a smile.

The scene overlaps into morning just as Kwon Taehee pushes Lee Jung down onto the sofa.

***

Gyeol felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

He had definitely faced Yo Han Sung in this exact position before.

At some point, Yo Han Sung had climbed over him as though covering his entire body, staring down at him from dangerously close range. Blood pooled beneath Gyeol’s stomach, making it difficult to think properly.

Business gay performance? What the hell was he talking about?

Furrowing around the eyes, Gyeol lowered his voice as much as possible and spoke.

“What kind of business gay performance are you talking about in a dating show full of male Alphas and Omegas?”

Besides, who even used that term anymore?

Business gay performance was terminology from before Alphas and Omegas had existed in the world. Once male Omegas began manifesting and becoming capable of pregnancy, the term vanished into the past like an outdated relic.

Now it was nothing more than a nostalgic word occasionally thrown around in idol fandom circles reminiscing over old trends.

“You pretending not to understand, or do you genuinely not understand?”

“.......”

Unfortunately, it was the latter.

Gyeol genuinely did not understand what Yo Han Sung intended by bringing up business gay performance.

“I thought you’d understand since you used to be an idol. When idols try to gain popularity from fans, that’s business gay performance. Then what do you think it’s called when dating-show contestants try to gain popularity from viewers?”

Only then did realization strike Gyeol like a blow.

“...You’re saying we should pretend we’re into each other?”

“Isn’t your goal to become the final couple and make people start shipping you?”

“.......”

Gyeol’s eyes narrowed at having his true intentions laid bare so completely.

“Shipping” referred to obsessive fantasy supporters. The term originated among viewers of the once-popular celebrity fake-marriage program We Got Married, describing people who desperately wanted to believe the participants were truly dating.

Nowadays, the term had become widespread slang frequently used among drama and dating-show viewers alike. Especially in dating programs, where audiences became obsessed with whether the final couples were still dating in real life, shipping culture exploded across online communities after the finale revealed the final pairings.

Among all such fandoms, R-Connect shippers were by far the most persistent and long-lived.

The reason was simple: neither the program nor the production staff ever revealed whether the final couples remained together afterward.

Whether contestants revealed or concealed their real relationship status was left entirely up to them.

Because of that, some contestants publicly clarified things the moment the show ended and moved on, while beginning around Season 7, couples involving the season’s “main character” instead vaguely acted like they were still dating—or at least flirting—without confirming anything outright, deliberately encouraging shipping fantasies among fans.

Even after the show ended, that kept the buzz alive. They could appear in each other’s YouTube content, and in successful cases, even land variety-show appearances together on major broadcast networks.

That absolutely aligned with Gyeol’s goals.

Still, shipping culture itself was something meant to happen after becoming the season’s protagonist, so he had deliberately pushed the thought aside for later.

But now Yo Han Sung had suddenly shoved both “final couple” and “shipping fantasy” directly in front of him.

On only Day 4 of filming.

“...Regardless of what I want, I don’t understand why you’re making me this kind of offer.”

“Does the reason really matter?”

“It’s not a matter of whether it matters. You hate m— ah!”

Yo Han Sung’s hand stroked his waist again.

His body, already sharpened hypersensitive from exposure to Alpha pheromones, found the touch against bare skin unbearably stimulating. Gyeol covered his mouth to swallow the sound that almost escaped him. He could not even breathe too heavily for fear the microphones would catch it.

“The cameras are still rolling—!”

The hand sweeping broadly up his waist slid along his spine. Fingers traced upward against the groove of his back.

His body twitched at every touch.

He could instantly feel blood rushing heavily into his lower stomach.

He was helpless.

Distant pleasure spread through his mind.

“Yo Han Sung...!”

He could not raise his voice. He could not sit up. He wanted to prepare himself for whatever came next, but the throbbing below and his ragged breathing prevented coherent thought.

Yo Han Sung reached for the buttons of Gyeol’s pajama shirt.

Gyeol hurriedly grabbed his wrist.

Biting his lip hard, glaring at him through eyes reddened by heat and arousal, Gyeol held on tightly.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Should I pull the blanket down? Your body down there... likes me.”

Glancing downward, Yo Han Sung whispered.

Humiliation surged through him, yet ironically the ache below pulsed harder in response. Gyeol rebuked him in a voice thick with resistance.

“Are you insane?”

This was madness.

This was wrong.

It was truly wrong.

Shaking his head repeatedly, desperately trying to regain his senses, Gyeol breathed roughly.

“Let go. Move.”

“Failed idol turned aspiring actor, ‘single dad’ Gyeol Go.”

Even while whispering, Yo Han Sung deliberately enunciated each syllable of single dad, cornering Gyeol to the absolute limit.

“Accept my proposal. Unless you want me to fuck you like this.”

Single dad.

Those words cornered Gyeol—

yet simultaneously gave him miraculous strength.

Grinding his teeth hard enough for pain to bloom, Gyeol shut his eyes tightly once before reopening them.

With a mind tangled chaotically between sexual impulse and fury, he squeezed out every last fragment of rationality.

“Actor Yo Han Sung.”

He was furious at himself for letting someone like this manipulate him even for a moment—drunk on the situation, on the pheromones, swept away by his body’s reactions.

He hated realizing that despite insisting otherwise, some tiny lingering part of him still retained traces of the admiration he once held for Yo Han Sung. Hated realizing how easily his heart kept weakening beneath the hierarchy he himself had created.

“Are you even aware how strange every single thing you do is? You act like you despise me, like you’re dying to tear me apart, but then you send your card to me. You choose me. In front of cameras you act like you’re attracted to me.”

Yuli’s face flashed across his mind.

Strength surged into Gyeol’s hand. Even if he could not force Yo Han Sung’s wrist away, he gripped with all his might. His nails dug into the back of Yo Han Sung’s hand and wrist.

“And now you’re offering me something that gains you absolutely nothing.”

“Hah.”

Yo Han Sung laughed quietly while lightly tilting Gyeol’s chin upward.

Gyeol glared fiercely.

“Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Try fucking me. I’m not accepting your proposal.”

Yo Han Sung’s eyes widened subtly.

At the same time, the blanket was pulled down.

Gyeol had yanked it himself.

Because Gyeol knew something:

To protect the cast’s privacy, the bedroom cameras only filmed from distant angles near the opposite ceiling side of the room.

“......!”

The fallen blanket barely caught at Yo Han Sung’s waist.

Any lower, and everything beneath would be fully visible.

No matter how distant the camera angle was, even Yo Han Sung could not possibly handle crossing that line.

A crease formed between Yo Han Sung’s brows.

It was an expression Gyeol found rather satisfying.

Smiling sweetly with narrowed eyes, Gyeol asked:

“...How do you like it now, actor?”

Being conscious of the cameras was not something only Gyeol did.

In terms of career, Gyeol was already deeper than rock bottom—buried somewhere on the ocean floor itself.

Which meant he had nothing left to lose.

But Yo Han Sung was different.

A dazzling filmography. A carefully constructed reputation. An image so good people praised his character itself.

Yo Han Sung had countless things to lose.

No matter how much Omega rights lagged behind Alpha rights in this world, and no matter how insane R-Connect’s “as long as you don’t actually put it in, anything goes” philosophy was—

if outright sex acts were captured clearly on camera as undeniable evidence, then even Yo Han Sung would not remain untouchable.

Stars were not built overnight.

But ruin always arrived in an instant.

The world called Yo Han Sung an “irreplaceable actor,” but in truth the entertainment industry overflowed endlessly with replacements.

Gyeol, who had genuinely experienced what it meant to fail after surviving as a nobody idol, understood that fact better than anyone.

“Do you like this better now?”