My Alpha Era Began with Gongjindan Chapter 87

I was quite popular among my peers when I was in elementary school. It feels embarrassing to say this myself, but I took after my mother and was a reasonably cute child. Meaning I had no trouble making friends.

Even in middle school, until before my omega presentation, I even served as class president throughout. It seems my popularity wasn’t as bad as it is now. To be precise, I became class president simply because I was the one who studied best in the class, though.

Even after my secondary gender presentation, middle school life wasn’t particularly difficult. I occasionally had to leave early or miss school because of damn heat cycles, but even if I missed a few classes, I was still top of the school. There were some who tried to pick fights, but they were usually resolved at the level of childish squabbles.

High school was better than middle school. It wasn’t just me who was crazy about entrance exams—everyone had their eyes set on getting into a university. Madness is a trait that precedes alpha or omega designation. Since everyone was out of their minds, I didn’t stand out that much.

But university was a different story.

Unlike elementary, middle, and high school, university was a place where all sorts of weirdos from across the country gathered. It was a madman competition where all kinds of human specimens, not grouped by similar school districts, congregated from all over the nation. In that competition of weirdos, I was too fragile to even be a candidate for winner.

On top of that, similar to physical education colleges where 90% were alphas, in my Korean medicine college over 90% were betas. Not just Korean medicine—most people going into medical school are betas. Because betas, who aren’t affected by secondary gender, are the safest in all emergency situations.

Just imagine a thoracic surgeon being an alpha. If an omega requiring surgery is brought in and that omega happens to be right before a heat cycle, the alpha doctor would inevitably be affected whether they wanted to or not—putting lives at risk.

For that reason, the university I attended had an absolute majority of betas. Nine out of ten students were betas, and I, an omega, entered that school. When I enrolled, it happened to be right after the few omega seniors I had left school one after another, so the atmosphere wasn’t great either.

Korean medicine dropouts happen every year, but when the few omegas decided to drop out, it was easily noticeable.

It was fortunate that I entered through regular admission—if I’d had to go through a rolling admission interview, the interviewer would have definitely asked something like “Being an omega, do you think you’ll manage your school life alright?”

Anyway, given the situation, I was constantly harassed by bastards like Baek Wonhee. Guys who had thought I was a beta and expressed disappointment upon finding out I was an omega kept tripping me up like pebbles.

At least Nam Jungyoon, even though he went to the same university, had it a bit better. On his side, the alpha seniors hadn’t dropped out! I ended up being the one and only omega!

It just so happened that I moved up to Seoul when I started university, so I had no family to rely on. Because of that, my freshman year was truly the worst. I constantly heard whispers like “That’s him? The omega from class of XX?” and guys who had approached me thinking I was a beta gradually distanced themselves when they found out I was an omega.

Well, it’s not like I couldn’t understand how they felt. They probably judged that I wouldn’t be able to endure all six years of Korean medicine school and would drop out like the omega seniors before me. It’s not like omegas get free core muscles like alphas do.

So I naturally isolated myself. Because of that, during all six years of Korean medicine school, I had no classmates I could call friends. Not just friends—everyone was someone I felt awkward around.

Among my juniors, there were some who tried every flattering trick in the book to get exam notes from me, but aside from those sycophantic bootlickers, I always went alone.

I acted like I was fine back then, but I was lonely. I couldn’t expect any goodwill without strings attached.

If I made even one mistake, I’d hear things like “That’s just how omegas are” or “What’s the use of studying well? Omegas won’t get hired at university hospitals anyway.”

If I talked to someone for a little too long, whispers would follow asking whether I was trying to flirt even with a beta. Ah! I have eyes too! Omegas have eyes too! I wanted to scream out of frustration, but even if I screamed, there was no one who would truly listen.

As a result, my mind became so worn down that it felt like the whole world was trying to tear me down. Quite a severe persecution complex.

Once that persecution complex set in, I grew suspicious even of the people who approached me. Isn’t this bastard also going to mock me later for being an omega? I couldn’t stop these thoughts from coming.

I pretended otherwise and just studied, but since I was also human, every time I ate alone, attended lectures alone, learned about group chats I wasn’t included in, or had the professor directly assign me to a team for group projects because I couldn’t find teammates, I felt miserable.

Nam Jungyoon said I was quite popular during my university days, but that’s all nonsense. If I was so popular, why didn’t anyone talk to me? Why did they act friendly for a bit and then cut me off when I didn’t reply to messages because I was studying?

Even though I thought I’d grown accustomed to all kinds of discrimination and disregard, my university years remained a rather unpleasant memory.

If Jung Pureum hadn’t been by my side back then, trying so hard to manage my mental state, I might have considered taking a leave of absence, thinking of it as time served in the military for about a year.

I stared blankly at the university logo at the top of the online bulletin board. How did I even graduate…

After graduation, I didn’t even sleep in the direction of the university, yet here I was posting a hiring notice on the university board. Life really is full of surprises.

∞ ∞ ∞

Jung Pureum called me via video around 10 PM. I had been half-asleep and jerked my head up at the phone’s vibration.

I’d been reviewing submitted resumes and dozed off a bit from the repetitive content, but the moment I saw Jung Pureum’s face, I snapped wide awake. I really wanted to stop seeing the words “diligent” and “persistent” in the strengths section…

—Did I wake you? You looked like you were sleeping.

“No, I wasn’t sleeping, just a bit drowsy.”

—It’s already past ten… Get some rest early, don’t stay up all night again.

“Don’t start nagging again. Did you finish training at this hour?”

—Training ended around eight, but the other athletes invited me to have dinner together. I’m heading back to the dorm after eating right now.

“…So, are there archery athletes there too?”

At my question, Jung Pureum’s eyes narrowed. A sharp question came back asking whether I was more interested in archery than swimming.

Of course I am. I heard that for archery, becoming a national representative is several times harder than winning a medal at the competition. There’s no way I wouldn’t be curious about the archery athletes who made it through that fierce qualification round.

“Getting close enough to have dinner together—looks like you’ve made a lot of friends already.”

—Since I’m the only one in my event, everyone takes good care of me.

He said he was on his way back to the dorm after dinner, but someone nearby called out to Jung Pureum loudly.

—Hey, are you on the phone with your partner?

—Yeah.

—Guys, Pureum is on the phone with his partner!

—What, what? Let us see his face!

Jung Pureum introduced me as his partner without hesitation in front of the other athletes. Even though we weren’t officially dating yet, he was completely confident.

But I didn’t feel like saying “We’re not partners though” in front of others and embarrassing Jung Pureum. We were going to date after the Olympics anyway, so what was the point of denying it?

—No, you can’t, I can’t show you. My hyung wears out.

—Ah, that’s so cheap, seriously!

—Hey guys, Jung Pureum says he can’t show us because his partner wears out!

—Whoa, damn it, whoa.

It seemed he’d grown quite close to the other athletes in just a few days since entering the training camp. Jung Pureum said it casually, but to me, that sociability seemed amazing.

Complaining that there were too many people interrupting, Jung Pureum ran with his phone. I could still hear the other athletes jeering “Damn couple, go to hell!” from behind, but the screen was shaking so much I couldn’t make out their faces.

—Hyung, can you hear me now?

Jung Pureum, having arrived in his dorm, raised his hand to me. I nodded slowly.

—Is it the phone quality, or have you lost some weight?

“I’m dealing with a staffing shortage, that’s why.”

—A staffing shortage? Was the new employee you said you hired last time also a spy?

“Don’t even mention it. That guy came to steal the herbal formula that cools down heat cycles, not the Gongjindan formula.”

It felt like just yesterday I was agonizing over not getting FDA approval, and now patent thieves kept showing up at our clinic.

“I wish just one good vice-director would fall from the sky. We need more full-time staff if we’re going to close during the Olympics.”

—So you’re planning to come to Japan for the Olympics. Then you’d have to close for at least a week. Is that okay?

“Even if it’s not okay, what can I do? I have to go see you.”

—….

“It’s nice to see you getting along with others, but I also miss you like crazy. I wish the Olympics would start already.”

Still, I was somewhat relieved that Jung Pureum had firmly put his foot down in front of other athletes, saying he had a partner. From now on, when someone asks if I have a partner, I’ll just say yes. I’ve been too hung up on technicalities.

“Is Jincheon okay? I thought you were going to Taereung…”

These days, the Olympic national team training camp is in Jincheon, not Taereung. You have to go all the way down to North Chungcheong Province. The physical distance between Jung Pureum and me became greater than when the training center was in Taereung.

Unaware of my feelings, Jung Pureum just nodded with a smile. Fine, Jincheon is good then.

Whether it was his constitution being suited to group living, Jung Pureum looked incredibly healthy, unlike me who was withering away. I worried whether people who liked Jung Pureum might start flocking to him again.

I didn’t want to interfere with Jung Pureum’s relationships at my age, but I was envious of the athletes who got to be close with him.

Since Jung Pureum and I were a Korean medicine doctor and a swimmer, there was no way we’d share the same professional space. If we hadn’t lived next door to each other, we probably wouldn’t have become this close.

—Every time I talk to hyung, I wish the Olympics would come sooner too. So I can bring back the medals quickly…

“Yeah, hyung’s heart feels empty without you too.”

—Really?

“But pride comes before a fall. Don’t neglect your training while you still have time…”

We had a video call for a whopping 1 hour, 43 minutes, and 21 seconds. An hour of trivial chatter, and 43 minutes and 21 seconds of catching up on recent happenings.

If it weren’t for my phone battery running low, we would have chatted for another two hours or so. Even though it was through the phone, seeing Jung Pureum’s face after a while was quite nice.

After ending the call, I reorganized the resumes I’d been drowsily browsing.

As soon as the call with Jung Pureum ended, drowsiness hit me again. But I couldn’t sleep now. I had to go through all the resumes by dawn so I could hire new staff as quickly as possible.

After staring at the computer screen until my eyes fell out through the early morning hours, I was finally able to pick out some decent candidates among those who had applied for the vice-director position at our clinic.