Main Character of a Dating Reality Show C8

Chapter 8

Gyeol pressed his lips together and rubbed his face with trembling hands.

When he overheated, the flush always spread visibly across his face and neck—bright, telltale blotches that betrayed him. It was why, years ago, he’d insisted on tanning. He’d wanted to hide the evidence of heat, the visible bloom of an Omega’s body reacting out of instinct. The tan hadn’t concealed it completely, but it had helped—better than the ghostly pallor that gave him away too easily.

And yet, of all times—
For this to happen during filming.

He felt the dampness between his thighs spreading, cool air prickling at the wet warmth beneath as he dragged a shaky hand down his neck. He rubbed his face again, desperate to suppress the rising fever.

He tried everything—silently reciting the national anthem, picturing Yuli, praying to every god he could think of—but the storm within him only swelled. A dizzy, floating euphoria buzzed under his skin, his fingertips tingled, his limbs grew weak. The symptoms mirrored the early stage of heat.

No, no…

He had never lost control like this before—his body reacting so violently, beyond reason.

A dull ache throbbed below his navel. It was unbearable. He wanted to cry. His instincts battled his willpower, tilting wildly between restraint and the rising urge to—touch himself.

He wanted to bolt from the booth, but his body wouldn’t move. Every nerve was molten.

He imagined the owner of that pheromone walking through the door, reaching for him, touching him—here, there—anywhere.

Then—

Clack. The door swung open.

“Go Gyeol. Please step out.”

The sudden flood of light made him squint. It took him a few seconds to recognize the person standing there.

Seong Yohan.

“Hhh…”

A trembling breath escaped his lips. His whole body was limp, melting from the pheromonal overload. Through his hazy vision, Yohan stepped closer, reaching out.

His fingers brushed Gyeol’s arm.

He flinched at the contact.

But Yohan simply gripped his forearm and pulled him up, steadying him.

“The test…”

Gyeol’s voice came out in fragments.

“Is the pheromone matching… over?”

Even now, he was worried about the show.

Yohan frowned and looked down at him in quiet disbelief before turning to the nearby staff with a polite smile.

“I’ll calm him down and get his selection.”
“Are you sure you can handle it alone, PD Seong?”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll be right back.”

With that effortless charm, Yohan nodded and guided Gyeol away, slipping out of the staff’s line of sight.

He led him to a shaded clearing and set him down on a bench. From his bag, he pulled out a chilled bottle of orange juice and unscrewed the cap. A small white pill clinked softly as he offered both.

“…Why?”
“Take it. Now.”
“Why are you helping me?”

Gyeol didn’t immediately take them. His voice trembled, his pale skin blotched red along his neck. His long lashes quivered with moisture.

Yohan exhaled sharply and shoved the items into his hand.

“Why would I be helping you?”

His tone was cold, cutting. Gyeol looked up, startled—his glassy eyes glinting like clear water, unsteady.

Yohan hated that look. The way he sat there, completely unaware of how enticing he was, his Omega pheromones wafting sweetly through the air—driving Yohan’s senses tight.

The faint, sugary scent hit his nose, and he grimaced.

“You think I’d let you ruin the entire show?”

“Ah…”

The realization hit.
That was it. Of course.

Gyeol lowered his gaze, swallowing the pill obediently.

Right. Seong Yohan wasn’t helping him out of kindness.

For a moment, he’d been foolish enough to hope otherwise.

But Yohan was the PD of Alpha X Connect Season 10. The producer and one of its featured panelists. He had his reputation to uphold; his success depended on the program’s success.

Still, if that were truly his only concern, he could have just left Gyeol there. Let the cameras roll on his trembling, flushed state—the scandal alone would have driven ratings through the roof.

The simplest explanation was the right one.

Yohan simply hated him.

“…Number Two.”
“What?”

He hated him so much he didn’t even want to use him for clout.

He already found Gyeol’s forced performance and careful façade irritating—so why give him more screen time? Why let him become the highlight of Season 10?

“For the pheromone match. I’ll pick pheromone number two.”

Yohan stared down at him, eyes glacial. The sharp intensity of that gaze made Gyeol want to look away—but he didn’t. He refused.

“I heard you tell the staff you needed my answer, didn’t I?”

“You’re choosing number two?”

“Yes.”

“Even after what happened with number five?”

He wasn’t wrong.
That last pheromone—the one that had nearly broken him—had overwhelmed every sense.

And that was exactly why Gyeol couldn’t pick it.

He was already the Omega drawing the most attention this season. If he chose the pheromone that had left him trembling, the footage would be impossible to cut. They’d milk every reaction for maximum shock value.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“I thought choosing based on attraction was up to the participants.”

And truthfully—he was afraid.

Afraid of how completely that last scent had undone him.

“Or do you already have a ‘preferred storyline,’ PD Seong?”

The defiance came unbidden. Instinctive.

Every cell in him screamed to avoid that dangerous pheromone—avoid the Alpha who’d emitted it.

“Washed-up idol turned wannabe actor… No. Now you’re a wannabe main character in a dating show, huh?”

Yohan’s smirk was infuriatingly perfect. His eyes gleamed with precise understanding. He’d read him completely, just like always.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You think I’d bother orchestrating something for you?”

Gyeol didn’t answer.
He didn’t want to play this man’s game any longer.
Honestly, he was grateful—Yohan’s sharp words were enough to douse the fever in his veins.

“Then there’s no problem. I choose number two.”

“So you’ll lie.”
“No. I’m telling the truth.”

It was a lie.
But he wanted it to become the truth.

“The pheromone I felt most drawn to… was number two.”

Yohan tilted his head, smiling faintly. A quiet, knowing laugh escaped him.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Gyeol staring after his retreating back.

He dropped his face into his hands.

That bastard sees right through me.

– The results of the first pheromone matching will now be revealed.
– The successful pair is… Tommy and Kang Hee-jun. Congratulations.

Only one match.

Thank god.

Gyeol exhaled, relief flooding through him. He had chosen number two—the least volatile scent aside from Joon-oh’s and the last one—but he’d prayed it wouldn’t be mutual.

– The matched couple will now enter the Time Booth for their private session.

The infamous reward of pheromone matching—
The Time Booth.

A one-hour “skinship session,” locked inside together.
The rule: their bodies had to remain in contact for the entire hour.
The specifics changed every season, but the premise was the same.

– However, this season introduces a new rule for the Time Booth.

“A new rule?”
“Weren’t they just supposed to do the skinship thing?”

The contestants’ eyes widened in disbelief.
Tommy fidgeted, bright red, while Hee-jun scrubbed a hand over his flushed face.

– This season, there are three possible ‘Time’ options.
– One. Skinship Time.
– Two. Pheromone Time.
– Three. Off Time.

The narration continued in its usual neutral tone.

Skinship Time was the same as before.
Pheromone Time required both participants to release their pheromones freely in an enclosed space for an hour.
Off Time—spelled “OFF”—meant the cameras were turned off, leaving only the microphones running.

“That’s insane.”
“Honestly, Skinship Time sounds like the safest option now.”
“But Off Time doesn’t sound that bad? The cameras are off, right?”

No. It could be worse.

The mics stayed on—but the cameras didn’t.
No one outside would know what actually happened inside that room.

For some, it might be nothing.
But for a pair already charged with pheromonal tension? For a couple that had just matched?

It could be chaos.

And of course, that was exactly what the producers wanted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gyeol saw PD Jung and writer So-eun grinning behind the monitors.

Figures.

He didn’t even glance toward Seong Yohan. He just waited for the next announcement.

“Can I… ask something?”

Tommy raised his hand timidly, his cheeks blazing red.

“Do we get to choose which of the three… times?”

His voice was hopeful. Hee-jun looked at the narrator expectantly too.

– No.

The response was merciless.

– The type of Time will be determined by random draw.

“Huh.”
“What? No way.”
“This is crazy.”

Yoon I-soo clapped a hand over his mouth.

Gyeol swallowed hard.
He’d escaped this round unscathed—but there were still three pheromone matchings left to go.

And no guarantee he’d be lucky again.

– We will now begin the draw.