Main Character of a Dating Reality Show C2

Chapter 2

Someone let out a short shriek—an exaggerated “Kyah!”—and the others burst into laughter, joking that it sounded like a pterodactyl or anything but human.
Thanks to the humor, Go Gyeol managed to laugh along and smoothly defuse the tension.

Soon, the conversation naturally shifted to life on Pheromone Island.

“So, how should we handle meals?”
“There are a lot of us, so it’s best to cook together at first. Once we get used to it, we can take turns.”
“That already sounds fun. Let’s all get along, okay?”

They began organizing kitchen duty while chatting and teasing each other.

“Anyone good at cooking?”
“Well, I’m confident in eating, at least.”
“You’re a mukbang YouTuber, right, Tommy? You’re going to end up eating for five people!”
“Oh—how did you know that?”
“I’ve been subscribed to your channel for ages. I’m one of the Potato Bakes!”
“Your fanbase name is Potato Bakes? That’s adorable.”

The air was lively, laughter spilling between conversations.
With most participants being public figures, the overall energy was noticeably bright.

Among them, Shin Joon-oh stood out as the natural mood-maker.
Whenever the talk began to lull, he skillfully steered it in a new direction, keeping things flowing effortlessly. Even the production crew looked pleased.

Watching him, Gyeol bit down hard on his molars.
He forced a smile, but his heart thudded heavily in his chest—each beat sinking like a weight to his stomach.

You said you missed me.

What are you playing at, Shin Joon-oh?

You—of all people—don’t get to say that.
No one else, not even the world, but you have no right to say such words to me.

Feeling his pulse race unpleasantly, Gyeol exhaled quietly, pushing back the rising memories.
He needed composure—needed his mask firmly in place if he was to achieve his goal.

After introductions, the cast moved to their lodging.
The accommodations consisted of bungalows, two people per room.

Gyeol carefully considered which Omega might be the best roommate.
In terms of popularity and visibility, idol Kang Hee-jun was the obvious choice; rooming with him meant more airtime. But that also meant the risk of being overshadowed.

Then—

“Gyeol, let’s share a room.”

The offer came from Yoon I-soo, the one who’d earlier asked whether Gyeol and Joon-oh knew each other.

“I used to be a SAVE ME fan, actually. That’s why I’d love to room with you—if that’s okay?”
“Ah, yes, of course.”

It wasn’t who he’d expected, but Gyeol nodded easily.

“I even went to your fan meeting once. And your autograph signing, too.”
“Really?”

Fans of SAVE ME—that much he could believe. Anyone could say that.
But attending a fan meeting? That was odd. SAVE ME had never even filled minimum attendance numbers at theirs.

Like all failed idol groups, their fan crowd was always the same—small, familiar faces.
And Gyeol, who’d been deeply attached to his team, remembered each one of them.

But this man? He didn’t recall ever seeing him.

“They’ll show the footage right here—like this.”

Smiling with his pretty eyes, I-soo traced a rectangle in the air as if a screen would appear showing the signed album he’d received.

“You must’ve really been a fan.”
“Of course! I was so upset when you guys disbanded. Meeting you here now feels like a dream.”

A face like his—handsome and memorable—wasn’t something one could easily forget.
After a moment’s thought, Gyeol let it go. If he truly didn’t remember, then it was his own fault.

He smiled faintly and mentioned something to show he’d done his homework.

“I actually watched your drama too, I-soo.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yes, the latest thriller on Mflix—Death of Solitude, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right, that’s right! Oh wow, this is embarrassing. My favorite artist watched my drama?”

His cheeks turned red as he fanned himself, genuine embarrassment softening his expression.
Favorite artist. The words felt unfamiliar—but not unpleasant.

“Go ahead, you can enter first.”
“Ah, thank you.”

This one, Gyeol thought, might just make for a pleasant roommate over the next two weeks.

Feeling oddly reassured, he stepped inside.
I-soo followed—but paused halfway, gaze drifting.

In the distance, Shin Joon-oh was walking with a group of Alphas, chatting casually.
I-soo’s eyes lingered on him—watching until Joon-oh entered the farthest bungalow with Choi Sun.

“I-soo, aren’t you coming in?”

From inside, Gyeol’s voice called curiously.

“Coming.”

Only after confirming Joon-oh’s room location did I-soo smile sweetly and step inside.

– All participants, please change into swimwear and gather on the beach.

The cast lined up along the shore—four Omegas and four Alphas.
While most Omegas wore loose shorts with rash guards or jackets, the Alphas stood bare-chested under the blazing sun.

“I don’t know where to look,” I-soo whispered beside him.

And he was right.
Under the burning sunlight, the Alphas’ sculpted bodies glistened with sweat, each movement defined and striking.

But for Gyeol, that wasn’t what mattered.

Based on data from previous seasons, having everyone in swimsuits almost certainly meant a physical competition.
And in , winning came with tangible advantages.

His goal was clear:
First place.
He had to dominate from the very first round.

– Welcome, Alphas and Omegas, to Pheromone Island.
– We’ll now begin the first program of Day 1.

Swallowing dryly, Gyeol clenched his fists to suppress the tension humming in the air.

– But before that.

A murmur of confusion rippled through the group.
Everyone had expected the game to start immediately.

Even Gyeol had to fight the urge to sigh.

– We’d like to introduce the most important figure of Season 10.

“The most important figure?”
“Wait—there’s someone like that?”

The contestants looked at one another, puzzled.
There had been no such announcement in previous seasons.

Before the confusion could grow—

– Actor, Sung Yohan.

Someone gasped so loudly it sounded like a scream.

“No way.”
“Is this a prank?!”

Through the rising chatter, Sung Yohan stepped forward.
What appeared before them was beyond what the screen had ever shown.
Every line of his form was divine—sculpted, luminous, impossibly precise.

Standing at 190cm, he was known as a top-tier Alpha, but in person, his proportions made him look even taller.
Broad shoulders, long limbs, a frame too perfect to seem human.

“Hello. I’m actor Sung Yohan.”

That mesmerizing face curved into a smile.
His T-zone—from forehead to nose—was sharp as if carved from marble; his deep-set eyes shimmered pale beneath the sunlight, almost unearthly.

“I’ll be joining Season 10 as co-producer and panelist.”

As the crowd erupted into cheers, Gyeol alone froze.
The deep, velvety timbre of his voice wrapped around his ears like a shackle, and his fingers trembled faintly.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met.
Fragments of a past he’d tried so hard to bury surged back all at once.

‘An idol, was it? Ah, no—that’s right. A failed idol.’

Why—

‘Now I see why you failed.’

Why the hell was he here?

“I look forward to working with you all.”

Sung Yohan.
There wasn’t a soul in Korea who didn’t know his name.

He’d debuted as a film lead, drawing ten million viewers with his first role—a legend in Korean cinema.
His debut film had been invited to a French film festival, where he’d won Best New Actor, catapulting him into international stardom overnight.

His looks were incomparable, but what truly captured audiences was his acting—transcendent, almost otherworldly.

His accolades spoke for themselves:
five films surpassing ten million viewers, the most-invited Asian actor to both French and American festivals, and a constant stream of offers from Hollywood.
Within seven years, he had ascended to global fame.

Recently, headlines declared his skyrocketing worth as the lead of an upcoming Hollywood blockbuster.

And now—here he was.
On a dating show. As its co-producer.

“Does that mean we’ll see you often?”
“Yes. As co-producer, I’ll be here throughout filming.”
“Please sign an autograph later!”
“Of course—during break time.”

Responding warmly to each fan, Sung Yohan was every bit the gentleman—poised, refined, effortlessly kind.

“Wow, it’s my first time meeting him too. He’s even nicer than the rumors.”
“…Yeah, isn’t he.”

Though Gyeol agreed out loud, his heart screamed the opposite.

A suffocating urge to run.
His mouth was dry as sand.

But with cameras rolling, all he could do was hold his expression together.

This isn’t a film set, he reminded himself.
Sung Yohan wouldn’t be here to judge his acting.
He wouldn’t speak to him.

He forced himself to clap, gaze steady, eyes locked on Yohan’s face—

And then their eyes met again.

A shock tore through him, sharp and visceral, like the world had flipped beneath his feet.

– The game begins.
– First round: Alpha Team Battle.