Even If He Never Knows
The Sin That Started It All
Tae was born fragile, far too delicate for an Alpha. His heartbeat was light, his bones easily bruised, his scent soft like wild lilies instead of strength and dominance. People whispered that he wasn’t a real Alpha at all — a mistake of nature. But his smile, shy and endlessly gentle, made others forget. He was kind, painfully kind, the type to apologize for things he didn’t do, and to thank people who hurt him.
JK and Jimin met him when they were children — two bright, affectionate Omegas who lived next door. They adored Tae from the start, calling him “little Alpha,” always fussing over him when he coughed or tripped. He was smaller than them, weaker, and they loved taking care of him. The three were inseparable — sunlight and laughter woven together. Tae thought it would always be that way.
Then came Lily. A Beta girl with sharp eyes and a sweeter smile, she entered their small circle like perfume — soft at first, then choking. She noticed quickly how everyone doted on Tae, how teachers excused his exhaustion, how the two Omegas hovered protectively around him. Envy took root, and from that envy, lies began to bloom.
Lily started small. She’d smile kindly at JK and Jimin and say, “Tae told me you two pity him too much.” On other days, she’d whisper, “He said you act like his servants.” And because Tae was quiet, because he never denied or confronted, the poison spread. Doubt slipped into the cracks of friendship that once felt unbreakable.
Tae noticed the distance first. The way Jimin’s smiles didn’t reach his eyes anymore, the way JK avoided sitting close. He thought maybe they’d grown tired of him — that maybe he was too weak, too clingy. Lily was always there to confirm that fear, speaking in gentle tones that sounded like advice but carried blades beneath. “You should try harder to keep them close,” she’d say, watching him unravel.
By the time they reached adulthood, Tae had grown thinner, paler. He lived quietly on the edge of their lives. When Lily became JK’s girlfriend, he congratulated them with trembling lips, hiding the pain behind a smile. Jimin avoided his eyes entirely that day, afraid of the guilt he didn’t understand. Tae’s heart ached, but he didn’t resent them. He never resented anyone.
Then fate revealed its cruel hand. When Tae’s first scent of true heat filled the air, both JK and Jimin froze — the world stilling as instinct clawed at their throats. That scent was theirs. Tae was their destined Alpha. It was rare — two Omegas bound to one Alpha — but sacred. The kind of bond written by stars.
Lily cried when she found out. She wept and trembled, clutching JK’s arm, whispering, “He must have tricked fate… He always wanted to steal you both.” And in their confusion, their denial, her tears became truth. They turned on Tae, not with fists, but with disgust. “How long have you planned this?” Jimin had asked, and Tae — trembling — couldn’t answer.
Under the laws of their world, once mates were discovered, a bond could not be ignored. So they married him — not out of love, but out of obligation. The ceremony was quiet, beautiful on the outside, hollow within. Tae smiled in his wedding robes, hands shaking as vows were exchanged. He thought, foolishly, that things might heal.
But their home became a prison. JK and Jimin never touched him except to hurt. They spoke only to command, to remind him how unworthy he was of them. Meals went uneaten. Nights were cold. Lily visited often, pretending to comfort the crying Omegas while twisting their guilt into cruelty. “He’s using you,” she whispered. “Real Alphas don’t cry, remember?”
Tae endured everything in silence. His love never faded; it only became quieter, gentler. He still prepared their meals, even when they were thrown away. He still waited by the door when they returned late, even when they ignored him. Every bruise, every cruel word, he carried with bowed head and trembling hands. His heart never hated them — only blamed itself.
The end came softly. One winter night, his body gave up before his will did. Fevered, trembling, he collapsed by the window, moonlight washing over his face. He whispered their names with cracked lips, too weak to stand, too gentle to curse. When dawn came, JK found him cold, his body thin as paper. Jimin’s scream broke the silence, but not the denial. They refused to bury him. The river took him instead.
Weeks passed. Lily married them both — a rare Omega pair bonded to one Beta wife. The irony was delicious to her. She smiled through every ceremony, every photograph, her eyes bright with victory. But guilt is a slow poison. The house grew colder, emptier. They could still smell him sometimes — faint traces of vanilla and rain that lingered on the sheets.
When Lily brought them wine one night, they drank without thought. Days later, the sickness began — slow, burning, unrelenting. On their deathbeds, they lay side by side, trembling, too weak to speak. Lily stood over them, calm and beautiful. “You really thought I loved you?” she whispered. “I loved watching you destroy him. I loved watching him die.” Then she laughed, soft and cruel. “And now you’ll follow him.”
Her poison finished what her lies began. As the pain consumed them, JK reached for Jimin’s hand. Their last thoughts were of Tae — his smile, his trembling voice, the way he still said thank you even after everything. Regret tore through them, heavier than death itself. And when the darkness lifted, they opened their eyes to find small, childlike hands — their bodies reborn, their memories intact. Two years old again, in a world where Tae would soon be born once more. This time, they swore, he would never suffer — even if he never knew why.
Awakening in a New World
The world was too bright when Jimin opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, and everything around him looked huge—too huge. He tried to move, but his hands were tiny. Soft. A child’s. Panic rushed in.
Jimin
…why do my hands look like baby hands? 😨
???: (screaming) WHY IS MY VOICE SO SMALL?!
jk
Jimin-hyung?! Oh my god—what happened to us?!
They were in a nursery. Two toddlers—round cheeks, messy hair, wide eyes—staring at each other like strangers wearing familiar souls
jk
I think so. Or alive again. Wait—
Jimin
Yeah. Before everything
Silence stretched between them until a faint voice—not theirs—whispered inside their heads
jk
Someone just thought about rice cakes!
Random Thought 2: I need to fart
jk
OKAY NOPE—WHAT IS THAT?! 😭
Jimin
LMAO stop screaming, that wasn’t me!
It took hours—of panicking, shouting, and hiding under blankets—before they understood. They could hear thoughts. Everyone’s thoughts. Every passing neighbor, every bird fluttering outside. The noise was chaos until they learned to quiet it, to filter the voices.
jk
This is punishment, right?
jk
Gift?? I just heard someone mentally confess to stealing their brother’s noodles!!
Jimin
😭 focus, JK. If we can hear thoughts, maybe it’s because fate wants us to protect him this time.
Later that night, the two of them lay in separate cribs under the same dim light. The world outside was silent, but their minds were linked—words passing without sound.
jk
(thought): We can change it, right?
Jimin
(thought): We have to
jk
(thought): No more hurting him. No more believing lies.
Jimin
(thought): Even if he never knows what we did before.
In that tiny room filled with soft moonlight, two small Omegas made a vow—unspoken, but eternal. Somewhere, not far away, a soul was waiting to return. Their Alpha. Their sin. Their reason to begin again.
The Boy Born Two Weeks Later
Two weeks passed. The air felt different that night—warmer, gentler, like the world was holding its breath.
jk
It’s happening, right?
Jimin
Yeah. The doctor said there’s a baby being born tonight.
When the first faint cry echoed through the hall, both boys froze. The sound was fragile, trembling, so familiar it broke something inside them.
The nurses whispered about how tiny the newborn was—his skin almost translucent, lashes long as feathers. “He’s like a snowflake,” the doctor said softly. “Beautiful, but so fragile.”
jk
Snowflake? That’s… exactly him.
Jimin
Always too soft for this world.
When they peeked into the nursery, the sight stole their breath. A baby wrapped in white, sleeping soundly, tiny fists resting near his heart. Even in this life, he glowed softly—like someone the universe couldn’t bear to darken again.
jk
Smaller than I remember.
Jimin
That’s because we didn’t deserve the old him.
Then the baby stirred. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing soft brown eyes—the same gentle shade that once forgave them even in death. For a moment, he stared at them. And smiled
Jimin
No, he looked at me.
jk
Nope, I saw it—eye contact.
Jimin
Oh please, he reached for my sleeve—
jk
That’s because you’re closer!!
Jimin
Admit it, he likes me more already 😌
The baby’s hand tightened around Jimin’s sleeve and didn’t let go. Jimin laughed softly, tears in his eyes. JK rolled his, pretending not to smile.
Jimin
Welcome back, little Alpha.
jk
…We missed you, snowflake.
That night, when the nursery lights dimmed, the two small Omegas pressed their hands against the glass between them and the baby. Outside, moonlight spilled like forgiveness.
jk
(thought): This time, we’ll protect him.
Jimin
(thought): Even if he never knows.
And under the quiet hum of the night, baby Tae smiled in his sleep—tiny fingers curling, as if reaching for a promise he didn’t remember but still believed.
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