Perfect Omega Chapter 3.1 - Someone Slightly Strange

Waking up, the ceiling he saw wasn’t his own. He was in the third-floor guest room he’d given Nick, but he didn’t need an explanation as to why he’d been moved.

Owen slowly sat up.

He’d thought he might end up in the hospital, but aside from some muscle soreness, he felt surprisingly good. Light, even. He pulled back the covers and saw he was even dressed in pajamas.

Not entirely without manners, then. Judging by last night, he’d have thought Nick wouldn’t stop even if Owen were dying.

Glancing to the side, he noticed a slight indentation in the center of the pillow where Nick presumably slept. The sight evoked a strange feeling.

His heat cycle seemed to have ended quickly. That likely contributed to his feeling of lightness.

Well, if it hadn’t subsided after all that, that would have been more concerning.

He’d been with Alphas during his heat cycle a few times when the timing and partner were right. But he’d never felt this clear-headed afterward.

Sex with an Alpha was more effective than suppressants in quelling the heat of his cycle, and Nick Stockton was significantly better than his few previous partners.

Still, he would take another suppressant just in case. The sudden shift in his cycle worried him, so he needed to get checked.

Pheromone stability was crucial for Owen Rose. He couldn’t afford sudden fluctuations or vulnerability to external stimuli.

There were no drugs yet that perfectly controlled pheromones. Owen relied on existing suppressants and rigorous self-control. One pheromone-induced incident in his youth had been enough.

Mentally adding items to his schedule, Owen swung his legs out of bed. He could stand and walk without any issues. The lightness in his body lifted his spirits.

“…!”

Opening his bedroom door, Owen froze. The enticing aroma of coffee had drifted up to the third floor.

This was the first time since he’d dismissed his live-in staff. Before today, the scent of coffee couldn’t permeate the house until he pressed the button on his coffee machine. The aroma that filled his senses was rich and fresh. Drawn by the scent, Owen descended to the kitchen in his pajamas.

The refrigerator door was open. Items that looked like ingredients were being transferred from the refrigerator to the kitchen counter. It was an unfamiliar sight.

Before the strangeness could fully register, he saw the back of the man he’d become intimately acquainted with. The movement of muscles beneath his thin knit sweater was clearly defined. It brought back the memory of the feel of those muscles beneath Owen’s hands last night.

Oh…

Owen unconsciously placed a hand on his stomach. It felt momentarily warm, but it must have been his imagination. He shouldn’t dwell on last night.

“Owen.”

Nick Stockton’s head was buried deep inside the refrigerator. Despite the rustling sounds, he’d somehow noticed Owen and called his name.

Owen had thought he was standing silently in the doorway…

“The coffee smelled… good, so I came down.”

He didn’t usually wander down to the first floor in such a disheveled state. He felt the need to explain himself.

“I wanted to offer you the freshest cup, but I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to check the ingredients and go back upstairs, but I see I’m a step too late.”

Nick looked completely at ease in Owen’s kitchen. He turned and walked towards Owen, who was standing by the door. The kitchen, which Owen had always considered spacious, suddenly felt like a cramped studio apartment kitchen he’d once seen, dwarfed by Nick Stockton’s presence.

“It seems your heat cycle has ended.”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

Nick wrapped his arms around Owen’s waist and nuzzled his neck. He tilted his head slightly, as if rubbing his nose against Owen’s skin. All he would smell was bath soap, though. Owen didn’t remember bathing, but he clearly had.

“Could you just release your pheromones for a moment?”

Having apparently not found the scent he was looking for, Nick requested a release of pheromones, but Owen couldn’t do that. They were already close enough to be uncomfortable.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

A mischievous chuckle vibrated beneath Owen’s chin, followed by Nick’s lips brushing against his cheek.

“You’re right. You have to go to work. And I have to feed you. Coffee, now?”

“No… although it smells wonderful. I’ll shower and have some later.”

“Can you make it to the second floor?”

The question, while seemingly lighthearted, was accompanied by a hand that moved across Owen’s waist, not in a suggestive way, but a practical one, checking for any discomfort. It was the touch of someone who knew exactly what he’d done the night before.

“I have no problem walking up the stairs. And this house has an elevator.”

“Ah…! The elevator.”

As he’d said, he was perfectly capable of walking, so he’d intended to take the stairs. But the hand around his waist guided him towards the elevator.

“I’m going to make breakfast. What do you like?”

As Owen stepped towards the elevator, Nick held him back, his arm preventing him from entering. While there had been no sexual intent before, now there was an undisguised reluctance to let him go. Nick didn’t seem to be the type to dwell on remorse for long.

“I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you’re having.”

As Owen took another step, the arm around his waist loosened. Nick stood by the elevator, a wistful smile on his face, as the doors closed.

“Oh… the pills.”

He only remembered his suppressants after the elevator doors closed.

They were in the kitchen. They weren’t emergency medication but something he took regularly, like vitamins, so he kept them in the kitchen to take with meals.

He placed his hand on his stomach again, which had felt a warm flutter a moment ago. He briefly worried that it would heat up again at Nick’s touch, but thankfully, it didn’t. His heat cycle was definitely over.

The elevator dinged, announcing his arrival on the second floor, and Owen removed his hand from his stomach. His footsteps were light, perhaps because his heart felt light as well.

He could take the suppressants after his shower. The heat was gone, and Owen was adept at controlling himself. And he seemed to have a new partner.

He was a bit forceful, perhaps. And a slightly unexpected choice, but Nick Stockton seemed more masculine than any other man Owen knew. More than any other Alpha. …He imagined even Nick Stockton’s hair would insist on its Alpha maleness. And Owen wouldn’t disagree.

“…!”

His private musings about last night abruptly stopped. He froze as he entered his bedroom. It took more courage than usual to step inside.

The pheromones they’d released throughout the night had been erased without a trace by the high-performance air purifier, but the bedsheets hadn’t fared so well. And if Owen’s memory of the sticky slickness below his waist was accurate, the mattress beneath those sheets wouldn’t be unscathed either.

“….”

Last night had made him realize, in a way he never had before, that Owen Rose was an Omega. Nick Stockton had taken a chance on him, risking rejection and humiliation. Owen was grateful for his courage.

But he didn’t want to see the mattress stained and stiffened by bodily fluids. He wanted to burn the sheets that seemed to preserve the imprint of their entangled bodies and erase the memory from his mind. Trying to ignore the sight on his bed, Owen headed towards the bathroom.

🥀

“Ted, tell Jimmy I’ll be an hour late today.”

Even with the message, Jimmy, his driver, would likely arrive at the usual time and wait in front of the house. But Owen needed to let him know nothing was wrong.

—Yes, sir.

Ted’s voice came from his phone, which was on a shelf.

“And I’ll be stopping by the lab first. Clear my schedule for about an hour.”

That should be enough time for a quick checkup and pheromone level assessment.

—I’ll contact Dr. O’Reilly.

He finished his brief scheduling adjustments and turned off the screen.

A perfectly put-together man stood before the mirror. He was 20 minutes behind schedule, but he’d planned to start late today anyway.

Drawn by the lingering aroma, Owen descended the stairs to the kitchen. His confident stride faltered at the entrance.

This was… truly…

“Impressive.”

A feast was laid out on the table. He’d heard the expression “eat breakfast like a king,” but even a king would have developed health problems if he ate like this every morning.

Two kinds of freshly squeezed juice, fresh fruit and yogurt, three different egg dishes, a basket overflowing with bread, and a stack of pancakes, over which Nick Stockton was currently pouring what, judging by its viscosity, appeared to be syrup. Owen hadn’t even known he had syrup in the house.

“Sit down. It’s nothing to be surprised about. I made a variety of dishes since I don’t know your preferences yet.”

It felt like Owen was the guest in Nick’s kitchen.

“I prefer a light breakfast.”

“Juice?”

Of the two carafes, the reddish one smelled fresher. Before Owen could reach for it, Nick picked it up and poured a glass for him, then filled his own glass less than halfway.

“Ugh. I squeezed some fresh grapefruit, but… it’s just as I remember.”

To gauge Nick’s reaction, Owen took a large gulp.

“It’s fresh. Thank you.”

“….”

Nick Stockton frowned, his handsome face creased with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m wondering if you’re really enjoying it.”

Grapefruit wasn’t sweet. It was slightly bitter. If that was what Nick was concerned about…

“It’s a matter of preference. I have some free time this morning. You should sit down too. Even if I didn’t make it.”

Nick’s frown disappeared, replaced by a smile brighter and fresher than the grapefruit juice.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem like the lord of the manor.”

“I am the current owner of this mansion.”

“I know, I wasn’t questioning that. It’s just… you seem like a medieval lord welcoming a guest.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I mean you were very dignified and elegant.”

As if he’d heard Owen’s unspoken question, Nick added an explanation. He raised his glass of grapefruit juice as if it were wine and took the last sip.

“Ugh.”

He made the same face as before, as if he’d already forgotten the taste.

Unable to laugh at someone else’s mistake, Owen looked down.

“You can laugh, Owen. I just made the same face.”

Instead of laughter, Owen felt a surge of fondness and picked up his coffee cup. He took a sip, observing the man before him.

While Owen slowly ate a piece of bread, Nick consumed a considerable amount of food. Owen doubted someone of Nick’s build could maintain their physique on Owen’s usual portions.

“That’s quite something.”

Owen’s admiration was genuine. Nick seemed to understand, responding with a bright smile.

“I prepared a lot since I didn’t know what you liked, but I also made it knowing I’d eat at least half of it. I’m quite depleted.”

Owen blushed and looked down at his plate again.

Owen’s reaction was endearing, but Nick’s voracious appetite wasn’t solely due to last night’s activities. It was more likely because of the caloric expenditure from the events that had unfolded since the helipad.

Nick’s body was trained for his line of work. If he went too long without refueling, his body would burn through its stored energy reserves. He tried to avoid pushing himself to that limit these days, but he was no stranger to relying on willpower when his reserves were depleted.

Yesterday, he’d come close to his limit. He’d scanned a wide area for a long time at the helipad, trying to sense Owen. Then, he’d used aggressive pheromones to clear people away at the docks and the police station. While it wasn’t physically strenuous, it was mentally taxing, which also depleted his energy. And then, he’d experienced a night unlike any other. He was completely drained.

There was a primal, almost animalistic, reason why he’d headed straight for the kitchen upon waking instead of pulling Owen close for another embrace.

“You’re a good cook. I noticed last night as well, but you seem very comfortable in the kitchen. I’m quite surprised.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention. There were no decent restaurants nearby, returning to civilization would have taken another six months, and I’d reached the limits of what I could forage from the local villages. And on top of all that, my palate started to become more refined. There was only one solution.”

“…Where is this place you’re talking about?”

Owen’s innocent question made Nick smile.

“There are more places like that than you might think. Of course, if we’re talking about within this country, it would be difficult unless you were dropped in the middle of a cornfield.”

“You mean overseas.”

“That’s usually where PMC contractors are deployed.”

“….”

“Of course, that was before I had my own company, when my options were limited.”

“By contractor, you mean mercenary?”

“That’s included. Large-scale operations have supply units, and the people who handle the kitchen are also contracted, so they’re also PMC contractors.”

“Ah…”

“The problem is, it’s unlikely that those individuals were executive chefs who suddenly decided they wanted to work overseas. And even if there were a skilled cook, there’s the issue of personal preference.”

Owen nodded in understanding.

“There are set meal times, and the menu is always the same. Even when the contracting company changed or we moved locations, the types of ingredients available were limited. At some point, I started to feel like I was eating animal feed. It was an attempt to maintain my humanity.”

“…I think I would have done the same.”

Owen’s gaze, filled with newfound understanding, lingered on Nick’s face.

“I knew sapphires were blue, but…”

Owen had considered the phrase “burning sapphire” to be a figure of speech, a catchy combination of words.

When he first saw the expression, he’d scoffed, thinking the journalist who coined it probably didn’t even understand what it meant.

“I guess even tabloid journalists get it right sometimes.”

“What?”

Owen looked bewildered by the sudden change of topic.

“It seems to burn inwards.”

“…?”

He tilted his head adorably, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Your eyes. They’re not just one color.”

“My eyes are blue.”

Owen answered definitively, as if it were a self-evident truth. He straightened his posture and looked directly at Nick.

“You haven’t looked in the mirror properly, Owen. Your eyes… they seem to move. Like blue flames constantly burning inwards. It’s truly mesmerizing.”

Just like a real gemstone reflecting light, Owen’s eyes revealed new depths the longer Nick looked.

“….”

“Did you know that blue flames burn hotter?”

Nick wasn’t talking about science. He was simply reminded of the heat he’d felt inside Owen last night.

“…!”

Owen, who had pretended not to understand Nick’s compliments about his eyes, finally blushed. Not completely, but just enough, a delicate, beautiful blush, like a rose blooming in human form.

“I’m certain now.”

Nick’s lips curved into a smile at this newly discovered aspect of Owen.

“Nick… about last… night.”

A warning signal flashed in Nick’s mind, interrupting his admiration of the blue flames. His animalistic senses detected a threat. He hadn’t missed Owen unconsciously placing his hand on his stomach.

“I was a bit rough and clumsy. I’m sorry.”

Nick apologized before Owen could even speak.

Last night, Owen had asked him to stop briefly, saying he felt strange. This wasn’t the time to bring that up.

“….”

“Would it be an excuse if I said it was my first time knotting?”

Now, Owen froze, seemingly assessing Nick’s age.

“Would you forgive me just this once? I’ve truly never knotted before at this age, so I missed the signs. Were you very uncomfortable?”

Nick confessed to his lack of experience, something any Alpha, any man, would struggle to admit out of pride. He’d have a chance to explain Owen’s suspicion later. Much… later.

“No, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Nick remained silent as Owen took another sip of coffee.

Owen set his cup down.

“Your pheromones, Nick. I think you were careless.”

Nick also set down his cup. He raised a hand and slowly tapped his temple twice before lowering it.

Suddenly, his appetite vanished. This was an unexpected complication.

“I’m sorry, Owen. It’s better to be direct about this. Were my pheromones unpleasant to you?”

“No! No, that wasn’t what I meant at all.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. …You didn’t seem that insecure about them.”

Judging by Owen’s faint smile, he didn’t seem to have been repulsed by Nick’s pheromones. Nick had almost been consumed by a major worry. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned back slightly.

“Hmm… then I’m not sure what I was careless about.”

“Releasing that much pheromone can sometimes lead to a one-sided bond. I wanted to tell you to be careful because it’s dangerous.”

“….”

The truth was, Nick had poured out his pheromones last night like they were nothing. He’d been so consumed by the desire to drown Owen in them that he hadn’t bothered to control himself.

“Why is that dangerous?”

“Doctors warn about the risks of one-sided bonding.”

“We’ll eventually be bonded anyway.”

“….”

Owen opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to speak. Watching him, Nick tapped his fingers slowly on the table, trying to assess the situation. His fingers stopped moving.

“Owen, if there’s a misunderstanding, let’s clear it up now. I’m not applying for the position of a temporary partner to cool down your heat cycle.”

“…!”

A look of bewilderment flashed across Owen’s face.

“What I want with you is a long-term, committed relationship. Actually, after last night, it’s become more than that… but that’s fine. I’ll wait until you’ve gathered enough information about me to feel comfortable. Or, you could ask me directly. Now. That would be the fastest way.”

Nick placed his hands neatly on the table, waiting for Owen to ask.

“…Really,”

He leaned forward slightly, anticipating Owen’s next words.

But Owen closed his lips and shook his head slightly.

“I’m not sure where or how to begin.”

“However you’re comfortable, Owen.”

“….”

Owen’s lips parted and closed a few times before he abruptly stood up. Thinking he was about to leave, Nick started to rise as well, but Owen walked towards the back of the kitchen.

He walked along a wall lined with shelves and cabinets before stopping in front of a wall covered in glass panels. It looked like it concealed a large monitor or was simply decorative.

Owen raised a hand and placed it on a glass panel. A light illuminated what Nick had assumed was a decorative wall.

“…!”

It was a fingerprint scanner. The scanning panel wouldn’t have activated if Owen hadn’t placed his hand in the exact right spot. A fingerprint scanner on the kitchen wall? Intriguing. Nick watched Owen’s next move like a spectator.

A hidden safe in the kitchen? The minds of the wealthy never ceased to amaze him.

He was curious about the contents of Owen’s safe, but it couldn’t be anything too important. Owen wouldn’t be doing this in front of a stranger he’d just met. Still, Nick’s curiosity was piqued. He held his breath, observing Owen.

The fingerprint recognition process was silent. There was no confirming beep or voice. The light on the glass panel simply changed color, and the palm-sized border expanded to the size of a monitor.

The illuminated border then moved upward, revealing a hidden compartment. Owen reached inside.

“….”

To Nick’s surprise, Owen pulled out a plastic tray. He knew it wouldn’t be gold bars, securities, or document envelopes, but this was getting increasingly interesting.

Nick turned in his seat, taking a sip of coffee as he waited for the next act.

Owen, seemingly unconcerned about hiding the contents of the compartment, placed the tray on the table. He opened the small plastic containers one by one, taking out what looked like pills and placing them in a clear, empty glass. It seemed the safe was actually a medicine cabinet.

“Are you sick?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, did I surprise you?”

The pills in the glass amounted to at least half a handful. Owen seemed slightly embarrassed, as if aware of the quantity.

“I’m not sick. I’m just being cautious.”

“Are those health supplements?”

Owen nodded.

“I take them all at once because it’s too much trouble to take them individually.”

“…So there’s a reason for your small appetite. You’re not surviving on pills instead of food, are you?”

Owen swallowed the contents of the glass with a gulp of water and placed the empty tray back into the compartment behind the glass panel. No, it wasn’t a safe. It looked like one, but it was a medicine cabinet. At least, that’s how the homeowner used it.

Instead of answering Nick’s question directly, Owen returned to his seat across the table.

“I had trouble controlling my pheromones when I was younger.”

“You seem perfectly in control now.”

“I’ve had a lot of training.”

Training?

The hidden compartment in the kitchen and its unexpected contents had initially been a source of amusement for Nick.

But as Owen spoke, something started to bother him. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something felt off.

“I’m much more stable now, almost completely, but I take care of my health to prevent a recurrence.”

“…I see.”

Nick’s fingers went to his temple again. He couldn’t quite grasp it, but this felt similar to the feeling he’d had when he snooped in Owen’s bedroom last night. Something was strange. Something was bothering him.

“You’re making me nervous with that look. Those are just health supplements, as I said.”

“…I see. Someone just entered the house.”

“What?”

Owen, momentarily bewildered, then heard approaching footsteps from the entrance.

“Ah, that must be Margie.”

Owen checked his watch.

The brisk footsteps approaching the kitchen slowed, then stopped at the entrance. A middle-aged woman’s voice called out.

“Mr. Rose! There was a car outside, so I thought you might be home.”

The housekeeper’s initial look of surprise quickly turned into a welcoming smile.

“I was waiting for you, Margie. I have someone to introduce.”

Nick stood up and walked towards the housekeeper.

“I’m Nick Stockton.”

“Hello… Mr. Stockton.”

The woman, who introduced herself as Margie, appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s. She had a kind yet discerning face, and Nick didn’t sense any malice from her.

“Margie, Mr. Stockton will be staying at the Rose Mansion for a while. Please make sure he’s comfortable. He helped me, and we’re…”

“We’re seeing each other. Seriously.”

Margie’s eyes widened, turning to Owen Rose.

“…That’s right. I’ll leave him in your care, Margie.”

“Yes, uh… yes, Mr. Rose.”

To help the stammering housekeeper adjust, Nick placed his arm around Owen’s waist. Owen meekly walked with him to the entrance.

“I’ll see you this evening.”

“….”

Owen looked up at Nick, as if he had something to say or was simply hesitating, then nodded slightly before leaving.

A middle-aged man emerged from the driver’s seat of a silver Rolls-Royce and opened the door as Owen approached.

The handsome, impeccably dressed man stepped into the car like a model and disappeared inside. Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, watching until the car was out of sight before closing the door.

🥀

“Margie?”

The housekeeper, busy cleaning the kitchen, was an Omega. Ted, the assistant, was a Beta. Nick filed these pieces of information away in his mind.

“The kitchen’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it? I was quite hungry.”

Margie’s response to Nick’s admission was a smile.

“I’ll help you clean up after I finish my coffee. Would you like a cup, Margie?”

Margie accepted Nick’s offer, taking a cup and joining him for coffee.

“Owen does eat breakfast, right?”

“Of course. He eats regularly, just not very much.”

That was a relief, at least.

Nick took a sip of his fresh coffee and gestured for Margie to sit down.

“What does he usually eat? I made a variety of dishes, but he barely touched them. And please don’t misunderstand; I’m not trying to interfere with your work.”

“What misunderstanding? Taking care of breakfast is a lover’s duty.”

“I knew you’d be understanding.”

The remaining tension in Margie’s face melted away with the exchange of pleasantries.

“There was bread in the breadbox. Do you usually prepare that?”

The first thing Nick had done upon entering the kitchen was open the breadbox. There were a few slices of bread inside. No one had been in the house between last night and this morning. So, no matter how fresh the bread was, it must have been bought and stored yesterday afternoon.

“Ah… yes. That’s right. I usually put it there. I wish I could come in the morning, but my shift starts at 9.”

She couldn’t come earlier. She wrinkled her nose, seemingly unhappy about the situation.

“I buy a few kinds of bread, put them in the breadbox, squeeze some juice into the carafes, and that’s his breakfast. Oh, and sometimes some fruit.”

“….”

Nick had seen the juice carafes when he opened the refrigerator last night. Knowing it was at least a day old, he’d squeezed fresh juice this morning. He was pleased to see Owen choose the fresh grapefruit juice over the pre-made one.

If Owen preferred fresh juice, why didn’t he just insist on it instead of dismissing all his live-in staff?

“I see. So, what specifically does Owen like?”

Nick was asking about things like how Owen liked his eggs cooked or his favorite types of fruit.

“Hmm… it’s more important to remember what Mr. Rose avoids rather than what he likes. He’s not picky, but he doesn’t eat anything unhealthy.”

The assortment of supplements Owen had taken this morning came to mind.

Many of Nick’s clients seemed to dream of living to 200 in perfect health. They’d schedule full medical checkups at the slightest cough and lived on even more supplements and medications than Owen.

Could his Omega be a hypochondriac? As Nick’s thoughts grew complicated, Margie’s voice interrupted him.

“There’s actually one rule. As long as it’s made with ingredients that are recognizable or close to their natural form, he doesn’t really care about the taste. He just wants healthy food.”

Hmm… so, minimize processed foods and use fresh ingredients. Okay, got it.

“Oh, come to think of it, there are a few things he enjoys regularly. Just a moment.”

Margie’s eyes sparkled as she stood up, clearly enjoying this conversation. She bustled over to the refrigerator and returned with a small cardboard box. Inside, wrapped in parchment paper, was an irregularly shaped lump of butter.

It was the ugliest butter Nick had ever seen. Margie took a butter knife, cut off a small piece, and offered it to him.

“Try it. I see it’s missing from the table this morning.”

Although not particularly enthusiastic, Nick accepted the piece and put it in his mouth. Hmm… it definitely tasted different. He’d thought it was a rather large piece for a taste test, but after trying it, he understood. The butter melted smoothly in his mouth, leaving a clean, wholesome taste.

“Owen likes this butter, I presume?”

“He always has it with breakfast. Sometimes, he’ll even skip everything else and just have this butter with his coffee.”

Important information. Thinking he should make a note of it, Nick examined the box, but there was nothing on it – no brand name, barcode, or even ingredient list.

Owen Rose ate something without an ingredient list? That contradicted what he’d said earlier.

Margie, observing Nick’s scrutiny of the box and his furrowed brow, smiled knowingly.

“It’s homemade butter. Imported directly from France. I receive a container every other week and store it here.”

“Every other week?”

Even for a wealthy person, it seemed excessive to have butter flown in so frequently. She spoke as if it were delivered from a nearby farm.

“Its best-by date is only one month.”

“…Best-by date?”

Nick felt increasingly foolish with every exchange with Margie.

“Yes, the period during which you can enjoy the optimal flavor. Butter is a fermented product, so technically, you can eat it as long as it’s not moldy. But every butter has a period when it tastes best. And our Mr. Rose has a very sensitive palate.”

“….”

He’d heard plenty of rich people’s obsessions with taste. This was why upbringing couldn’t be ignored. It became ingrained. So, Owen Rose was also born with a silver spoon in his mouth, or rather, a diamond-encrusted one. He kept only a two-week supply of his everyday butter to ensure optimal flavor.

“You just have to take it out and put it here. That is, if you plan to continue preparing Mr. Rose’s breakfast like this, Mr. Stockton.”

“I most certainly do, Margie.”

Nick reassured the cautiously probing housekeeper.

“That’s a relief. This is… a first.”

“I take it Mr. Rose hasn’t had many breakfast companions.”

Nick raised an eyebrow.

“Well… actually,”

Margie sighed hesitantly, and Nick patiently waited for her to divulge the precious information.

“Of course, Mr. Rose is a very sociable person.”

Sociable could mean many things.

“But that’s just how he appears in public. You know how the media is. This is a first. I’ve never come to work in the morning and found someone other than Mr. Rose in the house. Of course, his relatives visit occasionally, but that’s very rare.”

“Margie.”

“Yes, Mr. Stockton?”

Nick’s suddenly lowered voice made the housekeeper tense up again. This was a common reaction from people he addressed directly.

“How long have you worked at the Rose Mansion?”

“Let’s see… I started in January of the year Mr. Rose turned eighteen, so this is my twelfth year.”

“….”

“Mr. Stockton?”

Seeing Nick staring silently at her, Margie called his name cautiously, searching his expression for something amiss. Nick slowly spoke.

“That’s… a long time. I understand your affection for him.”

Margie, beaming at Nick’s acknowledgement, opened a notepad and began lecturing him on Owen’s dietary preferences. Nick held his coffee cup, letting her words wash over him.

Twelve years.

He’d almost made the slip-up of saying, “So, no one’s slept in that bed but me for a very long time.”

His beautiful Owen hadn’t had a partner stay over in twelve years. At least, not one who stayed for breakfast. And he certainly hadn’t delayed his departure for work to introduce someone to his housekeeper of over a decade.

Of course, Owen must have dated people during those years, but he hadn’t brought them to the Rose Mansion, to what was now Nick’s territory.

He took another sip of coffee, savoring the sweet information he’d just acquired. Feeling a sense of contentment as vast as the Pacific Ocean, Nick turned his attention back to Margie.

“But Margie, you don’t manage this entire mansion by yourself, do you?”

“Of course not. I mainly handle the kitchen. Other than that, I coordinate the maintenance of the Rose Mansion. I do the daily cleaning, but there’s a cleaning crew that comes twice a week. The building maintenance and repair staff have their own schedules. And if anything else comes up… I call the necessary people. I handle all those contacts.”

“That’s quite a lot. Are they all from outside contractors?”

“Some are, and some are employed like me. Mr. Rose rarely visits the mansion in New Jersey, but I manage that one as well. Actually, that one requires more hands-on work. Let’s see… including myself and Jimmy, there are about… twenty people who manage the Rose family properties, between New Jersey and here in New York.”

Margie started clearing the table, seemingly ready to begin her kitchen duties in earnest.

“Hmm… Margie?”

“Yes, Mr. Stockton?”

Margie, who’d initially seemed a bit old to manage such a large mansion, demonstrated remarkable efficiency once she started moving. The breakfast table was already spotless.

“So, who’s in charge of the furniture? I think we need something new.”

Margie, who’d been busy at the sink, turned around, placing her hands on her hips.

“Anything related to household matters, you should tell me. What do you need?”

The 12-year veteran housekeeper seemed ready for battle, taking Nick’s question as a challenge to her domain. It was a little embarrassing, but if she wanted to take a professional stance…

“We need a new bed, Margie. Or rather, just the mattress. The frame is fine.”

“Which bedroom are you referring to?”

The combative look on Margie’s face faded, replaced by confusion.

“Owen’s bed.”

“Oh…”

Her confusion deepened.

“And I don’t know what days the cleaning crew usually comes, but we need them today. And Margie?”

“Yes, Mr. Stockton?”

As usual, being addressed directly by Nick brought a mixture of tension and focus to her voice.

“Please don’t go up to the second floor until then.”

The playful undertone in Nick’s request finally brought a relaxed smile back to the housekeeper’s face.

“Understood. Don’t worry, the mattress will be replaced soon.”

Leaving the now-giggling housekeeper behind, Nick ascended the stairs.

Contrary to what Owen had said, most of the rooms on the fourth floor were empty, not used for storage.

You really don’t know anything about housework, do you, Chairman Owen Rose?

Nick slowly explored the house, starting from the second floor, familiarizing himself with his future home.

The Rose Mansion’s décor was generally outdated, but it had a certain cozy charm. Or perhaps that was just Nick’s mood since waking up this morning.

Passing the modern gym and opening the door to the rooftop, he was reminded that he was in the middle of a bustling city. The car horns blaring from below confirmed it.

The rooftop deck was designed like a garden, with comfortable sofas arranged for a gathering of ten or more people.

Three generations might feel a bit crowded, but two could live comfortably here. That was Nick’s impression after exploring the Rose Mansion.

“Assuming we have… four children.”

He sank onto a sofa, but no dust puffed up. The cushions were spotless and plush, like new. He leaned his head back and looked up at the clear, crisp autumn sky of New York.

Nick crossed one leg over the other and took in the skyline formed by the antique buildings across the street.

“Living the good life. But…”

That nagging feeling from earlier was still tapping at the back of his mind.

Despite being born with everything, Owen Rose had a strangely vulnerable look in his eyes. Why? What was the problem? Or was there even a problem?

A vibration in his pocket interrupted his thoughts. Nick pulled out his phone.

This was the real reason he’d come up to the rooftop. While the house was large enough for him to keep track of Margie’s whereabouts and take a call, the cleaning crew was supposed to arrive soon. He needed a place where he could speak freely.

“So, tell me what you found.”

—Yes, Boss. Good morning to you too. Thanks for asking.

John was quick-witted and efficient at gathering information, but he also liked to grumble. As usual, Nick didn’t respond to his complaints.

—Before that, Boss. Let’s deal with the urgent matter first. What about the Congo mine?

“The Congo mine? Why? Did the rebels surrender overnight? Even if they did, I’m not returning the down payment.”

The jobs SS & Co. took were rough and dangerous. Their contracts didn’t specify completion dates. They included a clause stating that down payments were non-refundable, even if the job wasn’t completed. Of course, that rarely happened.

—With the demand for conflict minerals rising daily, there’s no way the rebels would surrender! No, it’s because they saw your face in the newspaper yesterday. The client assumed you’d be near Africa by now, but you were photographed in the middle of New York. They’re understandably anxious.

“The meeting yesterday was scheduled beforehand.”

—I know, I know. We know, but the client doesn’t. They’re worried sick about someone making off with their truckload of gold. They keep calling at all hours. We need to at least tell them when you’re leaving.

A civil war was raging in Congo, a region designated for conflict minerals. It was no surprise, given the country’s weak industrial base and lucrative natural resources.

The client had audaciously purchased a mine in a war-torn country. They’d assumed hiring heavily armed mercenaries would solve any problems, but mercenaries had levels. Whatever level they’d hired, their personnel at the site had been killed in a recent attack, and the client’s request for reinforcements had been denied. They’d contacted SS & Co. to protect their assets.

The minerals underground weren’t going anywhere; they could wait until the civil war subsided. The problem was the gold that had been mined before the attack. It was currently sitting in a truck at the mine entrance. The client wanted Nick to personally go to Congo and drive the slow-moving truck, with a top speed of less than 40 mph, to safety.

“Who’s going to take something that heavy?”

—Boss, it’s heavy because it’s gold! Gold!

John jumped on Nick’s unintentional slip of the tongue.

“The operation plan and detailed execution plan are already uploaded. Deploy the team and proceed.”

—Well, the execution plan states that you’re the one driving, which is why we’re stuck.

“…I can’t go right now.”

It was the African continent. While their plans were meticulous, things rarely went exactly as planned. The operation would take at least two weeks, possibly even a month. He couldn’t leave Owen’s side right now. This situation was far more unstable.

“Frank will do it.”

—Frank? Frank, who just came back from paternity leave? The one taking care of a newborn, Boss?

“….”

This was the first time Nick had heard a three-year-old referred to as a newborn.

—Boss, you do know that’s an Ebola-infected zone, right? You’re sending a father with a young child there?

That “father with a young child” had volunteered for the job. John probably didn’t know, since Frank wasn’t back at headquarters yet, but they would clear up the misunderstanding later.

—Hugh’s not going to be happy when he finds out.

“Hugh will understand.”

He wasn’t just saying that. Hugh would understand. If Hugh didn’t want Frank taking dangerous jobs, he would have retired his Omega partner and insisted he stay home.

—Why not send Hugh instead?

“He has to drive a Caterpillar. Frank is better at that than Hugh. And Frank volunteered for this operation. He’s going anyway, so I’m just asking him to drive.”

A Caterpillar was a mining dump truck. The client hadn’t specified how much gold, or whatever it was, was loaded onto the truck, but even half-full, it would easily weigh over 100 tons.

And Frank would have to drive that heavy truck at top speed on unpaved roads. If the Caterpillar overturned, the two-week operation would become a two-month one, increasing the risk of being attacked. Deploying the most qualified personnel from the start was the best approach. No one on the team was better at handling heavy trucks than Frank.

—…I don’t understand. Why would he volunteer for a mission in Africa after finally having the child he wanted so much?

Nick wondered the same thing.

“Ask him yourself. Now tell me what you found out.”

—Alright. Hold on. Let me message Frank first.

The sound of rapid typing came through the phone, then stopped.

John’s whining tone vanished, replaced by the excited voice he used when he’d stumbled upon something interesting.

—Your Omega, Boss, is quite… intriguing.

“Explain properly.”

—I accessed the National Trait Registry and Management Center directly.

All Alphas and Omegas were required to register with the National Trait Registry and Management Center after their secondary gender manifested. Not even a diamond spoon could circumvent that.

“And?”

—He’s a dominant Omega.

That wasn’t news. Nick leaned back, waiting for John to continue.

—But there’s a rumor that he’s recessive.

“What are you talking about?”

Owen couldn’t possibly be recessive. Nick would stake his Alpha identity on it.

—The… past is the past, Boss. You know what I mean?

Nick had a feeling he knew where this was going. His jaw tightened.

“Tell me.”

—Chairman Rose isn’t currently seeing anyone regularly. He’s had occasional partners, but aside from his ex-fiancé, whom he broke up with, he hasn’t had any steady relationships. So, you don’t have anything to worry about on that front, Boss.

Nick had already confirmed that with Owen last night.

“Where did this recessive rumor come from?”

—Well… from them, you know, the other Alphas. “I slept with Owen Rose, but he seems recessive,” that kind of thing.

Nick’s eyebrows twitched. He knew exactly what kind of Alphas John was talking about – young, insecure Alphas trying to compensate with bravado.

They probably wanted to brag about having a chance with the chairman of Rose Pharmaceuticals, a beautiful Omega no less. And when it turned out to be a one-night stand, they resorted to the usual, pathetic Alpha tactic of belittling their partner.

Nick pressed his fingers against his furrowed brow.

Even though they were Owen’s past, the thought of them irritated him.

—The funny thing is, all those partners who said that were recessive themselves. That’s why there’s talk about Chairman Rose having strange preferences.

In general genetics, the terms dominant and recessive didn’t carry any value judgment, despite their connotations. They simply indicated which gene had priority in expression.

But when it came to secondary genders, there was a clear hierarchy.

Dominant implied superiority, while recessive carried social connotations of weakness and inferiority. Some argued for using the terms “strong” and “weak” instead, but the current terminology persisted.

Recessive Alphas had a limited range of pheromone influence.

Owen sought out only recessive Alphas…?

“What was his ex-fiancé’s designation?”

—Recessive.

“How many partners has he had in total?”

—Uh… you’re not planning on taking revenge, are you?

John hesitated, even though he’d clearly investigated thoroughly.

“No.”

—Good. Personal revenge is our bread and butter, but we should refrain. We see how ugly and wasteful it is every day, don’t we?

“So, how many?”

—Chairman Rose hasn’t had that many exes… six?

“….”

The number was so small that Nick couldn’t determine if Owen had specifically chosen recessive Alphas or if it was a coincidence.

—Anyway, the rumor seems to have spread quietly in their circles. But it wouldn’t look good to formally sue them over it, so Chairman Rose’s side seems to have chosen a strategy of non-response.

“What about the broken engagement?”

—He had one fiancé, and they broke up five years ago. …Rumor has it that Chairman Rose was the one dumped.

“Where did that rumor come from?”

He already knew the answer.

—From the fiancé’s side.

“His ex-fiancé.”

—Yes, his ex-fiancé.

His morning, which had started so refreshingly, was now filled with increasing irritation, even though it wasn’t even noon yet.

Rumors about the personal lives of the upper class often turned out to be just that – rumors. The difficulty of verifying the information and their general tendency to avoid responding only fueled the gossip. Owen Rose’s secondary gender was a case in point.

Owen Rose was definitely dominant. Otherwise, such perfect pheromone control would be impossible. His heat cycles were regular, and he’d only been surprised yesterday because it was an exception. Long, regular cycles were a characteristic of dominant Omegas.

Moreover, if Owen Rose were recessive, he would have been completely overwhelmed by Nick’s pheromones and unable to control his own scent. Last night, even though he’d been aroused to the point of soaking the mattress, Owen hadn’t completely lost control.

And most importantly, he was registered as dominant. The Trait Center data couldn’t be manipulated, and there was no reason for Owen to lie about it.

—Hello? Boss? Are you still there?

“Don’t fuss. I was just thinking. John, how do you open a biometric lock?”

—What type of biometric authentication is it? The easiest way, regardless of the type, is to spoof the system with a substitute. Tell me the model. I’ll look it up.

“I don’t know the model number. It’s on the first floor. It looks like a drawer, but it’s a safe.”

—A safe? This is getting confusing… Tracking your phone’s location… Yep, you’re still there. At the Rose Mansion. You’re cracking a safe? Boss, can you be honest with me? We’re a team… Why are you really approaching Chairman Rose? Is this a job or not?

“It’s not like that. It’s exactly what I told you yesterday.”

—Then why are you cracking a safe?

“It’s a cabinet that looks like a safe.”

Owen said it contained health supplements. There was no need to lock ordinary health supplements in a biometrically secured cabinet.

Far more valuable items were scattered throughout the house without such security measures. They might have other security systems, but they weren’t displayed in locked glass cases.

What if the cabinet contained medication, not supplements?

Medication needed careful handling. It couldn’t be mixed up with similar-looking drugs, so even Nick would hesitate to store it casually in the first-floor kitchen where outsiders came and went. And medical information was sensitive personal data, so it made sense to be cautious about medication.

—A cabinet? Not a safe? Is that some new interior design trend in New York? What is it? Do they keep their food locked up in biometrically secured cabinets now? That’s a bit harsh.

While Nick didn’t need to respond to John’s frivolous remark, he had a point. Something was definitely strange.

🥀

A man in a white coat entered the room. The young doctor who’d been Owen’s physician since the accident 16 years ago was now a middle-aged man with graying temples.

“Dr. O’Reilly, tell me the results first.”

Owen had headed straight for his doctor upon arriving at the research lab.

Rose Pharmaceuticals owned Rose Hospital and the Omega Center, but Owen avoided both.

Instead, he regularly visited the research lab. The reason was simple. He needed regular checkups, but annual checkups were standard, twice a year at most. More frequent hospital visits would signal health problems, and such rumors were detrimental.

The research lab allowed him to avoid suspicion. While some people knew his doctor worked there, only he and Dr. O’Reilly knew whether his visits were for work or medical reasons.

While the lab shared research findings and collaborated on projects with Rose Bio & Pharmaceuticals’ R&D center, it was an independent institution funded by the Rose Foundation. Owen’s parents had been the foundation’s directors, and he’d inherited the position.

“Owen.”

“Yes.”

“There’s nothing wrong. All your hormone and pheromone levels are normal. Just as they’ve been for the past ten years.”

Owen’s tense shoulders relaxed as he exhaled.

“Then why did I suddenly go into heat yesterday? I wasn’t due for another three months. If my levels are normal, why the sudden shift in my cycle?”

“Because you’re a young Omega in his prime.”

Dr. O’Reilly sometimes addressed Owen formally. While Owen had asked him to be informal, the doctor always addressed him formally when others were present. And this was becoming increasingly frequent.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s an obvious and simple fact, Owen. You don’t question the surge of adrenaline you experience under stress, so why do you question the release of pheromones when you’re emotionally agitated?”

“….”

Dr. O’Reilly smiled knowingly, taking off his glasses at Owen’s silence.

“You said there was an Alpha?”

“…Yes.”

“A dominant one, I presume?”

“Probably.”

“And you were together last night?”

Owen’s cheeks flushed slightly instead of a verbal response.

“And this morning, ta-da! All your levels are normal.”

Dr. O’Reilly held up the data display triumphantly, a playful grin on his face.

“You simply encountered a compatible Alpha. And unfortunately, you experienced a stressful situation right before that. The combination of the two might have caused a slight disruption in your rhythm, but everything returned to normal in less than a day.”

That’s what Owen had assumed as well. It was the most logical conclusion, but he hadn’t been able to relax until he saw the test results. Dr. O’Reilly, knowing this, had rushed over.

“Doctor, I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

Dr. O’Reilly responded casually, returning his attention to his tablet.

“It’s…”

Owen’s hesitant tone made the doctor look up again.

“Yes?”

“…Never mind.”

“It doesn’t sound like ‘never mind,’ Owen. What is it?”

Dr. O’Reilly had known Owen since he’d first presented as an Omega. While they weren’t close friends, he knew Owen well enough.

Owen wasn’t one to hesitate or beat around the bush. If there was something he needed to confirm, no matter how sensitive, he would just ask.

The doctor was curious about what could make Owen so uncomfortable he couldn’t even ask the question. He stared intently at Owen, encouraging him to speak.

“Is… sex different with a compatible Alpha and Omega?”

Dr. O’Reilly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Owen knew it was a ridiculous question. That’s why he’d hesitated.

“Specifically?”

“The level of arousal… or sensory illusions. Especially the illusions. Is there any research on that?”

Even though Dr. O’Reilly was also an Omega and had been Owen’s physician since his presentation, Owen couldn’t be any more specific.

It had felt like a tongue, but it must have been an illusion. Even if Nick had wanted to, he couldn’t possibly have a tongue that long. It was likely just Nick’s skill, or perhaps a sensory illusion caused by the combined stress of yesterday. He’d already reached that conclusion himself.

But since he was seeing the doctor anyway, he figured he might as well ask. Instead of the textbook answer he’d expected, the doctor simply stared at him intently.

“Owen, if you don’t mind me asking, is that it with that man from last night? No future plans?”

“….”

Owen’s silence seemed to provide the answer Dr. O’Reilly was looking for. He opened his tablet with a resolute expression and pulled up a file.

He didn’t show Owen a research paper on compatibility between Alphas and Omegas. It was Owen’s own medical chart, the same one he’d been reviewing repeatedly for years.

“According to your test results this morning, you’re in perfect health, Owen. You don’t need to take suppressants like this. The same goes for the other medications. If you feel that compatible with this Alpha, why not try reducing your medication as a test? This is a professional and official recommendation from your physician.”

“….”

Owen had heard similar advice multiple times in recent years, but he still wasn’t convinced.

The doctor’s expression turned serious.

“Owen, you’re worrying unnecessarily. That incident was just that – an incident. A minor incident between a young Alpha and Omega during a hormonally charged period. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s no reason to dwell on it anymore.”

Dr. O’Reilly set down his tablet and sighed.