Perfect Omega Chapter 5.1 - Identification of Friend or Foe

Locke W. Rose stared at his monitor, a world of text and a black screen. The blinking cursor awaited his next command, but Locke didn’t reach out. He felt like he might smash the computer if he did. That would restrict his actions.

He’d worked hard to build a firewall untraceable even through the dark web. Destroying it would mean repeating that tedious process.

Developing Acid Pheromone wasn’t difficult. It took a few trials and errors, and the composition varied slightly, but it wasn’t meant to cure anyone, nor did it need FDA approval.

Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? He’d smacked his knee when the idea of creating and distributing a new drug first came to him.

Isolating himself on an island, accumulating research achievements, wasn’t enough. The meager recognition of a few citations couldn’t soothe his resentment.

Whether he liked it or not, Owen Rose relentlessly exposed himself to the media, forcing Locke to see him.

Why had it taken him so long to reach the conclusion that if he couldn’t ignore or acknowledge Owen, he should eliminate him?

But while reaching that conclusion took time, he didn’t hesitate afterward. There was no reason to play fair. Owen hadn’t. He’d hidden his monstrous power and attacked cowardly. Locke would respond in kind. It was only just.

<You> Eliminate witness.

<Magnusxii> Confirmed.

He took a breath and typed the two words. The reply appeared instantly, as if waiting. Then, the entire conversation was covered with ❊❊❊ and locked.

No calls, no face-to-face meetings. He only communicated with the contractor through the dark web. Contractor was a generous term; the man was more like an errand boy. He’d stalled for weeks, unable to find the right time to administer the simple injection of Acid Pheromone, and even then, he’d failed.

While Owen Rose wasn’t easy to approach, his security was surprisingly lax. Breaching the building entrance seemed harder than getting past the guards. After weeks of trailing him, he finally had the perfect opportunity, and he blew it!

Locke’s heart had pounded when he heard there might be a chance at the heliport. Owen Rose, in heat, panting in the middle of Manhattan with no cover. If an alpha had been attracted to the pheromones Owen couldn’t control, how spectacular would it have been? Chairman Owen Rose, grabbing any alpha he could find and rutting with them – broadcast live across the web. Even a monster like Owen Rose couldn’t possibly withstand that dose!

He’d even prepared popcorn. Every monitor in the house was on, volume maxed. He waited with bated breath for the breaking news. He’d never anticipated a movie more.

The movie turned out to be a flop. The news showed a brief clip of Owen Rose, looking perfectly fine, giving a statement to the police before returning home.

Locke’s empty fist trembled. Unbearable rage sought an outlet.

“Hngh…”

A weak omega’s moan came from behind him. Locke turned back to the bed. He’d found his outlet. Like cracking a whip, he unleashed his savage pheromones.

His first subject was a homeless man he’d stumbled upon. He could pay for test subjects, but that might leave a trail. Locke’s experiments weren’t exactly legal.

He hadn’t developed the drug because he wanted to make money from it, or because he wanted to see the world burn with alphas and betas running amok.

The name Acid Pheromone was something the distributor came up with, saying it needed a sexy name. Locke didn’t have the sentimentality to name a mere drug.

The unexpected profits were a bonus. He refused when the distributor suggested lowering the purity to increase margins, and again when he suggested adjusting the concentration to match other drugs on the market due to frequent overdose incidents. He’d threatened to change distributors if the man interfered with his formula again, and the man finally shut up.

Regardless of how the market used it, Acid Pheromone was a drug created for Locke’s pleasure.

Every omega succumbed to an alpha’s pheromones once their suppressants wore off. Impatient Locke didn’t want to wait.

Those overexposed to Acid Pheromone lost control of their pheromones. The enhanced stimulant forced their pheromones out from deep within.

That day, he’d expected the usual – another omega groveling at his feet, dripping fluids. But the omega he’d brought in that day screamed in agony. The test subject was a bonded omega.

He hadn’t known because he hadn’t tried it before. The National Trait Center wouldn’t know either. Such experiments would be deemed a violation of human rights and never approved.

Forcing a pheromone shower on a bonded omega was torture. The omega’s resistance, pushing him away, brought back the feeling of being rejected by Owen Rose.

He’d failed with Owen Rose, but he succeeded with the test subject.

Drugging a bonded omega and then showering them with pheromones made them scream.

Simply subjugating an omega wasn’t fun anymore. The shame they felt after waking up, realizing they’d succumbed to their animalistic instincts, was dull. Submissive surrender was boring. It had been enough before, but not now. He preferred strong resistance. He’d discovered the thrill of conquering fierce resistance.

“Hah… Ugh!!”

The sounds coming from the omega currently curled up on his bed weren’t from pleasure. They were the sounds of agony beginning.

There was no way to conduct these experiments legally.

Locke’s lips curved into a silent smile.

For risk management, homeless individuals with no family to look for them were the ideal test subjects. After cleaning and disinfecting them, some looked decent enough to consider keeping around, but Locke wasn’t so lacking in self-awareness that he’d have sex with a former homeless person.

He enjoyed hearing their screams and breaking existing bonds more than sweating on top of an omega.

The unfortunate part was the lack of opportunities.

Once he successfully penetrated the bond and infused his pheromones, the test subjects stopped screaming. They had to; they convulsed and passed out.

Locke was searching for a way to maintain his enjoyment. He could feel the bond weakening after the omega was saturated with Acid Pheromone. Increasing the dosage would surely increase the success rate, but the risk of shock was a problem. Seeing an omega collapse from shock killed his arousal.

Occasionally, an omega would refuse to submit even under the influence of the drug, and those days brought back the feeling of that wretched day with Owen.

“…”

With a final gagging sound, this test subject was also finished. A frothing, unconscious body wasn’t interesting. There was a sense of victory, but no desire to do anything with it.

Locke got out of bed and went to the window. The panoramic window offered a clear view of the ocean, but he felt nothing. Natural scenery didn’t move him.

He placed his palm on the window, and a soft beep responded. The transparent glass transformed into a monitor. His fingers moved swiftly, familiarly, towards the desired file. With a final touch, the image of Owen Rose replaced the ocean view.

“…”

Locke’s gaze, brimming with loathing, swept over Owen’s magnified face.

Why had a flawed creation of God, born with a male sex organ yet tasked with bearing children, received such monstrous power? Why had God played such a cruel joke?

Locke’s fingertips traced the side of the screen, stopping at the words “Chairman Rose.”

Chairman. He’d feel safe in that position, wouldn’t he? High places offered that illusion.

He wanted to ruin that perfect facade, expose that abnormal power to the world, and watch Owen beg for forgiveness. The weak were all the same. If he could grind him down, strip him of his omega status, and then crush him, it might offer a small measure of retribution.

His subsided arousal returned. His flaccid penis began to stir. Opening his loosely tied robe, Locke reached down. Staring at the panoramic window showing the dark ocean, he pumped his hand back and forth. Just the thought was enough to bring him close.

“Hah… Hah…”

His hand moved faster between his spread legs. A cloudy liquid splattered against the window where Owen Rose’s picture had been.

❊

“I apologize for having you come all this way. My schedule has been difficult to manage.”

Owen spoke after waiting for Detective Josh to sit.

“Not at all. It must be inconvenient for you to constantly visit the station. I understand. Or, we could have spoken to your lawyer.”

“Mr. Spyros will be up shortly.”

“Ah, yes.”

As if on cue, the door opened with the news of the lawyer’s arrival. The two men, with their keen eyes, exchanged brief greetings.

“So… what do you mean by an incident?”

Spyros began after the door closed completely.

Owen decided to listen while Spyros explained.

“It’s what I mentioned on the phone. The perpetrator died in the prison infirmary.”

“Cause of death?”

“It seems he was involved in a violent incident inside the prison. He was found strangled this morning.”

Josh glanced at Chairman Rose, carefully choosing his words.

“Was the perpetrator caught?”

“Currently under investigation.”

“Meaning, you haven’t caught him.”

If they had, they’d at least mention a suspect.

“But I understood he was confined to the infirmary. How could he be involved in a violent incident?”

“You never know with those types. He had a prior record. It came up in the fingerprint scan. He was the kind of guy who’d pick a fight with anyone, anywhere. He complained so much about being in pain that we had limited time to question him. Well… He did have a broken shoulder and wrist, so it wasn’t a minor injury.”

Josh rubbed his thumb against his philtrum, holding back the urge to mention that the good Samaritan who’d saved the Chairman had been a bit… enthusiastic.

“So, it sounds like you couldn’t even get a statement from the suspect. Where did the theory about the attack being by a new religious group come from?”

“He revealed that himself. He claimed to be a member of the ‘Pure Children,’ which turned out to be a real group. But it’s so new that they haven’t had any significant activity. The registered address, contact information, everything was fake.”

“So the case is closed.”

Owen Rose, who had been listening silently, finally spoke.

“Yes. It seems it will be closed due to the death of the accused. We are also sorry that things turned out this way.”

Once tonight’s news aired, there would be a flood of criticism about the lax security in correctional facilities. His apology was sincere on many levels.

“Detective Josh.”

Spyros’s voice broke through Josh’s gloomy thoughts.

“Let’s be frank for a moment.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Even if recidivism rates are high, what are the chances of someone with a 12-week recovery period, unable to feed himself, getting involved in a prison fight?”

“…”

“It’s not uncommon for inmates to be hired as contractors for the purpose of destroying evidence.”

“There’s no evidence.”

Detective Josh’s voice hardened. Some things, even when everyone knew, were best left unsaid. The lax security issue alone would lead to disciplinary action, but news of criminal dealings within the prison would escalate into a major scandal.

“Yes, that’s right. Everyone in the legal field knows that there’s usually no evidence in these cases, and even if a suspect is caught, they’ll deny everything. Just keep responding as you did just now.”

“Excuse me?”

“If reporters approach you after tonight’s police announcement with questions, or even if they bring up conspiracy theories similar to what I just mentioned, respond exactly as you did just now.”

“Are you giving the police guidelines?”

“Actually, this proposal came from the police department first.”

“…What?”

“You’ll hear the details when you get back, won’t you? I don’t know the exact procedures since we’re not part of their internal organization. It won’t be the main news tonight; just a short report. It wouldn’t be good for the police if news of an inmate’s death in custody spread widely, so they contacted us beforehand to ask for our understanding. Now, let’s go, Detective Josh. Come down to our legal team’s office for a moment, and then we’ll leave together.”

Spyros placed a hand on the bewildered detective’s back and stood. Owen also rose and exchanged a brief nod with Detective Josh as he left.

What Spyros said was true. They’d received a call beforehand, offering to send an officer to explain the situation and asking for their understanding about minimizing the news coverage. Owen had agreed to downplay the incident. He wanted to avoid the image of a pharmaceutical company CEO being targeted by a religious group, even a fringe one.

As he returned to his seat, letting out a short breath, the door burst open again.

“Sir, this is really inappropriate.”

“It’ll just be a minute.”

It was Ted and Aunt Catherine. Through the open door, he could only see them and some of the secretarial staff. Fortunately, the lawyer and Detective Josh seemed to have taken a different elevator.

Impeccable timing.

Perhaps it was for the best. A confrontation would only increase Aunt Catherine’s worries. Owen nodded at Ted.

“Aunt Catherine, I told you I didn’t have time today. If it was urgent, you could have called. I must remind you that this behavior jeopardizes Ted’s employment.”

A secretary couldn’t stop the Chairman’s relative and registered director from barging in. Even knowing that, Owen wouldn’t unfairly dismiss Ted, but he needed to apply some pressure. He couldn’t let her continue treating him like a child.

“This is something I can’t postpone. Sit down. You’re busy, so let’s make this quick.”

Owen sighed in resignation and returned to his seat.

“I received a call from Cindy.”

“Do I know her?”

Owen searched his memory.

“She’s lived across from Rose Mansion for 50 years. You could call her your neighbor.”

“Ah…”

He vaguely remembered her. A very, very old-fashioned woman.

“She asked who the young man is who sees you off every morning. Said he looks like a bodyguard, but this morning he kissed you on the cheek? With the door wide open? For everyone to see?”

It wasn’t for everyone to see; Nick’s greeting and Owen’s timing with the door hadn’t aligned.

Sharp eyes for an old woman.

“She asked if Owen Rose is now sleeping with his bodyguard.”

She was a woman who dreamed of returning to a class-based society. In her eyes, a scandal with what she perceived as a servant was a disgrace.

“I told you, Aunt Catherine. We’re in a serious relationship.”

“Yes, you did. I also think Cindy is nearly senile. The problem is, she’s not quite senile yet, and therefore perfectly capable of speaking. Have you considered the kind of rumors she’ll spread?”

“No.”

He recalled her vocabulary seeming stuck in her teenage years.

“I have. And it concerns me. Owen, decide. Either make it official, or end it.”

The rigid set of her shoulders softened. Owen sighed again and leaned back against the sofa.

“…How exactly does one ‘make it official?’ Are you suggesting I throw some sort of debutante ball?”

“Unfortunately, you’re past the age for a debut.”

Her sarcasm made Owen’s jaw drop. A debutante ball?

The Bal des Débutantes was a coming-out party for society figures. Incredibly, it still existed and was highly exclusive.

To maintain the closed nature of high society, money wasn’t enough; one needed a recommendation from an existing member. Even children of established families weren’t guaranteed a spot. There was even a vetting process.

“It’s better to make an announcement than to be the subject of messy rumors. Arrange a meeting. I need to finally meet him.”

Catherine’s lips pressed together firmly.

“Aunt Catherine.”

“I won’t back down this time. I need to see him with my own eyes.”

‘I’d like you to meet my family.’

He thought he was experiencing déjà vu, but he wasn’t. Nick had said something similar just this morning.

‘I’ll be honest with you. I am getting a little anxious. I want to at least establish my presence with your family. Don’t misunderstand, Owen. I’m not pressuring you. I can wait as long as you need, but… would you believe me if I said I feel eyes on me every morning around your building?’

He’d been taken aback. He’d assumed the windows in these exclusive New York residences were purely decorative. He hadn’t realized they actually opened, and could be used for spying.

‘There are more and more watchful eyes, as if they’re guarding Rose Mansion against burglars. I don’t even have my ID on me anymore; at this rate, I’m afraid the police might show up and take me away.’

‘This isn’t a mansion. It’s just an old building.’

‘It’s a symbolic expression. Think about it. Inviting me home.’

And then Nick had kissed his cheek, distracting Owen so he’d forgotten to close the door.

“Did the two of you, by any chance, speak on the phone? Or… meet?”

Owen’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Who?”

Aunt Catherine’s eyes were clear, almost innocent, as she asked.

“…Never mind.”

The timing was incredibly coincidental, as if planned. Owen cleared his throat.

While he felt Nick might have been exaggerating slightly, he understood his position. There was no need to prolong things unnecessarily.

“I was just about to tell you. I’d like to introduce Nick to my family. Would you mind contacting the others, Aunt Catherine? I’d appreciate it.”

He could have his staff handle it, but that felt too formal, even though they weren’t particularly close.

Aunt Catherine looked surprised. She’d made the demand, but she clearly hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. She quickly composed herself.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Don’t worry.”

❊

“I didn’t expect you to agree so easily. I’m touched, Owen.”

Nick looked stunning in his tuxedo.

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything. Everything has been a bit… fast, from our beginning and onward.”

Nick’s gaze flickered to the passenger seat before returning to the road. The brief smile he offered was sexy, as were his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you’re alright to drive, Nick?”

He’d have to moderate his drinking; it would be troublesome in many ways. But they’d already set out.

“It’s our first outing.”

Nick, uttering an old-fashioned sentiment about not wanting a third wheel on their historic first date, had chosen the car himself.

Owen wasn’t unathletic, but he wasn’t a good driver. He’d had few opportunities to truly hone his skills. And Porsches were too sensitive. They exposed his inexperience, making them a car he preferred to avoid.

Yet today, the finicky machine seemed obedient under Nick’s touch, gliding smoothly without a single jolt.

A date. Was that really a word people still used? It felt childish and direct, yet it imbued this simple drive to their next destination with a certain thrill.

Owen pretended to watch the busy road while stealing glances at Nick. His hands were relaxed and confident on the wheel of the latest Porsche model. Regardless of his affinity for machines, no one could drive a modern sports car loaded with electronics this smoothly without prior experience.

Nick had been indifferent to the expensive artwork adorning Rose Mansion. He hadn’t feigned admiration, but neither had he been careless. He’d ignored them naturally, like someone who understood their value.

Judging by Spyros, the company lawyer, and his own impressions, Nick seemed like someone who had easily crossed the threshold of objective success.

“Ah, the family gathering is next week. I wanted everyone to meet you at once, so it took a little while to coordinate schedules.”

“The date doesn’t matter.”

His fingers on the slender steering wheel looked beautiful. The moment Owen realized he wanted to touch them, he quickly averted his gaze. He needed a new topic of conversation.

“It’s not a particularly meaningful event for me. It’s more of an obligation.”

“So you’re saying I don’t need to try to make a good impression?”

Nick glanced at Owen, his eyes leaving the stalled traffic. It was a good thing Owen had looked away.

“…Yes.”

Whether he knew the hidden meaning in Owen’s concise reply or not, Nick smiled wider.

And that night was difficult from the start. It was hard to focus on the conversations.

As he’d told Nick, it was an obligation. That was true for most of the attendees. It was an event where you exchanged superficial pleasantries, smiled, and then left.

Despite that, Owen kept losing track of the light chatter. If a conversation went on too long, he’d find himself staring at Nick, distracted. The tuxedo suited him too well. He’d known it the moment he saw him at home, but seeing him among other people confirmed it.

Perhaps seeing him only at home had been the problem. If Owen had gradually experienced how good Nick was at socializing, maybe he wouldn’t be struggling so much to manage his gaze. The moment he sensed the danger, he’d deliberately stiffened his demeanor, trying to project his official Owen Rose persona. Unfortunately, it seemed the effort would be in vain.

He’d lost the thread of the current conversation. He hadn’t heard the question, so he couldn’t answer. Owen lowered his head and stared at the champagne flute in his hand. If all else failed, he could blame it on the alcohol.

“Mr. Rose, where did your companion study? I think I saw someone similar at my university.”

He’d heard variations of this question all night, attempts to find common ground.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t asked.”

The man who’d addressed him was dressed similarly to Owen, and to Nick. While there were variations, from a distance, tuxedos were a uniform. Perhaps because of this uniformity, it was difficult to distinguish between the men. They all looked similarly dignified and handsome. Only Nick looked sexy. Had the tailor made a mistake?

“Owen, you’re incredibly sexy when I see you out like this.”

Nick approached, brushing past the surrounding crowd. They weren’t even dancing, but he was too close. He spoke almost directly into Owen’s ear, his breath warm against his skin. Owen could feel the pressure of Nick’s hand on his waist.

“…”

Taking an extra suppressant tonight had been a wise decision.

“I’m certainly not saying I dislike this date, but how much longer do we have to stay here? I want to be alone with you.”

Judging by the excessive heat radiating from Nick’s hand on his waist, he was drunk. Or perhaps, despite the extra pill, Owen’s suppressants were beginning to fail in Nick’s presence. Before lifting his head, Owen focused on Nick’s second button, taking a deep breath.

“We’ve greeted the host, so we can leave anytime. We can go now if you’d like.”

His tone was stiffer than intended, but Nick didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, good. Then wait just a moment.”

The hot hand left his waist, and Owen shivered slightly, as if sobering up.

❊

“You came with Owen.”

He’d sensed the man’s presence the moment he stepped in front of the sink. Even after finishing, the man hadn’t left, instead choosing to stare at Nick. Such a blatant stare was hard to miss.

Nick, without replying, quickly scanned the man in the mirror.

Blond. Carefully styled hair and flawless skin. About the same height as Owen. Manicured nails.

“Owen seems desperate these days. I thought he was more discerning about his partners. Well, he is getting older. Not that it will matter. Oh, are you unaware?”

Nick had spent a considerable amount of time scanning the venue, identifying those who approached Owen, and those who didn’t. It was tiring to discern the hidden observers, those who concealed themselves within the crowd, but these events offered the potential to uncover hidden enemies.

Fortunately, most people were favorably disposed towards Owen. There were whispers, but they were nothing more than harmless gossip.

In this spacious ballroom, this man was the only one who’d directed unhealthy attention towards Owen. The man wouldn’t know, but Nick had followed him in here. All he needed to do was ascertain the intent behind that bothersome gaze before leaving.

“Who are you?”

The man’s face crumpled at Nick’s tone.

“Even if I told you my name, would you know me? You’re not from around here, are you?”

The ‘here’ the man referred to seemed to be New York high society.

He wasn’t someone Nick was particularly interested in talking to. He seemed childish, like he hadn’t fully transitioned into manhood.

“What is it that I don’t know?”

The man hesitated and glanced at the bathroom stalls, a cautious gesture, as if checking for other occupants.

“It’s empty.”

After confirming the bathroom was indeed empty, the man’s posture shifted, his expression becoming more arrogant.

“Would you recognize me if I said I was Owen Rose’s fiancé?”

“….”

“You were so quick to be rude to a stranger, but now that you know who I am, you’ve lost your words.”

The man in the mirror brightened, mistaking Nick’s silence for defeat.

His thoughts were transparent, but Nick ignored his triumphant smirk and carefully studied the man’s face.

Owen really had terrible taste in men. It was fortunate for Nick, as it had given him an opportunity, but it didn’t make this childish man suddenly appealing.

“You’re the one who ended the engagement, yet you’re still interested in the men Owen sees?”

“Int… Interested? No! Someone like the Chairman of Rose Pharmaceuticals is constantly in the news, whether I like it or not. You really… Who are you?!”

“What kind of interest is it?”

“Hey, you, why do you keep,”

“Relax. There’s no one else here to hear us.”

“Ha! Owen Rose. He acts so aloof, but look at the kind of alphas he ends up with.”

Having his true feelings exposed, the man latched onto Nick’s words, but instead of starting a fight, he muttered to himself. He couldn’t hide his thoughts, he couldn’t fight, and he didn’t even seem to understand his own feelings.

“…Ugh!”

The man, still muttering sarcastically, buckled at the waist.

“Your existence is unpleasant, but I wanted to meet you anyway, so this works out.”

Nick turned around, facing away from the mirror. Owen’s ex-fiancé couldn’t straighten up, overwhelmed by Nick’s pheromones.

Nick quickly assessed the layout of the bathroom. The entrance was angled, requiring a short walk down a hallway. The door was thick and distant. The high-quality air purification system would filter out his pheromones before they reached the ballroom.

Next, he checked for vents. In renovated older buildings, vents could carry sounds and pheromones to adjacent rooms. Fortunately, this building seemed to have been updated with a modern air purification system. The old vent locations were sealed.

After quickly surveying the surroundings, Nick took a step forward from the sink.

“Now, shall we have a civilized conversation? I’ll ease up a bit, but don’t try to scream or run. Just nod if you understand.”

The ex-fiancé nodded vigorously. Nick slightly reduced the intensity of his pheromones.

“Gasp… Gasp… Wh… What are you?”

The man panted and glared, but his will to fight was broken. How weak.

Alphas were generally simple creatures. They operated on the logic of power. If they perceived someone as weaker, they’d assert dominance. But if they encountered someone they considered stronger, they’d either avoid them or, if unable to, readily admit defeat. They rarely had the spirit to fight even when facing likely defeat.

“Who… Who are you?!”

Nick understood the man’s bewilderment. He’d probably never experienced this kind of attack before. His high-society status had likely shielded him.

The men he’d dealt with would have known who he was. And if he’d only sparred with other recessive alphas, they’d have been evenly matched. He’d likely never challenged a dominant alpha, so he wouldn’t know the limits of a pheromone attack.

Nick’s attack wasn’t enough to cripple someone, but the man, lacking any resilience, was weak.

“You said it yourself. I’m the person Owen is seeing now.”

Nick stood directly in front of the man. The ex-fiancé, still hunched over, looked up at him, clearly anticipating a physical attack.

“Rose. Fitting for that name, isn’t it? The scent is intoxicating.”

“….”

“Tell me. It’s alright.”

“….”

Confused by the shift from intimidation to a strange question, the man looked bewildered. He quickly interpreted the situation in his own way and began to straighten up. The corners of his lips curled upwards, as if he was about to engage in some alpha gossip about shared omegas. He smoothed his rumpled clothes.

“Rose is a common scent. It’s too ordinary for my taste. You seem to like it, though?”

His tone, as if mocking Nick for liking such an ordinary scent, dripped with condescension.

Nick grinned, stretching his lips wide. The man smiled wider in response. Now they were both standing, grinning at each other.

“Owen’s rose scent is rather special.”

“Well, I respect individual preferences. Unfortunately, to me, it’s nothing special.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaking it for another scent?”

“Look here, partner. Roses aren’t exactly rare flowers. How could I mistake it?”

Now he was openly mocking Nick’s supposed lack of discernment. The man looked amused, and Nick was starting to genuinely enjoy himself. He was close to laughing out loud.

“Are you even an alpha?”

“What are you,”

“Can you even call yourself an alpha if you can’t even arouse your partner?”

“…!”

Ding—dong. The ex-fiancé looked as if he’d been slapped. His expression froze, then turned bright red. Nick had struck a nerve; furious pheromones flared around him.

“Ugh…!”

But they were immediately suppressed by Nick’s answering wave.

“An omega needs to be aroused for their scent to bloom. Poor Owen. I can’t imagine how much he suffered during your engagement. I think I should reveal this to prevent other poor omegas from becoming victims. The tabloids would be the fastest way, but perhaps I should start with the people out there? They seem like the most likely victims.”

“He doesn’t have a scent!!”

As Nick took a playful step towards the door, the man, despite being suppressed, managed to shout. Nick eased his pressure slightly.

“He didn’t have a scent!! You know that, right?! What omega takes suppressants before sleeping with their fiancé?!”

He’d suspected it, but hearing the confirmation soured his good mood.

He wanted to crush the man’s testicles right here in the bathroom, but damn civilization, damn the rule of law.

“I’m perfectly normal. If there’s a problem, it’s with Owen Rose, not me!”

While Nick was wrestling with his internal conflict, the man added another jab.

“Do you know Owen Rose as well as I do? Have you experienced what I have? There’s definitely something wrong with Owen Rose. He has a serious, fatal flaw as an omega!”

“….”

He was speechless.

It was absurd that he had to explain basic sex education, but if the man didn’t know, someone had to tell him. If he couldn’t kill him here, he’d at least fill that ignorant brain with enough knowledge to prevent him from ever again claiming there was something wrong with Owen Rose.

“Look, he’s the Chairman of Rose Pharmaceuticals. Any functioning alpha or omega in the business world takes suppressants.”

Perhaps because he’d mentally labeled the man an idiot, his blinking face now seemed less hateful and more pathetic. His expensive clothes failed to conceal his true, insignificant self.

“You failed to arouse your partner because you lacked effort and charm. Not only did you blame him for the broken engagement, but you’re also following around every new person he meets, trying to sow discord… Isn’t that pathetic?”

Nick stroked his own chin, nodding repeatedly.

“Ex-fiancé, listen carefully.”

His gaze kept straying to the man’s groin. This encounter would likely linger in his memory.

“Ugh!”

“There’s nothing wrong with Owen. And while Owen won’t be seeing any new alphas, you need to stop spreading malicious rumors about whether Owen Rose is a real omega or not.”

“Ugh… Gah!”

The ex-fiancé choked, struggling to breathe. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the veins bulged.

Pheromone attacks had their advantages. He could inflict this kind of humiliating suffering without leaving any physical marks. There were no security cameras in the bathroom either. Even if the man filed a complaint, there would be no evidence, just conflicting claims. He’d never admit to being brought to his knees on a bathroom floor by another alpha’s pheromones.

The man slid to the floor, collapsing on all fours. Large drops of sweat plopped onto the tiles. One trembling hand reached up, trying to grab Nick’s pants leg. Nick shifted slightly, avoiding the sweaty, dirty touch.

“Don’t bring up an engagement that ended years ago. Do I really have to explain this… And don’t call my Owen by his first name. You’re not that close. Address him by his title, like a civilized person. Chairman Rose. Understand?”

This time, he didn’t need to be told to nod. He managed a weak nod, but it was enough to improve Nick’s mood. With the crisp sound of his heels on the tile floor, he walked past the man.

While Owen’s potential enemy list included his ex-fiancé, this imbecile wasn’t a real threat. He was only capable of spreading rumors. Still, removing one candidate from the list was a small victory.

“Mr. Stockton.”

The face he’d greeted with Owen earlier recognized him, smiling brightly. Nick returned the smile. Perhaps because his cheerful expression lingered, people were more friendly and talkative on his way back to Owen.

He could feel his smile widening as he approached Owen.

It wasn’t just a small victory; he felt so good he could run for hours until the excitement subsided.

Owen’s pheromones weren’t rose. They weren’t even similar to any floral scent. He’d only had one chance to truly experience Owen’s scent, on their first night, but he’d never forget it.

Surprisingly, his rose had a light musk scent. He wasn’t an expert on fragrances, but it reminded him of a musk he’d encountered before.

He hadn’t realized his preference for such a sensual scent until that night, when he’d buried his nose in Owen’s neck. Not only had Owen perfectly targeted his taste, but no one else had ever experienced that scent.

Owen was like a custom-made assassination machine, designed after a molecular analysis of Nick Stockton. If that were the case, Nick would lower all his guards and wait for Owen’s command. He’d gladly die by Owen’s hand.

“Mr. Stockton.”

Someone called out, recognizing him. The crowd parted before him. Owen turned around.

“You’re smiling.”

“This is the most enjoyable party I’ve ever been to.”

“Oh… I thought you’d be ready to leave. Shall we stay a bit longer?”

“No. Leaving now would be perfect.”

❊

“Chairman Rose.”

At the entrance, Owen ran into Director Montague. Emerging from the coat check, he seemed to have just arrived.

“My previous engagement ended late. I apologize for being tardy. Are you leaving already?”

“Go on in. It’s still in full swing.”

If he was planning to drink and enjoy himself, the night was just beginning. Perhaps he hadn’t arrived late, but had timed his appearance for when people were relaxed and the real fun began.

“If it’s in full swing, why not stay and enjoy it a bit longer?”

His sly smile reminded Owen of their encounter in the parking garage. Instead of replying, Owen looked out the glass doors. Just then, the Porsche pulled up. Without another word, Owen gave the young director a curt nod and stepped outside.

“Chairman Rose, wait a moment.”

Whatever his previous engagement had been, he’d clearly had a drink. A faint scent of alcohol wafted from his breath as he approached.

Because he’d called out loudly while pursuing Owen, the freelance photographers lurking outside the designated area began to take notice.

They called themselves freelance photographers, but they were essentially paparazzi who followed social events. He’d heard they earned a decent living by randomly snapping photos of anyone even slightly famous.

They typically didn’t photograph businesspeople unless there was a specific story. Owen Rose was an exception. Sure enough, the flashes began popping.

Nick opened the driver’s side door and looked over.

“Oh dear, it seems you had company.”

The young director stopped, noticing Nick.

Having already said goodbye, Owen turned and walked away.

Nick had already loosened his bow tie, draping it beneath his collar. One button was also undone.

“I loosened it because it felt constricting. Is that a breach of etiquette?”

Nick, noticing Owen’s gaze, offered an explanation for his disheveled appearance.

“No. Not at all.”

As the alcohol flowed and the atmosphere warmed up, people often loosened their bow ties. Not everyone did, but after dancing, such minor breaches of etiquette were easily overlooked.

“…I thought you looked sexy.”

It was the first thought that crossed Owen’s mind when he saw Nick’s exposed neck. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“Owen… Owen.”

Long fingers tapped the steering wheel rhythmically, echoing Owen’s name. Glancing over, Owen saw the corners of Nick’s lips curving upwards.

“This is quite troublesome.”

Despite his words, Nick continued to smile.

Whether intentional or simply due to his good mood, Nick’s pheromones began to seep out. The concentration was faint, but enough to fill the enclosed space of the car.

“Hah…”

Owen inhaled deeply and leaned back, his eyelids drooping.

He’d been tense, worried about Montague trying to overwhelm him with pheromones again. That tension was now dissolving, washed away by Nick’s scent.

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?”

Nick asked cautiously.

“Not at all. No, I like it. Your scent is… strangely comforting.”

“…Comforting.”

Nick, peering at him through half-closed eyes, frowned slightly.

“Well, alright. Relax for a bit. We won’t have long.”

❊

There was no sign of Nick’s earlier excitement. His expression and tone remained gentle. Owen glanced at Nick’s groin, but his clothes were still neatly arranged. His fingers, deactivating the security system after opening the door for Owen, moved with unhurried grace. Only his hand, which hadn’t left Owen’s waist since they left the car, was hot.

The indirect lighting, set to “away” mode, was dim. Even when Owen looked up, Nick’s features were obscured by shadows. As Nick lowered his head, Owen leaned in to meet him.

Nick’s clothes formed a trail from the entrance to the staircase landing. Wanting to feel his warmth, Owen reached inside Nick’s jacket. He slid his hands along Nick’s arms, letting the undeniably sexy jacket fall to the floor. The bow tie followed. Nick just smiled.

“Ouch…”

Annoyed by the interruption, Owen nipped Nick’s lip. He hadn’t bitten hard enough to warrant such a sound; it was an exaggeration.

That was all Owen undressed. After that, he closed his eyes, lost in the sensation of Nick’s lips and tongue. He felt something wrap around his ankles and glanced down to see Nick’s shirt and his own jacket.

The sight of Nick’s bare chest sparked a desire to touch him. Owen tugged at his own shirt. He only pretended to remove it; Nick actually did, the sound of ripping fabric filling the air. This time, Owen didn’t look. He pressed his bare chest against Nick’s, rubbing against him.

When they paused again, they were almost at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. They were both completely naked. Somehow, Owen was a step above Nick.

Nick released his pheromones gradually, as if he’d decided to only play one note per step. Owen wondered if he’d also taken suppressants; his control was remarkable. And it made the space between Owen’s thighs tingle maddeningly.

Owen lifted his leg and draped it over Nick’s bare thigh. His inner thighs were slick with arousal. He rubbed his scent onto Nick’s skin.

“Ha, Owen!”

Nick, sounding uncharacteristically flustered, stopped and grabbed the banister. Owen slid his leg further between Nick’s thighs, straddling him as if sitting on a chair, and rocked his hips back and forth.

“Ha… Nick.”

Nick, his eyes half-closed, looked as if he was holding back a surge of something.

“If… If only I could…”

He didn’t seem entirely displeased. He seemed both to like and to struggle with Owen’s actions.

“I want to put this inside too.”

“…!!”

“Hng!”

Nick’s subtle pheromones suddenly intensified. Owen’s knees buckled, but Nick caught him, lifting him up and carrying him up the remaining stairs.

He tossed Owen onto the bed and, before he could regain his composure, lifted his hips. A hot mass spread his entrance and pushed inside.

“Ah… Nick!”

The tingling vanished, replaced by a wave of pleasure. His long-denied inner walls quivered in welcome, and then he heard a sharp smack. He felt the heat of Nick’s palm against one buttock.

“You’re biting. You should bite after I’m fully inside. Swallow it, Owen.”

“Hngh!!”

Another smack, and the other buttock burned. It sounded harsh, as if he’d been hit hard, but the impact sent tremors through his inner muscles.

“You should swallow this properly before saying such dangerous things, Owen. How can you take something inside when you can’t even swallow this?”

“Hng…!”

The contractions of his inner walls seemed to be interpreted as resistance by Nick. But explanations could wait. Owen arched his back, trying to swallow him deeper, terrified Nick might pull out.

He breathed deeply, engaging his inner muscles. It heightened his own arousal, rekindling the tingling between his thighs, but he wouldn’t let go of Nick, not even if the tingling drove him mad. If this heat left him now, he’d break down and sob.

“Ha! Hot… Owen, you’re going to burn me alive.”

Nick pressed close against his back. His panting breaths, hot against Owen’s skin, confirmed his words.

“Owen. Please… Never say those words again, not even as a provocation…”

“Hng…”

Owen tried to ask which words, but only a whimper escaped his lips.

“Here!”

“Hngh!”

Nick thrust his hips, shifting the angle slightly before pushing deeper. He explored every inch, leaving no spot untouched.

“Ah!”

“How… can I… put something… else inside… when you’re… so tight, Owen?”

Nick’s thrusts became more frantic.

“So… hot!”

“Hngh!”

The sound of slapping skin mingled with their moans.

“Owen, let me… smell your scent.”

His voice was desperate, like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

No alpha had ever been this intensely focused on him. Nick’s words contradicted his ex-fiancé’s claim that Owen was frigid. While his ex-fiancé’s words hadn’t seemed like a lie, there was no doubting the sincerity of Nick’s reaction.

Owen nodded slightly and released his pheromones.

A sound that was neither a sigh nor a moan escaped Nick’s throat. He inhaled sharply, then his upper body lifted slightly from Owen’s back.

He gripped Owen’s hips, as if examining their point of connection. He pulled out slowly, then plunged back in, deeper. Owen worried he might bruise, but the pheromones numbed any pain. They both growled, like animals.

As another wave of pleasure crested and subsided, Owen dimly realized Nick hadn’t yet come. But the undulating sensations, hovering between pain and pleasure, were overwhelming. Owen squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to endure it.

“Owen.”

Nick’s voice, strained with the same pleasure-pain Owen was experiencing, reached him.

“Let me…”

Owen forced his eyes open.

“Please, Owen. Inside you… let me…”

Nick pleaded, his voice laced with anguish. Owen didn’t need to ask what he wanted; Nick was asking for permission to knot.

Unable to speak, Owen released more pheromones in response.

The knotting happened quickly. He felt the tip of Nick’s penis, buried deep inside him, swell. The familiar pressure, stretching him to his limit, brought a surge of pain that briefly overshadowed the pleasure.

But even that fleeting pain quickly subsided.

“…!”

That strange sensation returned. Had he imagined it during the heat of his cycle?

“Nick…? Nick.”

He called out in surprise, but there was no response. It wasn’t just silence; it felt as if all sound had been extinguished. Nick was completely absorbed in the knot, utterly silent.

“Hngh!”

He’d definitely felt movement. A tingling deep inside made Owen curl his hips. Or try to. Nick’s hand, firm on his waist, held him immobile. All he could manage was a slight twitching of his legs against the bed.

During knotting, there should be no movement. You simply stayed connected while ejaculating. Moving could injure the inner walls, so even without being told, you instinctively stayed still. That was why Nick’s hand was gripping Owen’s waist, preventing him from moving. Nick’s knees, pressed against the bed, didn’t shift. No one was moving, yet he felt movement inside him.

“Ni…ck…! Strange…”

His jaw trembled, and his words slurred. Saliva dripped down his chin. This was strange. And incredibly… good.

Something was exploring his pleasure points, one by one, replacing the immobile shaft. Rubbing, licking, sucking…

“Hngh! Hng…”

It didn’t matter anymore. As long as it didn’t stop. Whatever it was!

An overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over him, blanking his mind.

“Hng… Hng…”

As his struggles subsided, Nick released his grip on his waist and slowly lay down against his back. Owen heard Nick calling his name from somewhere far away, but he was too spent to reply.

As if checking his release, Nick reached down and touched Owen’s abdomen.

❊

Instead of taking the offered glass of water, Owen stared at Nick’s fingers. They hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he felt the need to blame some part of Nick’s body.

They’d both lost their minds for a moment, crossing a line humans weren’t meant to cross…

“Can you get up? Shall we shower together?”

Nick’s lips moved. Afraid of where his gaze might wander, Owen quickly took the glass.

Nick seemed even more cheerful than usual.

“No. I’ll just… I need to wake up properly first.”

“Shall I bring you coffee?”

“It’s fine. You go ahead and shower.”

Nick readily disappeared into the bathroom. Owen watched him go, dazed, then sat up. He leaned against the headboard, looking around the room.

There were no stray pillows or blankets on the floor. He remembered cushions falling, but the room looked as if they’d simply slept peacefully. That diligent man had probably tidied up the trail of clothes they’d left on the stairs as well.

He’d only been sitting there for a moment, yet he already heard Nick leaving the bathroom. Owen carefully swung his legs out of bed.

Considering what had happened to his body last night, he felt remarkably well. Light, even. Although he hadn’t tried to move yet. If Nick felt the same, Owen understood his cheerful demeanor.

It seemed they both lost control whenever their pheromones mingled, which was dangerous. Even more dangerous was the fact that Owen couldn’t remember how much of his pheromones he’d released last night. But for now, he felt good. Nick seemed fine too.

Before he could stop himself, Owen’s gaze drifted to Nick’s waist.

“Hmm. Owen, are you staring to see how long it takes me to get fully erect? It won’t be long, but shall we time it?”

Nick, noticing his gaze, flashed a playful smile. Despite his teasing tone, the towel around his waist bulged slightly.

Owen should deny it, shake his head, and get up. He wasn’t trying to provoke morning sex. He wouldn’t normally do this. He’d never stared so intently at a partner’s, or even his ex-fiancé’s, arousal.

But he wanted to confirm. Even if he did confirm it with his own eyes, he’d still need to think carefully before consulting Dr. O’Reilly.

If he said, ‘I think he has an extra tongue,’ Dr. O’Reilly would seriously recommend psychiatric counseling. The thought made his stomach clench with a familiar heat.

When Owen remained silent, Nick, as if showing off, removed the towel and tossed it into the hamper. He had reason to be confident. It really didn’t take long.

He’d been mistaken.

Owen shook his head and looked away.

There was nothing unusual about Nick’s penis. It was the same as any other man’s, just… perhaps a bit more aesthetically pleasing.

“Owen?”

Nick called his name, seemingly puzzled by Owen’s silence and averted gaze.

“Just… a moment. I’ll shower too.”

He could feel Nick’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t voice the thoughts swirling in his mind. He couldn’t say, ‘I could have sworn your penis was shaped differently.’

❊

“Is this true?”

Nick’s voice was even as he handed Owen his phone. Owen took it, but didn’t immediately look at the screen.

The aroma of the coffee Nick had just poured was too enticing. He took a slow sip, closing his eyes for a moment to savor all the pleasant scents on the table.

His quality of life had improved since Nick arrived. He pondered the inexplicable mystery of why Nick’s coffee tasted better than his own, even though they used the same machine, then slowly opened his eyes.

“What is?”

After fully enjoying the lingering taste of the coffee, Owen focused on the screen in his hand.

“Rose Family in a Pink Romance! Is Owen Rose Close to Marriage?

Rose Chairman Attends Charity Event with Partner Last Night

First time appearing with a partner at an official event since broken engagement”

The bold headline was predictable. They had attended the event to make their relationship public, so it wasn’t surprising.

“Chairman Rose quickly left the venue after being photographed.

The man in the photo has been identified as a member of Rose Pharmaceuticals’ board of directors.

When asked about the relationship, the Chairman responded only with a smile”

“What?!”

Owen finally realized something was wrong.

These idiotic reporters had used the wrong photo. A spectacularly wrong photo.

Instead of Nick, the photo showed Montague’s sly face, looking at Owen. The photographer had displayed remarkable talent, capturing a scene that implied a connection.

In the photo, Owen was turning back as he walked towards the car. He had turned; Montague had called out to him. He hadn’t fully turned around, not wanting to engage, but the photo made him look wistful, as if he couldn’t bear to leave. Because the photographer had taken the picture from a lower angle, Owen’s expression was hidden.

That expression should have been visible!

It had been a cold, distant expression. That was how people often described him: icy eyes. But his characteristic expression was hidden, while the young director’s expression was perfectly captured.

If they’d observed the situation for just a few more seconds, or if they’d asked a few more people about his companion that night, they would have known it was Nick.

But fact-checking wasn’t a priority for this kind of article. They hid behind question marks and speculation, avoiding lawsuits while maximizing clicks. They minimized potentially liable statements, relying on suggestive photos to let readers create their own narratives.

And, annoyingly, Montague’s gestures and expression had enhanced the narrative. The sly fox had clearly posed for the paparazzi. According to the article, he’d even given ambiguous answers to the reporters afterward, practically advertising his intentions.

There was no need to read further. Owen lowered the phone. Nick was still standing across from him, waiting for his response.

“Nick. This isn’t true.”

Nick’s eyes, lifting his coffee cup, asked, “Really?”

“You were the one who went with me last night. This is someone from the company. The only truth in this ridiculous article is that he’s a company director.”

“Is that… really the only truth?”

Nick’s smile vanished.

Owen mouthed, “Yes,” and nodded.

Nick carefully set down his coffee cup. He turned the phone back on, displaying the article again.

“Is this also not true?”

“‘First time appearing with a partner at an official event since broken engagement.’”

Nick’s finger pointed to that sentence.

Owen didn’t bring partners to official events. Even though formal invitations always included a plus-one, designated as SO.

SO—Significant Other—usually meant a romantic partner. The vague wording allowed for broader interpretations.

It meant you could bring a lover, even if you had a legal spouse. It didn’t matter if you were married or single, or if your partner was the same or opposite sex. It didn’t matter if the relationship was official or not. And no one questioned your choice of partner. They were simply accepted as your partner for that event. While it was rare, even if two married individuals brought separate partners, it wasn’t considered scandalous; it was an unspoken rule.

Even to these events, with their guaranteed acceptance and anonymity, Owen always went alone.