Perfect Omega Chapter 9.3 - The Perfect Omega

{Not at all. In fact, okay, I admit it. We’ve been following Chairman Rose a lot. He’s just so good-looking, isn’t he?}

{Exactly. He could be an actor with no issue at all.}

{It’s unfair that God gave him everything.}

Every time sensational reports surfaced, they were followed by statements implying that the attention stemmed from envy because he seemed to have it all, urging people to be lenient. As if scripted, the next day, online posts would appear, sneering that he didn’t have everything, mocking him as a flawed omega with crude expressions. That was the pattern.

{Exactly. This time, he really does have it all. Pregnancy, marriage, everything.}

But this time was different. Less than a day after the marriage announcement, the number of sensational tabloid follow-ups dropped significantly. The TV show hosts were also noticeably more cautious in their remarks compared to two weeks ago when paparazzi photos were published.

{He’s marrying an in-house director, no less. He’s known for being a hard worker, but this is something else. He’s truly achieved both career and love in the workplace.}

{That day at the Omega Center, he was accompanied by a tall alpha, right?}

{According to the tipster, they initially thought he was a bodyguard, but when they saw him enter the clinic with an arm around his shoulder, they realized, oh, that’s his partner. But folks, this is the point we’re focusing on.}

The host leaned forward. The camera zoomed in on the host’s face before shifting focus to the monitor.

On the monitor, two photos were displayed side by side. Though the backgrounds and attire differed, both showed Nick with an arm around Owen’s shoulder.

{The photo on the left is from last September, during the heliport attack incident, taken as he left the police station after giving a statement. The photo on the right is, well, now famously known.}

{Is it the same person?}

A panelist asked on behalf of the audience.

{Yes, it seems to be the same person. But am I the only one who feels this? Looking at the left photo, doesn’t his demeanor or vibe make him seem like just one of the people escorting Chairman Rose out of the police station?}

{If so, the rumor that he was a former bodyguard might be true. His build suggests it. Above all, look at his posture—it’s different. It’s not something an ordinary person can pull off just by deciding to protect or escort someone.}

{It’d look clumsy if we tried.}

Another panelist nodded in agreement.

{There’s a professional vibe to it. It’s sharp, precise.}

{So, does that mean love blossomed after that, leading to moments like this?}

Referring to “moments like this,” the host pointed specifically to Nick in the bathrobe in the right photo.

{That’s how it looks, doesn’t it? But there’s one more piece of news. Our investigation revealed a significant change in Rose Pharmaceuticals’ shareholder registry recently.}

{What kind of change?}

{Victor Rose, a major shareholder, transferred his shares, and surprisingly, the recipient wasn’t Chairman Owen Rose.}

{Oh, wow, doesn’t that usually trigger issues with defending management control?}

{If that were the case, you’d have heard this on the 8 o’clock news, not our show.}

The TV show host, with a smiling face, clarified that this wasn’t some dull corporate news.

{But isn’t Victor Rose the father of Locke W. Rose, who recently passed away in an unfortunate accident?}

{Correct. According to sources, instead of his late son, he transferred the shares to his nephew-in-law and announced his retirement. For those unaware, let me briefly introduce: Victor Rose’s son, Locke W. Rose, was a young scientist actively publishing papers. He built a research lab on a family-owned island, where he conducted years of research on catalysts and alpha pheromones. Colleagues in the research community expressed regret over the young scientist’s death, saying they had expected more achievements.}

{Was it an accident?}

{Yes, a small fire broke out at the mentioned lab, and an obituary was published in the Manhattan Times shortly before.}

{Was he an only child?}

{Yes.}

{So that’s why they’re saying the marriage partner is an in-house director. Because he received the shares.}

{So the article was accurate.}

{By the way, Victor Rose is impressive. Is this the dignity of the elite?}

{We’ve brought you a lot of Rose-related reports recently, but we’re delighted to share such heartwarming news as well. And though belated, we offer our condolences for the deceased.}

It was far from the truth, but it was a satisfactory wrap-up. Nick picked up the remote and turned off the TV, discreetly embedded like a picture frame in a corner of the bedroom.

“I told the legal team to ensure your personal information doesn’t leak. But your face is already out there… what can we do?”

“It’s fine. I wear a mask or camouflage cream when I work, so it won’t interfere.”

Besides, the police station photo was overexposed by flash, recognizable only to those who knew Nick, and the second photo, with a beard and bold attire, drew more attention to his body than his face, so few would recognize him in passing. Even if they did, it didn’t matter.

But Owen, still uneasy despite Nick’s reassurances, remained visibly troubled.

“Is there something else worrying you?”

“…I feel sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything related to Locke. I feel like I’ve dumped it all on you.”

The article about Locke’s death was a small obituary notice, nothing more. That surprised Nick a bit.

He’d expected Victor to spend money on an elaborate eulogy, framing Locke as a genius cut down too soon. But Victor didn’t even hold a proper funeral. According to an outraged Catherine, the funeral was outsourced, and neither Victor nor Sarah attended. The stated excuse was that Sarah had collapsed from shock and needed care.

“But it doesn’t make sense that Uncle Victor would give up his shares. He’s not that kind of person. Nick, what did you do? No, if you can’t explain, that’s fine. But… are you really okay?”

“Maybe Victor had some shred of pride. What Locke did was probably beyond what even he could tolerate. That’s how I see it.”

It seemed Victor lacked the decency to hold a proper public funeral. That was Nick’s take.

“Nick, if any problems arise, you have to tell me.”

“Of course. I will. But everything’s been settled, no issues.”

“…To Aunt Sarah, Locke wasn’t just a son.”

“If she were going to come after us in anger, she’d have done it by now. She probably already knew there was something wrong with her son. Even if she didn’t know everything, she suspected. Once she’s processed the shock, she’ll show up again. Let her be. Survivors find ways to claim mental victories and move on.”

“…Suddenly, I’m worried about whether I’ll be a good parent.”

A sigh escaped Owen as he headed toward the dressing room.

The conversation was veering in an odd direction. Nick quickly put up a firewall.

“I’ll be the one raising them anyway, so what’s there to worry about? All you need to do during your pregnancy is focus on staying relaxed. Trust me. I’m even one of the best in education. Ask any of our company staff.”

“…I think that kind of education is different, but I’ll trust you.”

Thankfully, Owen turned back with a smile.

“….”

“What?”

Owen stopped mid-step toward the dressing room, noticing Nick’s sudden silence.

Lately, looking at Owen’s face felt strange. Sometimes, it even seemed like his face had changed, as the TV show had claimed. His features hadn’t altered, but… in terms of color, it was as if he’d grown richer, more vibrant.

“I’m attending the board meeting today.”

Nick made the abrupt decision, staring at Owen’s back as he shed his robe.

“…That’s fine, but you didn’t mention anything about it until yesterday.”

The robe Owen was removing paused at his waist. Suppressing the urge to lock him in the room, Nick approached.

“Of course, I’ll support you, Owen. I’m not going to meddle, so don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

“…!”

Owen flashed another vibrant smile.

Before Owen could fully reach for the wardrobe, Nick turned him around. Impulsively, he pulled Owen close and kissed him. Owen let out a small surprised sound but soon reciprocated.

“Lately, it feels like your scent is rising from every part of you. I can’t stand it.”

Nick offered an excuse for his impulsive act while their lips were still pressed together. It wasn’t just the scent.

Owen’s lips—those lips that made Nick’s pants uncomfortable every time he smiled. The elegant reach of his fingertips, his still-slender waist. And… the scent emanating from every part of Owen. This maddeningly sensual scent!

Even last night, Nick had knelt between Owen’s legs, begging to be drenched in just a bit more of his scent.

He didn’t know why a pregnant omega emitted a scent that aroused an alpha, but Owen had become irresistibly provocative lately.

Unable to resist, Nick’s hand was already grazing Owen’s side. He thought one touch would suffice, but as always, it never went according to plan.

The night before last was the same. Owen’s skin was softer than silk, and Nick had lifted Owen’s silk pajamas, delving into his flesh. He caressed the smooth skin from Owen’s stomach to his chest until his hands felt worn. When Nick marveled at how it was possible, Owen had retorted, somewhat hurt, that Nick was just lost in the throes of love. Owen was perfect, yet he sometimes said such hurtful things.

As if to prove it wasn’t a sensory illusion, Nick traced Owen’s scent down his long neck, moving lower. Just as he was about to take a prominent pink nipple into his mouth, Owen grabbed Nick’s head.

“Can I get dressed now? Have you seen enough, Nick?”

Owen’s breathing was ragged. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Nick found it adorable that he tried to speak calmly despite this, so he ignored the tug on his hair and took the nipple into his mouth.

“Ha… ah.”

Owen bit his lower lip. Nick, locking eyes with Owen, rolled the now-plump nipple with his tongue.

“I’ll dress you. We should practice now. It’ll get harder to dress yourself later.”

The plump bud, released from his mouth, glistened with moisture.

“The color’s changed.”

“….”

Instead of answering, Owen, with flushed cheeks, reached for a shirt.

“It’s best I accompany you from the commute today.”

Nick grabbed the shirt first, slipping it onto Owen’s arms.

“I have no idea how this connects.”

Though Owen spoke calmly, he kept his head lowered, still embarrassed. Nick helped Owen’s fumbling hands, buttoning the shirt one by one. He tucked it tightly into Owen’s pants, ensuring no scent could escape.

“There’s no connection. Your nipples are pretty, and as a board member, I’m attending the meeting.”

The real reason was more primal, but there was no need for a pregnant omega to know their alpha sometimes felt irrational anxiety. Nick just needed to check for any bugs sniffing around his omega. Thanks to Nick’s well-hidden expression, only Owen’s cheeks flushed.

ꕥ

A man with a build similar to Nick’s moved first. Only after he stepped aside did Nick accept that the structure behind him was an actual entrance.

The two thick wooden panels, complete with handles, were clearly doors but also seemed designed to deny entry.

The man opening the door was in a suit, but his chest protruded awkwardly. That’s how it looks when wearing a holster underneath. He wasn’t just there to open and close doors.

A gatekeeper. The medieval-style entrance was grand, and the man stationed there served a similarly archaic purpose.

The man stared at Nick’s face with an intensity that suggested he’d memorize everyone who passed through.

Unfazed by the man’s sharp gaze, Nick gave a brief nod in greeting and brushed past, stepping inside. Beyond the medieval doors, another door appeared, this one more familiar in design.

“Mr. Stockton?”

The moment Nick passed through a modern locked door, an employee approached. The tone rose at the end, but it was clear the employee was certain the newcomer was Stockton.

Nick nodded once more.

“They’re waiting. This way.”

Following the employee, Nick entered a room decorated to resemble a grand study. Several tables were spaced far apart, with people seated at them whispering to each other. Catherine sat in a corner by the wall.

“Sit. No trouble getting in, I hope?”

“So it’s a private club.”

The entrance had no sign. The first door and gatekeeper were only visible after descending to the basement. The employee calling his name and Catherine’s words all pointed to one conclusion. Instead of answering directly, Catherine raised her coffee cup and shrugged.

“An alpha-omega exclusive private club.”

Judging by the emotion in her tone, Catherine didn’t seem to like it.

Nick had heard of alpha-omega exclusive clubs.

The excuse was plausible: a facility where pheromones could be freely released in case of emergencies. But that was from a time when suppressants were less effective. Nowadays, going to a hospital in an emergency was common sense. As a result, the original purpose faded, and the few remaining alpha-omega clubs operated as exclusive social clubs.

“I thought they were relics lost to history since I’d never seen one. But seeing this entrance, I understand why I hadn’t.”

Unless you knew, you wouldn’t even realize it was an entrance. And judging by the gatekeeper’s demeanor, he didn’t seem likely to entertain curious tourists asking, “What’s this place?” with a smile.

“People living diligently don’t need to know about places like this. Coming to a mere club the moment you wake up?”

“If they’re coming first thing in the morning, there must be something interesting here.”

“That’s the pathetic part—half their purpose is to snoop around for something interesting. Sipping liquor from noon and gossiping.”

Catherine sighed as she spoke. Come to think of it, some people were holding brandy glasses.

“Should I be grateful they’re not lighting cigars in this enclosed space?”

“Cigars?”

Nick’s clients, though not representative of all elites, shared traits. They were obsessively neurotic about health. Smoking seemed like an unexpected detail.

“It’s about looking cool. They’re nostalgic for the era when aristocrats were revered, when discrimination was taken for granted. Men’s clubs must’ve seemed glamorous. Rich, idle alphas decided to carry it on under the name of tradition, or so they say. …People get like that when life’s boring. You don’t have to understand.”

“Not all rich alphas are like this, are they?”

Nick, for one, didn’t do this.

“Our board wasn’t always like this either. They only started frequenting this club in the last few years.”

“Makes me curious what happened.”

“One factor was Victor holding a few meetings here, opening the floodgates. Otherwise, would the young ones even know about this place?”

Nick nodded, understanding.

“What’s the other factor?”

“In recent years, the board has shifted to a younger generation. They started flocking together.”

Nick had read an article stating that the average age of bio-pharmaceutical executives had dropped, with most now in their 30s as of last year.

“Well… young blood, innovation, quick decisions. All good. But dig deeper, and it’s mostly just them inheriting their parents’ positions after retirement. Sure, they went through steps like outside director, executive, or major shareholder, but those are just formalities. Few actually work. Think about it. Their social status suddenly rises. They have money. But they have no real work. They don’t want headaches, and they have nowhere to go. They dress up and end up here. In their teens, they groveled to stay in their fathers’ good graces, but once they inherit, most turn into complete wastrels.”

“…What about Victor?”

“He tapped into their desire for an inner circle. That’s how I see it. Many would’ve just pretended to work, but Victor stirred the pot. Now that he’s retiring, things should return to normal.”

Her heavy sigh suggested a pessimistic outlook.

“It’s easy to fall into bad habits, hard to climb out. For Owen’s sake, I should’ve stayed in that boardroom. It’s been a while since I came here. The air feels bad.”

She seemed to be referring to the pheromone pressure Owen endured from alphas.

“….”

Nick couldn’t say he understood or question why she didn’t step up, so he stayed silent.

“It’s infuriating. If they were teens, I’d smack them on the back of the head to knock some sense into them. But they’re all grown adults with thick waists, so what can you do?”

Then Catherine suddenly got busy, grabbing the bag beside her.

“Do you know what’s bad about having a sense of entitlement?”

“No idea.”

Nick watched Catherine pull out a pill bottle, answering vaguely.

“You lose shame. You don’t know embarrassment.”

She swallowed a suppressant.

“Taking it in advance. To dull my senses.”

Catherine sipped water, explaining her unusual action.

“….”

Owen’s slight hurt over feeling special wasn’t fair; Catherine was protecting Owen in her own way. It was time to change the subject.

“You don’t seem to like this place, so why did you ask me to come?”

“To introduce you.”

“To this place, for me?”

“Yes, you. Here.”

Catherine set the bag back down. As she adjusted her clothing, Nick quietly waited for her next words.

“You received shares from Victor, right? You’ll soon be appointed a director. Owen doesn’t come to places like this, and I doubt he’d bring you here. A lot of whispering happens before meetings, so you need to know what’s going on.”

It was a bit touching. Nick had wondered if she saw him as just a guy running a small security firm turned Rose’s consort, even considering showing his asset list. But she’d called him here to prevent him from being sidelined. Owen’s comment about being close to Aunt Catherine came to mind, warming his heart.

“Thank you.”

“If you’re thankful, you shouldn’t have let me find out about the marriage through an article. What was the rush that you skipped the ceremony and just registered?”

Before Nick could savor the moment, Catherine counterattacked.

“It just felt like the funeral and wedding were too close, so we delayed a bit.”

The marriage announcement finally reduced media attention. Neither wanted to reignite it. They agreed on this, though officially, they cited Locke’s funeral.

“My family, and it’s so hard to see them. Owen’s schedule is packed, so what can I do? I’ll settle for seeing my nephew-in-law.”

“Thank you for calling me. I was just wondering what to do before the board meeting.”

There was a plan. Nick had intended to explore the company where Owen spent so much time and stick close to him, but since he was summoned, he responded that way.

“You can spend your time answering my questions. How is it that lately, all the news about our family comes through articles?”

Oh no. This could lead to uncomfortable questions.

“He doesn’t even pick up the phone. Victor, I mean. I barely got through, and it was so brief!”

Fortunately, it seemed to be heading toward venting rather than questioning.

“Sarah’s still out of her mind, apparently, and she’s going to Europe for a while. Even so, that’s too much. How could they hold a funeral without family?”

“They must have been in great shock.”

Nick chose his words carefully.

Saying Victor seemed shocked was both appropriate and true. After all, the obituary didn’t come out right after the accident but much later.

Since there wasn’t even a body to prepare, there was no rush to hold a funeral. Still, most people would hurry. Unless there was a reason to delay.

Victor probably needed time. Once the obituary was published, he’d face a flood of attention, condolences, and curiosity, requiring appropriate reactions. If he didn’t want to stir rumors, he’d need to act like a grieving family member. Judging by the timing and manner of the obituary, it seemed he was never fully prepared.

“Did you talk to Victor?”

“….”

It was an awkward topic, hard to say yes or no to. Nick lifted the coffee cup in front of him to his lips.

“How on earth did you get him to transfer the shares? He’s not that kind of person.”

Thankfully, Catherine didn’t seem to notice Nick dodging the question.

“Owen said the same thing. But as the old saying goes, family knows the least, doesn’t it? I hope this doesn’t sound offensive, Catherine. What I mean is, Victor might have been a bit more… family-oriented than the family thought.”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she studied Nick’s face. It was a look of suspicion.

“I don’t want to sound like an old fogey, but don’t underestimate age. That might’ve worked on Owen, but not on me. There’s definitely something going on.”

Nick’s expression didn’t waver. A lie like this was nothing. He could handle tougher grilling, but just then, someone approached Catherine.

A man stood slouched with his hands in his pockets, clearly an alpha.

“Catherine, I heard you were here, but I didn’t believe it. You’re really here. What’s the occasion?”

Despite his posture, the man acted overly delighted.

“I’m a director too, so people shouldn’t forget that. I need to check in once in a while.”

“Of course. It’s our company. You’ve got to show interest. But… could this be the man of the rumors?”

After the briefest exchange of courtesies, the man immediately turned his gaze to Nick.

“Nick Stockton.”

Nick didn’t particularly want to engage, but he stood and introduced himself.

“That’s right? Mr. Stockton. I’m Brown.”

The man’s hand was unpleasantly soft and clammy.

“All our directors are gathered over there. Why don’t you join us, Catherine?”

The man, introducing himself as Brown, suggested moving and asked for Catherine’s opinion.

“Moving gets tiresome with age. Nick, it seems they’re curious about your face, not mine.”

“Then I’ll show them. I’ll be right back.”

Catherine gave a barely perceptible nod and picked up her teacup again.

ꕥ

Catherine was right. Following Brown, Nick entered a room filled with impeccably dressed men.

The room, styled like an antique study, was occupied only by what seemed to be Rose Pharmaceuticals executives. The walls were lined with hardcover books to mimic a library, but naturally, no one was reading—not even electronic documents. Each held a brandy glass, chatting idly.

The low hum of conversation dropped sharply the moment Nick entered. They lowered their voices and stole glances discreetly.

Owen dressed up every morning, but these men took it to another level. From head to toe. Dressed like that, they should be at a grander venue, yet here they were in an underground club.

Feeling their grooming time was wasted, Nick went through introductions one by one, exchanging greetings.

“So you’re the guy. The alpha who finally won Chairman Rose?”

“Share the secret. What trick did you use? I’m dying to know. Since the marriage article’s out, I’ll say it, but even in this room, a few others tried. All failed, of course.”

“What do you gift to win over that cold chairman’s heart?”

“Submission, perhaps?”

“….”

They’d been mocking Owen earlier, and now they turned to Nick. Realizing they’d gone too far, the lively atmosphere fizzled like it had been doused with water.

“Brandy?”

A man rising to refill his glass asked Nick if he wanted a drink.

“I don’t drink before sundown.”

“Oh. I see.”

The man exaggerated his tone, packing condescension into a single “oh.” Having made the rounds of introductions, the man who brought Nick urged him to sit.

“Owen Rose is something else. So picky, I wondered if there was even an alpha to his taste, but he actually found one.”

The man’s movements, placing ice cubes in his glass with tongs, were agonizingly slow.

“No matter how eager, I didn’t think there’d be an alpha willing to give up their identity.”

Finally, the torturous “filling glass with ice” mission ended. The man dropped the tongs and sipped his ice-filled drink.

“Really impressive. I’m starting to respect our chairman.”

Low chuckles came from a couple of spots.

“On the surface… what was your name? Oh, Stockton. You look like a dominant alpha.”

He blatantly scanned Nick up and down.

“Keeping an eye on even the security guards at his company, then turning one into Cinderella at just the right time for a marriage and pregnancy announcement! All those endless rumors, shut down with one blow. With that kind of audacity, Owen Rose is practically an alpha.”

The man casually made risky remarks while returning to his seat.

No one added to his words, but a few chuckled softly, signaling agreement. Judging by the man’s confident demeanor and the sycophantic laughter, he was likely the central figure of this useless group.

“Oh, did that offend you, Mr. Stockton? I heard you’re from a security company.”

“I run a private security firm.”

Nick didn’t bother explaining that it was a softened term for a private military company, keeping his answer brief.

“A security company? Like standing guard?”

“Not quite. I don’t know the details, but I heard you do… mercenary work. Right, Mr. Stockton?”

The oldest-looking man in the room spoke, pretending ignorance despite clearly having done his research.

“Well, then, you must’ve really used your body to win our chairman. You didn’t scare him into getting pregnant, did you?”

The man who chimed in with a joking tone had a sleazy smile.

Nick responded to the series of mocking questions with only a broad grin. Two sharp-witted alphas flinched at his smile, but unfortunately, the brazen ones were often oblivious, failing to grasp what Nick’s grin meant.

“Just curious, Mr. Stockton. Do you really wield a knife and see blood? Have you ever killed? What’s it like to take a life? We hunt too… it’s probably similar, right?”

If they truly believed Nick had killed, they wouldn’t provoke him like this. Sadly, their danger sensors, dulled by comfortable lives, seemed completely atrophied.

“Still, with all the eyes on you now, don’t show off just because you’re pregnant.”

He was likely referring to the now-infamous photo. Laughter erupted around the room.

“Even betas call us alphas beasts, regressive. Of course, it’s just jealousy. Do you think we act civilized because we don’t want to flaunt our alpha traits? We just don’t want to be called savage animals, right, everyone?”

Soft murmurs of agreement—yes, right—echoed.

“Honestly, every man has a fantasy about sweating and building muscle.”

The speaker wore a tailored Italian suit. With his lean frame, he’d likely deliberately avoided building muscle to fit the style.

“By the way, why are you here today?”

The man presumed to be the group’s leader interjected with a provocative tone.

“You heard there’s a board meeting? Surely you’re not aiming for an executive seat? I get the Cinderella vibe, but… come on. This is Rose Bio-Pharma. Industry leader.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Mr. Stockton. That’s the trend now. Even appointing a new director requires someone with expertise to pass at the general meeting, or you face backlash from small shareholders. It’s noisy. Running a security company… hmm, can we call that a profession?”

“Enough, enough. We invited him to get acquainted, so give me some face.”

Only after letting Nick hear their full agenda did Brown pretend to intervene.

“Don’t take it too personally, Mr. Stockton. We may look idle now, but once we’re in the boardroom, we have fierce discussions. That’s corporate management.”

Brown offered a glass of cold water, as if to calm things. Nick took it without comment and set it on the nearby table.

“I don’t know what Victor was thinking, pulling this without discussing it with us. Think carefully, Mr. Stockton. Rose, I’ll admit, is good at his job. Great reputation. Stock prices are holding well, and that’s fine. We’re all satisfied. But he’s too authoritarian. He needs to listen to us.”

“Exactly.”

Despite Nick’s imposing physique, he listened silently without rebuttal, emboldening the executives. They seemed to think they’d overwhelmed him with numbers—a typical reaction, understandable.

Nick confirmed they’d all had their say.

“Victor asked me to pass on a message.”

No preamble, no clearing of the throat. Nick tossed the sentence into their midst. The low, forceful voice instantly drew all attention.

Nick rose slowly, the same grin from earlier still lingering.

During intensive training at the Mississippi headquarters, Nick evaluates his staff’s capabilities. Cooper once told a rookie, “When the boss grins like that, don’t argue, don’t hesitate—just act.”

“Ugh!”

The oldest-looking executive clutched his head and dropped to his knees. Soon, others grimaced, hands on their heads. A few still unaffected glanced at them, then back at Nick.

“I must be getting old. Lately, I keep thinking today’s alphas aren’t alpha enough. All they do is target someone weaker and suppress them with pheromones. If they did even that properly, I’d give them some credit…”

More groans—ugh!—came from various mouths. Some bent over, struggling to breathe.

Nick scanned the room from where he stood, zeroing in on the alpha who’d irritated him most, the one who’d offered him brandy.

Realizing he was the target, the man’s face went pale. Nick strode over and gripped his throat. Simultaneously, he retracted the threatening pheromones.

The other alphas, though shaken, no longer made pained sounds. Instead, they backed away, leaving Nick and the choked alpha alone in the center, the room clearing like a stage.

“In life, you sometimes meet people who pick fights. You want to ignore them, but some go out of their way to bother you.”

Still gripping the man’s throat, Nick addressed the onlookers.

“Then you have no choice. You show them clearly you’re not here to fight. You help them give up.”

It could be seen as a stage and audience or a drill instructor and trainees.

“There are a few methods. I prefer the one I’m showing you now.”

Nick tightened his grip. The man flailed, arms outstretched, but couldn’t reach Nick.

“You might get swept up in the urge to drag them into the ring and win, but I don’t recommend it. Trading blows makes them think you’re up for a fight. That defeats the purpose, and some might come back for more.”

“….”

“….”

The room fell silent, as if doused with ice water. Nick continued his lesson, as kindly as possible.

“First, you press their throat to calm them, then look them straight in the eyes. If needed, you can use that alpha pheromone you’re so proud of.”

Nick stared into the man’s eyes, speaking slowly.

“When they realize you’re not an opponent, they should lower their gaze. Staring back makes them think it’s a challenge. Then I can’t let go. They need to quickly realize I’m not holding their throat to fight. The throat is just that—the throat. If I don’t release it, they stop breathing.”

He said this but gave the man no chance to surrender. As the air to his brain was cut off longer, the man’s eyes rolled upward, showing only whites before he began to collapse. Seeing him faint, Nick released his throat.

Low murmurs of unrest arose as the man slid limply to the floor.

“Pathetic. He’ll wake up soon.”

Nick briefly pretended to check on him, then turned without hesitation. He headed for a table by the wall.

As Nick approached, one man dropped his brandy glass, but Nick wasn’t aiming for him.

Stopping at the table, Nick faced a tense employee who quickly grasped what the customer wanted, picking up tongs. The uniformed worker handed Nick a warm towel. This employee seemed the boldest in the room. Nick gave a nod of respect for their professionalism, then turned back.

“Where was I? Oh, I was about to deliver Victor’s message.”

Nick meticulously wiped each finger that had touched unpleasant skin, ignoring the expressions on people’s faces.

“Victor said to shut up, drink here, and watch the stock prices rise.”

Victor never said that, but since he helped gather these people, Nick figured he should take responsibility for wrapping it up.

“And to add a few words of my own.”

Nick paused, tossing the towel onto an empty table.

“It’s fine to gather in a place where the sun doesn’t shine, sipping liquor and killing time. Dying that way is a kind of luck. Before the next special board meeting, think carefully about whether you’re about to kick that luck away.”

“Ugh!”

“Argh!!”

Groans erupted around the room. Nick watched until every single one was on their knees before speaking again.

“I don’t know company business. I’ll support Owen unconditionally, but I won’t force you. Express your opinions based on your shares, as is your right. But in the boardroom, using civilized means—words.”

“Stop… stop!”

A young man, still able to speak, raised a vein-bulging forehead, trying to halt Nick.

Nick had plenty of field experience, ongoing even now. He knew exactly how far to push pheromones to intimidate without killing, even without the man’s dramatic pleas.

“Before clumsily releasing pheromones in front of Owen again, I’d think long and hard. Any questions?”

Fearing the torment would drag on, the study-like room fell silent, not even groans remaining. Only heavy silence lingered.

“Good. Then.”

Nick swiftly retracted his pheromones. He pocketed his clean hands and headed for the door. His brisk steps across the room halted when he kicked a brandy glass. Nick glanced down and let out a short sigh.

“Do some exercise. Can’t even hold a glass and call yourselves alphas.”

“Nick?”

After a brief knock, the door opened without waiting. Everyone in the room turned to look. Catherine appeared in the half-open doorway.

“It’s time. Aren’t you all going?”

Catherine twisted her slender wrist, pretending to check the time.

“No, we just finished talking. Let’s go.”

Nick walked to the door, turning Catherine around.

Without checking if the others followed, he closed the door behind him.

Following the manager who’d called his name, Nick passed the modern door and the medieval-style gate with the gatekeeper in one go.

Catherine walked silently ahead until they climbed the steps to street level.

It was a walkable distance from the private club to Rose Pharmaceuticals, and Catherine continued guiding without words.

“What happened in there that they looked at me like I was their savior?”

After walking silently for a while, Catherine spoke, as if resolved.

“I don’t recall looking at you that way.”

“Right, everyone but you. They looked at me like a savior. That means you did something. What was it?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean. They were curious about my work, so I gave a demonstration.”

“….”

Catherine stopped and turned around. Her suspicious eyes narrowed to slits.

“I overheard something when I came in.”

Oh no. She must’ve caught the final scene.

“I’m not good at sugarcoating. You know that. Seeing them drop a glass and struggle, I suggested they exercise… It was unnecessary nagging.”

Nick shrugged as if it was no big deal. Since he relayed the truth, his expression might even seem innocent.

“Pfft.”

“…!”

Nick’s steps halted.

An unexpected sound came from Catherine. As full-on giggles followed, Nick’s eyebrows shot up despite his attempt to play it cool.

“Catherine…?”

“Nice. I like it. Owen needed a slightly rude alpha by his side.”

Then, as if she had never let out such a light laugh, Catherine composed her expression and began walking again.

“….”

Nick didn’t know how much she had pieced together, but since their conclusions aligned, that was enough.

ꕥ

“Catherine, you go in first.”

At the entrance to the executive meeting room, Nick let Catherine enter ahead of him.

There was no need to heighten his senses. What stopped Nick in his tracks was a foul smell. It was the pheromone scent of some alpha that had clung to Owen’s body one night.

Following the faint trace left by the odor, Nick turned down the hallway.

The source of the offensive smell, fittingly, was the restroom.

“….”

Instead of entering immediately, Nick stood at the entrance, scanning the situation inside. There was only one person present.

Nick glanced back at the hallway he had just come from. No one was passing by. Well, this was the floor with the executive meeting room, so there wouldn’t likely be many people coming and going. Alright. The situation wasn’t bad, Nick thought, as he took a step into the restroom.

The man was vigorously spraying deodorizer. Alone in the restroom, focused on erasing traces, it was possible he had just come from causing trouble elsewhere. That might explain why he wasn’t at the private club earlier. The man, seemingly in high spirits, even began humming a tune.

He was a young director from the Montague family. As it happened, the hotel they had stayed at that day was owned by him. Nick hadn’t been looking for him, but you always end up meeting the people you’re meant to.

Nick checked the time remaining before the meeting started. It wouldn’t take long anyway. An attack using pheromones typically left no trace. Moreover, since no known cases of pheromone pressure causing death existed, no one would suspect it.

Nick was certain, having already tested it on Locke. Since no marks of physical assault would remain, it would likely be written off as a sudden death due to an underlying condition.

Nick mentally reviewed the positions of the security cameras along his route here.

Even if Catherine’s silence was handled separately, the security camera at the hallway’s turn had clearly captured Nick heading toward the restroom. While no direct evidence would link Nick to Montague’s cause of death, he would inevitably become a suspect at least once.

Nick furrowed his brow briefly and pulled out his phone.

—Nick, where are you?

Owen’s voice was bright as he answered the call.

“Owen, I’ll make sure no trace of me is left.”

—What?

“If I promise no one will know and not a drop of blood will stain Rose’s building, can I kill just one person right now?”

—What? Nick, what did you just say?!

Despite Owen’s perfect hearing, he demanded Nick repeat himself several times.

“There’s someone I need to settle things with, and I happened to run into him in your building, so I’m asking for permission.”

—Nick, where are you right now?

Owen’s tone turned serious.

“Don’t get worked up, Owen. Don’t forget you’re in a sensitive period.”

A brief, incredulous laugh escaped Owen’s lips.

—Don’t do anything. I’m coming. Where are you?

“I’ll head in for the meeting soon. No need to go out of your way. But really, is it absolutely not okay, Owen?”

—Is that even a question I need to answer?

Owen’s voice grew sterner.

—No.

His response was firm. And he repeated it once more.

—Nick, no. And come to the meeting room right now.

He didn’t even give Nick a chance to reply. Owen hung up without waiting for confirmation.

“….”

Nick stood there for a moment, staring at the disconnected phone. Then, shaking his head, he slipped it back into his pocket. His plan was thwarted, yet he didn’t feel bad. It even seemed like the corners of his mouth were curling into a smile.

Strangely, when Owen gave orders in that tone, it made Nick feel good. Even as the sound of Montague’s footsteps approached, having finished his lengthy grooming in the restroom, Nick didn’t feel particularly angry.

“Oh, you startled me. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

Since Nick didn’t step aside, Montague stopped just before colliding with him.

With a beaming smile, instead of bypassing Nick, who was blocking the way, Montague stood there, studying Nick’s face. Nick had intended to let it slide, but this was the type to hasten his own downfall.

“There’s no one inside. You can go in, but… Oh! I thought I recognized you.”

Nick was glaring, but Montague, as if oblivious to the concept of reading the room, extended a hand for a handshake.

Should he just act and beg forgiveness later?

Staring at the pale palm, Nick briefly considered it.

“Montague?”

He ignored the outstretched hand. To avoid grabbing the wrong person, Nick decided to confirm his identity first.

“Yes, well, that’s me. Oh… is there some misunderstanding? Are you reacting this way because of that article about me and Chairman Rose? That was a total misunderstanding.”

Withdrawing his hand awkwardly, Montague chuckled. Even without prior information, Nick would’ve known it was him. Instinctively, he disliked him.

But today, it wasn’t allowed. Wings had been granted, but he was told not to fly today. By his omega, the merciful chairman.

“Keep smiling, Mr. Montague. You seem lucky enough to get away with anything today.”

“…Me?”

Confused by the comment but pleased by the mention of luck, Montague chuckled again.

Nick didn’t have the stomach to repeat himself and stood with his arms crossed.

“Come on, you’re the Cinderella who married Chairman Rose. That’s just modesty. I think we’ll see each other often, so I hope for your cooperation. Go take care of your business.”

Montague pointed toward the restroom once more before heading to the meeting room. Spotting someone he knew, he flashed another wide, insincere smile at the entrance before disappearing.

Nick sighed and pulled out his phone again.

—Yes, boss. How long has it been? Have you abandoned us?

Nick wasn’t in the mood to humor the playful greeting. He got straight to the point.

“Zenith Hotel.”

—You mean the one we stayed at?

John, familiar with the routine, switched to work mode immediately.

“Yeah. Dig into the owner’s personal life.”

It was probably going to be messy.

—Using the company’s talent for personal errands like this—

“Send the bill to me.”

—Got it. No problem. What kind of information do you want?

“Something… deeply shameful. The kind so embarrassing even family would turn away.”

—Hmm… that’s tough. In a world where even murderers return after a few years, is there a scandal that could ruin someone in one shot? If there was, wouldn’t it have surfaced already?

“It’s fine. If they come back, we send them away again.”

Even better. It might be more effective to let people forget, then hit them with a new scandal each time, stacking them up.

—Aha. Understood.

It was probably right up John’s alley as a side project. His voice already sounded gleeful.

“Before that, file an official complaint with the city’s facilities management department about the hotel’s poor maintenance.”

—Was it that bad? None of the other staff mentioned anything.

“Owen got stuck in their elevator, remember?”

Thinking about it made Nick angry again.

—…Boss, we were the ones who locked it and cut the power—

Nick knew what John was getting at.

—If their system security was solid, it wouldn’t have been hacked so easily.

—Boss, this is the ultimate case of blaming the victim—

“Pick the most tedious, time-consuming items to report. Send the bill to me for this too.”

Nick recalled a former client whining that once a complaint was filed with the city’s facilities management department, which had zero flexibility, it was better to just sell the building. He’d thought it was mostly exaggeration at the time, but now he’d find out how bad it really was.

—Alright…

John, sounding like he had more to say, let his voice trail off as he hung up.

Nick had briefly felt frustrated by not being able to act immediately, but on second thought, finding creative ways to torment someone over time didn’t seem like a bad idea either.

His steps toward the meeting room felt lighter.

ꕥ

Nick took a seat next to Owen. Of the fourteen people around the conference table, some were familiar from earlier, while others were new. It was about half and half. He’d heard there were eighteen total, but Victor had stepped down, and three were absent, including Melissa. By numbers, it didn’t seem too unfavorable for Owen. While observing the people without focusing on the meeting’s content, a conversation about Nick began.

“Why exactly is he here? He’s just a major shareholder, not an executive yet, right?”

The man who spoke pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. He didn’t look well.

“Exactly. He doesn’t have the qualifications to be here.”

The man who chimed in was someone Nick had met at the club earlier. His face was sweaty and shiny too. It wasn’t just them. Everyone from the club was either sweating or showing signs of a headache.

“Labor Welfare Act, Article 12, Section 3.”

“….”

“….”

Nick’s quiet interjection brought a momentary silence to the room. The busy hands wiping sweat all stopped.

“I’m addressing your question about my basis for attending the board meeting.”

After the silence, whispers crossed the table as they asked each other what Article 12 of the Labor Welfare Act was.

“For the stability of a pregnant person, their partner or spouse may accompany them to work for the necessary period.”

Nick’s voice silenced the commotion again.

They’d been noisy about corporate management but lacked basic executive knowledge. Nick had expected as much.

“That… that means, well.”

“I trust you’ve all seen the articles. They say late pregnancies require extra care.”

Owen, seated beside him, raised an eyebrow at the mention of “late pregnancy” and looked at Nick.

“I meant myself, Owen. I’m the old one. A first child at my age.”

“Way past due, if you ask me.”

Catherine, who had only raised her hand to vote during the meeting, chimed in. The topic seemed to amuse her, her voice lively.

“I knew you’d understand, Catherine. I just couldn’t let him come alone. I plan to quietly sit by his side at future board meetings too. It’s the least I can do, and it’s a right guaranteed by the Labor Welfare Act.”

As soon as Nick finished, the complexions of several directors noticeably worsened—specifically, those alphas who had crossed paths with Nick at the club and restroom.

“I’m not particularly aiming for an executive position. I have my own company to run. At Rose Pharmaceuticals, this seat is enough for me. So, no need to get tense.”

It wasn’t tension. From the midpoint of the meeting, some directors’ complexions had started to deteriorate.

Nick could pick out which ones, but Owen couldn’t.

“Nick, whatever you’re doing, stop it right now.”

But it seemed Owen was starting to suspect his alpha’s involvement.

“…I don’t know what you mean.”

Even as he said that, Nick carefully retracted the pheromones he’d been subtly releasing.

He hadn’t planned to go too far anyway. Initially, he’d released them to prevent Owen, pregnant and surrounded by other alphas, from feeling uneasy. But seeing the alphas’ faces react brought back old memories.

“It looks like we should call for adjournment. Brown?”

When Catherine suggested this to Brown, who was facilitating, voices of agreement followed eagerly.

Before the adjournment was even declared, some directors rushed to the restroom, likely to vomit.

“Nick, you… really.”

Watching the scene, Owen turned fully toward Nick. Nick preempted him.

“It’s fine, Owen. I met them briefly at the club before the meeting, and they were drinking heavily.”

Owen’s eyes showed zero belief.

“And even if it’s not a misunderstanding, save your next words. You’ll need them for our future kids.”

“Why are you so sure about that?”

Suspicion flickered in Owen’s eyes.

“Trust me. If they take after me, they won’t be able to help it.”

“They could take after me.”

The anger seemed to fade as Owen leaned back in his chair, responding in a relaxed tone, sounding quite confident.

“Owen, you shouldn’t hope for that. One beautiful being for me to protect in our home is enough—you.”

Nick’s hand instinctively reached for Owen’s cheek as he spoke of innocent wishes.

“And to live comfortably in this harsh world, it’s better in many ways to take after me.”

This time, Owen’s expression said he couldn’t agree but also couldn’t think of a rebuttal.

That look was one Nick had seen often. A few directors still lingering bowed to Owen before leaving the room.

“Must’ve eaten something bad as a group.”

“Seems like it.”

A beta director pointed toward the restroom where the alphas had fled, commenting. Nick responded appropriately. He exchanged brief pleasantries with the remaining directors, who looked perfectly fine.

Excluding a few rogue alphas, the rest seemed decent.

ꕥ

“Mr. Stockton?”

A delivery person with a broad smile handed over a terminal. Signing it almost reflexively, Nick felt a vague sense of unease, but there was no clear cause for suspicion.

Something was off.

With that thought, he stood outside the door. He couldn’t just close it and go inside alone. An anxious feeling swirled at his feet. The urge to chase down the departing delivery van was strong, but he couldn’t pinpoint a reason. The only certainty was that going inside alone felt wrong.

Nick stood firm at the entrance.

After staring at the box the delivery person left for a long time, he finally realized what was wrong.

It was small.

What Nick had seen was definitely larger. That meant the delivery was wrong.

Nick quickly looked up at the road, but the delivery van was already long gone. Jaw clenched, he brought the package inside. He closed the door. Standing in the entrance hall, he tapped the decorative console with his fingers. The sound of marble reverberating filled the empty house for a while before stopping abruptly. Nick went to the kitchen to grab a knife.

It was time to check the box’s contents. He tore into the packaging aggressively. Even if it was a wrong delivery, his name was on the label, so he rummaged through it without hesitation.

“What is this?”

Nick emptied the contents onto the floor. No matter how he looked, it wasn’t what he’d ordered. Quickly analyzing the situation, he set the knife down and reached for his phone.

—Yes, boss.

A cheerful voice greeted Nick.

“Hold on.”

Skipping pleasantries, Nick confirmed the call was answered and switched to video mode.

—What’s that? Oh, you ordered a stroller?

Remarkably, Hugh recognized it as a stroller despite the scattered pieces.

“How did you know it’s a stroller?”

—Why wouldn’t I? I recommended it.

Right. That’s why Nick bought it. When he’d boasted to Owen that he’d handle all the baby preparations, it was because he had reliable sources—Hugh and Frank, an alpha-omega couple in the thick of parenting.

They earned well and were meticulous about getting only top-tier baby products, a memory still vivid. It was their recommendation. They’d said it was a top-three brand.

Equipment should be the best. This was one of the few principles Nick lived by. Skimping on gear meant compensating with your body. In parenting, not fieldwork, that body included not just Nick’s but Owen’s too. Sacrificing precious bodies wasn’t an option, so Nick had told them not to recommend anything less than world-class.

So he placed the order.

“Then why is my stroller disassembled?”

—Oh, it’s supposed to be assembled, boss.

Nick’s brow furrowed fiercely.

“Assembled?”

He wasn’t asking because he didn’t know the word. He repeated it in disbelief, but Hugh began explaining patiently and in detail, as if to a fool.

—As-sem-bly. Put it together, and you get a stroller. There’s a service for assembled delivery, but you must’ve missed it. That’s optional. You probably just ordered the product without selecting options.

“….”

They charged that price and just dumped parts?

Nick had seen all sorts of shady dealings in his industry, but he’d never encountered such deplorable business ethics.

When he placed orders, sales reps visited the company in person. They explained usage and operation thoroughly, checked for questions multiple times, and even offered free trial periods for careful consideration. Post-purchase maintenance might cost extra, but they ensured the initial product was flawless. That was the world Nick lived in.

—Did you get a weather cover, boss? You’ll need it for rain or cold outings.

“….”

Fearing harsher words would slip out, Nick hung up.