Cen Chi’s mind was spinning, but his hands moved swiftly and efficiently as he carried out the pheromone sampling. Chi Zhan, meanwhile, trembled lightly—especially when the needle pierced the back of his neck. The pain shot through him like a blade, sharp and searing.
But anesthetics couldn’t be used during pheromone sampling. They’d contaminate the sample, making it impure and unusable. If that happened, the procedure would have to be repeated.
It wasn’t until Cen Chi’s voice brought him back to his senses—gentle and tinged with concern—that Chi Zhan could focus again.
“Are you alright?”
Cen Chi had performed pheromone sampling on Betas before. Betas typically had a higher pain tolerance, often describing the procedure as no more painful than a mosquito bite. Omegas, however, were more sensitive, making the process more difficult.
But Cen Chi hadn’t expected Chi Zhan to hurt this much.
The black hair on Chi Zhan’s forehead was soaked with cold sweat. His complexion had turned so pale it was nearly translucent, and a faint mist clouded his eyes, like delicate glasswork from ancient times—fragile and exquisite. He barely managed to speak after hearing Cen Chi’s voice.
“Is it over?”
“It’s over. You’re alright now,” Cen Chi reassured him gently. Then, as if remembering something, he stood up and walked over to the table to retrieve something.
Chi Zhan hadn’t expected himself to look so pathetic—he’d nearly cried from the pain. Fortunately, he’d managed to hold it in. He felt as if all the strength had been drained from his body. The moment the sampling ended, his whole being seemed to weaken.
At that moment, a straw was brought to his lips.
“It’s an energy drink to help you recover,” Cen Chi explained. “Betas don’t produce much pheromone, so it’s normal to feel drained after sampling. You need to replenish your energy.”
A warm feeling bloomed in Chi Zhan’s chest. His new roommate was too good—he was like an angel descended from heaven, radiating pure, holy light!
“Thank you so much,” Chi Zhan said, raising a hand to take the drink, but Cen Chi shook his head.
“You’re too weak right now. Let me handle it.”
Chi Zhan froze for a moment.
“No, that’s really too much…”
“In standard procedure, it’s the doctor’s responsibility to provide post-care,” Cen Chi replied with a faint smile, moving the straw closer.
There’s such a rule? Chi Zhan blinked, then slowly bit down on the straw and took a sip.
A sweet and tangy lemon flavor hit his tongue.
He drank a few more sips and was surprised to find bits of fruit pulp. The texture was refreshing—clearly a high-grade energy drink made from fresh lemon juice and energy agents.
“Oh, right,” Cen Chi said casually, watching as Chi Zhan drank, his cheeks puffed up slightly—adorable, really. He even had the urge to poke them, though he held back. “I’ve got a free pass for a treatment pod. It expires this week. Since your injuries haven’t fully healed yet, why don’t you use it?”
Chi Zhan immediately protested, “No, no, I couldn’t possibly—”
“I won’t be using it anyway. It’d just end up wasted. Better you use it than let it go to nothing.”
Chi Zhan was at a loss. Cen Chi had already done so much for him—how could he ever repay him? Maybe he could give him a gift? But what did Cen Chi even like? Invite him to dinner? He didn’t seem all that interested in food either. Their two academies had practically zero overlap; even if Chi Zhan wanted to help him, he couldn’t find a way.
Still, he couldn’t just accept everything so easily.
Noticing Chi Zhan’s conflicted expression, Cen Chi offered at just the right moment, “Didn’t you say you’d treat me to a meal? No time like the present. How about tomorrow?”
Chi Zhan breathed a sigh of relief. So he hadn’t rejected him.
“Then I’ll pick the restaurant. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”
Cen Chi thought for a moment.
“No animal skin or organs. No green peppers, eggplant, white radish, or loofah. No minced meat dishes. No ginger. Also…”
“……”
On second thought, it kind of made sense. Cen Chi was a medical student—being picky might just come with the territory.
After finishing the drink, Chi Zhan lay on the bed, drowsy and about to drift off. Cen Chi was at the side, operating a machine that transformed the gaseous pheromone sample into liquid for lab testing.
Through rounds of filtration and distillation, the originally colorless pheromone gradually turned into a pale blue hue. As it settled into the sealed container, it looked like a sea of shimmering waves—beautiful and serene.
But Cen Chi frowned.
He glanced quickly at the half-asleep Chi Zhan, then placed the sealed container into an opaque box.
This wasn’t normal.
Even when converted to liquid form, Beta pheromones should be colorless and odorless—or, at most, faintly tinted, imperceptible to the naked eye. Only Alpha and Omega pheromones could crystallize into visible colors. The stronger the pheromone, the more vibrant the hue.
But wasn’t Chi Zhan a Beta?
Could he actually be an Omega pretending to be a Beta?
Cen Chi couldn’t begin to guess why he’d do that.
But if that were the case, everything would make sense. His “good gege” at school had an Omega lover disguised as a Beta—and wanted to pull strings to get him into the secretary division. For some reason, their relationship had to remain a secret.
That would explain the misdirection: first making a show of touring the Omega-heavy Etiquette Division, then quietly applying to the Intelligence Division where he really wanted to go. All to throw off suspicion.
After all, as a royal, once your weakness was exposed, you became vulnerable.
Still, Cen Chi had to admit: he and the Crown Prince really were brothers through and through.
Even their taste in people was exactly the same.
So the question now was—should he steal him away?
***
The hovercraft glided soundlessly through the sky and came to a stop outside a bar called “Dusk.”
“Destination reached. Nudity detected aboard. Would you like me to roll down the windows to fulfill your peculiar little kink?”
“Shut up. Power off.” The Crown Prince’s tone was icy. At this point, he just wanted to assassinate the military equipment director who’d installed this ridiculous AI system in his hovercraft. They’d said it was cutting-edge tech, but all it ever did was mock him and talk back. Completely useless.
He stepped out of the vehicle—no longer dressed in his opulent royal uniform, but in a plain black shirt. The transformation was almost complete. Gone was the sharp, imposing figure; in his place was a nondescript man. He handed his pass to the bar’s doorman.
