Chaika spoke again only after the tension in Nile’s expression had eased slightly following the brief silence.
“The Duke of Castiya is a hunter of great renown. He favors the way wolves hunt, in particular. There’s a famous story from over ten years ago—he went nearly fifteen days without eating or drinking, quenching his thirst with nothing but melted snow, all to track his prey down and kill it.”
There was certainty in Chaika’s voice as he spoke. He knew Mihail Castiya inside and out. Every detail was reliable, accurate information obtained through the immense wealth and influence of the Lucius marquisate.
“He’s one of the few Dominant Alphas on the continent. No one can rival him physically, and fitting for a Dominant Alpha, no one can compare to his beauty either. On top of that, he was born into the imperial bloodline—there’s nothing he’s ever wanted and failed to obtain. With someone like that, clinging to him won’t get you what you want. You only get it by running away.”
“By provoking an alpha’s possessiveness and a hunter’s instincts?”
At Nile’s words, Chaika twisted his lips into a faint smile. Confidence and loathing were intricately intertwined in that expression.
“Even if he does take an interest in you, Chaika. Once he finds out you’re an omega later on—”
“That’s for me to handle.”
Chaika cut him off as though the concern were pointless, but Nile couldn’t easily let go of his worry.
“Even if, by some miracle, you end up carrying the duke’s child… if that child turns out to be an omega—”
Before he could finish, Chaika abruptly shoved his chair back and stood up. Between his unkempt, dry brown hair, violet eyes flashed sharply.
“Stop wasting your thoughts on nonsense and just do what you’re told, Nile. If you ever want to see your child again.”
With that cold rebuke, Chaika turned and left through the hidden door he’d entered through. Nile stared at the door for a moment after Chaika disappeared, then reached into his clothes and pulled out a necklace hidden beneath. When he opened the locket—plain enough to look like nothing more than an ornament—a tightly rolled bundle of red hair spilled out. Nile lifted the lock and inhaled deeply. Whether it was imagination or not, he thought he could still smell the soft, milky scent of an infant.
***
Since their first meeting, Mihail hadn’t even come near Nile again, let alone met with him. But today, he had no choice. With the full moon drawing near, an imperial courier had come galloping in, grilling him relentlessly about the progress of affairs. There was a limit to how many times he could send the man back empty-handed.
Ilya insisted that if he hated sex and hated meals, then at the very least he should have tea once. It was just a single cup, but it would still give the courier something to report to the emperor—that the Duke of Castiya was making every possible effort, even enduring his intense revulsion to share tea, or something along those lines.
Tea time was held on a breezy terrace, for Mihail’s sake—he loathed omega pheromones. The sky was clear and high, dotted with lovely white clouds. On such a bright, beautiful autumn day, tea on an open terrace with a full view of the sky felt rather pleasant.
Ilya was meticulous: he seated Mihail on the side the wind blew from, and Nile on the side that received it. Instead of a small tea table that would place them close together, he arranged a large dining table between them. With the wind blowing in reverse—carrying Nile’s body scent and pheromones away from Mihail—it was as considerate as one could possibly be.
From the moment he stepped onto the terrace—no, from the moment he started walking toward it—Mihail’s face had been twisted into an ugly scowl. But once he took his seat, his expression eased slightly. Just knowing he wouldn’t be exposed to an overwhelming flood of pheromones seemed to lift his mood a little.
After confirming Mihail’s reaction, Ilya gave a small nod. Only then did the servants, who had been lined up stiffly at the edges, step forward toward the table.
Carrying out one’s duties without provoking the temper of a master who was ill-natured, territorial, and maddeningly picky was no easy feat. But the butler, who had served at Mihail’s side for years, calmly brewed the tea, poured it, and set the cups before the two men. His movements were so smooth and quiet that one might not even notice what he’d done unless paying close attention.
Though not as ferocious as when he arrived, deep lines still creased Mihail’s brow.
One cup of tea.
He murmured inwardly as he lifted the cup brewed precisely to his taste. If he sat across from an omega and drank just one cup of tea, he could use that as an excuse to hold out for another two or three months. After that, he’d have to find another excuse.
While Mihail stared absently at his cup, Nile, seated across from him, watched with undisguised anxiety. It wasn’t as though Nile had fallen for Mihail at first sight.
Even out in the open air, the thick pheromones emanating from Nile were unmistakably those of an omega with a heat cycle imminent. To have an alpha—no, a Dominant Alpha—sitting right in front of him at such a time, and still not lose his mind outright, was an impressive feat in itself. With no suppressants in his system, he must have been on the verge of losing all rational thought.
Nile’s pale fingers trembled lightly as they held the teacup. His flushed cheeks and the faint flutter of his lowered lashes made it painfully clear how desperately he was suppressing his instincts.
Of course, Nile wasn’t the only one affected. No matter how much he sat with the wind at his back, avoiding the direct stream of Nile’s scent, alphas were creatures who could detect the pheromones of an omega nearing heat from kilometers away. There was no way Mihail couldn’t sense them. Regardless of how he felt about omegas, his body reacted on its own.
His ironclad will dulled slightly, and his body snarled savagely, urging him to seize, pin down, and conquer. It was a scent befitting an omega acquired at great cost by the Lucius marquisate. Had Mihail been ten years younger when placed in this situation, he would have lost all reason and torn into the omega’s clothes on the spot.
Mihail tipped the scalding tea into his mouth in one gulp.
Crack.
Strength surged into his hand, and the handle of the cup shattered. Deprived of its handle, the cup fell to the terrace floor and broke into pieces. As servants quietly approached to clean up the shards, Mihail turned his eyes on Ilya, glaring daggers.
“That enough?”
The question meant: I drank the tea—so we’re done now, right? Ilya, who had been watching closely to see whether Mihail would snap, met the ferocious glare and nodded, thinking, Yeah… still not happening.
As Mihail rose from his seat as though his task were complete, Nile awkwardly stood as well. But having once witnessed Mihail fly into a frenzy at merely catching his scent—acting as though his nose were rotting away—Nile couldn’t bring himself to stop him or even speak.
It was the moment Mihail turned without offering even the bare minimum of courtesy in farewell.
Whoosh—.
The wind abruptly shifted. The breeze that had been blowing from Mihail toward Nile suddenly reversed, rushing from behind Nile and brushing past Mihail. In that brief instant, Ilya winced, muttering, “Damn.” Startled, Nile clutched his clothes tightly closed, but pheromones weren’t something that could be hidden so easily.
Mihail halted for a split second, swaying almost imperceptibly. His jaw muscles twitched violently as he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, fighting off the impact of the omega’s intense pheromones. Fortunately, it seemed to be nothing more than a sudden gust; the wind soon returned to its original direction.
“Mihail?”
Ilya approached with a faintly worried look, positioning himself carefully between Mihail and Nile—just in case Mihail did something dangerous in reaction to what had just happened.
Mihail pressed a hand against Ilya’s chest and shoved him aside. Then he fixed his gaze squarely on Nile. It wasn’t a look of lust inflamed by pheromones, nor one of anger. Whatever was going through his mind was impossible to tell—but the intensity of his stare was overwhelming.
An alpha’s appearance reflected their strength. In general, alphas were born far more beautiful than ordinary humans. And Mihail, a Dominant Alpha, was the very pinnacle of that beauty. His flawless, strikingly handsome face left no room for criticism, his black hair and gray eyes lending him an imposing charisma. Tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in lean, supple muscle, his body was best described with a single word: beautiful.
Those who knew him well—like Ilya and a few others—were known to say that as long as he kept his mouth shut, Mihail was the most perfect and beautiful man in the world.
When Mihail stood directly before him, beautiful beyond reason despite his coarse behavior, Nile’s gaze wavered and his breathing quickened. With a Dominant Alpha so breathtakingly close, it was a wonder Nile didn’t lose his mind and lunge forward on the spot.
Don’t tell me…
Ilya alternated glances between Mihail and Nile, thinking that things might—just maybe—be resolving far more easily than expected. Nile, receiving the full force of Mihail’s intense gaze, stood trembling where he was. Fear of Mihail, his body’s violent instinctive reaction to a Dominant Alpha, and sheer awe at Mihail’s appearance were all tangled together in that trembling.
“You… this—”
Mihail finally parted his tightly sealed lips and took a step toward Nile. Not only Nile but even the surrounding servants flinched as one. Mihail drew in a deep breath, as though trying to taste the scent in the air. Normally, he would have scowled the moment he caught Nile’s pheromones—but instead, he narrowed his eyes, murmuring something under his breath as though he’d sensed something unexpected.
Step. Step. Step.
His strides toward Nile were large and unhesitating. As the Dominant Alpha’s overwhelming presence drew closer, Nile’s trembling intensified, and the beautiful blue of his eyes blurred hazily.
“…Ah—…”
When Mihail finally reached him, a faint sound—neither quite a moan nor quite a gasp—slipped from Nile’s lips. His body shook so violently it was a wonder he’d remained standing at all, until he finally staggered sideways. Before a servant could even reach out in alarm, Mihail caught him, pulling him close as he supported his weight.
“Hah?!”
Ilya let out a disbelieving laugh without even trying to hide it. His eyes were wide with shock, and the servants—including the butler—wore the same incredulous expressions, as though doubting their own eyes.
The Duke of Castiya—that Mihail Castiya—approaching an omega of his own accord, and even catching him as he stumbled? It had to be a dream.
But this was unmistakably reality.
“…Y-Your Grace.”
Nearly cradled in the Dominant Alpha’s arms, Nile clutched at Mihail’s clothes, trembling as his consciousness began to fade. Instead of shoving him away or kicking him aside, Mihail lowered his head and buried his nose against Nile’s shoulder, chest, and hair, inhaling deeply and thoroughly.
“This is… truly… unexpected….”
Ilya muttered in a dazed voice as he stared at the unbelievable scene. Then he nudged the butler beside him—who looked just as stunned—and asked,
“…What the hell is that?”
The butler glanced at Ilya, then shook his head, his eyes saying he had no idea either.
The way Mihail persistently pressed his nose against Nile’s body, inhaling him from head to toe, was nearly indistinguishable from foreplay. But just as suddenly as it began, it ended just as abruptly.
Shove—!
As if finished, Mihail pushed Nile away. Having entrusted his body to him without resistance, Nile was caught completely off guard and toppled to the floor. The servants, who had been frozen in shock, rushed over a beat too late to help him up.
“Y-Your… Grace…?”
Barely upright with assistance, Nile called out to Mihail with eyes still clouded and unfocused, his voice oddly soft.
Mihail, as though nothing at all had happened moments earlier, frowned deeply and took several long strides backward, putting as much distance between them as possible. He clicked his tongue in clear displeasure, then turned sharply and left the terrace, saying,
“I’ll come to your residence tomorrow for tea.”
By the time the words finished leaving his mouth, Mihail was already gone. Startled yet again by this unexpected turn of events, Ilya hurried after him, calling his name. Left behind on the terrace, Nile and the servants stood there, utterly dumbfounded.
“…Your condition—please allow us to escort you back to your residence for now,”
said a seasoned maid, the first to recover her composure. With Nile barely able to stand on his own due to his approaching heat and the lingering presence of a Dominant Alpha, two maids clung close on either side, supporting him as they headed for his quarters. The other servants began cleaning up after tea time, but all of them carried the same heavy question in their minds.
Just what, exactly, was Duke Mihail Castiya thinking?
