“My name.”
Hot water cascaded down in the shower, rinsing the faintly sticky residue of the restorative fluid from his skin, but Chi Zhan remained distracted.
Qi Song…
He had never heard that name before.
And the way the man had looked at him—there was something in that gaze that didn’t feel like a first meeting. It was as if he’d wanted to say something… but in the end, for reasons unknown, had said nothing at all.
What exactly had he wanted to tell him?
The medical pod’s effects were nothing short of miraculous. After just a few hours, all of Chi Zhan’s bruises, abrasions, and lingering muscle soreness had vanished. But mentally, he still felt drained—perhaps because the pod only healed physical wounds.
Still, the faint discomfort that had lingered at the back of his neck had lessened considerably.
Before he knew it, evening had arrived. Following his routine, Chi Zhan went to the training room for his daily drills. But after just a few rounds of combat exercises, he noticed something was off.
Even so, he clenched his teeth and pushed through until the end. When it was over, he collapsed onto the training room floor, gasping for air.
“Chi Zhan, what’s up with you today?” one of his training partners asked, puzzled. “You seemed totally out of it. Is it because of the exam earlier? Win or lose, that’s just part of military life. The guy who took first place—Tang Ling, right? He’s a dark horse, sure, but just because he won this time doesn’t mean you can’t beat him next time.”
“He’s a transfer student. Who knows why he transferred? For all we know, he got kicked out of his last school for fighting too much.”
“Bullshit. Everyone knows our school has the strictest discipline. If he had a sketchy record, there’s no way they’d have admitted him,” someone else countered.
“Hmph. Whatever. There’s definitely something shady about him.”
“Tang Ling… Did you watch his exam?” Chi Zhan asked.
“I did. He’s not as agile as you, but he’s got raw power. And you can tell—he’s got serious combat experience. Probably had private tutoring.”
“People like that always have the edge in field exercises. The upperclassmen always said: forget camaraderie. Whoever plays dirty wins.”
“…Plays dirty?” Chi Zhan’s eyes widened slightly.
That phrase felt completely out of place at the military academy.
Here, obedience was paramount. Students were trained to follow orders and master proper combat techniques, all while upholding values like honesty, integrity, and respect. To hear something like that—it didn’t sit right at all.
“Don’t listen to him. Even if you win, it should be with honor. Scheming and dirty tricks—that’s not the way of a true soldier,” another classmate said firmly.
“Yeah, well, just you wait. Keep playing by the book and see how fast you get your ass handed to you in this field exercise,” the first student sneered, grabbing a bottle of water and walking off.
Back in the dorms, neither Tao Ran nor Cen Chi had returned yet. Chi Zhan was starting to feel drowsy—probably from the exam draining all his energy. He’d felt sluggish all afternoon, but his mind was still circling the things that guy had said.
Field exercises… What kind of rules would allow for mass elimination in one go?
This was a military academy filled with elites. It wasn’t easy to arbitrarily eliminate anyone. And yet a cut rate of over fifty percent? That kind of number left a looming sense of unease hanging over him like a storm cloud.
And Tang Ling… The person he’d met earlier—was that really not Tang Ling?
Fighting off his exhaustion, Chi Zhan turned on his computer and typed “Qi Song” into the school administration’s database. The search bar progressed slowly.
Finally, the search result appeared.
One sentence on the entire page:
“Sorry, no results found for ‘Qi Song.’ Would you like to return and search again?”
Chi Zhan stared at the empty result, lips pressed into a tight line.
If the name didn’t show up, that meant there was no one by that name in the entire school.
He’d been lied to.
His fingers paused over the keyboard for a moment, then typed in “Tang Ling.” This time, the search bar crawled even slower, a vague sense of anxiety tightening in his chest like a noose.
“Chi-Chi, you’re back already?” Tao Ran pushed open the door, visibly annoyed. “Even the Second Prince showed up—he specifically asked for Moy to be his secretary! That guy’s on cloud nine right now.”
“What?” Chi Zhan’s attention snapped from the screen, turning slightly toward Tao Ran.
“Moy’s been bragging nonstop. First the Crown Prince requests his file, and now the Second Prince wants him too. His status is skyrocketing. People are even calling him the Princess Consort now.”
“No way…” Chi Zhan murmured, stunned. “His Highness… requested Moy’s file?”
The meaning was clear: he was interested in him.
But hadn’t His Highness asked Chi Zhan if he’d submitted his own profile?
Had he completely misread it?
Maybe it was just a casual question, nothing more—yet he’d mistaken it as a sign of being chosen.
“And apparently,” Tao Ran continued bitterly, “the Crown Prince even met with Moy in secret—probably to ask him out or something. Ugh, Alphas are all just brainless animals obsessed with Omegas’ bodies.”
That’s how society was. Betas sat at the bottom of the food chain. No matter how talented, they were little more than specks on the roadside—ignored and trampled by passersby.
To say it didn’t hurt would be a lie.
But even so, Chi Zhan’s expression stayed calm. Aside from being slightly pale, he looked no different than usual.
“His Highness has every right to choose. If he likes someone, he should pursue them. Isn’t that normal?”
“You’re really just going to give up like that?” Tao Ran shot back. “You’re so damn outstanding. How is that Omega better than you? The Crown Prince must be blind…”
“Watch what you say,” Chi Zhan cut him off, his voice low. “Walls have ears.”
