The morning light filtering through the high windows felt… unreal.
Aeron sat on the edge of the bed, freshly bathed and dressed in a crisp academy uniform. His new body felt strange—not just because it was smaller and lighter, but because of the subtle hum in his blood. An underlying tension that pulsed beneath his skin.
This body wasn't just younger. It was different.
It was omega.
In this world, that meant something.
Omegas weren't just rare—they were regulated. Tagged. Watched. Protected by law, yet treated like valuable livestock by the powerful. If he wasn't careful, he'd be dragged into someone else's game again.
He ran a hand through his silver hair, sighing.
> "This really is the omegaverse setting... Can't believe I ended up here of all places."
He remembered the story well. Too well.
A world ruled by the powerful Alphas, supported by the average Betas, and dominated by primal instincts no matter how civilized society pretended to be.
And now… he was one of the weakest pieces on the board.
---
A soft knock came at the door.
> "Aeron, are you awake?"
It was Lyra's voice, quiet and gentle.
"Yeah," Aeron replied calmly. "Come in."
She stepped in with a small tray—warm toast, fruit, and tea. Her white hair shimmered in the light, and her expression brightened when she saw him already dressed.
"You're up early," she said with a warm smile, setting the tray down. "You didn't sleep well?"
He gave her the practiced look of quiet confusion. "I don't know. Everything still feels… unfamiliar."
Her smile faded slightly, and she reached over to gently adjust his collar.
"You don't need to remember right away. You're safe now. I'll take care of everything."
He nodded. "Thank you… Lyra."
She seemed to pause at that—just hearing her name from him. Then she smiled again, more softly this time.
---
Later that day, Aeron followed her through the vast halls of the Argent estate.
Marble floors. Tall windows. Cold air. The place was both elegant and suffocating.
The estate belonged to the Argent family, the richest and most politically powerful family in the region. Their influence extended far beyond business—they had pull in the military, education, and even law enforcement.
The head of the family was a man Aeron never cared for in the novel—a cruel, controlling Alpha who pretended to be Lyra's guardian only to steal her family's company shares.
But he wasn't the real threat.
That would be his daughter.
> Selene Argent.
---
Aeron hadn't met her yet. But he had felt her presence twice since waking up.
Once in the hallway outside the study, where a trail of her Alpha scent had lingered like cold ash and roses. The second time—last night, outside his room. She hadn't knocked. She hadn't even said anything.
She had simply stood there.
He had pretended to sleep, but he'd sensed it. The shift in the air. The static in his blood. The slow retreating footsteps.
> She's watching.
She knows I'm not normal.
I need to be careful.
---
By mid-afternoon, Aeron was sitting quietly in the Argent library while Lyra handled documents in the next room.
He reached for an old economics book—something dry but useful—and flipped through its pages with casual efficiency. In truth, he wasn't reading for pleasure.
> This world uses a hybrid digital-credit economy with corporate-bloodline rule.
If I can create a shell company under beta identity, I can invest early and build leverage before the plot accelerates.
He remembered a side character in the novel who created a fortune through medical patents before getting crushed by Selene's father. This time, he'd take that knowledge for himself—and stay invisible.
He didn't need to be a hero. He just needed freedom.
---
As he scribbled quiet notes on a scrap paper, the library door creaked open behind him.
He didn't look up.
But his heart stopped.
That scent—
> Cold. Metallic. Lingering like smoke after fire.
Alpha.
Aeron slowly raised his eyes and looked toward the door.
There she was.
---
Selene Argent.
Silver hair cascading like a blade down her back. Crimson red eyes that looked like still-burning coals. She wore the estate's school uniform, but her presence bent the room like gravity.
She didn't speak.
She just stared at him.
And smiled.
Not warm. Not fake.
Just… still.
Aeron smiled back—calmly. Just the right amount of confusion in his eyes.
> "...Hello. Have we met?"
She didn't answer. Just took one step forward.
Her gaze didn't move from his face—not once.
Then, finally, she spoke.
> "I've been watching you."
He blinked. "...Why?"
She tilted her head slightly, studying him like a puzzle.
> "Because I don't believe in miracles. But you… you feel like one."
He forced a chuckle. "I don't even remember who I am."
She didn't laugh.
> "Exactly."
Aeron gripped the edge of the table under the surface of his calm.