*
Alpha prime.
Ever since Damian learned that his savior's identity was an alpha prime, the reason the man's natural eye color burned red as proof of that status— his curiosity about them only grew sharper. He searched for every book even remotely connected to alpha primes, but the information was frustratingly sparse. And when it wasn't sparse, it turned out to be some romance novel he had no intention of reading, and the librarian had even scolded him, saying those books were meant for adults.
If they were meant for adults, then why were they so easy to reach in this library? Still, Damian wasn't interested in fiction at all. What he wanted was science— real facts about secondary genders: alpha, beta, omega. And among them, alpha prime stood out the most, simply because their population was almost nonexistent.
From what he managed to gather, alpha primes existed only in people with a Y chromosome. They could control their pheromones entirely on their own, their bodies were far stronger and healthier, and their healing pheromones could speed up recovery for themselves as well as for alphas and omegas. They were also infamous for their madness and their 'different way of thinking' compared to ordinary humans— but there were zero scientific explanations or data to back that claim.
Damian suspected it was just another stereotype. After all, as an omega, he often came across claims that omegas tended to have pretty, delicate faces— yet no scientific evidence accompanied that either. And Damian personally disagreed; one look in the mirror was enough to tell him he certainly didn't fit that description.
He also overheard the caretakers chatting sometimes, talking about how the Charleston family – one of investors in this orphanage, had several alpha prime descendants. They always praised their beauty, while also calling them terrifying.
That seemed to be another stereotype attached to alpha primes: good looking, charismatic, naturally intelligent, destined to rise to the top of any social structure.
Maybe there was some truth to it. Because even though the alpha prime who rescued him had looked terrifying— splattered with blood across his face, hair, and clothes Damian could still see how handsome and tall the man was.
And that alone made Damian want to grow up strong, strong enough to resemble even a shadow of that man.
Whether it was fate or coincidence, a few days after Damian found himself thinking obsessively about alpha primes, he was summoned. A caregiver led him down the hall, and the moment the door opened, his eyes locked onto a familiar figure sitting on the sofa, a red-haired man.
There was no mistaking him. His savior.
Damian's heart kicked hard with excitement. He'd spent so long wanting to thank him— because of this man, he no longer lived in that suffocating orphanage, that place where he felt more like livestock inside a cage. Because of him, Damian and the others were now somewhere safer, somewhere human. He wasn't the only one who admired the man; his friends often whispered about the red-haired, red-eyed alpha prime who saved them.
He never expected to see the man standing right in front of him again.
But the redhead wasn't the only stranger in the room. There was an older woman— elegant posture, composed presence, eyes sharp and assessing. Damian had never seen her before, but from the way she held herself, he knew immediately she wielded authority.
"Mrs. Beth, I know you care deeply for your sister's child," the red-haired man said after giving Damian a quick once-over, "but isn't this a little cruel?"
Hearing himself become the topic of their conversation made Damian's stomach twist with nerves.
"Cruel?" the woman scoffed, lifting her chin slightly. "That's amusing coming from you, Mr. Hughes."
"I don't hurt children."
"I will not hurt a child," she corrected sharply, as if his mere insinuation irked her. "My family takes responsibility for every child who accompanies the young master. But these children did not meet the criteria. It's the adults those who sent them, who's to blame."
"Ah, so you're picking children from Paradis Island now. Because it would be a little harder to hide your sins if one of them got injured?"
"Mr. Hughes."
"Alright, alright. But you do realize how absurd this is, right? The child standing right here, he's an omega, not a beta. And isn't it tradition for a Charleston alpha prime to have a beta companion?"
"If the omega's scent gland is tightly sealed, then he's no different from a beta, is he?"
"You shouldn't say things like that in front of a child, Mrs. Beth."
Hearing their exchange, hearing her refer specifically to an omega with a sealed scent gland— made it unmistakably clear they were talking about him. The excitement that had been bubbling inside him moments ago dissolved instantly into fear.
What did this woman intend to do with him?
Yet the red-haired man… he had defended him. And Damian clung desperately to that small spark of hope that his savior would continue to protect him now.
The silence didn't last long.
"Come here," the red-haired man said, motioning Damian forward with a flick of his hand. With careful, measured steps, Damian approached the sofa where the man sat.
He didn't speak at first. He glanced down at the document in his hand, then looked back at Damian, this time examining him with a sharp, deliberate scrutiny, as if comparing the words on the page to the boy standing before him.
"Damian Vale. Formerly Felix," the man read, voice low. "A child with a unique condition, sealed scent gland, lingering drug dependency from Paradis Island, and pheromone vessels so thin that production is nearly nonexistent." He clicked his tongue softly. "Ah… what a severe case. So this is why you called me here, Mrs. Beth."
"I told you, he's no different from a beta," the older woman replied.
"There is a difference, Mrs. Beth."
The red-haired man reached out, his hand rising toward Damian's neck. Damian stiffened, startled, and flinched at the sudden contact, but the man's touch though firm, was clinical. Professional. Damian forced himself to stand straight even as nervous tremors crept through his spine.
"Not even slightly open," the man murmured. "And I'm an alpha prime with a sharp nose."
He withdrew his hand and faced Mrs. Beth again. "So what do you want from this child? Planning to use him as a servant for the youngest son of your sister?"
Reading the atmosphere effortlessly, he smiled, sharp and amused— and pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket, wiping the hand that had touched Damian's neck.
"So if this kid dies, there won't be anyone looking for him, right?"
"Mr. Hughes."
"Ah… sorry, sorry. I shouldn't say that in front of the young master's future servant."
"I said, Mr. Hughes, that is not my intention!" Mrs. Beth snapped. "As you can see in his documentation, the boy is intelligent and already has a remarkably sturdy constitution for someone his age. Out of all the children here, he is the one closest to the young master's age and the brightest even compared to older children."
"Oh? So the polite version is, you want him to be the young master's playmate?" His tone dripped with sarcasms. "But I don't quite understand, Mrs. Beth. He's an omega. Do you want the young master to lose control because of his pheromones?"
"The young master is an alpha prime. He can control himself around omega pheromones."
"But during early manifestation stages, alpha primes are extremely unstable."
"That's why I want you to—"
"Hm?"
The moment Mrs. Beth hesitated, the red-haired man tilted his head, that crooked smile returning. His gaze slid toward Damian, making the boy tense. "Yes, it's not appropriate to discuss this in front of the kid. Damian, right?"
Damian nodded. He lifted his head, following the man as he rose from the sofa, only for the man's hand to gently ruffle his hair.