👑 Dea — Character Sheet
Gender: Male Omega
Age: 19
Height: 1m65 (5'5")
Background: Born into an ultra-powerful and influential family
Style: Impeccably dressed — always. Think prince-level elegance: tailored suits, silk shirts, discreet yet outrageously expensive jewelry. Never casual, never unkempt.
Appearance:
Almost unreal in his beauty.
Fine, flawless features.
Icy blue eyes that pierce through everything.
Snow-white hair that gleams under any light.
Too perfect for this world — and he knows it.
---
Personality:
Arrogant. Condescending.
Narcissistic — fully aware of his beauty and the power it gives him.
Plays on his status as a rare, desirable omega.
Rejects all authority.
Hyper-selective in love — only one-night stands, incapable of attachment.
Deeply convinced that no one is worthy of him.
> But underneath?
Maybe a gaping emotional void.
Maybe a fear of being owned.
Or maybe… just a lost boy who's never met someone strong enough to put him in his place.
---
🔥 Dynamic with Yuki:
She doesn't desire him... she controls him.
He despises her... but his body betrays him.
She will educate him. Train him. Crush him if needed.
He thinks it's all a game... but he's about to learn what it costs to challenge an alpha
---
Chapter 1 — The Offering
The silence in the room felt almost sacred.
Smoked glass, black marble, tight leather — everything here screamed power. The windows opened onto the whole city, as if the world itself bowed to the woman sitting behind the desk.
Yuki, legs crossed, cigarette between her lips, stared at the man in front of her.
He looked polished, expensive — and terrified.
— "Are you sure about this?" Her deep voice cut like a blade.
He nodded stiffly.
— "I have no other choice. He's been expelled from three schools. He insulted ambassadors. He punched an alpha at the Royal Bank Gala. He thinks the world belongs to him."
Yuki smirked.
— "He's not wrong. Born an omega in an untouchable family. He never had to fight for anything."
— "Which is why I need you," the man insisted. "You're the only one who can break him. Or train him. Name your price."
She crushed her cigarette.
— "I don't do this for money."
— "Then do it for the challenge," he said softly.
A pause. Then her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
— "Bring him in."
The door opened.
He entered.
Dea. Nineteen. And every inch of him dripped arrogance.
Slim, pale, almost unreal. White hair, ice-blue eyes. His cream suit clung to his body with royal elegance. He didn't even look at her. Just gave a sideways smirk.
— "So you're the warden? I hope your staff knows how to make a proper bed. I don't do chores."
Yuki rose. In heels, she towered over him. Her scent — incense, leather, pure dominance — filled the space.
— "You're smaller than in the pictures," she murmured.
— "You're older than I expected."
A flicker passed through her eyes. But she stayed silent.
She stepped closer. He instinctively moved back.
— "Scared?"
— "Of no one."
— "You should be."
The father cleared his throat nervously.
— "I'll leave you to it. Good luck, Yuki. And... thank you."
The door closed.
Silence.
They were alone.
She circled him like a predator.
— "From now on, you sleep here. You eat here. You follow my rules. No leaving without my permission."
He scoffed.
— "I'm not your pet."
Her gaze sharpened.
— "No. But I'll teach you to obey like one."
He shivered — barely. But she saw it.
— "You're not that impressive."
Yuki smiled. Cold. Inevitable.
— "You'll see."
-----
Chapter 2 — Breaking the Prince
The sharp sound of heels echoed on the marble floor.
Dea followed Yuki through the mansion like a punished child — hands in his pockets, chin high, eyes detached. But he saw everything.
The dark walls were lined with modern paintings, tribal masks, and precise Japanese details. Every inch of it screamed power.
And her, in front of him, silent.
Her long black hair flowed down her back, sleek and almost unreal. Her walk was calm, poised — but every step was a warning. Dea already hated her.
And yet… he was intrigued.
Why does she affect me? She's not my type. She's cold. Too tall. Too confident. Too... sharp.
Yuki stopped in front of a carved black door. She opened it.
The room was big but bare. Low bed, anthracite walls, a massive mirror facing the mattress.
— "This is your room now," she said flatly. "No phone. No mirror. No alcohol. You wake up at five."
Dea smirked.
— "You really think I'll follow your little military rules?"
She turned toward him, eyes still and slow.
— "No," she replied. "But you'll learn why you should."
She stepped forward.
He took a barely noticeable step back.
— "Gonna hit me?" he taunted.
— "No," she said, almost gently. "I don't need my hands to make you bend."
He swallowed.
He hated this. That strange tightness in his stomach. Not fear. Not really. But something new. Unsettling.
He turned away and tossed his coat on the bed.
— "Are you done? You can leave. I'm not giving you a show."
Yuki raised an eyebrow.
— "You think your body interests me?" she said calmly. "You're just a spoiled child in a porcelain shell. I'm here to turn that luxury toy... into a weapon."
He opened his mouth to reply. Nothing came.
For just one second, he looked lost.
She smiled.
And walked out.
The door shut behind her.
Silence.
He was alone.
---
5:02 AM.
Lights on.
Dea flinched and groaned, pulling the blanket over his head.
— "Wake up," said Yuki's icy voice.
— "Get lost. It's five in the morning. You're insane."
Footsteps.
Then — cold.
The blanket ripped away.
Dea screamed, back arched against the freezing air.
— "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Yuki stood still, coffee in one hand, blanket in the other.
— "You have ten minutes. Downstairs. Jogging pants. Barefoot."
— "Barefoot?!" he shouted. "You want me to train without shoes?"
— "Do you want to be an heir or a pretty little waste of air at fancy galas?"
He stared at her, shocked.
Then turned away. Shivering.
From the cold? Rage? Or something else?
He didn't know anymore.
---
5:15 AM. Inner courtyard.
The ground was freezing under his feet.
He wore thin black pants and a silk tank top — on purpose. A challenge.
She stood across from him in a fitted black training suit. Barefoot. Calm. Dangerous.
— "First test," she said. "Hold this pose."
She balanced on one leg, arms extended, the other leg raised — still as a statue.
Dea scoffed.
— "That's it? Some yoga crap?"
He copied her.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
A minute thirty.
His muscles trembled. Sweat prickled his skin. Then cold. Then pain.
Yuki didn't move. Eyes locked on his.
— "You're weak," she said softly. "Pretty, but useless. They raised you like a house cat. I'll turn you into a wolf."
— "I'm not your damn project," he hissed.
— "No," she said. "You're my challenge."
His calves burned. Arms shook. He wanted to fall.
But not in front of her.
Not in front of her... Not in front of her...
Three more seconds.
Then he collapsed. Gasping.
Yuki stepped closer, leaned down, her voice brushing his ear:
— "You lasted longer than I expected. But this is just the beginnig ."