When his parents died, they left behind several properties. One of them was the apartment where Lucian now lived.
It was not just any apartment, but one located in one of the wealthiest residential complexes in the entire city. The security was top-notch, the architecture was modern and refined, and the residents were primarily wealthy elites and established families.
As he entered the building, Lucian intentionally avoided the elevator, opting instead to climb the stairs. His steps were steady, and his eyes sharp, scanning every landing and corner. He wasn't exercising for leisure; he was observing. Every turn of the stairwell, every distance between floors, and every window that could serve as an exit was carefully logged in his mind.
He still didn't know what kind of apocalypse was coming, and if it turned out to be something like a zombie outbreak or a natural disaster, he needed multiple escape routes.
But buildings weren't the only thing that needed to be evaluated, because in an apocalypse, people could become more dangerous than any disaster. You could never predict people's hearts. Greed, fear, and desperation could turn neighbors into enemies faster than any plague.
Lucian was an introvert, reserved and private, but his parents had always taught him that kindness had limits and that danger often came from those closest to you. And when they died, he saw the ugliness of human hearts firsthand.
Relatives who once smiled warmly at him now revealed their true intentions, circling like vultures, eager to seize his inheritance. Old friends turned their backs, while others wore false smiles as they plotted to exploit him. If it hadn't been for his parents' foresight in transferring all rights and authority to him upon reaching adulthood, he might have lost everything. Still, the so-called relatives continued to pester him, pretending to be kind while shamelessly trying to curry favor. Lucian found their behavior revolting.
With a faint shake of his head, Lucian pushed those memories aside and returned to his inspection of the building.
The complex itself was formidable. Aside from the lobby on the first floor, the residential building stretched to eleven floors, with three apartments on each level, a basement parking lot, and a rooftop terrace. The corridors were wide but not overly so, and the stairwell was well-lit. When he reached the seventh floor, he stopped. His apartment was Room 702, the second unit on the floor.
The other two rooms were occupied. Room 703 housed a large, noisy family, while 701 belonged to a bachelor, according to what his mother once told him.
Lucian's gaze darkened as he glanced toward 703. "The Hongs will be a problem. Definitely."
Why?
Because they were insufferable.
From children to elders, every member of the family managed to be annoying.
Mrs. Hong, in particular, had been a parasite in his mother's life. At first, it had seemed like harmless neighborly interaction, but her shamelessness had quickly escalated. She barged into their home uninvited, treated their kitchen as if it were her own, and even helped herself to their food. Lucian and his father hadn't known the extent of it until one of the Hong children tried to steal a valuable antique from his grandfather's collection.
Fortunately, Lucian's father, a cautious man and a police officer by profession, had anticipated such risks. He had installed anti-theft alarms on the display cases and stands.
When the child attempted the theft, the alarm exposed the act. Furious, his father confronted the neighbors, but the Hongs twisted the story, painting themselves as victims and accusing Lucian's parents of being unreasonable. They even dared to use moral blackmail, led by Mrs. Hong's domineering mother-in-law.
His mother, exhausted and desperate for peace, eventually persuaded his father to let it go. Though reluctant, he agreed after recovering the stolen item, but not without changing every lock and code in the apartment. Soon after, they moved closer to his father's workplace to avoid further entanglements.
Years later, when Lucian returned to live in this apartment during college, the Hongs were still the same.
Their children treated the hallways like a playground, pranking him by ringing his doorbell and running off. Mrs. Hong quarreled with her mother-in-law in the corridor, their loud voices echoing through the building as if it were a marketplace. Mr. Hong, often drunk, had even tried to pound on Lucian's door and force his way in. For the most part, Lucian ignored them, but in his mind, he marked the family as a dangerous variable. When the world collapsed, they would certainly become a problem he could no longer overlook.
As Lucian inserted his key into his door, the door of 701 opened.
The sharp, heavy stench of pheromones immediately filled the hallway, making his nerves tense. Standing in the doorway was a tall, blond man, shirtless, with an arm wrapped around the shoulders of two scantily dressed women. Their laughter and perfume mixed with the oppressive scent of dominance radiating from him.
Suppressing the irritation, Lucian quickly turned away and entered his own apartment, locking the door behind him.
In this world, beyond the ordinary distinction of male and female, there existed a deeper classification—Alpha, Beta, and Omega. This dynamic shaped not only individual lives but the very framework of society.
Betas made up an astonishing 80% of the population. Often seen as ordinary, they lacked the heightened instincts and biological advantages found in the other two types. However, Betas were the essential backbone of civilization, diligently working in a wide range of professions.
Alphas, which made up approximately 15% of the population, were born to lead. Instinct drove them to be strong, ambitious, and dominant—qualities that were evident from a young age. They carried a commanding presence and often excelled in physical ability, leadership, and decision-making. Alphas thrived in fields such as politics, the military, and commerce, naturally rising to positions of power.
Omegas were the rarest—only 5%—but their scarcity made them both revered and coveted. Whether male or female, Omegas were considered alluring, their natural charm impossible to ignore. Their most distinctive trait was their ability to conceive children. Conception was possible only with Alphas, and such unions carried an extraordinarily high chance of producing Alpha offspring—further elevating their value. Omegas were sometimes cherished as treasures, but just as often exploited as tools for lineage.
Biology established a clear distinction between Alphas and Omegas. Omegas experienced recurring heat cycles, during which their pheromones surged with an intoxicating intensity, making their bodies exquisitely sensitive. During these times, they felt an almost irresistible pull toward Alphas. In contrast, Alphas went through ruts—intense waves of aggression and desire that stripped away their self-control. Often, the onset of one cycle would trigger the other, creating an unbreakable bond between an alpha and omega that intertwined their fates.
Another distinguishing characteristic was pheromones. Both Alphas and Omegas released them—scents that could attract mates irresistibly or spark rivalries into fury. Among Alphas, the scent of another was often perceived as a challenge, igniting territorial disputes. Possessiveness was etched into their nature, and those they claimed, they guarded with near-obsessive devotion. Omegas' pheromones, meanwhile, could soothe, entice, or overwhelm, leaving them vulnerable when control faltered.
Governments, long aware of these instincts, intervened to preserve order. Laws encouraged Alphas to take multiple partners, ensuring the continuation of strong bloodlines.
Within this hierarchy, there was another division: dominant and recessive. Both Alphas and Omegas could belong to these categories, but Dominants were exceedingly rare. A dominant alpha could overpower others with pheromones alone, compelling submission through sheer presence. Similarly, a dominant omega—also rare—could evoke instinctive need even in the strongest alphas.
Lucian was one of those rare individuals. While both his parents and grandparents were Betas, he manifested as a dominant Alpha at the age of fourteen. This revelation shed light on details about his father's past; genetic testing revealed that his father had one Alpha parent and one Beta. Since Alphas rarely choose Betas as mates, it was likely that his father had been abandoned and left to grow up alone. Nonetheless, he became a noble man—a devoted husband and father—who filled Lucian's life with love and strength.
Still, the presence of another Alpha, possibly a Dominant, living just across the hall was alarming. Two dominant alphas in close quarters could only spell conflict. And when the apocalypse struck, such tension could ignite into outright hostility. Lucian resolved to prepare for that possibility.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and began to survey his apartment. It spanned two floors. The first floor featured a spacious living room, an eight-seat dining area, a fully equipped kitchen, a small bathroom, a laundry room, and a wide balcony that overlooked the city skyline. The second floor contained a master bedroom, three smaller bedrooms, and a large bathroom.
For a single person, it was too large. But with the end of the world looming, Lucian planned to convert the extra rooms into survival essentials.
He walked into the living room, his eyes falling on the glass display wall filled with antiques of copper, silver, gold, and jade. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"It's time to upgrade."