"Order up!" Marco's voice rang out from behind the counter, sharp and commanding.
Levi scribbled the last of a customer's order onto his notepad, forcing a polite smile before calling back, "I'll be right there!" His legs ached from moving nonstop since morning, but he pushed himself toward the counter.
"Table seven." Marco slid a tray piled with food into his hands.
Levi steadied it against his chest, sucking in a breath. "Got it."
"Easy, kid." Marco's heavy hand landed on his back with a sympathetic pat.
Levi forced a crooked grin. "If I go easy, who's gonna pay the bills?"
Marco frowned but said nothing. He had seen too many workers like Levi burn themselves out, but Levi's situation was worse than most. Since his mother's death two years ago, the boy had carried his family like a man twice his age. His father was useless, drowning in debt, drink, and women, and Levi's younger siblings still needed someone to fight for them. Marco had offered to help more than once, but Levi always refused handouts. So instead, Marco gave him steady hours, decent pay, and tried to look out for him from the shadows.
Levi, balancing the tray, wove between crowded tables toward table seven. His uniform was clean but worn, his shoes scuffed, his thin frame trembling with exhaustion. He couldn't let anyone see how badly his body struggled under the strain. If anyone guessed what he really was, he'd lose this job instantly. Betas and alphas only—that was the rule here. And so Levi lived his life hidden behind a lie.
"Here's your order, gentlemen. Enjoy." He set the dishes down with practiced grace, bowing playfully for effect.
"Oh, thank you." One of the men in a black suit smiled.
Levi smiled back, warmth flickering in his chest. Maybe not all rich folk were rotten.
Until the whisper came. "Why do they let him work here? He looks shattered… poor thing's clothes are ragged."
The other man chuckled, shushing him lightly, but the laughter still cut deep. Levi's eyes dropped to his sleeves. Torn edges. Faded fabric. They weren't wrong. Shame coiled in his stomach, but what choice did he have? Every coin he earned went to his siblings. Designer clothes weren't even a dream.
He straightened, jaw tight, and turned away.
Behind the counter, Marco was wiping down tables himself. Levi arched a brow. "Why don't you hire someone to do that for you? This place is fancy enough."
Marco snorted. "When I've got two working arms and legs? Never. Besides, it's exercise."
Levi chuckled weakly, though in his heart he thought the truth was simpler: rich men never spent where they didn't have to. Yet Marco was different, he cared for Levi, treated him kindly. That counted for something.
Still, Levi's thoughts circled back to the cruel words at table seven. His smile faltered.
Marco noticed immediately. "Customers giving you trouble again?"
Levi shook his head quickly. "It's nothing. I'm used to it."
"Don't let them get to you," Marco said firmly. "You're better than they'll ever admit."
Levi only nodded, eyes sliding away.
Sensing he wanted the subject dropped, Marco leaned closer, voice lighter. "You hear? The Crown Prince returned today."
"Lucky him," Levi muttered, stacking cups.
"Come on," Marco teased. "Everyone's excited. Why do you have to be different?"
Levi smirked faintly. "Because I'm special."
Marco rolled his eyes. "It's not really about him, anyway. People are buzzing because of the Queen's announcement."
That drew Levi's attention despite himself. "What announcement?"
"Oh, now you're interested," Marco said, grinning.
"Still don't care. Just curious."
Marco leaned back against the counter, lowering his voice. "Every maiden omega between twenty and twenty-five, male or female, is eligible to become the Crown Princess. There'll be some kind of interview on Friday to test who's most suitable."
Levi froze. Eligible omegas? Twenty to twenty-five? His age. His reality.
On the surface, he managed a smile. "Doesn't affect us, though. Those omegas are lucky."
Inside, his mind spiraled. He was an omega. If he went, his secret would be exposed. Florez wasn't big, someone would recognize him. He'd lose his job, his protection, maybe even his safety. Yet the rewards glimmered in his mind. His siblings in university. His father in rehab. A home without fear of hunger. Could he really trade his secret for all that?
Marco rambled on, oblivious. "You just know omegas are already practicing their curtsies, fixing their speeches, dreaming about makeup and gowns. Friday's going to be wild."
Levi barely heard him. His chest tightened with dread. If he failed the interview, his life would be worse than before. He'd be jobless, vulnerable, exposed.
Marco's words broke through his panic: "Of course, there's still a catch."
Levi blinked. "Catch?"
"Yeah. People say the Crown Prince came back with some girl from Zelsa. Never seen her before, most think she's his girlfriend." Marco chuckled.
"Girlfriend?" The word lodged like a stone in Levi's throat. If the prince already had someone, then what was the point of this? Was the Queen just trying to sweep her aside? Levi's pulse quickened. If even the queen didn't want the prince's choice, then what chance did someone like him have?
Marco smirked at Levi's confusion. "Think about it. Either the Queen doesn't like the girlfriend, or she wants to handpick the future queen herself. The prince is twenty-five, after all. Time for an heir."
Levi's eyes widened. An heir. A child. If he was chosen, he'd be expected to carry the next ruler of Florez. The thought made his stomach twist.
"So basically some arranged marriage the prince won't even want," Levi said softly.
"Exactly," Marco nodded. "Royal drama waiting to happen. And the bride? She's the one who'll suffer most."
Levi exhaled, unease tightening around him. Riches, power, status, they glittered in his imagination. But chains glitter too.
Before he could answer, the door chime jingled. Two women stepped inside, their laughter spilling into the room. Marco straightened, dusting off his hands.
"Customers. We'll talk later," he said, patting Levi's shoulder before heading for the kitchen.
Levi plastered on a smile, snatching up his notepad. "Yeah. I'll get their order."
But his thoughts weren't on food, or customers, or even Marco's watchful eye. They were tangled in secrets, in interviews, in a future that terrified and tempted him all at once.