The moment Song Liu returned to Room 502, he was a wreck. He was still reeling from the sheer, raw authority of Wei Ze's accidental scent release. Forget mashed potatoes and The Line; this was a different level of problem.
He frantically locked himself in the bathroom, pulled out his comm-unit, and put in an urgent, encrypted call to his father.
"Dad! You have to pull me out! Right now!" Song Liu's voice was tight with panic.
The deep, resonant voice of the Duke of the North came back, flat and unimpressed. "Song Liu, are you hurt? Did you fail a test? Because if this is about the laundry service, I swear—"
"No! It's my roommate! He's not normal! His scent—Dad, it was like nothing I've ever smelled. It was too strong. Too... powerful."
There was a noticeable pause on the line. "Powerful how, son? Did he try to claim you?"
"No! He just... lost control for a second during training. It was ice and pine. It was terrifying, Dad. He's not just a regular Alpha. Who is he?"
The Duke sighed, a sound of heavy patience. "He's an elite cadet, Song Liu. You're at the top academy in the empire. Of course, they'll be exceptionally dominant. You need to focus on your studies and stop inventing drama."
"But Dad—"
"No, 'buts.' You stay there. You learn some discipline. Your mother is sending a care package tomorrow. Do not call me again unless you are bleeding." The Duke disconnected.
Song Liu stared at the blank screen, furious and defeated. His own father wouldn't help him.
An hour later, there was a quiet thump just outside their dorm room. Song Liu cautiously opened the door to find a medium-sized delivery box with a delicate ribbon tied around it. It smelled heavenly.
He dragged the box inside and tore it open. It was from his mother.
Inside was a nest of protective silk lining, and nestled within were the contents of his escape: six perfectly layered lemon-and-lavender petit fours, a stack of warm, glistening raspberry butter cookies, and a delicate, iced cinnamon roll that was clearly still fresh. His mother's sweets.
Beside the pastries was a handwritten note on expensive stationery. My Darling Liu-Liu, it read. Be brave. These always make things better. I slipped in a little something extra.
Song Liu lifted a small, velvet bag from the bottom. Inside, protected by a scent-proof gel casing, were three tiny, concentrated Omega calming scent vials. He knew what they were: pure, unadulterated essence of his mother's own sweet, gentle scent—the most soothing thing in the world to him. He could discreetly dab it on his skin under his blockers for instant stress relief.
"Finally, some sanity," he breathed, quickly putting one vial in his inner jacket pocket.
He put the sweets out on the desk on his side of The Line, arranging them on a crystal platter he'd unpacked. He savored a lemon petit four, closing his eyes in bliss. This was the only good thing about this horrible place.
The door opened, and Wei Ze walked in, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp. He stopped dead when he saw the display of baked perfection.
"What is all that?" Wei Ze asked, his cool tone breaking the silence.
"It's a gift from my mother," Song Liu said, instantly defensive. "And before you ask, no, you can't have any. This is all mine. It's on my side of The Line." He pointed sharply at the yellow tape.
Wei Ze just looked at the sweets—the golden cookies, the vibrant icing—then back at Song Liu. A tiny twitch near his mouth suggested a battle between amusement and pure curiosity.
"Right," Wei Ze said, walking over to his desk. "Enjoy your solitary feast."
He began organizing his books, but Song Liu noticed his eyes kept drifting to the platter of sweets. The Alpha's self-control was admirable, but Song Liu saw a momentary flicker of longing.
Song Liu felt a ridiculous, childish sense of triumph. Ha! Even the mighty Wei Ze can't resist my mother's baking. He decided to be petty.
He picked up a large, raspberry cookie, took a loud, deliberate bite, and let out a dramatic moan of pleasure. "Oh, these are just heavenly. Such fine ingredients. Poor you, stuck eating that cafeteria sludge."
Wei Ze paused his work, his blue eyes finally fixed entirely on the Omega. "That cookie," he said, his voice flat. "What flavor is that?"
"It's raspberry butter, baked by my mother, the finest Omega baker in the entire North," Song Liu boasted. "It's entirely out of your league."
Wei Ze simply stared at the cookie in Song Liu's hand, a look of strange intensity on his face.
"I wasn't asking for a sample, Song Liu," Wei Ze said, his voice low. "I was merely confirming the ingredients. And trust me, I've had better."
Song Liu scoffed, but the Alpha's strange focus on the simple cookie was unsettling. He just sat there, eating his sweet, utterly confus
ed by his roommate's intense reaction to a piece of baking.