Eren was about to step into the function hall, satisfied that no more guests were arriving, when movement near the entrance caught his eye.
A young Omega, no older than fifteen, was cornered by two Beta boys her age. Their smirks dripped with cruelty, their mocking laughter carrying in the night air. The girl clutched a small purse to her chest, shoulders hunched as though she could shrink out of existence. Her scent was faint, timid—suppressed by fear.
"Look at her," one sneered, tugging at a curl of her wild hair and letting it snap back. "Smells like wet laundry. Disgusting."
The other leaned in, sniffing exaggeratedly before wrinkling his nose. "No Alpha will ever want you like this. You're pathetic." He shoved her lightly, making her stumble.
The girl's lips trembled, but she said nothing. Her fists clenched around her purse strap, knuckles white, eyes glued to the ground as though silence could make her invisible.
Eren froze. The sight struck him like a blow to the chest. That girl was him—years ago. An unbonded Omega mocked for his scent, his body, his existence. He remembered the sting of laughter, the humiliation burning across his skin, the way his pheromones had spiked with panic until he'd been reduced to trembling silence.
Not this time. Not in front of him.
Eren stepped forward, the click of his shoes on marble slicing through the air. His own scent shifted, firm and steady, a protective wave of Omega pheromones that rolled across the space. "What do you think you're doing?"
The Betas flinched, startled. Their mocking grins faltered as he moved between them and the girl, his posture deceptively calm but his presence sharp as a blade.
"Ganging up on someone weaker than you?" His voice carried steel. "That's how you feel powerful? By making an Omega afraid to breathe?"
The boys exchanged a glance, unsettled by the weight of his gaze—and the faint, warning undertone in his scent.
Eren crouched slightly, softening as he turned to the girl. He extended a hand. "Are you alright?" His voice gentled, warm. When she let him help her up, he brushed the dust from her dress and steadied her trembling shoulders. Her scent was still sharp with fear, but beneath it was the smallest flicker of trust.
"Don't let them get to you," he said quietly, steady enough that she could anchor herself to the words.
For the first time, the girl looked up, eyes wide and glistening. She clung to his hand tighter than he expected, lips parting in the smallest whisper: "...Thank you."
"Two strong young men, and this is how you spend your night? Tearing down a girl weaker than you? That's what makes you feel big?" His voice cut like steel.
The sneer returned to one boy's face. "Who do you think you are? You're just staff here. Do you even know who we are? We're the Sanchez twins—sons of Alfonse Sanchez, owner of the country's biggest mall chain."
Eren's eyes sharpened, his scent cooling into something colder. A bitter laugh slipped past his lips. "Ah. That explains it. Just like your father—using power to mask your weakness."
The insult landed. Both boys stiffened, bravado faltering. "What did you say?"
"I said, go inside. The event is starting." Eren's tone was calm, almost too calm. "Unless you'd rather I call security right now. And trust me—President Adriel Ulrick won't be impressed when he hears how the Sanchez heirs spend their evenings bullying omegas half their size."
For a moment, the twins held his stare. Then, with a final glare at the girl, they turned and stalked into the hall.
Silence settled in their wake. The girl blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears.
"Th-thank you," she whispered, her voice small, her scent beginning to steady.
Eren crouched slightly, his own scent softening, coaxing calm. "Don't thank me. Hold your head high. Never let anyone convince you that you're less because you're an omega." He gently adjusted her glasses, steadying them on her nose. "Trust me—I know how it feels. But you're stronger than you think."
Her eyes widened, admiration flickering there. For the first time that evening, she smiled—tentative, but real.
Eren gave her shoulder a light squeeze before finally turning toward the hall, his chest heavy but his resolve stronger.
"Are you here with someone?" he asked gently.
"My grandfather… he's not here yet," she whispered, adjusting her glasses nervously.
Eren nodded, scanning the glittering sea of gowns and suits. Before he could say more, the lights abruptly dimmed. A hush fell over the function hall, the chandeliers flickering out. A moment later, spotlights swept across the stage.
And there they were.
Adriel. Tall, poised, magnetic in his evening suit, the weight of his Alpha presence impossible to ignore.
Beside him stood Claude , radiant in a Suit that shimmered like liquid gold, his omega pheromones faint but refined, carefully balanced to enthrall. Together, they looked like a picture torn from a magazine cover.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, faint at first, then rising like a tide that pressed against every wall of the glittering hall. From where Eren stood near the entrance, each whisper carried with merciless clarity. His ears rang with it, and worse, his heightened senses made every note of their pheromones curl around him—curiosity sharp as citrus, disdain bitter as smoke.
"Look at them—such a striking pair."
"Of course. Claude was always his first love. Maybe he still is."
"Why else would he keep his Omega hidden? No public claim, no mark… It's practically an open invitation."
"I've heard he was just a dancer. Pretty, but hardly suitable for the Ulrick name."
"Do you think Adriel will announce it tonight? That he and Claude are back together?"
"If he does, no one would be surprised. They fit perfectly."
The words coiled around him like a net, heavy with contempt. His chest tightened until he could barely breathe. His own scent faltered, usually calm and warm, now thinning with shame and uncertainty. Beside him, the young girl he had shielded earlier glanced up, nose twitching faintly as if she could sense the shift in his pheromones. Confusion filled her wide eyes, but she said nothing.
On stage, Claude stepped forward. Under the lights, he gleamed—an Omega whose presence pulled every gaze effortlessly. His voice rang out smooth and commanding into the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ulrick Jewels' annual gala. Tonight, we celebrate not only our legacy of design but the future of artistry that will carry us forward."
Polite applause rose, then quieted. Adriel stood a step behind him, tall and composed, his Alpha presence impossible to ignore. Together, they looked like a painting—perfect, untouchable, unbearably distant.
Eren's stomach twisted. His hands itched to press against his abdomen, to remind himself of the child growing there, proof of the bond that should have been enough. And yet… without Adriel's mark, the whispers cut too deep. To the world, he wasn't Adriel's. He was nothing more than a rumor.
Claude's smile deepened, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as if he owned the stage. "As many of you know, Ulrick Jewels launched a design competition this year to discover new talent. Tonight, two will be chosen to join our design team."
His graceful hand swept across the hall, drawing the lights toward the glittering exhibit cases. "Here are the ten designs that advanced through the second phase, 'First Flame: The Memory of First Love.' Tonight, these finalists will present their work to you, our honored guests. Your voices will shape the outcome—audience votes will account for thirty percent of the final score."
Interest rippled through the crowd, pheromones sparking excitement, envy, and hunger. Eren's skin prickled under the weight of it, his own design glittering among those on display—unseen, uncredited, but undeniably his.
Then Claude paused, milking the silence. The lights caught the curve of his smile, sharp and glinting.
"And now," his voice dropped, velvet and deliberate, "the final theme."
The hall leaned forward as one, anticipation thick in the air. Eren's pulse raced, his throat dry. The hush pressed in on him like a noose, and all he could think was—
What will Adriel see when he looks at me, when this theme is revealed? His Omega? His mate? Or a shadow that doesn't belong on his stage at all?
"Threaded by Stars: Love and Destiny. This theme asks our designers to confront one of life's greatest questions: is love a matter of choice, or is it written in the stars? Is it carried in our bloodlines, etched by fate, or forged in defiance of it? Each piece tonight will become a vessel of that answer—prophecy, rebellion, or surrender."
Claude 's voice flowed like silk, smooth and commanding, weaving through the hall. Alphas, omegas, betas alike leaned forward, their breaths caught as if drawn by invisible strings. His presence carried the unmistakable weight of an omega who knew how to wield the room, his subtle pheromones carrying a soft undertone of allure that only heightened his authority.
A murmur rippled through the guests:
"Striking—look at them, Claude and Adriel. They fit so perfectly."
"Maybe this is why Adriel hides his marriage. He's never once spoken of his omega publicly."
"I heard his mate is just… ordinary. Not a suitable bond for a man like him."
Eren froze at the entrance. Each whisper cut sharp as glass, digging into old wounds he had tried to bury. His pulse raced, his breath shallow, the air thick with the sweet-sharp tang of anxiety pheromones he couldn't quite keep contained.
Then—he felt it.
Adriel's scent. Strong, grounding, unmistakably alpha. It slid across the room like dark cedar and warm spice, threading through the perfume of the crowd until it wrapped around Eren like a protective hand.
On stage, Adriel's eyes shifted from the blinding lights and the glittering exhibit cases. For the briefest moment, they sought only one thing—one person. They found Eren, standing at the edge of the hall, small and invisible in the eyes of the guests.
But not to him. Never to him.
That gaze was firm, unshaken, carrying a silent vow: I see you. You are mine. You are the only one I see.
Eren's breath caught. The whispers, the glittering stage, Claude's commanding voice—all of it blurred into nothing under that tether of scent and sight. His heart stuttered, a rush of warmth breaking through the tightness in his chest.
Beside him, the young girl he had defended earlier whispered, awe in her voice, "He's amazing…" Her eyes fixed on Claude, the star of the stage.
But Eren's heart wasn't on Claude. It was caught, utterly and irrevocably, in the quiet possession burning in Adriel's gaze and the protective cocoon of his scent.