I froze. Drops of ice-cold water trickled from my chin onto my collarbones, but I didn't dare move. In the air of the Beta restroom—which was supposed to be my sanctuary—there was now a distinct, delicate scent of lilies of the valley. An Omega's scent.
The girl stared at me as if she had seen a ghost. Or a deity. Her pupils were dilated, and her face was flushed so deeply it looked as if she had a fever. There was no mockery in her eyes—only a silent, reverent awe that chilled me to the bone.
"You..." she breathed, taking a step forward, ignoring the fact that I stood half-exposed, with wet silver hair spilling over my shoulders. "Who are you? You can't just be a student. Are you... a hidden Omega? Yes? You smell different... or do you use top-tier blockers?"
Her questions rained down on me. I felt a familiar defensive reaction boiling inside—a cold, prickly rage. In my past life, looks like this had always preceded pain.
"Be quiet," I snapped. My voice, stripped of glasses and disguise, sounded unexpectedly commanding.
I quickly grabbed a towel, wiping my face, and with a sharp motion, fished my ID out of my trouser pocket. The plastic card hit the sink tile with a dry click.
"Read it. Status: Beta. See this letter? It means I am a nobody. And I intend to stay a nobody."
She squinted at the card, then back at me. Her disbelief was almost palpable. "But your appearance... It's impossible for a Beta. You look like... like an Alpha's dream. If they see you like this, they'll lose their minds."
"Which is exactly why you will shut your mouth now and forget everything you saw," I stepped closer to her. Despite my physical fragility, the icy confidence of a thirty-year-old man who had seen too much filth in life stirred within me. "If even one word slips from your lips, I will find a way to turn your studies at this university into a living hell. I am a future surgeon; I know how to inflict wounds that never heal. Understood?"
The girl—her name was Mira, I'd seen her on the course lists before—suddenly swallowed and... blushed even deeper. She wasn't afraid. On the contrary, a strange spark ignited in her eyes.
"Fine," she whispered, pressing her hands to her chest. "I won't say a word. I swear. But... I have a condition." I narrowed my eyes. "A condition? You have no right to set conditions." "I do. I will be your friend. You're all alone here, aren't you? I've seen you sitting in the cafeteria. Let's... let's just talk. You need cover, and I need such an amazing friend."
It was madness. But there was a sincerity in her gaze that I hadn't encountered in years. Thus began our strange bond.
A month passed. Mira turned out to be an incredibly talkative and energetic "sweetheart"—that's what I called her privately because of her soft nature and love for sweets. She became my living armor. When we walked together, her Omega scent confused those around us, and even less attention was paid to me. I slowly began to open up to her, though I still kept my distance. We discussed anatomy, recipes, and news of a world I was still learning about.
But life wasn't just lectures. The money on my card was melting away. My parents' insurance had run out, and the electricity bills for my small house were starting to get scary.
One day, while Mira and I were walking in the park after classes (I was in my inevitable wig and glasses), a man with a camera approached us. "Excuse me," he looked excited. "I'm a photographer for a youth magazine. Kid, you have an incredible bone structure. Even through those glasses, I see... potential. An hour-long shoot, I pay cash right now."
I hesitated. My instincts screamed "run," but my empty stomach and unpaid bills screamed louder. I agreed. That's how I started moonlighting as a model. It was a strange job: I was shot in the shadows, in profile, often with my face half-covered, but the pay was good. My appearance, which I hated so much, started to feed me.
The semester was coming to an end when the ones I feared most knocked on my door. My uncle and aunt.
I managed to put on my glasses and change into my baggiest clothes, but I didn't have time for the wig—they entered without an invitation, opening the door with their own key. My real silver hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of my head.
When they saw me, silence fell over the living room. I saw my uncle's eyes widen. There was no love in his gaze—calculating thoughts were clicking like an abacus. "How much will the elite pay for him?" I read in his squint.
Aunt Lydia, who worked as an agent for actors, leaned forward, licking her lips. "Enri... dear... you've changed so much. Your skin... your hair..." her voice trembled with greed. "With a face like that, I'll make you a star in a week. Do you realize what doors will open for us? The career ladder won't be a problem anymore."
They began to push. "You must go to dinner with our partners," "These are questionable people, but very influential," "Don't be selfish, Enri, we're family after all."
Family. A word that had always meant betrayal to me.
A few days later, they came again, but this time with their children. Aunt's eldest daughter, Eliza, was an Alpha—a tall, stately woman with a cold gaze. Seeing me, she froze, and a predatory interest ignited in her eyes—one I recognized instantly. It was the look of an owner who had spotted a rare item.
While we sat in the living room, I felt like I was being interrogated. "I'll bring some water," I said, just to escape the circle of greedy eyes.
In the kitchen, I tried to steady my shaking hands. Suddenly, I felt someone standing behind me. Uncle's son, my cousin, a recessive Alpha named Mark. He stepped almost flush against me, and I felt his heavy breath by my ear. He was trying to catch my scent.
"Strange," he whispered, his voice a mix of disappointment and lust. "No scent at all. A blank. But... you look so good I don't even care about scents."
I spun around, holding the tray out like a shield. "Step back, Mark. You're violating my personal space."
He just smirked, his gaze traveling over my body as if he were undressing me. It made me sick.
A few more days passed. My life turned into a siege. My relatives were constantly around, trying to "tame" me.
The peak came when Mark arrived alone. He simply locked the front door and began to approach me with the sickening confidence of an Alpha who thinks a Beta is just a toy. "You know, Enri, my dad is right. You need to be sold profitably. But before that... I'd like to taste you myself."
He grabbed my shoulders, trying to pin me to the wall. I hit him with the tray, but my strength was no match. In my past life, I would have just curled up. In this one, I kicked his knee, winning a second.
Then the door burst open with a crash.
Eliza stood in the doorway. Her Alpha aura filled the room, suppressing Mark. She didn't scream. She simply walked up to him, grabbed the hand he was using to squeeze my shoulder, and with a sharp, distinct crack, twisted it.
Mark howled, falling to his knees. "Get out," she said in a lethal tone. "If you touch my cousin again, I'll break your neck."
Mark, whimpering, ran out of the house. Eliza turned to me. Her face softened, her gaze becoming caring, almost tender. She reached out and gently straightened the collar of my hoodie. "Are you alright, Enri? Sorry about that idiot. I'll always be on your side."
After that incident with Mark, a strange, almost frightening silence settled in my house. My uncle stopped sending me angry messages, and Mark seemed to evaporate, fearing his elder sister's wrath. Eliza… she became a frequent guest.
At first, I met her with a knife in the pocket of my hoodie. I didn't trust her. My past experience screamed: "The only free cheese is in a mousetrap!" When she first came two days after the incident, bringing bags of groceries and fresh coffee, I stood in the doorway, refusing to let her in.
"Why are you doing this, Eliza?" I asked, looking at her through my inevitable glasses. "What do you want from a 'pathetic Beta'?"
She only smiled softly. In her Alpha aura, there was none of the crushing pressure I felt from others. She smelled of cedar and expensive tobacco—a calm, confident scent that somehow made my shoulders relax against my will.
"I don't want anything, Enri," she replied quietly. "I'm just ashamed of my family. We are blood, and blood should protect each other, not tear each other apart. Give me a chance to just be your older sister."
Weeks passed. Eliza was flawless. She didn't pressure me, didn't ask about my appearance, and didn't try to drag me to questionable meetings. She was simply… there. Sometimes she would come in the evening while I sat over my surgery textbooks and silently place a plate of sliced fruit on the table. Sometimes she brought a warm blanket or new medical literature that was hard to find.
Gradually, my thorns began to lower.
One evening, we were sitting in my tiny living room. For the first time, I decided to take off my wig in front of her—she had already seen my "silver" anyway. Eliza watched as I let my hair down, and a spark flashed in her eyes that I took for familial pride.
I felt her hand rest on mine. It was warm and steady. "You have me now, Enri," she said, her voice vibrating with sincerity. "You're not alone anymore."
At that moment, I almost gave in. Inside me, somewhere behind layers of armor and cold, a tiny, desperate hope flickered. The old Enri, the original owner of this body, was rejoicing inside me. His childhood dream of a loving family was finally taking shape. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to find at least one haven in this strange world where I wouldn't have to fight for every breath.
Even my friend Mira, seeing our relationship, began to calm down. "Listen, maybe she really is okay?" she told me at the university. "There are decent Alphas out there. Rare as unicorns, but they exist."
I nodded, feeling the ice around my heart melting. I began to tell Eliza about my success in school, about how much I liked my hospital practice. I even started to laugh in her presence.
But sometimes, deep at night when I was left alone, a strange chill would run through me. I remembered that crack with which she had broken Mark's arm. There was such a filigree cruelty in her movements, such absolute power, that it didn't fit the image of a "kind sister."
But I brushed those thoughts away. I was so tired of being alone. I so wanted to believe that in this new life, under this new sky, I had finally earned the right to be loved.
I didn't notice how carefully Eliza was watching my every gesture. How she studied my habits, my weaknesses, my fears. To her, I wasn't a brother. I was the most valuable project of her life. She was building my cage slowly, twig by twig, lining them with soft velvet so I wouldn't notice as the lock clicked shut.
"Soon, Enri," she whispered as she left me that night. "Soon you will realize you don't need anyone but me."
I stood by the window and waved to her, unaware that this wasn't care, but a perfect siege.