"None of them could make him release."
The words settled over the grand hall like a death sentence. Not a single woman dared to breathe. Twenty-four of the world's most exceptional beauties stood beneath crystal chandeliers that bathed the palace in white light. They had been chosen from millions—not simply because they were beautiful, but because they had ended powerful men. Among them were Omegas capable of driving Alphas into uncontrollable ruts with nothing more than a smile, and Betas whose charm had collapsed billion-dollar corporations without firing a single bullet. These were women who had seduced kings, politicians, generals, and CEOs; women whose names alone could make powerful men abandon reason.
Today, they all looked terrified. Designer clothes clung to trembling fingers. Perfect makeup failed to conceal pale faces. Even the sweetest pheromones lingering in the air couldn't mask the sharp scent of fear, because every woman gathered here shared the same humiliation. They had all failed.
One of the Betas swallowed nervously. "I still don't understand..." she whispered, careful not to raise her voice. "He invited four of us home."
An Omega beside her gave a bitter laugh. "He did."
"He kissed us."
"He did."
"He slept with us."
"He did."
The Beta frowned. "Then how..."
"He never finished."
Another woman closed her eyes, remembering the nightmare all too clearly. "He touched us. He kissed us. He spent the night with us. He even helped one of us through heat..." Her voice cracked. "...but when morning came, every collection kit was empty."
No one spoke after that. The truth sounded absurd. An Alpha who desired women, an Alpha who slept with women, yet never released—it defied biology itself.
A quiet scoff came from somewhere in the line. "They're beginning to think he's defective."
"No." An older Omega shook her head. "If he were defective, the Boss wouldn't have sent us back three times."
The mention of the Boss instantly silenced everyone. No one had ever seen his entire face. Some believed he had once ruled a nation before disappearing; others claimed he wasn't human at all. Rumors surrounded him like ghosts, each more frightening than the last. The only thing everyone agreed upon was this—failure was something he did not tolerate. One failed mission was forgivable. Two was dangerous. Three... no one wanted to imagine what came after three.
The doors at the end of the hall suddenly rumbled. Every heartbeat froze as steel scraped against the wall and the doors slowly swung inward. Heavy footsteps echoed through the silence.
He appeared dressed entirely in black. His suit was tailored with impossible precision. Black leather gloves hid every inch of his hands. Then came the mask—a charcoal-gray visor concealed the upper half of his face, its dark lenses revealing nothing. Only his lower face remained visible: a sharp jaw, pale lips, and not a trace of emotion. He walked neither quickly nor slowly. He simply walked, yet every person in the room instinctively lowered their gaze.
The instant he reached the center of the hall, twenty-four women dropped to their knees in unison.
"Boss." Their voices merged into one.
The man didn't answer. He simply looked at them. The pressure became unbearable. One Omega felt sweat trickle down her back despite the chilled air, while another struggled to steady her breathing. No one dared lift their head.
Finally, a man stepped from the shadows. Tall and perfectly composed, a tablet rested in one hand.
"Boss," his voice was calm enough to soothe a battlefield. "The final report from Project Z."
The masked man gave a slight nod.
The assistant—Kaelen—activated the tablet, and a holographic display blossomed between them. Twelve glowing genetic profiles floated in the air; eleven turned green, while one remained red. Kaelen's expression never changed. "Project Z has successfully acquired genetic samples from every targeted Alpha... except one."
The red profile expanded until it floated above the kneeling women. Several immediately lowered their heads further.
"We deployed twenty-four candidates over eighteen months," Kaelen continued. Images appeared one after another: luxury yachts, exclusive galas, private penthouses, charity auctions, business summits, and vacation resorts. Every image showed a different woman beside the same man. "He accepted invitations." Another image. "He accepted drinks, danced, kissed and shared his bed."
The holograms vanished, and Kaelen's voice remained emotionless. "And every operation ended identically." Empty collection capsules rotated above the table—twenty-four of them. Not one contained what they needed. "He never released."
The words echoed across the hall. One Beta squeezed her eyes shut, and another fought back tears.
Kaelen continued. "Our medical division has ruled out ordinary infertility. The target displays normal hormonal activity. Normal libido. Normal Alpha instincts. He experiences attraction. He engages in intercourse. But no climax." He paused. "As though his body simply refuses to surrender."
The room remained frozen. Finally, one trembling Omega gathered enough courage to speak. "B-Boss..." Her forehead pressed harder against the floor. "We tried everything. We changed personalities. We changed appearances. We approached him during heat. We approached him during rut. We even let him believe he was in complete control." Her voice broke. "...Please believe us."
No response. The Boss stood as still as a statue. His silence was somehow worse than anger.
Kaelen finally spoke again. "The streets have given him a nickname." He looked toward his employer. "They call Malcolm Ford..." A new photograph appeared. Only the edge of it was visible from where the women knelt. "...The Heartless Alpha."
The hall fell deathly silent. The Boss's gaze lingered on the photograph for several long seconds—longer than anyone expected. Kaelen noticed. For the first time during the report, the Boss had stopped moving altogether.
"...Interesting," he murmured.
It was only a single word and almost inaudible. Yet every person in the hall heard it. Kaelen's eyes flickered ever so slightly. In ten years, he had never heard the Boss describe a target as interesting.
The silence lingered for another heartbeat, and then the Boss finally spoke. "Leave."
One word and every woman immediately rose to her feet. None dared ask for forgiveness; none dared explain themselves. Within seconds, the grand hall emptied, leaving behind only two figures: the Boss and Kaelen.
The enormous doors groaned shut behind the last departing candidate.
The last echo of retreating footsteps faded into silence. For several moments, neither of them spoke. The Boss stood motionless before Malcolm Ford's holographic profile, his hands resting loosely behind his back, while Kaelen remained several paces behind him. Having served this man for more than ten years, Kaelen knew him long enough to recognize something few others could—his master was thinking. Whenever that happened, the world usually changed afterward.
"Bring it closer."
Kaelen blinked. "The profile, Boss."
"Yes."
With a tap on his tablet, Malcolm Ford's image expanded until it floated life-sized between them. A handsome man looked back. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair swept carelessly across his forehead. His overcoat hung open over a fitted black turtleneck that somehow made him look more dangerous than formal. He wasn't smiling for the camera; the picture had been taken from a distance while he walked through the entrance of Deviloy Technology. Yet somehow, he still dominated the photograph. People moved around him, but every eye in the picture seemed naturally drawn toward him. There was an effortless confidence about him—the confidence of someone who had never been forced to prove his strength, the confidence of someone who had always been the strongest man in the room.
"The surveillance team captured this yesterday," Kaelen explained. "He had just concluded a shareholders' meeting."
The Boss said nothing, his pale gaze studying every detail: the angle of Malcolm's shoulders, the relaxed posture, the slight crease near his eyes. Then, he commanded, "Play the recording."
Kaelen hesitated. "...Boss?"
"The restaurant footage."
Without another question, Kaelen obeyed. The hologram dissolved into moving footage of a private dining room, where Malcolm Ford sat across from an Omega of breathtaking beauty. She laughed, and he laughed with her. She reached across the table, and he didn't stop her. She touched his hand, and he let her. Another recording replaced it, showing a luxury penthouse with the same Alpha and a different woman. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. Another clip showed another woman, then another, and another. Every recording ended the same way; the women entered smiling and left frustrated.
When the final recording faded, silence returned. Kaelen finally spoke. "Our analysts estimate we have spent over four hundred million credits attempting to obtain his genetic material." He looked toward Malcolm's frozen portrait. "Every known psychological profile has been tested. The shy Omega, the mature Beta, innocent student, dominant executive, older and younger woman. The intellectual. The seductress. The caretaker. The submissive. The victim." He exhaled slowly. "He entertained every single one, but never surrendered."
The Boss folded his arms. "Interesting."
Kaelen frowned. "May I ask... what exactly interests you?"
"The pattern."
Kaelen remained silent. The Boss finally turned away from the hologram. "He never rejects them."
"No."
"He desires them."
"Yes."
"He allows intimacy."
"Correct."
"He simply refuses to lose control."
Kaelen nodded. "Exactly."
A faint smile almost reached the Boss's lips. Almost. "It isn't biology."
Kaelen's brows knitted together. "You disagree with the scientists?"
"I disagree with lazy conclusions." The Boss walked slowly across the floor, his footsteps echoing softly through the empty hall. "They believe the body is malfunctioning. They're wrong."
Kaelen followed behind him. "Then what is it?"
The Boss stopped before one of the towering windows overlooking the palace grounds. Outside, helicopters crossed the morning sky while vehicles glided silently through the city below. "It is discipline."
Kaelen stared. "Discipline?"
"An Alpha who governs himself better than his instincts." Silence settled again. Then, the Boss spoke quietly. "I want every psychological report."
"You already have them."
"I want the raw interviews."
"They're archived."
"I want every surveillance recording."
"There are over nine thousand hours."
"I'll watch them."
Kaelen couldn't hide his surprise. "You... personally?"
"Yes." His answer came without hesitation. Kaelen looked at him carefully. This wasn't normal. The Boss delegated; he didn't immerse himself. Not like this.
After a long pause, Kaelen finally asked the question lingering in his mind. "...Why?"
The Boss remained facing the window. "Because everyone else has been studying his body." He slowly looked back at Malcolm's hologram. "I intend to study his mind."
Kaelen felt a chill creep down his spine as he suddenly understood. The mission had changed. This was no longer about seduction; it had become a contest between two men who had never learned how to lose. Several seconds passed before Kaelen quietly broke the silence. "There is still one obstacle."
The Boss looked toward him. "The target."
Kaelen hesitated. "He has never shown interest in men."
"I know."
"He has never attended an event with a male companion.There isn't a single rumor linking him romantically to another male Alpha."
"I know."
Kaelen lowered the tablet. "Then why continue?"
For the first time since entering the hall, the Boss reached up. His fingers slid beneath the edge of the mask, and a soft hiss escaped as the seals disengaged. The mask came away. Kaelen instinctively lowered his gaze before looking back. Even after ten years, the sight remained unsettling.
The face beneath the mask possessed an impossible kind of beauty. It was elegant, perfectly balanced, and almost ethereal. He had sharp silvereyes, porcelain skin untouched by imperfection, and features so precise they seemed sculpted rather than born—a face capable of disarming a room before speaking a single word. Yet, there was no warmth in it. Only composure.
"The greatest mistake intelligent people make..." His voice was quieter without the mask. "...is believing everyone breaks the same way."
Kaelen listened.
"They sent beautiful women, sent seduction and desire." He looked once more toward Malcolm's image. "What if those were never the keys?"
Kaelen searched his master's face. "What are you suggesting?"
The Boss's expression remained unreadable. "I'll find a different door."
A long silence followed. Then Kaelen slowly inhaled. "You've already made your decision."
"I have."
"You intend to supervise the operation personally."
"No." The Boss picked up his mask, turning it thoughtfully between his fingers. "I intend to become the operation."
Kaelen froze. For perhaps the first time in years, he genuinely had no response. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
"The target likes women."
"We'll see."
"He has rejected twenty-four of the world's finest."
"I know."
"He has no interest in men."
The Boss calmly slipped the mask back over his face, and the seals clicked into place. "Then perhaps..." His distorted voice returned. "...it is time he met someone unlike any man he has ever known."
Kaelen let out a slow breath. There it was—the decision. Irreversible. "...I'll begin preparing another team."
"No." The answer came immediately. "No team."
Kaelen looked up. "I only need you."
He started walking toward the great doors, his long coat drifting behind him. Kaelen hurried after him. "The laboratory won't approve."
"They don't need to."
"The board will demand a vote."
"They can hold one after I return."
"What identity will you use?"
"We'll discuss that on the flight."
They reached the doors, and the guards immediately pushed them open as morning light flooded the hall. Without slowing his pace, the Boss spoke one final command. "Prepare the jet."
Kaelen activated his tablet. "Destination, Boss?"
The masked man stepped into the sunlight, his answer calm, certain, and final: "Freenly City."