Lila stumbled into the Third Floor Suite, the polished hardwood floor now seeming miles away. The vague discomfort from the morning had erupted into a series of white-hot, coiling spasms that took her breath away. The Alpha-strength cycle of this world was far beyond anything her modern body was equipped to handle.
She barely made it to the edge of the large Persian rug in Adrian's main sitting room before a wave of nausea and agonizing pain forced her to collapse onto her knees.
"This is unfair," she whimpered, curling into a tight ball. The pain was so intense it felt like her organs were aggressively staging a violent protest against her very existence. Omegas have magic and power, but they still have to deal with this? The injustice! The absolute, soul-crushing unfairness of the universe!
Tears, hot and involuntary, streamed down her cheeks. She was crying not from fear of Adrian or political plots, but from pure, raw, physiological agony. She tried to internally scream, but the effort only pulled at her muscles, making her gasp.
A door clicked open from the back of the suite—Adrian's private study.
"Assistant Blackwood," Adrian's voice demanded, flat and impatient. "I heard a noise. I require an immediate briefing on the Beta Unit's efficiency, not a dramatic reenactment of your limp."
He strode out, intending to deliver a cold command, but stopped dead the moment he saw her.
Lila was a wreck. She was curled on the floor in her expensive suit, trembling, with silent, copious tears tracking paths through the sweat on her face. Her usual shield of defiance was gone, replaced by the naked vulnerability of someone enduring extreme physical suffering.
Adrian's silver eyes widened slightly—a minute change that signaled genuine shock. He had seen her scared, angry, and defiant, but never broken by simple pain. He took a step closer, the cold scent of his aura instantly spiking her anxiety, even through the pain.
"What is the meaning of this, Lila?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Is this another attempt at a political display? Are you feigning injury to avoid the Physical Trial?"
Lila shook her head, unable to speak. The pain coiled again, forcing a choked, miserable sound from her throat.
Adrian knelt, observing her with the clinical detachment of a scientist looking at a malfunctioning machine. He noted the pallor of her skin, the shallow, rapid breathing, and the exact position of her hands clutching her lower abdomen.
"I am not feigning," Lila whispered, the words ragged. She tried to look up at him, her eyes blurry with tears. "My... my stomach hurts. I must have eaten something bad. I just need to get to my room."
Adrian narrowed his eyes. "Stomach pain does not induce this level of physiological distress, Assistant. You are currently exhibiting symptoms of severe internal trauma. We are going to the medical facility—"
"No!" Lila gasped, the refusal instinctive and immediate. She couldn't let anyone in the Academy see this, least of all Adrian's medical staff who would record it as a flaw in his asset. She couldn't let her Omega femininity be documented as a weakness.
Adrian leaned closer, his voice suddenly sharp. "Do not disobey me, Lila. Explain this! What, precisely, is wrong with your stomach?"
Lila pressed her face against her knees, completely mortified. She was exposed, helpless, and now being interrogated by the most terrifying man alive about the most embarrassing, private detail of her life.
"It's... it's just my cycle, Alpha," she managed to mumble, the words barely audible against the rug. "It's my monthly... thing."
Silence descended over the room, broken only by Lila's shaky breathing.
Adrian didn't move. He simply stared down at her, the silence stretching into an eternity of mortification for Lila. She expected a sneer, a cruel joke, or perhaps a demand for a scientific report on her cramps.
He finally spoke, his voice completely flat. "Ah. The Omega Waning Cycle. My literature on Omegas is comprehensive, but admittedly lacking in descriptive physiological detail. A setback, but manageable."
He paused, then asked a horrifyingly clinical question. "And what precisely do you require to manage this setback? Is there medication, a specific Beta poultice, or a preferred item of... feminine hygiene?"
Lila flushed a deep red. She wanted the floor to swallow her whole. "I... I don't have anything," she whispered, her voice cracking with the humiliation of admitting such a thing to him. "I didn't think... I don't have pads here."
Adrian rose fluidly to his full, imposing height. The amusement that had briefly crossed his face in the hallway was gone, replaced by the efficient, slightly irritated expression of a man dealing with an inconvenient maintenance issue.
He turned and walked toward the door. Lila braced herself for him to call the entire Academy staff.
Instead, Adrian stopped at a small communication panel and pressed a button.
"Call Assistant Blackwood's personal maid, Anna," Adrian's voice commanded, crisp and clear. "Send her to the suite immediately. Tell her to bring a full supply of Omega Waning Cycle provisions."
He then turned back to Lila. "You are an Asset of the True Blood. You do not suffer inconveniences without reporting them. And you certainly do not lie about them. Your performance tomorrow must be unimpaired."
He walked back to his desk, took his heavy chair, and sat down to wait, watching her suffer with a detached, clinical intensity.
A minute later, a small, kind-faced Beta named Anna rushed in, her eyes wide with concern, clutching a basket filled with various items.
Adrian immediately addressed the maid, completely ignoring Lila's presence for a moment. "Anna, Lila is experiencing the Omega Waning Cycle. You will attend to her immediately. What is required for relief of this specific pain?"
Anna, though terrified of the True Blood Alpha, focused on her charge. "Alpha, usually a warm compress is best, and sometimes a sweet tonic helps manage the hormonal shock. A heating stone, perhaps, and a specific herbal tea."
Adrian nodded, accepting the data. "Implement the primary solutions."
Anna rushed to Lila, helping her off the floor and guiding her to the large, cushioned divan. While Anna helped her to a more comfortable position, Adrian picked up the communication panel again.
"Send up a fresh pot of Moroccan Mint Tea," he ordered. "And request all available high-grade Dark Chocolates from the main kitchen, immediately."
He didn't stop there. He actually walked over to a heavy bookcase, pulled out a thick volume labeled Pack Customs and Omega Lore, and flipped through the pages with intense focus, his brow furrowed.
Lila, curled up on the divan while Anna quietly brought her a warm stone for her abdomen, watched him. She watched the True Blood Alpha—the man who had just condemned three girls to a life of misery—consulting ancient texts on period care.
Anna gave her a reassuring pat. "The Alpha is... unusually concerned about the Beta supply chain," she whispered, misunderstanding Adrian's true motive.
But Lila knew better. It wasn't the supply chain. It was his asset.
When the requested items arrived, Adrian personally arranged them on a small side table next to her, a large bowl of steaming water, the aromatic tea, and a beautiful platter of rich, dark chocolate. He even placed the medical text he had been reading on the table, opened to a page on Omega Pain Management.
He then looked at her, his expression now softened to a neutral, attentive observation. "Anna reports that dark chocolate helps. And the heated stone will alleviate the physical stress. Rest now, Lila. Your survival is predicated on your recovery."
He turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the soft glow of a nearby lamp. He walked back to his desk, but instead of returning to his papers, he sat quietly, simply watching her.
Lila took a small sip of the warm tea, the mint soothing her throat. She looked at the chocolate, then at the terrifying man who had just provided a perfect, textbook-level act of care.
The pain was still there, a dull ache now, but the crushing, emotional humiliation was completely gone, replaced by a soft, warm, dizzying feeling. The True Blood Alpha, her captor and villain, was sitting quietly in the dark, making sure she had warm compresses and her favorite comfort food.
He's a devil, Lila thought, a soft, ridiculous smile touching her lips. But he's the devil who brought me chocolate.
Lila felt her heart begin to beat again, but this time it was slow, steady, and dangerously soft. She was floating, not on a sea of fear, but on a cloud of quiet, unexpected True Blood kindness. It was the single most compassionate moment she had experienced in this terrifying world, and it was entirely orchestrated by her tyrant.
Maybe this world will not be as bad as I thought, ... maybe he is not as bad too.