The afternoon brought mandatory weapons training, and Song Liu was about as thrilled as one could be about touching something made of cold, unglamorous metal. He showed up to the enormous, multi-level training hall late, naturally, still sulking about the mashed potatoes.
The hall was a symphony of power: the rhythmic thud of practice swords, the sharp crack of energy pistols, and, most oppressively, the mingled, raw scent of hundreds of young, dominant Alphas working up a sweat. Song Liu, even layered in his scent blockers, felt utterly exposed.
He located his assigned group, which, predictably, included Wei Ze. The instructor, a grizzled old Alpha with a voice like gravel, was already demonstrating how to hold a standard-issue combat knife.
"The academy provides state-of-the-art protection for our lone Omega student, but you will still train," the instructor barked, his eyes sweeping over the class before landing on Song Liu. "You will learn the basics of self-defense, even if your purpose here is... administrative."
Song Liu bristled. "My purpose here is to graduate with honors, thank you very much," he muttered under his breath.
When it was time to partner up for a basic disarming drill, Song Liu immediately turned his back on Wei Ze, preferring to partner with a nervous-looking, smaller Alpha instead.
"You're partnered with me, Song Liu," Wei Ze's low voice stated from behind him.
Song Liu spun around. "Absolutely not. You're trying to sabotage me! I'm partnering with..." He pointed to the nervous student.
The instructor stepped over, his face stern. "Partners are assigned by rank proximity for training efficacy. You and Cadet Wei Ze are paired. Get to work."
Song Liu wanted to scream that he was the son of a Duke, not a "cadet," but the instructor's intense gaze shut him up.
"Fine," Song Liu spat. "You try to disarm me first. I'll make it quick."
Wei Ze handed him the training knife—a heavy, dull piece of metal. "Hold it firmly. Don't let your grip relax," he advised, his tone annoyingly detached.
"I know how to hold a knife, Wei Ze," Song Liu sneered, gripping the handle with white knuckles.
Wei Ze took his stance—wide, balanced, and completely unreadable. "Ready?"
"Whenever you are." Song Liu tried to look threatening, which was hard while wearing designer training slacks.
The next second, Wei Ze moved.
It wasn't a sudden, brutal attack. It was a blur of focused, deliberate motion. Song Liu barely registered the change in atmosphere—a flash of movement, a brief, cold pressure on his wrist, and then the knife was gone. It clattered to the floor.
Song Liu was left standing there, his wrist stinging, looking utterly bewildered. It was over in less than two seconds.
"You held it too high," Wei Ze said calmly, picking up the knife. "And you telegraph the move with your shoulders."
"You... you cheated!" Song Liu stammered, rubbing his wrist.
"I used technique," Wei Ze corrected. "Now, your turn. Try to disarm me."
Song Liu launched himself forward, fueled purely by indignation, trying to mimic what he'd just seen. He went high, he went low, he tried to twist the Alpha's hand. Wei Ze didn't even shift his feet. He just sidestepped, used a minimal amount of force, and before Song Liu knew what happened, he was stumbling forward, his dignity completely gone.
Frustrated, Song Liu leaned in close to Wei Ze. "You know what? You smell like sandalwood and crap," he hissed in a low whisper, attempting a pathetic insult.
Wei Ze finally lost his placid neutrality. His intense blue eyes narrowed, and for the first time, Song Liu saw something truly Alpha flash across his face—an unmistakable flicker of controlled dominance.
A scent, sharp and undeniably potent, cut through the heavy air. It wasn't the usual, cold sandalwood. It was deeper, richer, a chilling mix of pine and winter ice, a scent so clean and overwhelming it felt like the air had just been sucked from the room.
It was an accidental leak of his true scent.
Song Liu stumbled back a full step, his heart hammering against his ribs. Every instinct his Omega biology possessed screamed dominate, submit, powerful. His knees felt weak, and his carefully constructed composure shattered. The pheromone blockers, meant to protect him from the ordinary Alpha scents, were useless against this wave of sheer, terrifying authority.
Wei Ze's eyes widened, realizing his mistake. He took an immediate, deep breath, clamping down on his emotional response and pulling the scent instantly back under control. The powerful smell vanished, replaced by the familiar, mild sandalwood.
"Apologies," Wei Ze muttered, his voice slightly rougher than before. "Let's stick to the drill."
Song Liu didn't respond. He just stared at his roommate, breathing raggedly. He was suddenly, acutely aware that this wasn't just a regular, irritating Alpha. This was an Alpha whose scent could make the air freeze. He had never felt so small, or so utterly terrified, in his life. The humiliation of the morning was replaced by a cold, unsettling fear.
Who the hell is Wei Ze? he thought,
his knees still shaking. He had to call his dad. Now.