The girl drew a shaky breath before sliding her trembling fingers into Eren's. His palm was warm, his cedar-and-smoke scent a subtle shield that seemed to steady her nerves. Together, they stepped into the backstage storm—sequins flashing, fabric flying, assistants barking orders as models hurried past, dripping with perfume and nerves.
"Eren!"
Claude 's voice cut through the chaos, sharp enough to turn heads. He strode toward them, his presence laced with the cloying sweetness of an Omega's displeasure, the air tightening under the weight of his pheromones.
"I've been looking for you," he said coolly—then his gaze flicked to the girl at Eren's side. His eyes narrowed when they landed on the Scarlet Promise choker gleaming at her throat.
"Well, well." Claude 's tone curved into a mocking smile. "So this is the mysterious model you've been hiding? Hm. Hardly the revelation I expected." He let his gaze rake over her trembling frame. "No poise. No presence. Forgettable, really—just like her designer."
The girl's shoulders caved; her eyes dropped to the floor. Heat and shame thickened in the air like a fog. Eren's jaw clenched, and his cedar scent spiked darker, protective. He tightened his grip on her hand, stepping half a pace in front of her.
"Don't listen," he murmured, low enough for her alone. "I won't let him touch you with his words."
Before she could reply, another presence pressed against the tension—rich and commanding, like dark spice tempered with steel.
"Red."
Both Eren and the girl turned.
Adriel stood there. Tall. Alpha. His pheromones rolled through the backstage din, effortlessly sweeping Claude's cloying sweetness aside. Even the chatter of stagehands seemed to dull under the quiet dominance of his presence.
"Ad—" Eren began, but the word was stolen when Adriel closed the distance and pulled him into his arms. Heat roared through Eren's body. The cedar of his own scent tangled helplessly with Adriel's darker notes, creating a magnetic blend that left his pulse stumbling. For a moment, the entire backstage blurred; the only reality was Adriel's steadiness, his warmth, the unyielding grip that told the world: mine.
Then panic flared. Dozens of eyes lingered—makeup artists, stylists, assistants. His cheeks burned, his composure unraveling beneath the scrutiny. With a startled gasp, Eren pressed his palms against Adriel's chest and pushed back, breaking free.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, voice tight, pitched low but urgent. "Everyone is staring." He stepped back quickly, trying to rebuild the fragile walls of distance. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, too fast, too loud.
Behind him, the girl had watched it all with wide eyes. A shy smile tugged at her lips now, admiration softening her fear. To her, the tall Alpha and the fiery Omega looked inevitable together—two halves that belonged, whether Eren would admit it aloud or not.
And in the corner, Claude lingered, his expression sharpened with something unreadable—mockery, perhaps, or envy—his sweet scent curdling in the air.
"Today's the last day," Adriel said with a playful smile, leaning closer.
Eren flushed, heat rushing to his face. He tried to step aside, but Adriel's hand moved with effortless precision, curving around his waist. The contact sent a shiver through him, the Alpha's spiced cedar scent blooming around them, rich and overwhelming.
"Last day of what?" Eren asked, his voice unsteady, betraying the tremor in his chest.
"Don't play innocent, Red." Adriel's tone dropped into something low, teasing, edged with promise. "After tonight, nothing will stand in my way. I'll finally be free to do what I want."
Eren swallowed hard, his own scent—faint cedar-smoke and honey—fluttering unsteadily under the press of Adriel's. He forced himself to hold his ground. "We agreed—only if I win."
Adriel's gaze slid to the girl at Eren's side, then to the Scarlet Promise choker at her throat, gleaming beneath the backstage lights. His smile deepened, confident, assured—like an Alpha already claiming victory.
"Then do your best," he murmured. "I'll see you on stage."
Before Eren could protest, Adriel bent and brushed a kiss against his forehead. The brief press lingered just long enough to unravel Eren's careful composure. His pulse jumped, his knees weak, his scent spiking nervously sweet in the charged air. And then Adriel was gone—striding away through the flurry of perfume, fabric, and whispers, leaving silence in his wake.
The girl turned wide eyes to Eren. "Wasn't that… President Ulrick? My grandfather told me about him." Her voice carried awe and disbelief in equal measure. "You know him?"
"Of course," Eren replied, managing a small smile though his throat was dry. "I work for Ulrick."
The girl tilted her head, studying him, skeptical. "It didn't feel like he was treating you as just an employee."
Eren fell silent, heart tightening. The truth loomed too close now, pressing on him like a weight. Soon—when his name was revealed as the designer behind Roselune—there would be no more hiding. Everyone would know.
Would they accept him? Or dismiss him as unworthy? The businessmen, the socialites, those who already whispered about Adriel and Claude —what would they say when they learned the truth? That an Alpha's chosen partner was not an heiress, not a pedigree match… but just an ordinary Omega who had carried his child and captured his heart.
His palms dampened, his throat constricting. Will they see me as his partner—or his mistake?
"Um… can I ask something?" the girl asked softly, breaking into his spiraling thoughts. She touched the choker at her throat with delicate fingers. "What does your design mean?"
Eren's gaze lifted to the scarlet-and-silver centerpiece, his expression softening as he breathed in, grounding himself in the sight.
"The theme of the final design is Threaded by Stars: Love and Destiny…" he began.
But before he could finish, the spotlight flared. One by one, ten models swept onto the runway, jewels catching the light in glittering bursts.
Murmurs rippled through the hall—every design a masterpiece, every model a vision of elegance, every step pulling Eren closer to the moment of truth.
Then she entered.
The girl in Eren's creation stepped forward, and the air itself seemed to catch. Conversation faltered. Even the restless shuffle of silks and the clicking of cameras stilled as if the hall itself held its breath.
In the front row, an elderly man staggered to his feet, breath caught in his chest. His eyes—sharp despite the years—locked onto her as though the world had narrowed to a single star. Adriel noticed at once. His chest tightened, every Alpha instinct on alert. He knew that face, knew the authority it carried. The chairman of the most powerful fashion house in the country was staring at the girl as though lightning had struck.
And his astonishment was undeniable.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Claude's voice rang out, smooth as glass, laced with a sweet Omega sharpness that pushed into the air like a blade. His pheromones unfurled in syrupy waves, vying for dominance, commanding the crowd's attention. "Allow me to present—The Scarlet Promise."
His words draped across the hall like a spell:
"The kiss of eternity, woven in red. Crimson cords entwined with silver constellations, binding love to the heavens. At its heart burns a fractured star, brilliance unbroken—like a spirit once shattered, now remade. From it falls a drop of scarlet fire: sorrow's ache, yet also the vow reborn. Passion becomes prophecy. Love that falters, love that endures, love that rises again in greater flame. The Scarlet Promise is not only a memory of love, but a testament—fragile yet eternal, threaded once more among the stars."
The audience shivered with awe. Whispers rippled like wind through tall grass, hushed and reverent, tangled with pheromones—admiration, longing, envy—thickening the already charged air.
When the final presentation ended, Claude's voice lingered, sticky-sweet. "Esteemed guests, the time has come. Cast your votes. Tonight, two designers will ascend into Ulrick Jewel's Elite."
The hush deepened, heavier than before. Thirty percent of the score lay with the audience, seventy with the judges. Every heartbeat felt stretched, fragile as glass.
"Did I… do enough?" the girl whispered, trembling as she neared Eren. Her voice quivered, hope and fear entwined.
Eren's cedar-and-honey scent reached instinctively toward her, steadying, wrapping her trembling nerves in something protective, unyielding.
And then—
"Jenny? Is it you, my granddaughter?"
The voice cracked like thunder.
Both Eren and the girl spun, stunned.
"Grandfather!" Jenny gasped, joy breaking over her face. She rushed forward, nearly forgetting the stage beneath her feet.
The old man's eyes shone, damp with awe. "I hardly recognize you. The change… it is beyond belief. Can this radiant young woman truly be my granddaughter?"
Jenny's throat tightened; laughter and tears tangled together. "Even I can't believe it, Grandfather. Who would have thought I could ever look this… beautiful?"
The hall held its breath again, silence trembling on the edge of collapse. Pheromones swirled faintly in the air—Eren's cedar, the chairman's pride, Claude's bitter-sweetness.
"You are beautiful," Eren whispered, pride trembling in his voice, his scent swelling to envelop her like a cloak.
"You are beautiful," the old man echoed, his voice rough with awe.
The words collided in perfect harmony. The two froze, startled by their own unity. Their eyes met across Jenny's radiant smile—and for an instant, it was as if the world itself had conspired to draw one truth from two hearts.
Eren felt it—an instinctive shift. A weight lifted. His design, his belief, had carried her here. His chest ached with pride, with something dangerously close to tears.
And then Adriel's presence pressed closer, unmistakable. The Alpha had not spoken, but his pheromones flared—dark spice and steel rolling over the hall, wrapping around Eren, steadying him. Not claiming, not overshadowing, but standing as a wall at his back. Support, silent and absolute.
The chairman's smile broke wide, disbelief giving way to raw joy that lit his weathered face. Eren, caught between that gaze and Adriel's protective nearness, found himself smiling too—soft, certain, proud.
Jenny laughed then, delicate and free, like glass chimes scattering the heaviness. "You even said it at the same time," she teased, tears shining. "Like it was meant to be."
The spell shattered. The hall stirred. Guests leaned forward in their seats, whispers spreading like sparks through dry grass. They had come to see jewels, but what they witnessed was rarer: a family rediscovered, a legacy reborn, beauty revealed.
Even the judges glanced at one another, masks of professionalism cracking under the weight of what had just unfolded.
For all the votes, for all the scoring, the truth had already been sealed. Jenny had captured something greater.
She had captured hearts.