The Inguz rune was more than a mere symbol; it stood as the eternal mark of fertility and undeniable proof of genuine Omega lineage. The rune manifested twelve years after birth, the moment when every child revealed their true form. Omegas who emerged without this rune were branded as "runners" those who escaped the destiny of procreation. Yet, they occupied a strange liminal space, not accepted as Betas, but never fully acknowledged as Omegas.
Many of them display omega traits early in puberty, but the rune itself often delayed its appearance until the cusp of teenage, around eighteen.
Eric had always harbored contempt for the life of Omegas. He was the only child of a runaway Omega mother and a dominant Alpha father. In their world, Betas could be either paupers or nobles, while Alphas live lives that swung between luxury and mediocrity. His father embodied the latter, steady, simple, and average. But that was before Eric's mother betrayed them, pawning their home as collateral before vanishing with her new lover. She left her son and husband stripped of everything, condemned to a life of poverty.
They barely scraped by in those years. But his father was an Alpha, resilient and relentless; getting back into the grind of survival was almost second nature. He worked tirelessly to secure a future for Eric, though he never lived to see his son manifest.
"The mind is not just what we think, it is the lens through which we view the world. Change that lens, even slightly, and the same world reshapes before us. Healing often begins not with altering the world itself, but in transforming the way we meet it…" The elderly man's voice carried across the classroom as he read from a worn book in his right hand. His left arm was tucked neatly behind his back, and wisps of white hair ringed his otherwise bald crown.
Half the class had already surrendered to sleep, their heads heavy on their desks. The rest struggled to fight off yawns, their attention half hearted at best. Josh belonged to the latter group, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eric, who sat across from him. Now and then, Josh's gaze flicked briefly toward Jay, seated to his left, before returning inevitably to Eric.
The bell shrilled, and the room erupted. Students sprang to their feet and filed out, ignoring the teacher's final reminder
"Don't forget your group projects."
"Yo, Eric!" A tall blond with striking ocean blue eyes called out, flanked by another boy, Josh, and Jay. "We're heading to Ritz. Wanna come?"
Eric slid his hands into his trouser pockets, his expression cool and detached. "I'll pass," he replied flatly, already turning to leave.
"Aw, bummer!" the blond shouted after him.
"Why do you even bother asking? He never says yes," another mumbled as they walked off.
Eric attended one of the largest campuses in Nalley. He never lacked company cause people seemed drawn to him, eager to hear even a single word from him. They said he was a Beta with the charm of an Omega. To Eric, Josh was the kind of friend who worried when he disappeared, and Jay… Jay held a quiet, irreplaceable place in his life.
Despite appearances, survival was not easy. Tuition alone drained him, and he managed only by juggling two part-time jobs. On weekdays, he worked shifts at Josh's family café, a lavish establishment that he could never have dreamt of entering, much less working in, if not for Josh's intervention.
On week ends, however, his world shifted entirely. He slips into the shadows of Royal Sixty-Nine, a run down, underground club so hidden that only guided insiders could ever find it. Even the staff were ghosts in plain sight, masked and nameless.
Eric pushed open the door to the staff room and strolled into the bar, clad in uniform and a silver mask. Four bartenders shared the floor, each wearing a numbered badge pinned to their vests.
By the wine cabinet, a man polished a glass, his eyes narrowing as Eric approached. "You're late," he spat.
Eric exhaled softly, moving behind the counter. "Sorry."
The man shoved the glass into its place and shot him a cold glare. "Focus on keeping your job instead of excuses," he snapped, disappearing into the staff only corridor.
Eric was used to it. Diego, as always, made sure every word dripped with disdain, sneering at him as if he were filth. No amount of indifference could hide the bitterness in those looks.
The night pressed on. The music thundered through the speakers while intoxicated bodies writhed across the dance floor. Predators and prey mingling in a haze of lust and alcohol. Alphas hunted for Omegas; timid Betas clung to corners, hoping to be overlooked.
Suddenly, Diego burst back into the bar. "Hey, B29!" he called, his lips curling as he leaned lazily against the doorway. The number etched on Eric's vest burned like a brand.
Eric turned calmly.
Diego crooked a finger at him. "Come."
Eric followed him into a long corridor lined with heavy doors. The VIP lounge. His pulse quickened, nothing good ever happened here.
"We've got an important guest tonight," Diego said, striding further down. "An Alpha, a huge patron and a VVIP."
Eric's brow arched. "So?" he asked, cutting him off.
Diego stopped, the corner of his mouth twitching with restrained anger. "So, he wants you."
Eric laughed. A low, bitter chuckle muffled against his hand. "Now I know you hate me. I always figured you'd throw me off a moving bus someday, but tossing me into a wolf's den? That's cold, Diego."
The other man's eyes darkened. "Watch your tongue, boy," he growled, stepping closer. "I didn't arrange this. You must've been flaunting yourself, angling for a sponsor out there. Well, you've been seen. Now deal with it." His voice cracked like fire, hot with resentment.
"I'm not a server," Eric shot back, his hands still buried in his pockets. "You don't get to sell me out like merchandise. You may run this place, but you're not the boss."
Diego lunged, standing so close their breaths collided. "Don't think the boss's favor gives you the right to mouth off at me." His jaw clenched as he yanked out his phone, dialed, and shoved it into Eric's hand. "Maybe you should hear directly from the boss"
A low, muffled voice filtered through the receiver, every word pressing down like an unshakable weight. Eric's entire body went rigid, his shoulders drawn tight as though bracing against an unseen blow. His fists curled so hard his knuckles whitened, nails biting into his palms, yet he did not loosen his grip. His eyes locked on Diego with unblinking intensity, not daring to waver, as if the command carried in that voice held him captive, binding him in a mix of fear, pressure, and unrelenting resolve.
As the call clicked to an end, Eric went utterly still, the silence pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. For a heartbeat his pulse seemed to falter, leaving a hollow ache in his chest, and then his arms fell uselessly to his sides, drained of strength. When he finally spoke, the words scraped out of him, sharp and strained, "what must i do?" he demanded, his voice taut with hostility as his gaze locked with Diego's unyielding, ice-cold stare.