Even at eight years old, Damian was smart enough to understand the strangeness of the place he had grown up in. The orphanage he came from didn't even have a name. His entire world consisted only of its grounds— its buildings, the small fenced-off yard, and the masked guards positioned everywhere. He was forbidden from going beyond the tree line that bordered the orphanage, and that alone deepened the uneasy feeling he had always carried about the place.
In the few books he'd managed to read there, he saw hints of a world far larger than the one he lived in— things he had never witnessed himself. Yet whenever he asked the guards about what he read, they always told him the books were merely fairy tales. For a time, he believed them. After all, some stories were absurd, like humans flying. He knew humans didn't have wings.
But even if he only knew his tiny environment, he couldn't shake a certain tight, suffocating feeling. His instincts kept whispering that something was wrong with this place. Not to mention how many of his friends were separated once their secondary genders were discovered, children who disappeared entirely once they reached a certain age. That only fed the gnawing curiosity and fear about where he truly lived.
Perhaps because he was bright despite being quiet, an old man once came to the orphanage and announced that several children would be selected for military training. Damian— despite being an omega, was assigned to that category once he reached the designated age.
When he heard that, he thought, Ah … maybe the older kids vanished because they were already working. The idea excited him. He began to look forward to growing older. But that hope crumbled the night he heard the explosion.
A deafening blast shook the orphanage, followed by frenzied shouting as the masked guards urged them to run outside and hide. Children screamed, and the guards' own voices tangled with theirs. The night sky burned orange, lit by more explosions, filling the air with terror.
But Damian felt something else. He felt as if the chaos unfolding around him was exactly like the "end of the world" he had once read about in books. It was terrifying, yes— but there was also a strange, steady calm in him. A quiet acceptance that perhaps he couldn't outrun humanity's final day.
Panic and serenity twisted together inside his chest as he clung to the hands of the friends pulling him toward the trees. But before any of the children could escape into the forest, a man on a motorcycle cut them off— the same engine sound they had heard moments before fleeing the building.
The man was so tall, with striking red hair and eyes that matched. His entire body, his clothes, his face, even the strands of his hair— was drenched in red. Blood.
"Stop. If you don't stop, you'll be in danger."
Perhaps because the children were already conditioned to obey adults, they all froze instantly. The hand gripping Damian's tightened in fear, and Damian let out a soft hiss at the sudden pressure.
The red-eyed man scratched his head, then lifted his gaze to the stars scattered across the sky. He let out a heavy exhale and cursed under his breath, 'Shit… if it weren't for Suga, I wouldn't even bother.' Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small device, pressed it to his ear, and started speaking to no one the children could see. 'Yeah, send three cars to this location. Around fifteen kids. Some might be hiding in the forest. Hurry, or I don't know how long they'll stay put.'
From the sound of it, he was calling for help for them. Several of the children glanced at each other, their panic easing. And true enough, it didn't take long before a vehicle arrived. One by one, they climbed inside, while the red-eyed man revved up his motorcycle and disappeared into the chaos he came from.
'Alright, kids, calm down. We're flying off this island right away. You're being relocated to somewhere safer. So no screaming or crying, okay? We're leaving this dangerous place.'
Surprisingly, even though many children exchanged hesitant looks, not a single one disobeyed. No tears. No screams. Damian, still clutching his friend's hand, stared ahead at the dark sky— the same sky lit orange again and again by more explosions in the distance.
Just as the man promised, they took to the sky in a vehicle the adults called a jet. They landed somewhere unfamiliar, a place none of them had ever heard of. And there, they were placed in a new orphanage— larger, brighter, and far more comforting than the one they'd left behind.
There were so many things he learned that had never existed in his previous cage. He and the other children were taught new subjects every day, and the atmosphere made many of them hungry to learn more and more.
Until the day came when they were all gathered and asked a simple question;
—Do you want to keep your current name, or choose a new one?—
Almost all of the children chose to change theirs.
And so now, his name was Damian.
Damian Vale, to be exact. No longer Felix— the name born from a place that had caged him. Felix would no longer cling to him.
Damian— the name he kept writing over and over again on paper, each stroke filled with a joy he couldn't contain.
At lunch, the cafeteria felt unusually spacious. Only a handful of kids remained inside, all around Damian's age. It seemed most of the older children had finally started school— something Damian himself longed for. He was old enough, after all. But whenever he asked one of the caretakers about it, they told him there were still multiple regulations to sort out. Once everything was finalized, he'd be allowed to attend.
They kept saying he was exceptionally bright for his age, and there was a good chance he'd be placed in a school that could nurture his talents.
His plate was filled higher than usual, maybe because he was desperate to grow up faster. He piled on extra meat and devoured it with the earnest hope that it would turn into height as soon as his body digested it.
"Woah, you're eating a lot."
Damian glanced at Benito, who pulled out a chair and dropped into the seat beside him. Benito's tray was stacked even higher than his.
"I want to grow taller," Damian replied.
"You're already tall. You're younger than me and we're practically the same height."
"It's only a two-year difference. I still want to be taller than you."
"Hey, omegas don't need to be tall. I heard people prefer omegas to be pretty and graceful."
Damian rolled his eyes. He'd heard that stereotype a thousand times— storybooks loved to paint omegas as delicate, beautiful creatures. Nothing wrong with that, but Damian had his own idea of what an omega should be. Strong. Capable. He cared far more about building his body than becoming some gentle ideal.
And Benito, also an omega, was nowhere near that image of 'pretty and graceful.' Not that Damian would ever say it to his face.
"I don't care." Damian set his spoon down and shot him a look as Benito shoved an enormous bite into his mouth. "Anyway, shouldn't you be in school already?"
Benito froze, then swallowed his food with an audible gulp. His expression shifted.
"Ugh… the doctor said I still need treatment for my pheromone issue…"
Damian's fingers tightened around his spoon.
The caretakers never explained any of the children's conditions in detail. All Damian knew was that they were given medication to ease the pheromone disease the kids here suffered from. Some couldn't control themselves and lashed out violently, some even had seizures. None of that ever happened back in their previous orphanage.
Some of the sharper kids — those as observant as Damian — had begun to suspect that their old orphanage was the root of the pheromone disease. And for them to be allowed into school, the issue had to be cured.
Damian often asked about the place they used to live, but not a single caretaker ever answered. They treated it like a forbidden topic, something the children were never meant to know.
They assumed kids forget easily, that their old lives would simply fade away.
But sometimes a child remembers something so deeply it becomes a core memory.
And Damian was certain he would never forget the life he had in that old orphanage.
"What about you, Damian? What did the doctor say during your checkup?"
"He said my pheromones are still unstable and that I have to stay on the medication. But I feel fine… I don't understand what's wrong with my body. I can still run properly, my eyes work fine, and I don't get fevers or headaches like the others."
Seizures, migraines, pheromone rampages— Damian had never experienced any of it. So he couldn't understand why he still needed the medication. But if that was what the doctor required, he would obey. As long as stabilizing his pheromones meant he could finally start school, he would endure the bitterness of the pills.
"Hey, did you forget not all illnesses show themselves clearly? If the doctor says your pheromones aren't stable yet, then that's the truth. Anyway… can you release your pheromones yet? You're still really young. The doctor told me one of the signs the treatment will work fast is when the patient finally starts manifesting their pheromones. We're technically too young for it, but the environment forced our scent glands to function early."
"…..."
Benito wasn't wrong. Damian had never felt his pheromones surface. He could smell other people's scents perfectly, but he couldn't produce his own— even as an omega.
Manifestation typically happened earliest at eight years old and latest at seventeen. Damian was only eight, and while technically within the range, it was still early— especially for both alphas and omegas, who were rarely expected to manifest so soon.
His fingers brushed his neck. He wondered when he'd finally feel his pheromones emerge. He wanted to recover as fast as possible.
"I can release mine already," Benito continued. "So the doctor's been trying to find an alpha or omega whose pheromones match mine for therapy. The reason I'm not cured yet is because it's really hard to find someone who matches above thirty percent."
"Above thirty percent? So the higher the compatibility, the faster you'll recover from pheromone therapy?"
"Yeah… but no one matches me yet. Ah, Damian, if you ever manifest your pheromones, maybe you'll be compatible with me. Then your healing pheromones could help me recover."
Damian laughed. If they ended up compatible, he wouldn't mind helping him at all.
.