Timothy stared at the three floating options.
World 1: High risk. Brutal wilderness. Death from unchecked ruts.
The novels always had plot armor for that part. The System lady had been very, very clear: real worlds, real consequences. There was no "luckily the protagonist's special pheromones calmed the beast king's rut." There was just death. An ancient, overwhelming, catastrophically-sized death.
Hard pass.
World 2A: Family debt binds you.
His nose wrinkled before he'd even finished reading. The cold CEO gradually melting was a fine story from the safety of his phone. But those novels were dark — a lot of the omega being treated like property, a lot of humiliation, a lot of power imbalances that made Timothy uncomfortable even when he was reading them for free.
No. He wanted a fresh start, not a prison sentence with a marriage certificate.
World 2B.
Childhood friends. Living together. Helping each other through heats and ruts. Everyone on campus knows.
'University!' Timothy wanted to fist-pump. 'That's the safest setting! University romances are slice-of-life! Study dates and campus festivals and maybe some drama with jealous classmates, but nobody DIES in university romances!'
'LOW-HIGH!' His internal voice was practically singing. 'World 1 is straight-up High — you might die from beast king sex. World 2A is Medium-High — you might lose your mind in a corporate prison. But this? Low-High? That's basically nothing!'
'In omegaverse academy settings, "high" risk usually just means heat cycles will be dramatic, or there might be some jealous rivals, or maybe some asshole alphas who make comments. It doesn't mean DANGER danger. It means romantic conflict.'
"You've been 'helping each other' through heats and ruts since you presented. Everyone on campus knows. You'll think it means something."
Timothy paused on that last sentence.
'Of course I'll think it means something! That's what makes the slow-burn work! The omega always thinks the physical intimacy means emotional connection, and the alpha is always too emotionally constipated to realize he feels the same way until it's almost too late! That's literally the entire premise!'
He had this. He knew every beat of this story. He'd read it forty-seven times in different fonts.
Then his eyes snagged on two words.
Type B Alpha.
'Type B?' Timothy frowned. 'What does that mean?'
He waited for the System to flag it. To bold it. To add a warning label, a skull emoji, anything.
She hadn't. Julius Armitage: Business major, third-year student. Type B Alpha. Stated like a fact, not a caution. Probably just a classification system — like how some novels had apex alphas vs. regular alphas, dominant vs. recessive alpha genes.
'The System would have warned me if it mattered,' Timothy reasoned. 'She's very thorough. Very professional. She clearly cares deeply about informed consent.'
The System woman, who had in fact spent thirty seconds carefully not explaining what Type B meant, maintained her expression of flawless neutrality.
"Start of life."
Those three words made Timothy's chest feel warm. Start of life. Not end. Not middle. A fresh start in a world that had romance novel logic, where the setup was already perfectly arranged for a happy ending.
'This is literally the safest, most straightforward romance plot available,' Timothy thought, his decision crystallizing into absolute certainty. 'I know every beat. I know every trope. I know exactly how to handle a friends-to-lovers slow-burn with established sexual tension.'
He looked up at the System woman, ready to announce his choice.
The words were already on the tip of his tongue — World 2B — when one last greedy impulse hijacked his brain entirely.
'Hold on.' They were perfectly biologically matched. That usually means — 'size, right? I need to be sure. Especially the beast king — ancient alphas are always depicted as massive. And the university one… what if he's just average? I have to know.'
Timothy cleared his throat, aiming for casualness and failing miserably. "Before I lock it in… you said they're exceptionally compatible. Could I maybe… see them? All of them? Naked? Just to, you know, compare properly?"
The System froze.
Inside her head, a spark of vicious, desperate hope flared.
'Yes. YES. He's finally going to look at the beast king and realize that's the obvious choice. That thing is a literal weapon. He'll simp, he'll drool, he'll pick World 1, and I can finally shove this disgusting little novel-brained pervert through the portal and never have to hear another second of his internal monologue ever again.'
She snapped her fingers with actual enthusiasm this time, eagerly. The holograms shifted instantly. Clothes dissolved.
The beast king stood first: ancient, brutal, carved from centuries of raw dominance, and between his legs — exactly what she'd expected Timothy to fixate on. Monstrous. Overwhelming. The kind of size that made omegas in the archives either beg or break.
Noah Sterling next — cold, sculpted perfection, intimidatingly thick and long, the corporate fantasy made flesh.
And finally Julius Armitage: skinny, almost fragile-looking, sharp angles and pale skin… and there, stark against that narrow frame, something so disproportionately, shockingly huge that it looked almost obscene.
Timothy's gaze locked onto it.