Lexi adjusted her glasses for what felt like the hundredth time. She was seated at a worn-out wooden bench, waiting for the train.
The station was buzzing, announcements crackling overhead, people rushing past like they all had somewhere super important to be. Footsteps echoed, bags rolled, voices overlapped. Normal chaos.
She reached beside her and grabbed the coffee she'd set down ages ago. It was stone cold now. Didn't matter. She took a sip anyway, grimacing at the bitter taste, but it was something to do with her hands.
Her mind wandered again. It always did when things got quiet like this. Back to the stuff she tried not to think about during the day.
She was nine when it happened.
Dad,Elias was a B-Rank Beta hunter. Not some big-shot fighter, just a support guy. Rift technician. The one who made sure small portals didn't go haywire while the team worked. Steady hands, calm voice. He taught her how to throw a proper punch and how to figure out math problems when she got stuck. Always patient.
Mom, Mira was different. An A-Rank Omega, which was pretty rare. Her pheromones could settle even the nastiest Rift energies, keep Alphas from losing it mid-fight. She wasn't out there swinging weapons; she was the anchor. The calm in the storm. Mom braided Lexi's hair every morning, sang soft old songs at night, and kept saying Lexi would be strong like her one day.
They were a little family. Just the three of them in a cramped apartment in the lower districts. Happy. Normal. Lexi used to get headaches near unstable gates even as a toddler, but her parents brushed it off. "Sensitive nose," Dad would joke.
Then came the job. Routine C-Rank survey on the outskirts. Map the core, tag anomalies, get out. Easy money.
Something went wrong.
People whispered later it might've been sabotage,rival guild trying to steal the site. A surge hit hard. Dad shoved Mom behind him to shield her. Mom's pheromones flared up instinctively, trying to stabilize everything. But the surge was too strong. The Rift folded in on itself. Void Implosion. Everything got pulled into nothing.
No bodies. Nothing to bury.
The guild called it an accident. Gave a small payout to the kid left behind. But the rumors never died. "Her mom's scent probably made it worse." "Should've suppressed harder." Lexi heard it all growing up, little comments that stuck like knives.
Right after, she presented. Way too early at nine. Omega. But her pheromones? Almost nothing. Barely a whisper. Doctors said trauma triggered "suppression syndrome." Permanent, they told her. F-Rank forever. The guild slapped a hardship scholarship on her and sent her to the academy. Half guilt, half curiosity, maybe those anchor genes would wake up someday. Maybe not.
After the funeral that wasn't really a funeral, nobody wanted her.
Relatives? Every single one said no.
One aunt flat-out told her over the phone: "Omegas are hard enough when they're useful. A weak one like you? We'd be stuck feeding you forever." Door slammed.
Uncles, cousins, same story. "Sorry, kid. Can't take on another mouth."
She was nine. Still waking up crying for Mom. And nobody stepped up.
So the Hunter Welfare Bureau took over. Foster homes. One after another. Cold dorms, too many kids crammed in. Higher ranks got the good beds, extra food, new clothes. Low ranks like her? Leftovers. Moved every few months when someone complained or space ran out.
New school every time. New bullies. "Ghost scent." "Useless Omega." "Your mom's pheromones probably killed them both." She heard it so much she started believing maybe it was true.
She stopped talking much. Buried herself in books instead. Old Rift reports, data logs, pattern analysis, anything that felt like Dad's work. Stayed up late reading under dim lights. Eyes got bad; glasses came next. Kept her head down. Avoided mirrors. Avoided people.
Heats? Barely happened. Or when they did, cheap suppressants killed them dead. Other Omegas treated her like she was broken. Defective. Not worth the hassle.
One thing she kept, though. Tucked in her backpack even now. A tiny silver locket Mom gave her before that last mission. Inside was a faded photo, Mom smiling, Dad's arm around her, little Lexi squished between them. On the back, Mom's handwriting: "Your scent is special, baby. One day it'll bloom when you need it most."
Lexi used to think it was just mom-talk. Comfort words. Lately... with everything going weird... maybe it wasn't.
This was it. The only option left.
The academy. One shot to prove she wasn't just some sad leftover. If she could make it here, survive the stares, the ranks, the everything, maybe she could finally stop feeling like a walking curse.
The train screeched into the station, brakes hissing.
Lexi set the empty coffee cup down, picked up her backpack from the bench beside her, and walked toward the train.
She stepped onto the train, relieved to see it was mostly empty. It felt quiet, almost peaceful compared to the noisy station outside. A few people were scattered around, someone scrolling on their phone at the far end, an older man dozing with his head against the window but no crowds, no one staring.
She scanned the seats quickly, then headed for the middle one by the window. It was perfect: enough space, a view outside, and nobody right next to her. She dropped her backpack on the floor between her feet, sat down, and leaned her head against the cool glass.
A soft hum started up as the doors slid shut. The train gave a little jerk, then began to move, slowly at first, picking up speed as it pulled away from the platform.
The city lights blurred past in streaks of yellow and white. Lexi let out a small breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.