Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming Vyn's face until he finally stirred.
A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes.
"...Fuck."
He pressed a hand to his forehead.
Fragments of the previous night drifted back. Elio. The warmth of the bed. Strong arms around him. Then Elio telling him to leave before everything blurred into darkness.
He forced himself upright, wincing as the room tilted for a second before the digital clock beside the bed came into focus.
8:11 AM.
Vyn rubbed a hand over his face and glanced around the bedroom.
"...Elio?"
No answer.
Outside the bedroom, the unit was quiet.
On the kitchen counter sat a glass of hangover drink beside a plate of toast, scrambled eggs, and sliced fruit. A bottle of water rested beside them.
Vyn stared at the breakfast for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He snapped a photo and opened their chat.
Vyn: Thank you... and sorry about last night.
He sent another message.
Vyn: Where are you?
The message showed Read.
No reply came.
His phone buzzed again.
Joey: Don't forget the Maison Asteré launch at 2 PM.
Vyn let out a quiet sigh before slipping the phone into his pocket.
It vibrated almost immediately.
The screen lit up with a single name.
Devil.
His expression hardened.
He stared at it until the ringing almost stopped before answering.
"What?"
"You have a dinner appointment tomorrow evening."
"I already have plans."
"You don't."
The calm certainty in the voice on the other end made Vyn's jaw tighten.
"The Minister's daughter will be waiting."
Vyn closed his eyes.
"...No."
"Be there."
The call ended before Vyn could answer.
He looked down at the breakfast waiting on the counter.
The tension in his face eased.
He finished the hangover drink first before quietly eating the breakfast Elio had left for him. By the time he finished eating, the knot in his chest had loosened, if only a little.
——
The dinner was exactly what Vyn expected—a waste of time.
The restaurant overlooked the city, where thousands of lights shimmered beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Around them, conversations stayed low beneath the soft clink of silverware and crystal, the kind of place where people discussed influence as casually as the evening's menu.
Vyn barely touched his food.
Across from him, Anastasia looked at ease. She swirled the wine in her glass with elegance, every movement measured, every smile perfectly composed, as though dinners like this were simply another obligation she had learned to wear gracefully.
After a while, Vyn set his glass down.
"I should probably apologize."
Anastasia glanced up with mild curiosity. "That's a strange thing to say before dessert."
A faint smile crossed his face before disappearing.
"I'm serious. We both know why we're here. I don't want to waste your time."
"The marriage arrangement?"
"Yeah." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm not marrying for politics."
She didn't seem surprised. Taking another sip of her wine, she set the glass down with unhurried precision before meeting his eyes.
"You're missing the point, Vyn. This isn't a request. My father didn't send me here to see if we'd get along."
Her voice never rose, but there was an absolute certainty behind every word.
"He sent me because, as far as he's concerned, the decision has already been made."
Neither of them reached for the food between them, as though the conversation itself had become the only thing worth finishing.
Vyn leaned back in his chair. "I don't take orders from my father."
"And I don't live my life waiting for mine to change his mind."
She folded her hands neatly on the table.
"He values results. Influence. Power." A small smile touched her lips. "If becoming the daughter who delivers all three earns his approval, then I've done my job."
"You make it sound like a business deal."
Anastasia's gaze drifted toward the dark glass, where her reflection hovered against the city lights.
"It is."
She didn't flinch.
"Feelings don't move people like our fathers." Her fingers idly traced the stem of her wine glass. "Power does."
Vyn let out a scoff.
"So you'd actually go through with it?"
"I'll do what I have to do." She held his gaze without wavering. "The people who survive in families like ours aren't the strongest. They're the ones who know which battles to fight."
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"Sounds fucking miserable."
"It can be."
Her polished smile finally softened.
"But I'd rather stand beside power than spend my life wishing I'd had it."
Beyond the glass, headlights streamed through the streets below like rivers of light. Neither of them spoke until Vyn finally broke it.
"I can't do that."
Anastasia tilted her head.
"No?"
Vyn looked out at the city for a moment before answering.
"I like men."
He said it simply, without hesitation, as though it were the most ordinary truth in the world.
Anastasia's fingers paused around the stem of her wine glass.
She watched him for a long moment. Understanding slowly settled across her face.
"So..." A knowing smile curved her lips. "You were never pretending. The Angel of Onyx..."
Vyn looked away.
That was answer enough.
Anastasia lowered her gaze to the wine in her glass, turning it slowly between her fingers before speaking again.
"That makes this more complicated."
Vyn frowned.
"Why?"
She looked up again. There was no judgment in her eyes. Only the quiet understanding of someone who had watched powerful men reduce people to pieces on a board.
"Because you're in love."
Her voice remained gentle.
"My father won't care who he is. And your father certainly won't. They'll only see someone standing between them and the alliance they want."
Only then did Vyn understand why Anastasia had accepted the arrangement so easily.
She wasn't surrendering.
She had simply learned to survive in a world where power was always chosen over love.
Neither of them spoke again.
Outside, headlights drifted through the city below. Inside, waiters cleared plates neither of them had touched.
They left the restaurant together and headed toward the main entrance, the tension between them settling into something quieter than an argument but no less unresolved.
The first camera flash exploded across the foyer before either of them understood what was happening. More followed, swallowing the entrance in white light as photographers crowded toward them.
Vyn stopped walking.
"For fuck's sake."
His jaw tightened as photographers crowded the entrance.
Anastasia looked toward the growing crowd of photographers and gave a small, tired smile.
"Looks like dinner wasn't the real event."
By the time Vyn's car disappeared into the night, every entertainment page in the country was already running the same story.
——
Vyn drove straight to the Mercier estate.
The mansion stood behind towering steel gates, its sleek glass façade reflecting the lights of the city beyond. Perfectly trimmed hedges bordered the driveway, every light along the path glowing with calculated precision.
Nothing had changed since he was a child. It had never felt like home.
The front doors opened quietly as he stepped inside.
One of the housekeepers, who had been making her final rounds for the night, paused when she saw him.
"Young Master."
Vyn acknowledged her with the slightest nod before continuing down the hallway. His footsteps echoed against the polished marble, sharp enough to break the silence that always seemed to linger inside the house.
Two high-tier Alphas stood outside the Chairman's private office.
One stepped in front of him.
"The Chairman is occupied."
"I need to speak with him."
The Alpha didn't move.
Vyn lifted his eyes, meeting the guard's stare without saying another word. Whatever the Alpha saw there made him hesitate.
After a brief pause, he knocked once before opening the office door just enough to speak.
"The Young Master is here."
A calm voice answered from inside.
"Let him in."
The Alpha stepped aside.
Vyn walked in.
The office looked exactly as he remembered. Every shelf was perfectly arranged. Every document sat neatly stacked on the desk. Even the pens rested parallel to one another.
It wasn't an office.
It was control made visible.
The Chairman sat behind his desk, reviewing a stack of reports. His right-hand man, an elite high-tier Alpha Vyn had seen around the estate for years but had never truly known, stood quietly beside the window.
Only then did he look up.
"What is it?"
Vyn remained where he stood.
"I'm not marrying Anastasia."
Maximillian regarded him quietly.
"I assumed as much."
"Then stop any arrangement." Vyn's voice stayed level, though his jaw had already begun to tighten. "I went tonight to tell her myself there won't be another."
"There doesn't need to be."
A humorless laugh escaped Vyn.
"I'm not interested in your political alliances." His gaze hardened. "If you're so obsessed with power, why don't you marry her yourself?"
He didn't give his father time to answer.
"Then again, I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand morality."
The faintest curve touched Maximillian's lips. Neither amused nor offended. It was simply the expression of a man whose expectations had just been confirmed.
"I wonder if you'd still have that attitude if I stripped everything away from you."
He folded his hands together.
"You carry this family's name, Vyn. You don't get to choose."
"I never wanted it."
"No one chooses the family they're born into."
Vyn's fingers curled into fists at his sides.
"Then let me make one thing clear." His gaze never left his father. "I'm only interested in men."
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Maximillian smiled.
"I've never opposed that."
The answer caught Vyn off guard.
"My concern has never been your preference."
Maximillian rose from his chair and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. He clasped his hands behind his back, his reflection faintly visible against the glass.
"My concern is power and legacy."
The words came out almost casually.
"Marriage is an obligation. A tool. It strengthens influence and protects what generations before us have built."
He turned just enough for Vyn to see the unwavering certainty in his eyes.
"You can marry Anastasia and still keep that little Omega beside you."
The words hung between them.
For a moment, Vyn simply stared at him. His mind refused to catch up.
Little Omega.
Every muscle in his body locked as the realization sank in.
Maximillian continued as though discussing nothing more consequential than a business arrangement.
"Anastasia secures the Mercier family's influence. Your Omega serves a different purpose."
His gaze never wavered.
"You are S-Class. So is he. It would be foolish to waste a pairing capable of producing another rare-tier successor."
He spoke with the detached certainty of a man discussing quarterly profits.
"There is no conflict between power and legacy. One preserves the family's position. The other preserves its bloodline."
When Vyn finally found his voice, the shock had already curdled into disgust.
"You're talking about him like he's breeding stock."
"I am talking about the future of this family."
"You expect me to marry someone I don't love just to satisfy your ambition?"
"I expect you to understand the difference between duty and desire."
A bitter laugh escaped Vyn.
"Hell no."
His eyes never left his father's.
"You don't see people as people."
Maximillian's expression remained perfectly composed.
"I see them for what they contribute."
There wasn't even a hint of guilt in his voice.
Vyn held his gaze for another moment before letting out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"You're unbelievable."
The disgust sitting in his chest only deepened.
It had been years since he'd expected anything from the man standing in front of him.
Whatever disappointment a son could feel had long since died inside the laboratory where Maximillian had chosen experiments over fatherhood.
Only contempt remained.
Maximillian returned to his desk and opened another folder. Without a word, he slid it across the polished wood.
Vyn's eyes dropped to the cover.
Sovereign Project.
His chest tightened.
He didn't have to open it.
He already knew what it was.
Dane's vacant eyes. His scentless body trembling as though something essential had been carved out of him. The stories about high-tier Alphas and Omegas who had walked into Onyx Biomedical as themselves and come out as something else entirely.
Maximillian opened the file again, his eyes moving over the pages before he spoke.
"I've taken an interest in your Omega."
Vyn's breath caught. A cold weight settled in his chest.
He kept his expression carefully blank, refusing to let even a flicker of emotion reach his face.
Maximillian finally looked up from the document, meeting his eyes across the desk.
"I found something rather interesting. Every Omega you've encountered since your presentation has affected your sensory."
He paused just long enough for the words to sink in before continuing.
"Every single one except this one."
Vyn held his father's gaze, forcing himself to remain calm despite the unease slowly tightening around his ribs.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying your condition may not be as permanent as we believed." Maximillian closed the file with deliberate care.
"The Sovereign has been perfected, Vyn."
For a second, Vyn simply stared at him.
Then he laughed.
It was a hollow sound, stripped of any trace of amusement.
"You've got to be kidding me." He let out a slow, disbelieving scoff. "You really think I'd let you inject that thing into me?"
"It would eliminate the condition that has limited you since your presentation."
Vyn looked at the file again before raising his eyes.
"Whose fault is it that I even have this fucking condition?"
His voice remained controlled, but the anger beneath it was impossible to miss.
"You spent my entire life treating me like a subject."
He took a step toward the desk. He swallowed once before forcing the rest of the words out.
"You never looked at me like I was your son."
His eyes burned, but he refused to look away.
"I was just your fucking subject."
Maximillian didn't deny it.
Of course he wouldn't.
"The results justified the process."
There wasn't a trace of remorse in his voice. Everything Vyn had endured was simply the price of the outcome.
Vyn wasn't surprised.
It only reminded him of the laboratory that still haunted his sleep.
Some nights, he still woke to the smell of antiseptic before he even opened his eyes. White lights. Cold restraints. Voices talking over him as though he weren't even there.
He had been too young to understand.
The injections. The endless examinations. The disorder he'd been living with ever since.
It wasn't a flaw. It was the consequence of everything they had forced his body to become.
None of it had ever been treatment. It had always been an experiment.
A humorless smile touched his lips.
"Of course." His eyes never left Maximillian's. "That's all I ever was to you."
Maximillian met his gaze without hesitation.
"You were my responsibility." His voice remained calm. "I want you to become the Apex of all Alphas. To carry on my legacy."
Vyn let out a slow breath and shook his head.
"No."
His voice was steady, stripped of emotion.
"I was your experiment."
The words hung between them, but neither of them looked away.
"I'd rather live with this fucking disorder for the rest of my life than let you turn me into one of your subjects again."
He turned and reached for the doorknob.
"You don't get to decide whether to receive the Sovereign or not, Vyn."
His hand stopped.
It wasn't the words that held him there. It was the calm certainty behind them, as though Maximillian had already decided how this would end.
Vyn slowly looked back over his shoulder. For the first time that evening, something colder than anger settled in the pit of his stomach.
Maximillian hadn't moved from behind the desk. He simply folded the file closed, resting one hand on top of it before meeting Vyn's eyes.
"But I don't think you've considered what refusing it actually means."
Vyn let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned to face him fully.
"I've lived with this condition my whole life. I don't need your cure."
"Perhaps not."
Maximillian's expression remained unchanged.
"But someone else might pay for that decision."
A chill spread slowly through Vyn's chest. He already knew where this conversation was going.
He just wasn't ready to hear it aloud.
"I've had people keeping an eye on you." His tone remained even, almost conversational.
"The public has become rather fascinated with you lately." A faint smile crossed his lips. "Especially the ones involving that idol."
Vyn forced himself not to react.
"They're just fucking rumors."
"So I've been told."
Maximillian rested his hand on the folder.
"I wasn't interested in the rumors. I was interested in why an Omega could stand beside you without triggering your sensory."
A crack finally appeared in Vyn's composure.
Only for a heartbeat.
It was enough.
"That caught my attention."
The silence that followed pressed heavily against the walls.
"Stay away from him."
The words came out faster than he'd intended.
Sharper.
More desperate.
"You misunderstand." Maximillian's voice never lost its measured calm. "I have no personal interest in him. But when someone becomes important enough to influence the decisions of my successor, that person inevitably becomes relevant to me."
His fingers tapped lightly against the closed file.
Vyn felt his stomach knot.
"I won't say this twice." His voice had lost its anger, leaving only fear behind. "Leave him out of this."
Maximillian studied him for a long moment before rising from his chair. He walked around the desk with unhurried confidence until only a few feet separated them.
"You still don't understand."
They stood nearly eye to eye, yet the difference in presence was unmistakable.
Vyn caught the faintest trace of ancient cedar and dark vetiver—clean, dry, and meticulously restrained, like everything else about the man standing before him. Even his pheromones were measured, never spilling beyond what he intended others to sense.
"I'm not threatening you," Maximillian said, smoothing an almost imperceptible crease from Vyn's lapel before brushing an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder.
His hand lingered only a second before he stepped back, satisfied.
"I'm reminding you that every choice you make has consequences."
His voice lowered just enough for the next words to settle between them like a verdict.
"If you continue refusing the Sovereign... make very certain the people you care about are worth the price."
There was no anger in them. Only absolute certainty.
Vyn stood motionless.
All these years, he had believed he no longer feared Maximillian.
Only now did he realize he had simply stopped fearing for himself.
Without another word, he turned and walked out.
The office door slammed behind him, rattling the glass panels lining the hallway. Neither of the high-tier Alphas outside reacted.
Vyn barely noticed them.
By the time he reached his car, his hands were shaking so badly he dropped his keys onto the pavement.
"Shit..."
He cursed under his breath, picked them up, climbed into the driver's seat, and pulled out his phone before the engine had even started.
Elio.
The call rang.
No answer.
He ended it and called again immediately.
Still nothing.
His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white.
"Come on... please answer," he whispered, his voice rough.
He only wanted to hear Elio's voice. To know he was safe.
The ringing stopped.
Vyn lowered the phone, then immediately dialed another number.
Leai answered on the second ring.
"Leia, where's Elio?"
"Still at Empire."
"Thanks."
He ended the call before she could say anything else. The engine roared to life as he pulled out of the estate.
The Chairman had never needed to threaten him.
He only needed Vyn to understand exactly how far his reach extended.
Vyn wasn't afraid of what Maximillian would do to him anymore. He was terrified of what he might do to Elio.
——
While the public argued behind their screens, life inside Empire Onyx building carried on as though nothing had happened.
Practice had ended late. By the time Elio pushed open the door to the rooftop garden, most of the building had already gone quiet for the night.
The city stretched beyond the glass barriers, thousands of lights scattered beneath the dark sky. The air was cooler than the practice rooms, carrying the faint scent of the plants surrounding the terrace.
Yohan was already there.
He stood near the edge of the garden, looking out at the city below. When he heard the door open, he turned and looked at Elio.
For a second, he didn't say anything.
Then he held out a bottle of water.
"Here."
Elio looked at the bottle before taking it.
A tired smile crossed his face.
"Thanks."
He twisted the cap open and drank, letting the cold water soothe the dryness in his throat after hours of repeating the same choreography.
Yohan watched him quietly before looking away again.
They stayed like that for a while.
It wasn't unusual. After three years of training together and debuting as ELYS, silence had never been uncomfortable between them.
But tonight felt different.
Elio noticed the way Yohan kept glancing toward him before looking away again.
He lowered the bottle.
"So..."
Yohan looked over.
Elio tilted his head slightly.
"What did you want to talk about?"
Yohan didn't answer right away.
Usually, he was the easiest person in the room to read. He was the one who joked whenever rehearsals became exhausting, the one who could make everyone laugh even when they were too tired to move.
Tonight, he looked unsure.
Not nervous.
Just like he was trying to find the right words.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time."
Elio waited.
Yohan rested his forearms against the railing, his eyes following the stream of headlights weaving through the streets below.
"Do you remember when we were trainees?"
A faint smile found Elio before he could stop it.
"How could I forget?"
Yohan let out a quiet laugh.
"You were impossible."
Elio turned to him with an amused look.
"That doesn't sound like a compliment."
"It isn't." Yohan smiled. "Everyone else would finally call it a day, and you'd still be practicing. We'd tell you to stop, and you'd say, 'One more time,' then somehow that turned into another hour."
"I was trying to improve."
"I know."
His smile faded, though not completely.
"I think that's what made me notice you."
The breeze drifted through the rooftop garden, carrying the scent of damp leaves and cool concrete.
"You cared more than anyone else. Even when nobody was watching. Even when there wasn't anyone left to impress."
He looked down at the bottle in his hands, turning it slowly.
"You never did things halfway."
The words settled quietly between them.
"I think... that's when I started liking you."
Elio's smile disappeared.
Almost unconsciously, his thumb drifted to the skin-toned dermal patch concealing the mark on the side of his neck before he caught himself and let his hand fall.
"I kept telling myself it would wear off," he admitted with a small laugh. "I figured maybe it was because we spent every day together. We practiced together, ate together, complained together." He shook his head lightly. "I thought maybe I was just confusing familiarity with something else."
Yohan looked at Elio then.
"I wasn't."
His voice stayed calm, almost conversational.
"It's been three years."
"Three years of looking for you without even thinking about it whenever we walked into a room."
Another quiet laugh escaped him.
"Three years of wondering if you'd eaten yet, or if you were running on coffee again because you skipped another meal."
He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by his own honesty.
"Half the time, I don't even realize I'm doing it."
His eyes drifted back to the skyline.
"I got tired of lying to myself."
A breath later, he smiled to himself.
"So... there it is. I like you."
Silence settled over the rooftop.
Not awkward.
Just honest.
Elio lowered his gaze, watching the condensation slide down the water bottle in his hand.
Warmth stirred beneath the patch again, quieter this time, like a reminder he couldn't silence.
He drew in a slow breath.
"Yohan..."
His voice was gentle.
"I'm sorry."
Yohan closed his eyes briefly before giving the smallest nod.
"I know."
"You're important to me." Elio looked at him, his expression steady. "You've always been one of the most important people in my life."
A sad smile touched his lips.
"But I've never looked at you as anything more than my friend."
The words stung, even wrapped in kindness.
Yohan looked away toward the city again.
"I figured that much."
"Then why tell me?"
A quiet smile tugged at his lips as he watched the lights below.
"Because after everything that happened at the gala... your hiatus..."
His gaze slowly returned to Elio, settling on the contact lens over his left eye. He couldn't help thinking back to that night.
"I promised myself that if you ever came back... I'd finally tell you."
Elio stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then he stepped closer and rested a hand on Yohan's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Neither of them said anything after that.
They stayed by the railing, letting the night settle around them while the city carried on below, bright and indifferent.
For the first time in a long while, the silence between them wasn't carrying unspoken words anymore.
Yohan pulled out his phone first, idly scrolling through the notifications that had piled up during practice.
A second later, he frowned.
"Holy shit..."
Elio looked over. "What?"
Yohan didn't answer immediately. He stared at the screen for another moment before turning it toward him.
"I think you should see this."
The headline filled the display.
VYN MERCIER SPOTTED WITH MINISTER OF DEFENSE'S DAUGHTER.
Elio took out his own phone.
Every entertainment page carried the same headline.
The internet had done what it always did. It decided the truth before the facts ever had a chance to catch up.
People had already concluded they were dating. Others dragged Elio into the discussion, claiming everything surrounding him and Vyn had been nothing more than damage control after the scandal.
Some called it a publicity stunt. Others insisted the scandal had always been manufactured.
It was the beginning of a marriage arrangement between one of the country's most powerful corporate families and the daughter of one of its most influential political figures.
An alliance.
A partnership.
A move that benefited both sides.
Elio scrolled through the articles without saying a word. Every page showed the same photographs. Vyn. Anastasia. Camera flashes catching them from every angle.
His thumb stopped on one image.
Beneath the barrage of flashing lights, Vyn stood beside Anastasia, calm and unreadable.
He looked exactly like someone who belonged there.
His phone vibrated.
Vyn Calling.
The screen glowed in the darkness between them.
Elio stared at the name until the ringing stopped.
A few seconds later, it started again.
Persistent.
His thumb hovered over the answer button.
For a brief moment, he almost accepted. Instead, he opened their conversation.
The cursor blinked inside the empty message box.
Elio: Why?
One word.
That was all he wanted to ask.
His thumb lingered over the send button before he slowly erased it, letter by letter, until nothing remained.
Above the blank message box sat messages from Vyn.
Every one of them had been read.
None of them answered.
Elio slipped his phone back into his pocket and let out a slow breath.
"We should head back."
Yohan nodded and pushed himself away from the railing.
They had only taken a few steps when the rooftop door burst open, the sound cutting cleanly through the silence.
Both of them turned.
Vyn stood in the doorway, breathing hard.
His hair had fallen out of place, his suit was creased, and he looked as though he'd searched the entire building before ending up here. The moment he spotted Elio, the tension in his face eased.
"There you are..."
Relief escaped him in a breath.
Before Elio could react, he was already being pulled into an embrace.
"I've been calling you," he said quietly. "You wouldn't answer."
Elio remained still.
He neither returned the embrace nor pulled away.
A few steps behind them, Yohan watched in silence. His fingers slowly tightened around the water bottle in his hand before he caught himself and loosened his grip, his gaze lingering on Vyn's arms around Elio a moment longer than he intended.
Vyn finally drew back enough to meet Elio's eyes.
"I just needed to know you were okay."
Elio looked at him for a long moment before lifting a hand and resting it lightly against his chest.
The gesture was gentle.
It was also enough.
He eased Vyn back until a comfortable distance settled between them.
"There's nothing left between us," Elio's voice barely above a whisper.
Vyn stared at him, unable to answer.
The silence stretched between them until Yohan stepped forward.
He reached for Elio's forearm naturally, almost instinctively.
Vyn's eyes followed the movement.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as Yohan's hand settled around Elio's forearm.
He looked away before the feeling had a name.
It didn't stop it from hurting.
Yohan met Vyn's eyes briefly and gave a quiet nod.
"Let's head back."
Elio gave a small nod.
"...Yeah."
The two of them walked past Vyn together.
The rooftop door closed softly behind them.
Vyn stood alone beneath the open sky, listening to the silence they had left behind.
******