“But that’s just sensing it—you don’t go weak at the knees like you do. One look at you now and people will suspect you on the spot.”
“…My apologies, Your Majesty.”
“How much longer must I say this? Hm? Must I go on fretting myself ragged because of you?”
Under the unrelenting scolding, Etienne’s head sank lower and lower. The Empress tormenting him this way was nothing new, but today it tightened around his chest more than usual.
“How strange.”
Seeing Etienne stand there with his head bowed and no answer, the Empress knit her brows, murmuring as if she truly could not comprehend it.
“How could something like that have come out of my womb.”
The words, aimed to wound, made bile surge up. Feeling heat bloom in his solar plexus, Etienne bit hard at the inside of his cheek. Blood—metallic—filled his mouth from somewhere.
“If only you weren’t an Omega, everything would have been simple…”
She didn’t care whether Etienne was hurt. On the contrary, she lamented it openly, glaring at him with eyes full of irritation.
Anyone could tell at a glance that the son had inherited her looks to the last detail, yet she felt no affection at all.
It was inevitable: to the Empress, Etienne was the sole blot on her otherwise perfect life.
Lady Herace, I cannot marry you.
An old memory rose in her mind. Over twenty years had passed, but it was vivid as yesterday. That was the day her pride was first wounded.
Leona Herace.
Born the youngest daughter of Duke Herace, Leona had been special from the start. She was a precious dominant Omega—born at odds of one in a hundred thousand.
Among the imperial family and nobility who ruled the Empire of Frederick, most were Alphas and Omegas. Of those, dominants were considered all the more special for their superior abilities.
And Omegas, whether dominant or recessive, were loved as a matter of course simply for being Omegas. Because an Alpha could beget offspring only through an Omega. The fact that Omegas were vanishingly few compared to Alphas in the Empire played no small part.
Thanks to that rarity, Omegas—dominant or recessive, noble or commoner—were treated as precious without distinction.
The saying, “Alphas rule the Empire, but Omegas rule the Alphas,” existed for a reason.
Any Omega received good treatment simply for being Omega, but dominant Omegas were exceptional even among them. Unlike ordinary Omegas, they could bear a Beta’s child, and could bear that child as either Alpha or Omega.
In a society that prized Omegas highly, the life of Leona Herace—a dominant Omega of noble blood and striking beauty—was a perfect path strewn with flowers. Under House Herace’s protection, she was exalted as the most special being in the world.
When Leona came of age and made her debut, proposals poured in—from the imperial house, from the foremost noble families of the Empire, even from royal families of other realms.
From among them, Leona chose Edwin de Frederick, the late emperor’s third prince and the then emperor’s son. Not because she loved him. If she had to marry someone, she simply wished to sit in the highest seat in the world.
She was more special than anyone, after all.
Lady Herace, marry Edwin. Then I shall make you the next empress.
The late emperor, a Beta with a complex about it, wished his third son—a recessive Alpha—to succeed him over his first and second, who were Betas like himself.
Greedy to become empress and place the Empire under her feet, Leona accepted the match. That Edwin was illegitimate gave her pause, but being a bastard, he would be all the easier to bend to her will.
But an unexpected variable arose. Edwin—the chess piece meant to be hers—sought her out and said he could not marry her.
Lady Herace. I’m truly sorry. Please withdraw the marriage.
What do you mean? It was Your Highness who sent me a proposal.
No. That… His Majesty sent it without consulting me.
What?
I sincerely beg your pardon. And I ask you—please cancel this marriage. I cannot marry you.
With a fervent face, Edwin begged Leona to withdraw.
Why? If you marry me, Your Highness can become emperor!
I have no interest in the throne.
What?
I’m sorry to wound you. But there is someone I hold in my heart. I cannot wed another when I love someone else.
Ha.
You love someone else? Leona’s expression was one of utter disbelief. She couldn’t fathom what she was hearing.
I hadn’t heard that Your Highness had a lover.
…Not a lover. It’s unrequited. I like them alone.
Then I understand even less. You may go back. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear today’s nonsense.
My lady!
If you wish to undo the marriage, seek His Majesty’s leave, not mine.
You dare refuse me?
Wounded in her pride, Leona refused Edwin’s desperate plea. His will meant nothing to her.
She went straight to the emperor and said she wished to marry Edwin at the earliest possible date. Overjoyed, the emperor ordered the wedding to proceed at once.
With things thus, Edwin had no choice. To defy an emperor’s command was a death sentence. At last he accepted the marriage.
You’ll kneel to me in the end.
On the wedding day, Leona looked into Edwin’s emotionless eyes and smiled, sultry and sure. She was certain she could ensnare him.
But even then, Edwin did not comply with her wishes. Having become crown prince, he spent their first night and left on a long campaign. For years afterward, he made various excuses and did not return. He came back only after the emperor died.
Even after ascending the throne, it was the same. Edwin avoided Leona openly. On top of that, he took rut suppressants regularly.
Leona burned at his behavior. Black obstinacy filled the rags of her torn pride. She would have killed him on the spot if she could—but she could not.
A paper tiger is still a tiger. Edwin, now emperor, could not be touched so lightly.
From then on, Leona devised a very discreet plan. She bribed the palace physician to switch the emperor’s rut suppressant for a catalyst. Then, on the night his heat came, she went to his chambers.
Before the overwhelming pheromones of a dominant Omega, the reason of a recessive Alpha was no more than a candle in the wind. All the more so with a rut catalyst in his veins.
That night, Leona achieved what she wanted.
Once a child is born, you’re finished.
Leona stroked her swelling belly and set plans for the future. She would remove Edwin, place the child on the throne, and serve as regent.
Dominant or recessive, it doesn’t matter—just be born an Alpha.
She whispered her wish into the air. For the plan to succeed, she needed an Alpha child.
Seasons turned a few times, and the child was born. The child who came into the world was the spitting image of Leona—in looks and in nature—a dominant Omega.
Impossible!
After a harrowing labor, holding the child to her breast, Leona despaired. An Omega—the worst outcome.
How can this be!
Leona cried out, face blank with shock. She couldn’t tell where things had gone wrong. But denial could not change the fact: the child was a dominant Omega.
Calm yourself, child.
How can I possibly be calm! My child is an Omega! An Omega cannot become emperor!
She screamed like a banshee. Long ago, because of a tragedy in the imperial family, an Omega could not be emperor.
You can have another child, can you not? Hm?
Duke Herace soothed her in a gentle voice. Leona cried out through tears of frustration.
The physician said I might never conceive again!
What?
Only then did the duke’s face harden as he grasped the gravity of it.
Even if I can, what if there’s no next chance? Do you not see how thoroughly the emperor avoids me, how he ignores me?
That is…
The duke shut his mouth, looking flustered. After the night forced on him by Leona’s scheme, Edwin avoided her more thoroughly than ever.
If only it were a Beta…
Leona, weeping in a wounded voice, suddenly let out a small ah as if something had occurred to her. She asked, urgent:
Father, where are the physician and the midwife? The chief lady? Other than them and you, no one knows I’ve borne an Omega, correct?
They’re in the next room. For now, only we know.
At his answer, Leona’s eyes lit. There was, it seemed, a way not to die outright.
Her birthing chamber had been set in House Herace’s annex. They had deemed her family’s residence safer than the imperial palace.
…Call the physician and the midwife at once. We don’t have much time. We must silence mouths before a messenger comes from the palace.
Quickly arranging her thoughts, Leona spoke. Had she given birth in the palace, it would have been known immediately the child was Omega, but birthing at the ducal house had given them a sliver of space. Enough time to match stories.
Silence…?
This child will not be an Omega. He will be a Beta.
What?
The duke’s eyes flew wide.
The late emperor was a Beta. The late empress was a dominant Omega, yet she bore two Betas. So there is nothing amiss with me bearing a Beta.
You mean to pass the child off as a Beta?
Yes. A Beta can become emperor.
The child was a direct scion of the imperial line either way. So long as no outstanding dominant Alpha arose later in a cadet branch, the game would be very winnable. In a cool voice, Leona continued:
We don’t know if I can bear another child. We must prepare for the future.
Can it be hidden…? Not merely any Omega, but a dominant Omega.
The duke was dubious. His gaze went to the sleeping infant.
And besides, that child has jewel eyes.
He recalled the water-colored eyes he had seen before the baby slept.
A queer gaze like clear lakewater, like a pure sky, as if containing nature itself.
They could only be the “jewel eyes” said to belong solely to dominant Alphas and dominant Omegas of the Frederick bloodline.
If nothing else, those eyes and pheromones will be hard to hide. While he’s little, perhaps—but when the first heat comes…
Then we will make the impossible possible.
Leona cut him off in a firm voice. She seemed already decided.
First, seek out a capable mage and alchemist. Preferably someone in financial trouble. Ah, and we’ll need an apothecary with excellent compounding skill. As for the reason—say my body was greatly harmed by the difficult labor.
“…”
If I say I’ll do my confinement at my father’s house, the emperor won’t object. In any case, he… has no interest in me.
With a bitter smile, Leona looked at the duke with desperate eyes.
Help me, Father.
Leona…
If I’m to keep the empress’s seat, and if our house is to continue to prosper, there is no other way.
“…Very well.”
After a brief hesitation, the duke nodded. The moment he resolved to aid her, the child’s fate changed.
That day, a birth that should have received the blessing of the whole world became the beginning of every tragedy.
“…koff.”
Lost in old memories, the Empress returned to herself at a shallow cough. She looked down, dispassionate, at Etienne standing like a criminal with his eyes lowered. At the water-colored gleam beneath his long lashes, her mood twisted for a moment.
Over twenty years had passed since the day she decided to raise the child as a Beta, not an Omega.
A game where discovery that he was an Omega meant the end of all things.
For twenty years, every moment had been like walking a tightrope over a ravine, but they had made it this far. In that time, with the duke’s help, Leona had expanded her faction and taken control of more than half the palace. Her might only grew by the day.
Newly confident, she and the duke began, two years ago, to stir public opinion that the crown prince’s seat could not remain vacant. They pressed the emperor. But resistance was stronger than expected.
To make matters worse, the situation shifted abruptly. It was bad enough to face opposition from the emperor’s faction; now about half the military and the neutrals had come out against Etienne as well.
They argued he was unfit in many respects to be emperor and supported the Grand Duke of Eckhart as the next heir.
“…”
Leona frowned, recalling a problem that showed no sign of resolving.
“He is returning.”
At the word she spoke, Etienne flinched before he knew it, shoulders tightening. The “he” the Empress referred to could only be the Grand Duke of Eckhart.
“Why? Are you pleased to hear he’s coming back?”
Quick to catch Etienne’s disturbance, the Empress narrowed her eyes.
“No, Your Majesty.”
Careful to keep his expression from slipping, Etienne replied evenly. Thankfully, his voice didn’t shake. He hurried to add so as not to raise her suspicion:
“How could I possibly be pleased.”
“Good. You’d better not be.”