“Lucien was hospitalized?”
As soon as the news came, everyone on the rowing team, including Emilio, showed the same reaction. Seeing their wide, surprised eyes, I nodded.
“Looks like there was a small accident yesterday. They took him to the hospital by ambulance, but fortunately, they say he’ll be fine once he stabilizes.”
The emergency responders who arrived at the school in the middle of the night with sirens caused quite a commotion. When morning came, the school principal, having received a report directly from the gatekeeper, immediately summoned me and urged me to explain the situation in detail. I had no choice but to confess everything, and when the principal heard about Lilith’s initiation ceremony, he was so flustered he couldn’t even speak.
Of course. Whether it’s Hearst or Lilith, it’s naturally a dilemma.
Maybe that’s for the best. Handling it inside the school is probably easier than dealing with outside matters. The problem, of course, was that the party involved was a Hearst.
Thanks to this, the Lilith members were quite busy all morning. I heard the club president was summoned to the principal’s office, and even my roommate Oliver had been interviewed. But unlike the uproar among the teachers, the Lilith members remained carefree.
“What’s the big deal? At least he’s alive.”
Oliver’s words didn’t sit well with me, but I said nothing. After all, I’m an outsider here and have no right to intervene. Still, I worried about what I’d do if Lucien asked me to testify or needed anything. Remembering those nearly insane purple eyes of his staring up at me made it hard to decide. The way he relied on me was pitiful but also uncomfortable, so siding with him was difficult.
But it was obvious Lucien was the victim. I didn’t want to side with those who tormented him and ignore the victim. Time passed with me stuck in this dilemma, and soon the weekend arrived.
The dorm was restless from morning. The excitement of finally being allowed to go out officially filled the air. Some students went straight home regularly, while others conspired to go to a nearby city and cause trouble.
Even on weekdays, outings were possible for special reasons, but those reasons were usually insignificant. Looking back, the rules were mostly symbolic, a tradition carried down for decades. The former principal, who held a firm belief that “excessive repression breeds bolder rebellion,” made a decisive decision to make outings easier, and oddly, as going out became simpler, fewer students went out.
Actually, going out on a weekday was exhausting. School life started before dawn, and rushing through tight classes and club activities, it was already night when you finished. Tackling mountains of homework pushed the time to early morning. With little sleep, there was no time to go out. When restrictions were stricter, students tried to “escape” the school, but since going out became easy anytime, students lost interest and became more diligent. In the end, the principal’s judgment was correct.
Because of that, weekend outings became a given for students. Even without special plans, no one stayed in the dorm. It became an unspoken rule that at dawn, everyone scrambled to leave. Oliver too slipped out of his room as soon as time allowed, and I followed.
“Hyung!”
When I arrived home, my younger brother Elliot ran up shouting. I hugged his small body close and deeply breathed in his scent. Ten years younger, Elliot had just turned six. His light, chubby little body gave off that distinct sweet smell kids have. I gladly gave him a piggyback ride and went inside. My mother, waiting, smiled brightly and embraced me, kissing my cheek.
“Welcome home, was the trip tiring?”
“Good. Thank you, Mom.”
I smiled and kissed her back. My parents bought me a car right after my birthday. I got my license immediately and always drove home on weekends.
“Drive carefully. No drinking.”
My father sternly warned, as usual. They forbade me drinking and smoking not just because I was underage or had to drive, but because of their strong faith. They lived an ascetic life, never drinking or smoking, and often helped the poor and needy, practicing their beliefs firsthand. I respected them, but because of that, I never spoke about my own nature. That’s partly why I planned to leave for the city after graduation. I loved my family and didn’t want to disappoint or hurt them.
“I don’t drink or smoke. You can trust me.”
I said with a smile, and my father relaxed his stern face, kissed my cheek, and hugged me tightly.
“Welcome home, we missed you.”
The table was filled with food my mother had prepared. Nancy, who helped around the house, finished setting the table, and we all sat down. As always, my father led the prayer. He first thanked God, asked for blessings on the family, and concluded with thanks for all this happiness. I cleared my mind and quietly repeated the ending with him.
“How’s school? How’s the rowing team? Is it tough?”
My mother spoke first, placing a napkin on her lap. I smiled and answered.
“It’s okay. It’s hard but rewarding.”
A standard answer to a standard question. My mother smiled warmly with relief, and my father nodded. Then the usual miscellaneous talk followed. Similar to last week, but a new topic came up.
“I heard the Hearst boy was hospitalized?”
My mother suddenly said, as if recalling something.
I almost coughed but held back, pretending to cut steak casually.
“Yes, there was a bit of an accident.”
“I heard it was because of that Lilith initiation, is that true?”
I tried to brush it off vaguely, but my mother didn’t let it go. It seemed she already knew the gist, so I nodded and slipped away.
“I don’t know the exact details.”
My father shook his head in disbelief and spoke curtly.
“What a stupid group. It wasn’t like that in my day.”
He gave a brief speech about how dignified the school was back then and how ascetic and exemplary Lilith was.
“These kids nowadays have no sense. The name Lilith was meant to be God’s agent to punish demons like that, but what do you do when your own kids become demons? If they don’t get their act together, God will be angry. They’ll get divine punishment.”
“Honey, stop it.”
My mother gently scolded him, but she didn’t mean to stop the topic, only to soften his expression. Her glance toward Elliot was proof. My father caught on and cleared his throat, changing the subject.
“So, what happened to the Hearst kid? I heard he’s not badly hurt.”
“Yes, I heard he’s safe. They said he’ll be discharged after a few days of rest.”
My mother slipped in.
“He’s that Extreme Alpha, right? The youngest in the family?”
“Yes. I’ve never smelled his pheromones, though. He always hides them well.”
My mother smiled approvingly and nodded.
“Just as expected of the Hearst family, a well-educated kid. Extreme Alphas spray pheromones everywhere—so rude. Even Betas exposed to their pheromones for a few hours mutate into Omegas. And what if Omegas are nearby? What if they hit heat cycle in public? That trait shows zero consideration. Well, it makes sense, since pheromones mess up their brains.”
Her voice carried faint contempt and blame. My father seemed to agree, replying gruffly.
“You can see how wild they live. Saying pheromones cause mental illness? That’s nonsense. It’s just an excuse for debauchery. If pheromones cause insanity, just take medicine. Other Alphas and Omegas control themselves with meds. What right do they have to drool pheromones and hurt others?”
“True.”
My mother nodded firmly and then seriously added to me.
“What you did helping that Hearst kid was admirable. But try to keep your distance. He might be mentally unstable, and even if he controls his pheromones well, if rut comes, it might go wrong. He might deliberately shower you with pheromones. That trait stays—there’s no morality or ethics at all. If any scandal happens, it’ll be a big problem, so we have to be careful.”
My father agreed.
“We’re all Betas, so less likely to mutate, but since you haven’t developed yet, be cautious until you’re an adult.”
In other words, watch out not to develop Omega traits triggered by Lucien’s pheromones. As things stand, I’m settling into being a “Beta suited to the family trait.” Their advice was mostly right. Once I’m an adult Beta, pheromones won’t affect me much, and until then, better be cautious. Objectively, being Beta is much easier than Alpha or Omega.
Normally, I would have just said okay and moved on, but today it grated on my ears. Something hurt my heart and made me feel nauseous, and I made a mistake.
“Would it be a big problem if I became an Omega?”
At my sudden question, both my parents looked up. My father paused with a wine glass in hand; my mother’s eyes went wide as she was about to serve Elliot salad. Oops. Too late to take back. I smiled awkwardly and muttered,
“I was just joking.”
“Why bring that up?”
My mother lightly scolded me and went back to her tasks. My father took a sip of wine, put the glass down, and said,
“If you mutated into an Omega, it’d be hard for you, not us. You know how hard it is for Omegas and Alphas, right? Heat cycles, ruts... going through that regularly—this isn’t a beast.”
My mother chimed in while shaking her head.
“They do those things without caring who it is. Omegas and Alphas don’t even distinguish men or women. How can same-sex do those things? It’s really...”
She seemed to hold back her words because of Elliot. I said nothing and continued eating, softly saying, “I see.”
But Mom and Dad, I’m a Beta, and I like guys.
I swallowed the words with my steak and instead talked to my brother. Hearing the chatter of the little one I love, the knot in my chest didn’t ease.
Alphas and Omegas are also traits made by God—does that mean they’re God’s failures? Like me?
No more talk about traits came up, but the question stayed inside me, silently asking them—a hollow, voiceless cry.
“Why are you leaving so early this time?”
I usually returned to the dorm after a slightly early dinner, so my parents didn’t understand. After lunch, I packed and left, smiling as usual despite their disappointment.
“I have a lot of homework. Rowing takes a lot of time. I can’t help it.”
My mother looked visibly upset but said no more and gave me a goodbye kiss. My father hugged me tightly, then clenched his fists. Though he didn’t say it aloud, his eyes and actions said everything.
I trust you and love you, my son.
I smiled and said goodbye, roughly ruffled my brother’s hair, and got in the car. The mansion soon disappeared from view, and I was finally alone. I sighed deeply, feeling some of the knot in my chest loosen.
Meeting family is joyful but not always purely happy. I realized early on that someone with a secret can never feel at ease anywhere. Since they learned about my nature, my time with them was always anxious and tense. Sometimes I made excuses to avoid going home, but I couldn’t always escape.
The problem was that I loved them. So, though it was painful, I couldn’t avoid going home, and every time I got hurt, I returned to school exhausted.
This won’t last much longer.
Once I leave for the city, will I see them maybe once a year at most? I didn’t know. I heard that as an adult, it’s common to see family only once every few years. If I move to another state, that’ll become reality. It was sad not to see Elliot, but it couldn’t be helped. You can’t have it all.
On the flip side, I’d be abandoning them. They’d be confused and maybe resent me. But maybe that’s better than them knowing their child likes the same sex and even wants sex. Thinking back on my parents’ reaction during dinner, I felt bitter again.
I wonder how Lucien is doing…
Suddenly, my parents’ words about him came to mind. They clearly disliked him too. No matter how good his family was or how well he managed his pheromones, he was still an Alpha.
“Alphas get ruts, don’t they?”
It was obvious but I’d never thought about it before. Lucien must have ruts too. Probably why he has a single room. Even I, a Beta, sometimes get hot and masturbate, but Alphas and Omegas would be on a whole different level. Heat cycles and ruts differ in length and frequency per person, but some last a week. That means a week or more of constant heat. Just imagining it gave me chills. A penis that never sleeps—that’s something from a B or C-grade horror movie.
What’s it like to have impulses nonstop regardless of will?
I probably never will know. Just as others don’t understand my kink. Thinking that, my chest tightened again.