After leaving Ilian Redis’s building, Johanna walked aimlessly, the city a blur around her.
Father… on a cruise ship?
Where in the world did he get the money for that?
Her father was a man who squandered every coin he touched in a gambling den.
She had assumed the money from his latest debts was already gone, lost to the same old vices.
Did he still have some left?
Or… had he borrowed from someone else?
“…Hah.” A sigh escaped her lips.
Johanna stopped walking and pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them again, she found herself in the middle of a bustling downtown street.
How had she gotten this far?
She must have been completely lost in her thoughts.
Get a grip.
She slapped her cheeks lightly with both palms and tried to get her bearings.
Hailing a carriage alone was too risky for an Omega; walking was her only option.
It would take about forty minutes to get home.
If only teleportation existed…
Magitech engineering had made explosive progress over the last fifty years, but the magic to traverse long distances in an instant remained purely theoretical.
Johanna dragged her legs, which felt as heavy as cotton, and forced herself to move.
She was passing the opera house when she hesitated, her eyes drawn to a large banner promoting an exhibition.
The Kingdom of Thracia, Which Met an Unfortunate End, and the Collection of Its Last Dynasty, the House of Delles…
It looked fascinating, and the admission fee wasn’t even that expensive.
For a moment, she forgot her exhaustion.
Staring at the banner, she pulled out her wallet and counted her spare cash.
It seemed… doable.
She could afford this small indulgence.
And yet, as she bought the ticket, a baseless anxiety gnawed at her.
Was it because it had been so long since she’d spent money on herself?
It felt wrong, reckless, as if she were committing some terrible extravagance.
But an exhibition like this was a rare opportunity.
If she missed it, she might have to wait years for another chance.
Assuring herself that it was a rational choice, she entered the hall.
The line was surprisingly short, likely because it was a weekday afternoon.
Johanna began her tour, starting with the history of the House of Delles.
“While the decline of the Kingdom of Thracia was brought about by a massive volcanic eruption,” a curator explained in a clear, pleasant voice off to one side, “the decisive blow that led to the nation’s collapse was the invasion of a pirate coalition that appeared for about eighty years, from around 1430 to 1511…”
Listening to the soothing narration, Johanna wandered through the displays.
After some time, she stopped dead in front of a large marble statue.
Wow…
Though it was a lifeless sculpture, it pulsed with the vibrant energy of a living person.
The facial expression, the subtle tension of the muscles, the texture of each fine strand of hair, every single fold of the clothing—it was all so meticulously rendered that it was nothing short of a masterpiece.
Johanna stared, utterly captivated.
She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice someone approaching until a shoulder slammed into hers.
The dull impact against her shoulder blade snapped her back to reality.
“Ah…!”
“Agh!
My shoulder!” the man who’d hit her cried out dramatically, clutching the spot as if in agony.
Flustered, Johanna blinked at him.
Her own shoulder throbbed where he’d struck her.
“Hey, you should watch where you’re going!” he snarled.
“Ugh, my shoulder.
It just finished healing!”
What is wrong with this person?
Was this one of those extortion scams she’d only ever heard about?
The man had clearly been the one to walk into her while she was standing perfectly still.
His audacity was baffling.
“I was just standing here,” Johanna said, her tone measured.
“You were the one who bumped into me, sir.”
Her logical response only seemed to make him more aggressive.
“No!
I’m saying, why were you standing in a place where someone could bump into you!”
Judging by his luxurious, tailored suit, the man was from the upper class.
For someone of his station to deliberately cause a scene with a young woman, there could only be one reason.
He saw her face and assumed she was an easy target.
“Enough of this.
I require compensation.
What’s your name?” His unpleasant gaze raked her up and down, openly lecherous.
She’d been sensing faint Alpha pheromones from him for a while now, and she was certain he was releasing them on purpose.
Sure enough, he closed the distance, a foul smirk on his face.
“You’re an Omega, aren’t you?”
Johanna had a standard reply for such questions.
She would lie and say she was a Beta.
She had taken her suppressants that morning, and perhaps because she was a Dominant Omega, controlling her pheromones wasn’t difficult.
And above all…
“I can’t smell anything on you, but you have the face of an Omega,” he pressed.
“You are one, right?”
A wave of his pheromones washed over her, a deliberate and overwhelming shower meant to provoke a reaction.
But Johanna remained completely unfazed.
“And… you have an unusual resistance to Alpha pheromones.
We see Omegas like you from time to time, Miss Lucerne.
It is not common.”
In that moment, Johanna truly understood what Victoria had meant.
It was a sensation—or rather, a lack thereof—she’d never experienced before, as she had only ever encountered Alphas powerful enough to affect her.
“…What?
Why aren’t you reacting…?” the man muttered, frowning as Johanna simply stood there, her expression placid.
Isn’t she an Omega?
she heard him whisper.
Johanna delivered her prepared line.
“I’m a Beta.
And you, sir, were the one who bumped into me.”
“…Hah, that’s strange.
My instincts are never wrong…” he muttered to himself.
He stared at her for another moment before a vile glint lit up his eyes.
“Well, it’s a shame you’re not an Omega, but a Beta isn’t so bad.
As I said, you’ve re-injured my shoulder.
I’m going to need some compensation.”
Johanna was rendered speechless by his audacity.
He was a complete lunatic.
As she wracked her brain for a way to get rid of this madman, a familiar figure entered her line of sight.
Huh…?
His presence was unmistakable, even from a distance.
It was, without a doubt, Leonid Neuwitz.
Johanna’s eyes widened.
Their gazes met, but his expression remained unchanged.
He simply stared at her, his look intense, almost a glare.
He had something that looked like a stick in his mouth; at first, she thought it was a cigarette, but a closer look revealed it was a lollipop.
Leonid Neuwitz with a lollipop was a jarringly incongruous sight.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” the extortionist persisted.
The commotion was beginning to draw curious stares.
Johanna shot Leonid a desperate, silent plea for help.
They were supposed to be portraying a devoted couple; surely he would intervene.
If she were caught up in a public scandal, it would reflect poorly on him as well.
But Leonid just rolled the candy in his mouth and watched, as if it were a mildly amusing spectacle that had nothing to do with him.
Well, I suppose it doesn’t.
No, but still…
“First, your name,” the man demanded, his patience wearing thin.
“We should at least introduce ourselves.
I am James Kestner.
And you are?”
Johanna, who had been focused on Leonid, registered the name a beat too late.
Kestner… I’ve heard that name before…
“…From Baron Kestner’s family?”
“Huh?
You know my father?”
Of course she did.
He was one of the men her father had borrowed money from a decade ago—one of the last friends who hadn’t cut ties with him.
But after her father failed to repay the loan for over two years, the Baron had severed their relationship completely.
“How do you know my father?” James asked, his curiosity piqued.
“You don’t look like a noble.
Ah, did you ever work for our household?”
Baron Kestner wasn’t a famous figure, so his son’s surprise was understandable.
Not wanting to dredge up the past, Johanna offered a vague explanation.
“I just ran a few errands for him when I was younger.” It wasn’t a lie.
She just hadn’t known the Baron had such a scoundrel for a son.
“Ah, is that so?
So, what’s your name?” the scoundrel pressed for the third time.
“What do you think you’re doing in an exhibition that requires quiet decorum, James?
You’re acting like a common thug.”
A heavy, low voice cut through the air between them.
Johanna turned.
She had no idea when he had moved, but Leonid Neuwitz was now standing right beside them, a characteristic, languid smile playing on his lips.