The birth of Yuri von Eisenberg is a hope. A doomed hope. But it serves its purpose.
Yuri, a male omega, was born to the second mistress of the Lord of the Eisenberg estate when the family was in dire need of an heir.
His secondary gender was a misfire. They needed an alpha to lead the Assassin's Creed and the High Order of Noblesse.
But the moment Lord Heron von Eisenberg saw the silvery hair and the universe of twinkling violet garden in Yuri's eye, he made his choice. Maybe an omega was what they needed all along. A union between the strongest tribes. A force that no mortal can rebel against. A bond that could only be ended by death. He smirked, waving to his dying mistress and signaling for the footman to take the newborn babe away, "That thing will do."
Unaware of the dark fate behind him, Yuri smiled at the waning figure of his mother. His innocence was too bright for the cruel world.
And it is an understatement to say that the world tries its best to kill that innocent smile.
When Yuri was five years old, he was pushed down the velvet staircase by one of the old matrons of the main house. As Her Regency, the renowned Iron Magdalene, stared at his limping body, bloodied and broken like a porcelain doll, a miracle happened that changed his destiny. For the worse.
The bones healed. His broken arms heaved his tiny body up as if he hadn't suffered any wounds. The cuts from the previous beating and thrashing vanished without a trace. Despite the mark of red blood on his snow-white, opalescent hair, the boy was perfect. The doll resurrected itself. He grinned timidly, asking, "Your Excellency, did I do anything wrong?"
Screwing her eyes with a thousand calculations in her sharpened mind, the regency, whose intelligence and cruelty rivaled only her husband, Lord Heron, hid the wicked smirk behind the laced fan.
Yes, the boy had done wrong. And where else should a bad child be punished but the estate's beloved experimentation lab?
The next morning, Yuri von Eisenberg changed his tormenting environment – from the mahogany and carpeted rooms of the estate to the ether-filled rooms of the lab.
Glancing around his cubicle, the stark whiteness almost blinded him. Yuri couldn't help but wonder what they did there with so much cleanliness. He thought he was there to do the usual task – cleaning the toilet, sweeping the floors, and the occasional weird exercises of stabbing wooden figures. Curling on his bed in the robe that was too large for his tiny figure, he bit his nails, thinking of his mother. He hadn't received any news about her since coming to the estate. Whenever he asked, Lord Heron would reward him with another vicious beating. He thought it made the Lord uncomfortable, so he dared not ask again.
The old matrons wouldn't talk. And Her Regency would only give him more tasks, more weird exercises to do. He couldn't count how many times he had stabbed the wooden figures, and how many ways they taught him to end them quickly with precision.
The door to his cubicle opened. Another child, taller and older than him, walked in. His hair was black, cropped short. His limbs were lanky and thin, like a spider's legs. Yuri watched him, astounded. He'd never seen such a malnourished child before.
"Whatcha looking at?" The boy snarled.
"I'm sorry." Yuri flustered, waving his hands. "I didn't mean to. I just came here so –"
"New lab rat, huh?"
"What?"
Yuri tilted his head; the mass of uncombed, opalescent hair fell on his shoulders, and his violet eyes sparkled with interest. "Lab rat? What is that?" He asked, the petal pink lips pouted, wetted with his saliva.
The dark-haired boy jerked back, his face burned a deep red. "Are you a girl? Why did they assign a girl here? Leave me – ouch!"
He retreated too far back and hit the metal bed, reopening the wounds on his thighs and lower calf. The blood seeped through his robe. In pain and agony, the boy bit his lips. He knew it would only get worse if the guards outside heard his cries.
But the porcelain doll before him seemed wholly unaware of the disaster he had gotten himself into. With springy steps, he rushed to the boy's place, hovering his hands over the wounds. His brows knitted, a sad frown on his face. The violet eyes got teary – like an ocean of stars. "Did they hurt you? Her Regency often did that to me, too. Don't worry, if you are a good boy, they won't hurt you anymore."
"I say, little girl –" The boy protested.
"Boy."
"Huh?"
"I'm a boy." Yuri blew on the reddish marks on the boy's thighs and calf. "The Lord named me Yuri." He smiled, so sweet and naive it hurt the other boy's heart. "I heard the old footman in the mansion said that if you blow on the wounds, they will get better. Pain, pain, go away."
The dark-haired boy tried to talk, but he couldn't find the proper word. The porcelain doll before him was so devastatingly beautiful in this ruin that he had half his mind to think of getting Yuri out of there. The other half was busy thinking about how unrealistic it sounded by telling a child that blowing on the wounds would make them get better. So many questions left unanswered. He scratched his head in defeat, "I say Young Master –"
But to his amazement, the pain did lessen. He looked at his wounds once more. They were gone. No trace was left besides the reddish-brown color of dried blood on his robe. Glancing up, his heart nearly stopped from the tender, sunshine smile on the face of his angel, "Told you. They'd get better."
"Nacht."
"Hmmm?" Yuri kept blowing on the wounds some more. The soft breath tickled Nacht's heart.
"My name is Nacht."
"I see. Nacht, my name is Yuri." The mass of silvery hair, fluffed in the white room, outshone the bright bulbs.
"You told me that." Nacht murmured, feeling his face get heated from the gentle voice and the tentative touch of Yuri's small fingers as they danced around his vanished wounds.
"But you called me Young Master."
"Because you are the Young Master of the Eisenberg estate. And they throw you in here to be the lab rat like all of us."
"Lab rat again. What's that?" Yuri leaned in, puffing his cheeks, determined to get to the bottom of it.
"Means they are experimenting on us."
"Experimenting –?"
"Some are used for drugs. Some are used for organ transplants. You, I don't know what they will use you for, but I guess it'll be something nasty."
Yuri fell back on his heels. The violet starry universe went dark for a moment, then it shone weakly, pleading, "No way, they won't be that cruel. We aren't rats, are we?"
Nacht was stunted for a moment. He wanted to say that they were rats. That there was a hierarchy here, and someone like the Young Master wouldn't survive. That he would suffered a worse fate if he kept being that trusting and naive. But he gritted his teeth. The porcelain doll was too precious, too fragile – and Nacht won't break it before the lab had the chance to destroy it. He hugged Yuri, saying, "Don't worry, I will protect you."
Sniffling on Nacht's shoulder, Yuri was beaming with happiness. It was the first time someone told him that. He chuckled, "I knew it. You are a good person at heart, Nacht. We all are."
And what Yuri said was so far from the truth that Nacht just wanted to gorge his heart out as a sacrifice for a flimsy guarantee of his opalescent hair, violet starry eyes angel's happiness.