The cell was darker than before.
Seo-Yun huddled in the farthest corner, spine pressed against cold stone, every breath a reminder of the bruises etched across his ribs and back. Blood crusted where Kaelith's whip had torn flesh, and each shallow inhale sent pain radiating through his torso like cracked glass under pressure.
But it wasn't the pain that made the silence unbearable—it was the space it gave his mind to unravel.
Obey. Submit. Accept.
The words haunted him. Not because they were unfamiliar, but because he could still hear them—burned into his skull with every snap of the whip, every jolt from the cursed collar. They echoed with Kaelith's voice, but they seeped deeper now, whispering in the cracks forming in his thoughts.
No. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. My mind is mine.
He repeated that mantra like a prayer, again and again, even as his battered body betrayed him—trembling, aching, bleeding. The floor beneath him was slick with filth and sweat, but he clung to the jagged edges of defiance like they were oxygen.
A faint sound broke the silence: the mechanical hiss of the outer door unlocking.
Seo-Yun's instincts screamed. He forced himself to sit upright despite the pain, forcing calm into his features. He would not meet them on his knees this time.
But it wasn't Kaelith.
A different Alpha stepped into the room—tall, silver-haired, his scent sharp and clinical. His uniform was pristine, unlike Kaelith's chaos. There was no blood on his hands, no malice in his expression—but something colder, more surgical.
"Alpha Varian," Seo-Yun whispered under his breath. He remembered him. The scientist. The evaluator.
Varian stepped forward, clipboard in hand. "You've endured more than most," he said flatly, voice devoid of emotion. "But we're not interested in endurance. We want compliance."
Seo-Yun didn't answer.
Varian crouched before him, studying the wounds like one might observe a failed experiment. "Fascinating. Your cortisol levels spike, but your pheromone output remains irregular. Your heat cycle has yet to begin."
Seo-Yun tensed. He didn't know how long he'd been imprisoned—days, maybe weeks. Time blurred under pain. But now he understood. They were waiting for his body to give in.
"You think I'll rut like some dog just because you want me to," Seo-Yun said hoarsely.
Varian's eyes narrowed. "Not because we want you to. Because it is your nature."
"No," Seo-Yun growled, voice trembling. "It's your conditioning. It's not who I am."
Varian stood. "That's where you're wrong. The mind can resist, but the body always remembers what it was made for."
He turned to leave—but paused in the doorway. "The moment your heat starts, Kaelith will return. You won't survive him a second time."
Seo-Yun's hands clenched into bloodied fists.
As the door sealed shut once more, his heart pounded—not just from fear, but from the terrible knowledge that his body was changing. Heat was coming. He could feel it now, coiled in his belly, simmering under the surface like a storm not yet broken. He'd been delaying it—through trauma, pain, maybe sheer hatred—but it wouldn't hold forever.
He closed his eyes, shivering.
There was no one left to help him. No hero. No miracle twist in the plot. He was the anomaly—an Omega from another world, trapped in a novel meant to break him. But maybe that was his only weapon.
The story expected him to submit.
He wouldn't.
Seo-Yun crawled to the center of the cell. Weak. Bloodied. But he sat tall.
If they wanted a spectacle, he would give them one.
They wanted him to break?
Then let them fear what happens when he doesn't.