The sun had barely pierced the early morning fog when Lin Yuexin slipped quietly out of her dormitory, careful not to disturb the other students who were still adjusting to their day. She gripped the straps of her bag, each step deliberate, measured, as if moving incorrectly could alert the entire school to her secret.
Today, she had made a plan: observation, practice, and adaptation. Being human in Heilong Dominion Academy was a constant threat. One false gesture, one tremor of fear, and she would be exposed.
The suppressants hummed faintly beneath her uniform, keeping her scent muted, but she could feel her heart racing nonetheless. Her body was fragile, unprotected, yet her mind had become her weapon. She would need it today more than ever.
The first stop was the courtyard, empty in the quiet early hours. Yuexin had memorized the paths, the timing, the subtle behaviors of the students as they arrived. She moved deliberately to the open space near the fountain, letting her shoulders square, her chin lift slightly—a posture she had noticed the Alphas maintain instinctively.
"Confidence," she whispered under her breath, mirroring the posture she had observed in Zhenyu and Yichen. She adjusted her stance, planting her feet firmly, making her gaze calm yet assertive. In theory, it looked perfect.
But theory often faltered when instinct interfered.
Yuexin's first test came unexpectedly. Xu Meilin and her clique appeared at the edge of the courtyard, early as usual, scanning the grounds. Their crimson and golden marks gleamed faintly, a subtle assertion of power even in the soft light.
"Morning, human," Meilin said, her voice sweet, sharp, and cutting all at once. Her eyes lingered on Yuexin, tracing the lines of her posture, the tilt of her chin, the faint tremor of her hands. "Trying to act like one of us already?"
Yuexin forced a polite smile, keeping her tone neutral. "Just observing," she replied softly, careful not to reveal how quickly her heart had jumped.
Meilin smirked, clearly detecting something beneath the surface. "Observation is fine… as long as it doesn't expose weakness." She leaned slightly, just enough to invade Yuexin's peripheral space, a predator testing a prey's boundaries.
Yuexin's pulse quickened. Her human instincts wanted to recoil, to shrink, but she forced herself to maintain posture, adjusting her shoulders again, breathing deliberately.
After Meilin's group moved on, Yuexin focused on mimicking alpha behavior. She studied her own reflection in the glass walls lining the courtyard, shifting her weight, adjusting her gaze, practicing the subtle dominance she had observed from Zhenyu and Yichen. She practiced a neutral expression, a gaze that conveyed confidence without aggression, and slow, deliberate gestures that projected control.
Her hands trembled slightly as she ran through the motions. Every misstep felt dangerous. The suppressant pulsed faintly beneath her skin, a reminder that even her careful imitations were fragile. One crack, one human reaction, and she could be exposed in seconds.
By late morning, she decided to test herself in real interactions. A small group of first-year Alphas passed by, talking and laughing, their marks glowing faintly in the soft light. Yuexin stepped into their path, posture firm, eyes steady.
"Good morning," she said, voice controlled, calm. A subtle tilt of the chin, a slight lift of the shoulders.
The group froze for a brief moment, surprised by her composure. One of the girls whispered something to another, and Yuexin caught the glance—slightly wary, slightly intrigued. Noticing this, she forced a small, neutral smile.
A success, but fleeting.
Her next challenge arrived in the form of Yichen. He appeared without warning, leaning against the fountain with that infuriating, teasing smirk. His gaze pinned her instantly, playful yet assessing.
"You're practicing," he said softly, voice carrying that teasing edge. "Trying to be one of us… or just trying to survive?"
Yuexin swallowed, keeping her posture rigid. "Observation and practice," she said, tone steady. Her eyes never flinched, though her heartbeat betrayed her.
Yichen chuckled, stepping slightly closer. "Interesting," he murmured. "Confidence… or pretending? Sometimes it's hard to tell." His proximity made her aware of the faint heat radiating from his body, the subtle scent of dominance and power that she could sense even through the suppressant.
From the edge of the courtyard, Zhenyu's presence was unmistakable. He didn't move toward her, but every subtle shift in his posture radiated control, territorial awareness, and protective intent. The invisible boundary he created was a safety she could feel, like a wall she could lean against without touching.
Yuexin exhaled slowly, grounding herself. She realized she had to master not just the posture and gaze, but also the psychological manipulation of presence. Confidence was not just in stance—it was in perception.
She adjusted her head slightly, keeping her eyes steady, and allowed a flicker of defiance in her posture. Yichen noticed immediately, stepping back just a fraction, eyes narrowing with amusement. She could see the subtle reaction—a microexpression, a twitch, a hesitation.
Success.
Afternoon classes brought her first serious test. Xu Meilin had noticed her subtle alpha imitation and now sought to test it directly. During a group exercise, Meilin positioned Yuexin at the center, assigning the other girls to subtly provoke her.
"Don't falter," Meilin whispered just loud enough for Yuexin to hear, her lips close to Yuexin's ear. "Everyone is watching."
Yuexin's stomach twisted. The suppressant hummed faintly, warning her that fear was close to breaking through. She inhaled slowly, steadying her hands, her voice, her posture.
The tjej-alphas circled, whispering, nudging, smirking. Yuexin responded with controlled movements, neutral expressions, careful gestures. Each micro-interaction was a test—balance, perception, control. She nearly faltered when one of the girls brushed against her shoulder with deliberate force, but she forced herself to keep posture, to maintain composure, and to project confidence she did not entirely feel.
By the end of the exercise, the murmurs around her had shifted from amusement to cautious curiosity. Some of the tjej-alphas glanced at each other, reassessing, intrigued by her subtle defiance. Meilin's smirk had sharpened, more calculating than before. Yuexin understood the silent message: she had survived the test, but the scrutiny would only intensify.
By evening, Yuexin returned to the courtyard for private training. She practiced subtle alpha movements, controlled gestures, and deliberate eye contact, running through every scenario she had faced.
Her reflection in the fountain's surface stared back at her: pale, human, unmarked—but increasingly aware, increasingly capable. She had nearly faltered several times, but each failure was a lesson, each tremor a reminder to control her body, her mind, her perception.
And she was learning. Slowly, painfully, strategically.
Later that night, in the quiet of her dormitory, Yuexin replayed every interaction, every glance, every touch from the day. The suppressants hummed softly, keeping her human scent muted, but she could still feel the subtle reactions—the micro-expressions, the shifts in posture, the unspoken attention from Zhenyu and Yichen.
She realized something crucial: being human was dangerous, yes—but it was also a tool. Humans were underestimated. Humans could observe, analyze, and manipulate in ways Alphas often overlooked. And if she could combine her careful observation with subtle mimicry of Alpha behavior, she could survive.
More than survive.
She could play the game.
Tomorrow, she would face more scrutiny, more subtle attacks, and perhaps more deliberate provocations from the Mo brothers. But tonight, she allowed herself a small victory: she had walked through the gauntlet of observation and manipulation and emerged intact, unexposed.
And she knew, deep down, that her game had only just begun.