Page 4

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, to my room, the same one I’d lived in since the day I was born, I felt completely exhausted. Just like always after talking to my father. Those discussions were never relaxing; they carried this war-like energy, with arguments and disagreements constantly hanging in the air.

Step by step, with my head lowered, I trudged forward, drained, trying not to think about my new job. Sooner or later, the situation would resolve itself somehow, and I’d already given up, clinging to tiny sparks of hope that maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t turn into a disaster.

I stepped into my room and collapsed into the chair at my desk, staring blankly at the screen, which was still on, displaying the drawing I had been working on for a while.

Unfortunately, I was struggling to focus and refine the next stages of the drawing. Only the outlines were done for now. Not everything had been filled in with color. The most developed part was the sketch of the central figure.

After a moment of hesitation, I picked up my stylus and, with a sigh, selected a fine line tool to start sketching new shapes.

So far, the drawing featured none other than me, sitting in the grass, in a forest meadow, surrounded by flowers, ferns, and various woodland plants. But… something was missing.

The drawing felt empty. The scene lacked depth, or emotion.

On a sudden impulse, I started sketching a small boy beside my knees. The moment I began, my mood lifted.

Every stroke came easily now, and drawing felt more pleasant, as if some kind of energy was guiding me. A round face and large, cheerful eyes quickly took shape.

For a moment, I hesitated over what color to give his hair. Then I filled in the outlined area with an unexpected hue.

My own hair was a deep shade of mint, darker in tone, but I made the boy’s hair a lighter mint color.

Even then, something still felt off. After another brief hesitation, I started sketching a second boy on my other side, for symmetry. After a while, I realized he looked very similar to the first.

I tried tweaking his features, adjusting him, making him different somehow, but in the end, I gave up and left him as he was. My fingers had shaped him this way on their own. Maybe that’s just how it was meant to be?

"Well, I guess you two will just have to be twins," I murmured with a small smile, filling in the second boy’s hair with the same light mint shade.

My drawings always had a manga-style look. I never cared much for realism, preferring this aesthetic, and that’s what I specialized in.

For a while, I studied the image: my cross-legged figure with the two boys beside me. Their cheerful faces seemed to be looking… one at me, and the other gazing off somewhere else?

Where he was looking, there was still a bit of empty space in the drawing.

After a moment of thought, I selected the sketch tool again.

Could I draw HIM here?

My soul mate?

The figure from my dreams, the one I could never fully visualize, never quite pull out of the void, never quite give shape to.

Maybe I could try today?

My hand trembled slightly as I traced the first lines. I decided to draw him standing, as if he were walking toward us. I gave him a well-built physique, more muscular than mine.

Muscles had never been my focus. I had the lean body of a dancer. But… I gave him more. I wasn’t even sure why.

Honestly, I never had a specific preference. I liked both slender omegas and muscular alphas. I could never decide whether I was more attracted to delicate frames or strong, sculpted builds.

Now, it was time to draw the face and hair.

I focused, trying—almost magically—to channel every instinct, every subconscious impression I could grasp from the ether.

A bit of a mystical approach, sure, but why not? I snickered to myself.

Maybe Fate would guide my hand and reveal what my True Mate looked like? Maybe it would shape itself into the right form.

I hesitated for a moment while sketching the outline of the hair.

Now what? Maybe I really should leave this to Fate?

Alright. I hovered the tip of my stylus over the color palette, closed my eyes, and made a few small circular motions to throw off my own memory of where the colors were positioned.

Then, with a decisive move, I tapped the screen.

Control + G. Fill.

I blinked at the screen, confused. Nothing had changed.

What the hell? Did I not pick a color? The background was still blank, just white paper with black outlines… and the hair had no color.

Then, my gaze shifted to the small square indicating my selected color.

I froze. The chosen color was white!

A burst of maniacal laughter escaped me.

Out of all the colors in the palette, I had randomly picked white.

Oh, wait! Scratch that. When I leaned in closer, I noticed it wasn’t completely white. Maybe it had a faint platinum tint? You’d have to look really hard to see it.

No way. That would be too weird. White hair, like some kind of elven prince…

Or like my new boss at the company.

Ugh, no, no!

That thought sent a strange shiver down my spine. For a moment, I just sat there, lost in thought. Fate had definitely made a mistake. Or maybe it wasn’t Fate at all, just my fingers slipping over the palette. Most likely.

Unless… Fate was just messing with me, a kind of mischievous wink, knowing I’d soon be working for that cold, elven prince of a man, with a very fitting name: Winter.

Still, my hand moved on its own, switching to my browser. I typed ‘elven prince’ into the search bar. Clicked ‘search’.

A whole list of images popped up. In some strange, trance-like state, I went through them, studying the faces of various elven princes.

And… I actually liked them! I’d never been particularly fascinated by elves before, but now, I started noticing their ethereal charm. I kept scrolling and scrolling, staring absentmindedly at the images.

Then I sighed and thought… Well, if Fate wanted it this way, then why not?

I’ll draw an elven prince! And I really liked how the composition was turning out. Against the dark forest background, the elf’s platinum hair stood out beautifully.

I leaned closer to the screen, fully immersing myself in coloring and filling in every last detail. I worked for a long time, forgetting the passing hours, unaware of how dark it was getting outside.

When the drawing was finally done, I immediately fired up my fabric-printing machine and pulled out a fresh, smooth T-shirt.

A few moments later, my drawing was printed right on the chest area of the shirt.

I took it in my hands, and my gaze landed on two mint-haired kids. My eyes became kind of fixed on the picture, lingering there for a long minute. Something in me was slightly trembling. A family… I could have. Would I be able to find a partner for it? Being such a weirdo?

Who would want me?

Clutching the T-shirt in my hand, I lay down on the bed, my eyes fixed on the picture.

No one knew my secret.

No one except Blue.

He was the one I ran to when I realized I was different. He had a medical background, and the lab equipment to actually figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

I never told my parents, or anyone else.

The shame was unbearable.

When I was nineteen, I woke up one night, twisting in bed with a strange feeling I’d never had before. I wanted—no, needed sex. The problem was, I’d always thought I was an alpha. But suddenly, slick started leaking from my ass. I felt swollen, aching, desperate for someone to plow me.

The realization hit me, I was going into heat. But only omegas went into heat, and I looked like an alpha. I smelled like one! So what the hell?

Panicking, terrified my parents would sniff it on me, I ran straight to Blue. I didn’t know what else to do. He let me lock myself in one of his rooms, where I spent the next two days curled up in agony, my only company a set of dildos.

When it was finally over, Blue ran me through every genetic and hormonal test he could.

And he found I was a mystery. An anomaly. Even the scientists who analyzed my results had only a vague idea of what I really was.

Phenotypically, I presented like an alpha; nothing unusual, nothing that would make anyone suspect I had any kind of mutation just by looking at me.

Blue’s scientists helped determine that I was a rare mix of traits from two subgenders: alpha and omega, making me a true hermaphrodite, not intersex. My sperm was viable; I could impregnate someone, but at the same time, I also produced eggs and could be impregnated myself. Basically, that made me a freak. Someone who looked like an alpha but had omega reproductive organs.

I still remember what Blue said when he saw my test results.

"You would’ve been our ancestors’ dream, the solution to our population crisis." He gave a crooked smile. He was, after all, an expert in the Beta Activation Program, created to counteract that very problem.

And I’d told him, "I’d rather just be normal. Ordinary. Like everyone else. I don’t want to be some weird mutation. I just want to be average… and left the hell alone."

Since that first heat, I’d had a few more. I kept them a secret from my parents, spending those days at Blue’s place instead.

I didn’t know why, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth. And Blue respected my request for discretion. My parents would ask sometimes if I had a boyfriend, if I’d ever bring someone home for dinner. I dodged the questions.

Occasionally, they’d try to set me up with an omega from their social circle, one of those other rich kids. But the thought of somebody finding out that I could go into heat and freaking the hell out made me sick to my stomach. What was I supposed to do then? It was unrealistic to expect omegas to dream about topping alphas. Sure, maybe some had that fantasy, but how was I supposed to find one who did, and was also perfect for me at the same time? Most likely, I’d get laughed at. Rejected. Branded a freak.

An alpha with slick dripping from his ass. A joke. An oddity.

Once, I tried signing up for a dating site, but I bailed almost immediately. A few omegas messaged me, saying they’d love to top an alpha. They made it sound like I was their ultimate fetish. That wasn’t what I wanted.

Slowly, the realization set in. I was destined for a different life. Isolated from others. Unnatural.

One scientist told me that after the Great Pandemic, when the aliens modified humanity’s genetics, they originally intended to create a true hermaphrodite, as they were themselves, to speed up the repopulation process, but it didn’t work. They even had a name for people like me.

They called the experiment ‘sigma’.

Deep down, that’s what I called myself. A sigma. An alpha and an omega in one. A fusion of two natures.

But I kept it all inside. A secret. Something I buried, sometimes even from myself, convinced I was just an alpha, because that’s what everyone saw, and that’s what I tried to be.

Even if it never felt right.

At least I looked like a regular alpha, which meant I didn’t have to explain myself. Sure, I wasn’t the tallest alpha at 6’4"—I was at the lower end of alpha height. I wasn’t super muscular either, more wiry and lean. But I still fit within the general alpha standards. Most people left me alone.

Sometimes I got, "Hey, maybe you should bulk up a little?" But that was it. I was free to just… exist.

My fingers moved across the T-shirt I held in my clenched fist, my gaze drifting over the two boys’ faces. A family of my own. Would I ever have somebody to love a freak like me?

Maybe… I’ll worry about it tomorrow.

For now, a smirk flickered on my lips. I already knew what I’d be wearing tomorrow on my first day at work.

If my father expected me to show up in a suit, he was in for a big surprise.