15. 

“…Mr. A?” Omega asked cautiously.

Mr. A’s gaze suddenly turned cold.

“If something like this happens again, just call the police,” he told Omega. “And seriously, calling him pig slop would be too kind—what kind of worthless thing have you been wasting your money on?”

“I…” Omega wanted to argue but didn’t know how to begin. He remembered months ago, the younger alpha, dressed in a clean shirt, sitting quietly in the dappled light of the phoenix tree, looking so fresh and handsome that it made Omega’s heart race. If he hadn’t looked like that, Omega wouldn’t have had the courage to propose the arrangement in the first place.

“Alright,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through.”

Mr. A looked at him with a mocking expression. “Paying him? Seems like you’ve got too much money to burn.”

Omega felt so embarrassed that he couldn’t even lift his head, so he just stared at the floor, listening to Mr. A’s footsteps fade away.

When he got home, he absentmindedly flipped through a book, letting out a quiet sigh.

He hadn’t expected Mr. A to get that angry.

As time passed, while Omega worked hard to improve himself, his stock of scent blockers was slowly running out, which caused him a lot of stress.

In this era, Omega no longer had to worry about the regular mating periods. The three days that used to require both an Alpha and Omega’s time had become a major inconvenience for workaholics and people in special situations. To solve this, a special medication was developed. During the troublesome three days, an Omega only needed to inject a 1ml dose of colorless liquid into the gland at the back of the neck to get through the heat without relying on an Alpha.

Although this medication was once considered illegal and circulated in the black market, today, with rapid advancements in technology, regular Omega individuals could now purchase it through legitimate channels.

Over the past few decades, Omega had relied on this lifesaving medication. However, due to its noticeable side effects, the scent blocker was placed under strict purchase limits, allowing a person to buy no more than two units per year. But in the past month, Omega had been going back and forth between the gym and home, using up the medication much faster than usual. He was worried whether it would last until the day of the dinner.

Two months later, he started reducing his use of the scent blocker. He would still apply it when meeting with Mr. A, but no longer used it when going to the gym. In those two months, he lost about 20 kilograms, surpassing his coach’s goal of 60 kilograms. His clothes, which used to fit tightly, now hung loose, and he had to buy new ones in a smaller size. At the start of the second month, he got a haircut and changed to a more suitable style, following Tony’s advice to use the amino acid shampoo he recommended.

“Losing hair isn’t really a big deal for Omegas,” said his hairstylist, who was also an Omega, as she swayed her hips. “Unlike Alphas, who can go bald overnight, we’ve got better genes. As long as we stay happy and get enough rest, hair loss is no big deal!”

After saying goodbye to the cheerful Tony, Omega tried the advice. Though he couldn’t see results right away, he noticed that his scalp felt much better after his showers.

However, the weight loss was happening too quickly. He started to notice loose skin around his abdomen and arms. His Beta coach scheduled a small surgery for the end of next month. Once Omega finished the first phase of his plan, the loose skin would be gone.

Mr. A was concerned about Omega’s progress, especially with the end of the season approaching and not having much time to supervise him. So, he created a secondary account on a social media platform, gave Omega the login details, and asked him to post photos daily as a check-in. Whenever Mr. A had time, he would glance at Omega’s posts. This continued until the day before the big dinner, three months later.

Early in the morning, several luxury cars pulled up in front of Omega’s house. Mr. A ordered a group of his subordinates to wait outside while he stormed into Omega’s home and went straight upstairs, bursting into his bedroom. “What time is it? Still sleeping?”

“Ah!” Omega screamed, clutching his blanket in surprise, quickly checking his neck to see if the barrier agent he applied last night had worn off. “W-what’s going on?”

“Oh,” Mr. A took a step back, calmly closing the door behind him. “I forgot you’re an omega, sorry.”

While Omega changed out of his pajamas, Mr. A stood outside, frowning as he sniffed the air around him. Before he could think more, Omega had finished getting dressed and opened the door.

“No need to change your clothes,” Mr. A looked at Omega’s loungewear. “When we get there, they’ll have clothes for you. Let’s go.”

As soon as they got into Mr. A’s car, a hand suddenly reached over to splash water on Omega’s face. Mr. A sat across from him, watching the makeup artist work while casually asking, “I didn’t notice last time, but did you use a freshener in your house? It smells unusual.”

“My house… I don’t use… air fresheners,” Omega stammered, feeling a bit flustered. “I’ve never used those.”

The Alpha across from him nodded and said nothing more.

When they arrived, Mr. A handed Omega off to a group of people, only saying, “Make him look better,” before turning to leave. Omega hurriedly changed into a new shirt, pants, and shoes, feeling dizzy as he sat there. The makeup artist began applying various scented lotions and sprays to his skin until it became smooth and soft. Then, the lead woman pulled out more tools, ready to work on his face.

“Wait, wait a minute!” Omega panicked. “Do I still need more makeup?”

“Of course,” the woman smiled gently. “For such an important event, you have to make sure you look your best. Your eyebrows are light and uneven; fixing them will make a big difference.”

Omega had no choice but to let the makeup artist shape his brows first. The small razor removed the stray hairs, and then a slightly darker pencil was used to define them. She then added subtle shadow along the sides of his nose and some color to his lips.

“Since you’re a man, we won’t make it too heavy,” she continued, putting down her tools to style his hair. “Mr. A showed us your photos a couple of weeks ago. But seeing you in person today, you actually look a bit slimmer than in the photos.”

“Really?” Omega forced a smile.

“Also, there aren’t many wrinkles. For your age, you’ve taken really good care of yourself,” the makeup artist said, turning the chair so he could face the mirror. “Now, take a look at the result.”

Omega raised his eyes and froze in surprise.