11. 

Once the assistants finished their tasks, they began leaving Omega’s home. The homeowner could barely lift his head after Mr. A’s words.

“Actually, he…”

Mr. A’s gaze suddenly turned sharp.

“Stand up straight, lift your head, and stop cowering!” he reprimanded. “Last one, close the door.”

The last assistant, giving Omega a sympathetic glance, reached out to shut the door, then stood outside, waiting.

“From the day I met you until now, I’ve been meaning to say this.” Mr. A looked down at him condescendingly. “Even if you’re an omega, you’re still a man. A man nearly forty years old, who hasn’t read many books, hasn’t studied much, has a failed marriage, a failed life, and now, even the dog you raised looks down on you, trying to humiliate you! What do you have? What else do you have besides money?”

Omega, struck by the harsh scolding, stood stunned, his mouth agape, his eyes started to redden.

Mr. A’s voice softened, but his tone was chilling: “Try crying just one tear today, and I’ll make you understand the consequences.”

His tears were immediately scared back by the dark expression on Mr. A’s face.

“You want to cry?” Mr. A smiled, but the smile was devoid of any warmth. “Do you have the right to cry? A failure might have that right, but you’re not even a failure—you’re just a coward who hides in his comfort zone, using wealth to recklessly self-destruct.”

Omega shuddered at the shout, staring blankly at Mr. A.

The things Mr. A said were thoughts he had never considered before.

“You’re caught in this contradiction,” Mr. A continued, his face filled with disdain as he smirked. “On one hand, you think you can never change and will live out the rest of your life in this miserable state. On the other, you desperately try to be good to others, hoping they’ll look beyond your appearance and love your true self…”

Omega trembled, feeling like these words were shattering him. “I… I’m not…”

“Enough.” Mr. A disregarded his attempt at defense and straightened up. “You’ve been foolish for so many years. I don’t expect a few words to suddenly wake you up.”

He turned and walked away, pausing at the entrance. Over his shoulder, he said lightly, “The schedule’s been uploaded to the AI. I was going to tell you not to look in the mirror for a while. Your face might drive you to suicide if you stare at it too long. But I’ll let you take a look at yourself. It’s better for you to face reality.”

With that, he opened the door and left.

Omega felt as though he had just walked through an ice cellar, the cold so intense it made his teeth chatter uncontrollably.

The next day, the arduous saga of his struggles finally began.

At 7:30 in the morning, the AI alarm went off right on time, forcing him to drag himself out of bed, gasping for breath as he got dressed, washed his face, drank a glass of warm water, and then took the step counter for a morning jog. By the time he slowly completed a lap around the neighborhood, half an hour had passed. After returning home, he had to follow a strict routine—cleanse his face, apply lotion, and put on sunscreen—before finally sitting down to breakfast.

Of course, breakfast couldn’t be just anything. He had to weigh the food first to make sure it didn’t exceed the set calorie limit. Under the strict control of his schedule, all he was allowed for breakfast was one and a half boiled eggs, a bowl of skim milk with 50 grams of oats, a banana, and a slice of whole-grain bread—filling but tasteless beyond measure.

After finishing breakfast, he had to change into his workout clothes, grab a thermos filled with either mung bean soup or red bean and barley water, and head to his coach’s place, ready to face the harsh realities of life.

“Straighten up even more! Hold it longer!” The coach, frustrated, slapped her palms together with a loud smack, “You can’t be fat, you need to be healthy! I’m telling you, when you walk, you should float like the wind, not shake the ground when you run!”

Omega just wanted to die.

“Push! Don’t use too much force at once, but make sure you push it all the way!” The coach’s expression was a mix of pity and frustration. “Have you ever tried feeling light and sharp? Let me tell you, if you did, everyone would be amazed when they saw you!”

Omega was gasping for air, feeling as if he might pass out from exhaustion.

“This is just the warm-up,” the coach said, her face expressionless. “And you’re already struggling with it? Do you want to stay this overweight forever? I’m telling you, not being able to control your weight and failure will follow you for life!”

Omega felt as if he could just close his eyes and fall into darkness, he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

Finally, during the break, drenched in hot sweat, he collapsed onto the ground, chugging water desperately. The beta coach walked over and handed him a white towel.

“Sorry about that,” she said unexpectedly, her smile tinged with guilt. “I don’t usually speak like this, but someone higher up specifically asked that I motivate you properly…”

Omega weakly nodded. He got it—he knew exactly who that “someone higher up” was.

After finishing his shower at the gym and having lunch at home, he could only sleep for a short while, treating it as a brief rest. After forty minutes, AI would wake him up again, for in the afternoon, he had to attend selected readings of domestic and foreign classics, as well as music and art appreciation classes. These courses were personally chosen by Mr. A, and his exact words were: “Given your current level, having your own hobbies is quite difficult. You might as well get a feel for the atmosphere first. When you’re interested in learning something else, we can switch it up.”

Lost in a fog, the grueling afternoon finally passed, and he could finally sit down to eat his dinner in peace. Ten thin slices of roasted chicken breast, four pieces of boiled broccoli, a plate of dried fruits, and one hundred grams of luncheon meat.

Then, after a shower, it was another round of cleansing — toning — applying night cream. Omega, physically and mentally exhausted, just wanted to collapse into bed and sleep until the end of time.

“How’s it going?” In the neural chip, the alpha’s voice was surprisingly light and pleasant. “Can you adapt?”

Omega, barely able to respond, murmured, “Tired… so tired…”

“Good,” the alpha scoffed. “The fatigue you’re feeling now is just paying for the laziness you’ve indulged in before.”

However, omega didn’t reply; he had already fallen asleep.

After a moment of silence, the alpha softly said, “Goodnight.”

The bedside lamp and the neural chip quietly turned off together, their light fading into the darkness of the night.