The heavy raindrops poured down from the dark above, soaking the streets and rolling down her puffy cheeks.
Her body was utterly broken as she laid in the dark alleyway; there was no light, no life — just the occasional blaring headlights from passing cars flashing over her lifeless body.
Her limbs were twisted unnaturally, and her head was bleeding where it had struck the pavement.
The cars from passing vehicles honked, the drivers yelled over one another, but no one knew a woman had fallen off the rooftop of her apartment.
There was a hurried footstep approaching towards her.
They paused just above her, hovering for a moment as though debating whether to check if she was alive.
But when they noticed her motionless body, they seemed satisfied — convinced she was gone for good — and quickly walked away.
Moments later, the distant sound of a car engine roared to life. The tires screeched as the vehicle sped off into the rain-slicked street.
For a long time, there was nothing but the rain and the buzz of neon lights flickering across the alley walls.
But then — there was a sharp gasp. Shaky and uneven breathing filled the space where silence had once dwelled.
The young, fat woman with bloodied hair and once-broken limbs stirred unnaturally — like some twisted miracle — her chest rose and fell with shallow, pained breaths. Slowly and shakily, the woman pushed herself off the wet ground.
Her head spun, her limbs trembled, but she was standing on her feet as though nothing had happened.
She didn't know how she was alive — but she was.
Her heavy-lidded and glassy eyes from the pain, drifted across the street toward the only building with its lights still on: a small pharmacy, which was glowing faintly like a beacon through the rain.
It wasn't unusual to have a pharmacy nearby — this district was no stranger to late-night violence, robberies, and the occasional knife fight.
Horns blared as cars sped past, splashing dirty rainwater across the road.
Without thinking, she stumbled toward the street.
HOOOOONK!
She stumbled across the street blindly, the cars were screeching to avoid her, the drivers didn't stop yelling at her recklessness.
But she didn't care, the only thing she could focus on was the unbearable heat building inside her — not fever heat, but the suffocating, undeniable pull of her first Omega heat.
She shoved open the pharmacy door, the small bell above jingled faintly.
She didn't even glance at the counter. She headed straight for the pharmacist, her steps were uneven as she approached the counter, breathing heavily, and barely holding herself upright.
The young pharmacist behind the counter looked up from her computer. Her polite smile faltered the moment she saw the state of the woman before her.
Wet hair stuck to her flushed, round face. Blood trickled from her temple. Her breathing came in shallow desperate gasps.
"Uh… Hello?" The pharmacist's voice was tentative, trying to sound friendly, though concern crept in. "Are you… okay?"
The woman didn't respond right away. Her head hung low as the rainwater dripped from her clothes, her broad shoulders hunched forward.
"HAH… HAH… HAH…" The woman's breathing came in sharp bursts. Even the short walk inside had drained what little strength she had left.
The woman's head dipped slightly, exposing her double chin. Her silence dragged on, making the pharmacist uneasy.
The pharmacist glanced toward the back, wondering if she should call for help — or the police — but then the woman spoke.
"I… need… omega suppressant…" she forced out between labored breaths.
The pharmacist's brows pinched together. Omega suppressant? Was this a prank? There was no such thing.
"Can I see an ID?" she asked cautiously, more out of protocol than expectation.
To her surprise, the woman immediately slapped an ID card onto the counter. She hadn't reached into any bag — it was as if the card had already been in her hand. The plastic was already slick with rain, but the letters were clear enough to read:
The pharmacist hesitated but picked it up, and her eyes scanned the details:
NAME: LOLA PARK.
GENDER: OMEGA.
AGE: KIT.
Her jaw almost dropped. You've got to be kidding me. First month on the job and someone was already playing games like this?
She plastered on a polite smile despite her nerves. "I'm sorry, we don't sell that kind of drug… but may I ask, what exactly… does an omega suppressant do?"
The woman didn't respond. She simply turned toward the door, swaying on her feet as dizziness washed over her. She gripped something solid beside her to steady herself.
"Are you okay?"
A deep, husky voice came from above her. She tilted her head up, but even through the blur she could see the man towering over her.
Tall with strong frame, and sculpted features softened only slightly by the strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. But it wasn't his face that made her pulse quicken.
It was his scent — his pheromones — only made things worse.
The heat between her legs pulsed sharply, impossible to ignore. Her eyes widened and she pulled away instantly. His scent was unfamiliar, yet intoxicating — like mint wrapped in something… else. Something she couldn't place.
"Are you okay?" he repeated, but she didn't answer. She needed to get away from him, and fast.
She pushed off him weakly, ignoring the way her legs threatened to collapse beneath her. Her fingers fumbled for the door handle, and with every ounce of strength she had left, she stumbled out into the rain again.
He watched her go, his brows drawn together. She left without an umbrella, walking straight into the downpour. He found that odd, surely carrying an umbrella wasn't too much work.
The pharmacist greeted him with a practiced smile. "Hello, Mr. Alexei."
His expression didn't shift. He remained neutral, cold even, ignoring the playful tone she always used to test his patience.
"What can I do you for?" she teased, but he wasn't amused.
"Hawthornes," he stated simply.
As the pharmacist packaged his order...
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Alexei glanced at his phone, the caller ID flashed a familiar name.
"Hello, Noelle," he answered.
"I got 100 on my exams!" the boy announced proudly.
"That's very good."
"Auntie promised me chocolate cake if I got 100, but she hasn't given me my chocolate cake!" Noelle's voice was still excited, but a hint of childish complaint crept in.
Alexei's raised his brows slightly. "Didn't you say your stomach was hurting earlier?"
Noelle: "..."
The other end of the line fell silent, long enough for guilt to settle in. Noelle had called Alexei and told him to stop at the pharmacy on his way back from work for Hawthornes.
"…I lied about the stomach ache because I wanted Hawthornes…" Noelle admitted in his small, sheepish voice.
Alexei sighed. "We'll see about that when I get back."
"Okay! Bye bye!" the boy chirped before hanging up.
"You know, children will be children," the pharmacist chimed in, attempting to lighten the mood.
"If you don't correct them when they do wrong, they'll become someone you never imagined," Alexei said simply, but his words carried weight. The kind that made the young woman behind the counter straighten her posture.
Rumors about Mr. Alexei — CEO of Better Health — circulated endlessly. Being in his presence alone was enough to rattle anyone.
The pharmacist hesitated. "Mr. Alexei… have you ever heard of omega suppressants?"
"What's that?"
"I… have no idea. But that woman who just left asked about them…"
The same woman — drenched and trembling — her flushed cheeks and strange scent came rushing back to him.
"She's drunk. Probably didn't know what she was saying," Alexei concluded, noticing how the pharmacist packed his order unnecessarily carefully for such a simple item.
"Drunk? But she didn't smell of alcohol…" the pharmacist mumbled as she handed him the bag.