I Became the Omega in a Game - Chapter 11

In the Dobrak Empire, unlike in the neighboring Evelyn, black hair was uncommon.

Early on, when Riche first arrived in this dimension, wandering the streets in rags and filth, the owner of Queen had asked her if she was from Evelyn after noticing her black hair.

In any case, her hair color hadn’t mattered much until now, especially at Queen, where Alphas and Omegas were everywhere and appearances didn’t stand out much. But after sleeping with two people here, she began to worry that her distinctive hair might make her too easily identifiable.

‘I need to dye it.’

The decision was quick, and her actions even quicker. After work, Riche rushed to a general store.

“What on earth happened to your hair?”

The next day, when she arrived at work later than usual, Elsa, who had been sweeping the floor, gawked at her straight blonde hair with her mouth agape.

“Your black hair was so unique, and it looked great on you! Not that blonde doesn’t suit you—pretty girls look good in anything—but still!”

When Elsa asked why she had dyed it, Riche casually deflected, saying something vague like “this looks better.” Elsa didn’t seem satisfied and was about to probe further when she suddenly fell silent.

Turning around, Riche saw Mikhail approaching. Judging by the direction, he’d just come from the boss’s office, and his expression was grim.

He gave Elsa and Riche a brief glance. Riche, recalling the image of him writhing in pleasure beneath Idelli Grace the previous night, maintained a calm and indifferent expression, as if she knew nothing.

“What’s so funny that you’re laughing like idiots?”

Mikhail snapped at them curtly before storming past. Elsa pursed her lips.

“What’s his problem? Taking it out on me for no reason.”

“Is something wrong with Mikhail?”

“He’s taking the day off—says he’s not feeling well.”

“…Not feeling well?”

Elsa leaned in closer to Riche and whispered conspiratorially.

“He’s been acting strange all morning. But honestly, he doesn’t look sick—he looks depressed. Like something serious happened. Did the Duke break up with him or something? When I asked him where he’d been last night, he looked like he was about to cry and didn’t say a word!”

While Elsa repeated her suspicions about Mikhail a dozen more times, Riche maintained her feigned ignorance, brushing off Elsa’s concerns.

After returning home last night, Riche pulled out her research journal and recorded the data she had gathered throughout the day. The final entry, of course, was about the scene between Mikhail and Idelli Grace.

[Alphas and Omegas are closer to beasts.]

That had been her conclusion yesterday—simple yet sharply insightful. As Riche nodded to herself in silent agreement, a commotion broke out around her.

“What’s going on?”

“Let’s go check it out!”

The manager, who was responsible for overseeing the schedules of the staff and kitchen employees, was updating the whiteboard with a marker.

“What’s happening?” Riche asked.

“There’s been a designation,” the manager replied, his expression ambiguous.

“A designation? That’s nothing unusual,” Elsa remarked, puzzled.

Club Queen was one of the most prestigious clubs in the Dobrak Empire. Unlike the cheap establishments in the red-light district where staff sold their bodies, Queen offered premium food, exquisite appetizers, and top-notch service from well-trained staff, all for a steep price.

One of Queen’s signature systems was the designation system, where customers could select a specific staff member to provide their service.

Of course, it was a clever ploy. Many customers who grew closer to their designated staff member often ended up in romantic relationships with them. Such customers frequently became regulars and patrons of Queen, a calculated strategy on the club’s part.

It was through this designation system that Mikhail had caught the attention of Janice Borsin. The system allowed staff to serve influential figures up close, with the chance of leaving a lasting impression. For this reason, employees were always curious about who was being designated by whom. However, designations weren’t uncommon enough to usually cause such a stir.

“Well, the thing is…”

The manager, scratching his temple as if even he didn’t fully understand, glanced at Riche, who was standing idly next to Elsa.

“They designated Riche.”

“What? Riche?” Elsa’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Riche is a Beta. Who would designate Riche? Have we even had any Beta customers visit recently? Could it be… Lord Rhodes? He does have that peculiar taste for Betas.”

Club Queen primarily catered to Alphas and Omegas. Guests who visited the establishment often came to mingle with other Alpha and Omega patrons or to enjoy conversations with the club’s charming staff. Naturally, most of the employees were also Alphas or Omegas.

It wasn’t that they disliked Betas, but Betas simply weren’t preferred. The reason was simple: pheromones. Alphas and Omegas, who always perceived pheromones like a subtle, lingering perfume, saw no appeal in Betas, who were entirely devoid of this quality.

The manager finally answered Elsa’s question.

“It was Sir Raymond Strigo who designated her.”

“What?”

“Yeah, strange, isn’t it? He’s not the type to make a designation just for table service, is he? From what I’ve heard…”

The manager trailed off meaningfully, and silence descended over the staff. A few seconds later, as if they had all coordinated in advance, every pair of eyes turned to Riche.

Ever since Raymond Strigo’s name had been mentioned, Riche had felt a pang of unease. She blinked innocently, her wide-eyed gaze screaming, “I don’t know anything.” Even her softly tilted head and cheerful voice added to the pretense of cluelessness. The only thing betraying her was her unnervingly calm face.

“What?” she asked.

Elsa shrieked, “What do you mean, ‘what’? Raymond Strigo wants to see you! He’s an Alpha-Omega and a notorious womanizer who doesn’t care if someone’s a Beta!”

The manager shook his head with a sigh.
“That’s the problem. He looked like he had something to ask, though.”

“Oh, really? What could Sir Strigo possibly want to ask Riche about?”

“Did you forget he was here last night with Idelli Grace?” the manager replied sharply, causing Elsa to clam up. Leaving Elsa behind, the manager gestured for Riche to step forward.

“He’s probably asking about what happened last night. He woke up late at night in the staff lounge, after all.”

“I still don’t understand why he was even in there,” the manager muttered to himself. At his words, Riche felt another pang of guilt.

“Not sure what this is all about, but I’ll go see him,” she replied, her tone calm and composed.

* * *

As she closed the door behind her, Riche caught the faint trace of Raymond’s pheromones, lingering in the air like a subtle fragrance. She stood still for a moment, taking in the scent.

Now that she had accumulated some research data, she had grown quite accustomed to these natives. Things that had been impossible for her before were now within her grasp—like discerning someone’s emotional state through their pheromones.

‘It’s not perfect, but I can make a decent guess.’

When someone was upset, their pheromones pricked the skin like a sharp, acrid perfume. When they were in a good mood, the pheromones seemed to wrap around you gently, like a warm embrace.

‘I guess that’s how I’d explain the difference.’

She mentally organized this new insight as a notification popped up:

[Skill acquired: Beginner Pheromone Detection.]

With the system’s message came an enhancement of her senses. She could now perceive pheromones more clearly—not just as “good” or “bad,” but with a finer understanding of the emotions they carried.

Inhaling the pheromones calmly, she focused on their nuance. This scent…

‘Anxiety?’

She tilted her head at the word that surfaced in her mind. Then she realized she had spent too long pondering and quickly lifted her gaze.

Crimson eyes were staring straight through her.

‘Oops.’

Almost giving away her thoughts, she hastily schooled her expression and walked toward him with measured steps. She activated her pheromone-suppressing skill, pushing it to its limits as she approached.

The reason he had come was obvious: he wanted answers about that night.

‘I must’ve left quite the impression, huh?’

After all, he had come looking for her as soon as the doors opened. Sneaking a glance at his piercing eyes, she then obediently lowered her gaze. If she kept herself calm, there was no reason to get caught.

“You called for me?”

Her polite words earned a nod from Raymond, whose manner was arrogantly nonchalant. Though he wasn’t as high-ranking as his brother, Raymond had also grown up as a member of a founding noble family, one of the pillars of the empire.

To Riche, who had come from a world without a class system, his demeanor was unmistakably arrogant.

He opened his mouth to speak, his tone reflecting all the privilege and entitlement of his upbringing.

“So, you were the one serving in the Diamond Room that night?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Riche chose her words carefully, saying only what was necessary for someone in her position as a mere employee.

Standing out was out of the question.

If there was one cardinal rule for researchers studying their subjects up close, it was this: remain as invisible as possible.

Only by maintaining a presence that was barely noticeable could the observation proceed smoothly.

If the system hadn’t required her to collect data through direct contact—and if this were a properly regulated research environment—she would never have needed to interact with the natives, let alone engage in physical intimacy with them to gather information.

‘This is what happens when you get greedy. You land yourself in messy situations.’

As she inwardly clicked her tongue in frustration, Raymond beckoned her closer with a slight curl of his finger.

Startled for a brief moment, Riche steadied herself and slowly walked toward him. She made her way around the sharp-edged table, stopping just within his reach. Resting his temple on his hand, Raymond tilted his head slightly, gazing up at her with a crooked, questioning look.

Raymond was a man with a soft yet passionate aura. His vibrant red hair, far more striking than Kairos’s dusky reddish hue, was made endearing by its wavy, slightly messy curls. His crimson eyes, intense and blood-like, had a chilling quality, yet there was almost boyish mischief hidden in his scrutinizing gaze.

Based on her research experience, Riche mentally dissected Raymond Strigo into pieces, analyzing him down to the smallest detail. Analyzing people was her specialty.

‘His appearance is similar to his brother’s, but everything else about him is completely different.’

She could even understand the complex feelings of inferiority he seemed to harbor toward his older brother.

“Strange,” he muttered.

His eyes, which had been trailing suspiciously from the top of her head to her feet, finally stopped on her newly dyed golden hair.

Calloused fingers hovered awkwardly near her hair, as if uncertain. His slightly furrowed brow carried a hint of confusion.

“Was that always your hair color? It feels like… it used to be darker.”

Riche’s mind raced. Last night in the Diamond Room, Raymond had barely looked at her. All of his attention had been fixated on Idelli Grace, so it was unlikely that he had paid any mind to anything—or anyone—else. His hesitant tone only reinforced her assumption.

‘He doesn’t even remember my face from before he started drinking.’

“Pardon? Oh, are you talking about my hair?”

Riche lowered her head, wearing an expression of reliability and innocence that would make anyone think, “There’s no way she’s lying.”

“I haven’t changed anything about my hair…” she replied firmly.

Raymond, already uncertain about his hazy memories, found himself nodding at her resolute answer. His face shifted to a look of acceptance, as though convinced. After all, in his mind, a seemingly frail and innocent woman like her had no reason to lie to him.

“Then who was it yesterday? I was sure it was someone with black hair…”

Watching his confused expression out of the corner of her eye, Riche silently congratulated herself.
‘That was close.’

However, a potential problem lingered. If Raymond started asking other Queen employees about last night, things could quickly become dangerous. Their testimonies would inevitably point to her.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Riche kept her tone cautious and polite. Her demeanor was perfectly in line with what would be expected from an ordinary employee addressing a member of the Strigo family. Because of this, Raymond didn’t suspect anything and answered her honestly.

“Last night, I had sex with some woman here. But… ah, you—don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”

Wait, what?

She quickly replied.

“Yes, of course. Your secret is safe.”

Riche inwardly cheered. She didn’t know why, but Raymond seemed intent on keeping last night’s events a secret.

‘If anything, this works perfectly for me.’

The worry that he might gather all the staff to interrogate them about what had happened seemed to dissipate.

Raymond covered the left side of his face with his hand, his voice tinged with confusion.

“It was a woman with black hair. Long hair…”

Suddenly, his gaze shifted to Riche’s own long hair, which shimmered golden as it fell past her waist.

“Now that I think about it, your hair’s pretty long.”

“It’s just extensions. They’re trendy these days,” Riche replied smoothly.

Raymond squinted as if understanding.

“Ah, of course. That thing everyone’s doing because of Idelli, right? She got bored of short hair and started this new trend.”