I Became the Omega in a Game - Chapter 15

“Yapel Room.”

The Yapel Room was on the first floor.

‘I’ll avoid the first floor today at all costs.’

Riche turned around, planning to tell the manager she’d handle the second floor exclusively for the day. But at that moment, Elsa bent her head slightly and called out.

“Do you need something?”

Riche turned back instinctively. A sharp scent suddenly invaded her nose.

‘This isn’t someone you’d call dignified.’

Raymond had emerged from one of the guest rooms, clutching his forehead with one hand.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour since he went in, yet his body reeked of alcohol. Wrapped in his red casual suit, he looked both disheveled and irritable, as though he’d downed several bottles already.

“Fuck, my head’s killing me… Goddammit…”

Frowning deeply, Raymond jabbed a finger toward Riche.

“You.”

Riche barely managed to suppress the scowl threatening to creep onto her face as his finger pointed directly at her.

“Bring me some headache medicine.”

He stumbled back into the room, leaving behind a trail of sour tension.

“He’s been like that for a while now,” Elsa muttered, returning from the counter with a small white medicine container. “If he’s feeling so awful, why come to the club in the first place? Here, take this.”

She placed the pill bottle into Riche’s hand with practiced efficiency.

Riche stared blankly at the container for a moment, then glanced sideways at Elsa.

Her hesitation didn’t last long.

Feigning calm, she finally spoke.

“I need to go see the manager. Could you take this to him instead?”

“Me? Wow, look at you, giving up a customer. And such an important one, too.”

At Elsa’s mildly teasing but otherwise positive response, Riche’s lips curled into a faint smile. But Elsa quickly shook her head.

“You know how VIPs can be.”

“…….”

“They’re so picky about the smallest things. He asked you to bring it, so you have to go. Even over something as minor as this, they can throw a fit about being ignored. ‘What, are you disregarding me?’—that kind of crap.”

It was nothing but a simple errand, yet it was still an opportunity to face Raymond directly. Whether through a seductive smile or a strategic release of pheromones, it was a chance to win his favor.

For many other Omegas, a chance to interact closely with a noble would have been irresistible. That was the intention behind Riche suggesting Elsa go instead. But Elsa clearly had no such ambitions.

Her rare, safety-first mindset made her stand out in an establishment like this.

In fact, she seemed more interested in unrelated, trivial matters.

“Why are you even going to see the manager? If there’s something to pass on, I’ll tell him for you.”

“…It’s nothing. Never mind.”

Riche swallowed her irritation and turned away.

“Riche.”

She turned her head back quickly. Elsa spoke with an innocent expression.

“Aren’t you going to bring him water?”

“……”

“That’s the kind of medicine you take with water, you know.”

Expressionless, Riche simply raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” she said curtly.

When Riche returned, Raymond ignored the headache medicine entirely.

Instead, he simply kept drinking. Pouring himself glass after glass of strong liquor, he downed it in one go, the ice clinking sharply against the glass. No wonder he reeked of alcohol.

Watching him focus on the drink with a sort of desperation, Riche couldn’t help but look at him with mild disdain. She had no intention of telling him to stop or to drink more slowly—it wasn’t her place.

Still, the atmosphere was uncomfortable. She put on a polite smile and bowed slightly.

“Please let me know if you need anything else.”

Just as she moved to leave, a hand shot out and grabbed the pill bottle.

Raymond poured two white pills into his mouth, biting down hard on them. The crunching sound was almost combative.

“You should take those… with water,” Riche said hesitantly, slightly caught off guard by his forceful gesture.

Raymond shot her a sharp glare before snatching a glass of water. He tilted it back and drank it all in one gulp.

‘Should you really be taking medicine after drinking that much alcohol?’

By normal standards, it was a bad idea. But it wasn’t exactly a dangerous situation either—not unless someone died in the club, and that was Riche’s definition of “dangerous.”

Either way, her task was complete.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way…”

Clink.

Raymond placed his glass down on the table with a sharp tap, issuing a short command.

“Stay here.”

Riche blinked in surprise. Raymond, who had been resting his elbows on the table, ran a hand deep through his red hair. With his chin tilted slightly downward, his red, slightly hazy eyes fixed squarely on her.

“I’m not in a good mood.”

“…Shall I bring you more to drink?”

“More drinking? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Raymond’s tone was cutting, his posture growing more slouched and defiant. The way he stared at her made Riche uncomfortable.

Why is he acting like this?

“Should I send for one of your friends?” she offered cautiously.

“What do my friends have to do with this?”

Raymond’s expression hardened, his temper flaring.

Is he losing his mind from all the drinking? Riche wondered. Drunken nobles were indistinguishable from madmen as far as she was concerned.

“I only meant that since you said you’re not in a good mood…”

“Do you think those goddamn friends of mine will change anything?”

“……”

“You can fix it. You can make me feel better.”

“…Excuse me?”

Riche’s eyes widened at his cryptic statement. Seeing her expression, Raymond let out a sharp laugh.

“Why are your eyes so wide? What were you thinking, huh?”

“……”

“Talking. You know, the thing you all get paid for.”

Ah, talking.

At Club Queen, where the geumjeong (naming system) allowed guests to pick their companions, it was common for staff to act as conversation partners for bored customers.

Riche herself, as a bartender, had often served as a sounding board for lonely patrons who had come to drink alone. While it wasn’t an unreasonable request, she didn’t exactly feel thrilled about it either.

“…Alright. If that’s what you’d like.”

Despite her agreement, Riche instinctively shifted her seat back slightly, increasing the distance between them.

Had he noticed her guarded posture? Raymond scoffed again, but surprisingly, he didn’t insist she come closer. Instead, he started talking—rambling, really—about everything and nothing all at once.

Contrary to Riche’s expectations, Raymond had a lot to say. As though he were dredging up every bottled-up thought in his chest, he spewed stories both lighthearted and heavy, with little regard for order or coherence.

“Did he really just need someone to talk to?”

As his lengthy monologue continued, Riche’s tension eased a little. Watching Raymond sip his drink more slowly now, she realized that the main subject of his stories was his older brother, Kairos. Most of what Raymond said amounted to complaints about Kairos Strigo.

“Everyone knows how great my brother is. But me? I’m just decent—a bit above average. When I first joined the Royal Guard, people came in droves just to watch me. They expected miracles, but the moment I swung a sword, they sighed like I was a damn disappointment—‘He’s not as good as his brother.’ Fuckers.”

Raymond let out a crooked laugh, but the bitter curve of his lips twisted the handsome lines of his face into something darker. There was an edge of malice there—aimed at no one in particular, yet unmistakable. Beneath that bitter anger, Riche could sense something deeper: self-loathing.

“I’d heard about his inferiority complex, but it’s worse than I thought. Dangerous, even.”

As always, Riche habitually analyzed him.

Though Raymond wasn’t currently her top priority, he was still a highly desirable research subject. He was, after all, an exceptional Alpha.

“This is the first time I’ve encountered a case where both siblings are Alphas. Comparing their pheromones revealed that Alpha-Omega traits have a strong genetic link.”

Having successfully collected both brothers’ pheromones as a quest reward, Riche’s current focus was her hypothesis regarding the hereditary nature of Alpha-Omega traits.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Want a drink?”

Raymond, seemingly tired of talking to himself, pushed a glass of liquor toward Riche. The transparent amber liquid swayed precariously within the glass, threatening to spill. Riche stared at the nearly full glass for a moment before raising a mechanical smile.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t really know how to drink.”

Riche regretted the excuse the moment it left her lips. For a club employee to claim they couldn’t drink seemed awkward and out of place. Surprisingly, however, Raymond didn’t press the issue. He merely let out an irritated sigh.

“That’s a shame. You can’t even keep me company with a drink?”

He stared at her silently. Drinking companion? From a mere bar employee? What on earth was he thinking? If he were completely drunk, she’d have to call for a professional “nuisance handler.”

Of course, Club Queen didn’t actually hire handlers to deal with unruly patrons; that job usually fell to the manager. While Riche was briefly debating whether to hand this troublesome guest off to the boss, Raymond’s gaze visibly cooled.

VIP guests—particularly Alpha-Omega nobles—were so accustomed to being catered to that their patience wore thin quickly. Riche realized her hesitation had likely offended him.

It wouldn’t do for someone of her lowly status as a club worker to displease a noble. Planning to remain at the club for a while longer, Riche certainly didn’t want to anger him enough to be kicked out.

I might as well just have a drink or two. He’s already drunk; a few more glasses, and he’ll pass out.

Cautiously, Riche accepted the glass. She took a small sip, letting the expensive liquor slide smoothly down her throat. Though she despised excessive drinking, Riche was a scientist who knew how to appreciate good alcohol. Almost unconsciously, she smacked her lips before setting the glass back down.

Raymond, seeing the glass now half-empty, smirked. He seemed to be in a better mood. Riche thought she had done well—she figured he would leave her alone now.

She was mistaken. Raymond had simply shifted the focus of their conversation to her.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Not quite a year.”

“Must not be easy for a Beta to work here. Or… is it easier?”

“I don’t feel pheromones, so it’s not particularly difficult for me.”

Riche brushed off any tricky questions with vague responses but answered simpler ones more earnestly.

Satisfied with the flow of conversation, Raymond downed another gulp of liquor and, as if the thought had just occurred to him, asked casually:

“Come to think of it, my brother would know about this place too. Have you ever seen him here?”

“……”

“You haven’t even heard of him? Kairos Strigo, the great captain of the Red Eagles.”

Raymond chuckled bitterly, his voice thick with jealousy toward his older brother.

Kairos? He comes often. Not just occasionally—he’s practically a regular.

Was Raymond fishing for something? Did he suspect her connection to Kairos or have some inkling of what had happened between them? But no—his expression looked too wistful, too defeated.

‘I don’t exactly have a talent for comforting sulking kids…’

Carefully choosing her words, Riche replied, “I’m not sure. He only meets Omegas, so I don’t really cross paths with him.”

“That’s true. You know about that, huh? Well, if you’re working here, you’d have to.”