I Became the Omega in a Game - Chapter 28

The thought brightened Idelli’s mood. She had come here intending to teach the presumptuous Omega, who dared to imprint on her Raymond, a painful lesson. But this unexpected discovery was an even sweeter reward.

Poor Ray. Betrayed by the woman who imprinted on him. Robbed of her by the older brother he so despises.

Idelli knew all too well how deeply Raymond loathed and envied Kairos—and how much he despised himself for feeling that way. At this moment, her heart almost ached for Raymond, who was blissfully unaware of all this.

I’ll forgive you for turning to another woman, Ray. You’ll be in so much pain soon. When that time comes, I’ll be there to comfort you, to embrace you in your sorrow. But until then, you must pay for your betrayal. For daring to imprint on another woman instead of me.

A sweet smile crossed her lips as she turned away, watching Kairos walk off with Riche in his arms. Her voice was soft, almost purring, as she called after him.
“If she doesn’t satisfy you, let me know. For old times’ sake, I wouldn’t turn you away.”

Kairos didn’t break his stride. Instead, he brushed a strand of Riche’s dark hair back from her face as he carried her.

“You’re overstepping,” he said, his tone detached and cutting.

Idelli’s smile faltered. Though she knew Kairos would eventually fall apart, his indifference still stung.

Anger bubbled up, but curiosity lingered alongside it. How was it that someone like Kairos, who wasn’t even a dominant Alpha, could resist her pheromones so well? It wasn’t just resistance—it was as if her pheromones didn’t affect him at all.

Could it mean Kairos’s pheromones rivaled those of an extreme dominant?

She narrowed her eyes at his retreating figure, sending out a subtle wave of seductive pheromones as a final test. But even then, his broad back remained steadfast, unaffected.

“Infuriating,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at his silhouette.

Her pointed heels struck the floor with a sharp clack, as if trying to crack the very ground beneath her.

* * *

The Queen’s building, with a “Closed” sign set outside, was unusually quiet today. However, stepping past the heavy doors revealed a different scene altogether—groans filled the air, and the bustle of people rushing around with damp towels created a chaotic atmosphere.

“Boss! We’ve got a problem! Mikhail has a fever too!”

“What? Him too?”

The manager nodded, looking distressed. The boss clicked his tongue in frustration, his hands barely stopping as he worked.

The office was a mess. The remaining staff who could still move had gathered on the sofa, huddled together. There were only ten of them—every single one a beta.

For a business that typically operated with 30 to 50 employees (including part-timers), this was a painfully small number. And these were just the ones still standing.

‘I need a break too.’

Today, Queen had declared an emergency closure. Many of the omega staff had gone into their heat cycle at roughly the same time and were now dealing with the side effects of suppressant medication.

The post-heat suppressant, Obsejin, was generally effective, but it came with side effects that varied from person to person—muscle pain, lethargy, mild fever, and headaches were common.

“If Mikhail’s down too, we might have to close tomorrow as well. I told them to take their suppressants early! What did I say? Now look at this mess,” the boss muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Despite his exasperation, he made no effort to reopen the club. Without the alphas and omegas—Queen’s star employees—there was no point. Expecting beta staff to entertain customers at the same level was simply unfair.

“Days like this happen sometimes,” the manager said with a sigh. “Looks like today’s one of them.”

“Well, heat cycles are unpredictable,” the boss replied, trying to ease his frustration over the sudden loss of revenue.

Omega heat cycles were irregular, sometimes occurring every few months, sometimes every few weeks. And strangely, when omegas spent a lot of time together in close quarters, their cycles tended to sync up. This was exactly what had happened, forcing Queen to close its doors for the day.

During Riche’s time at Queen, this was only the second time such a situation had occurred. Normally, she would have checked in on Mikhail or Elsa, brought them medicine, and taken notes for her research. But today, even Riche seemed uninterested.

I’m not feeling well.

Unlike the other omegas, it wasn’t due to the side effects of Obsejin. In fact, Riche had never experienced a heat cycle in her life. Aside from the possible early signs she might have missed, she’d never even taken suppressants. It wasn’t as if being a secondary omega meant she couldn’t go into heat—it was peculiar, to say the least.

Still, for someone who had never experienced a heat cycle herself, observing other omegas in the throes of it was an intriguing case study. A designated period for reproduction? Truly animalistic. Alphas and omegas stood somewhere between human and beast.

Physically, they were superior to ordinary humans in appearance, strength, and intelligence. But their inability to control themselves rendered all those advantages moot in Riche’s eyes. However, not even this fascinating biological phenomenon could pique her interest today—her condition was far too unstable.

I’ll need to revise my evaluation of Kairos Strigo.

She crossed out Good stamina in her notes and replaced it with Comparable to a beast.

Much more accurate.

Her body ached all over, sore as though she had endured an intense workout. It was the aftermath of Kairos’s unrelenting strength. Despite his best efforts to restrain himself, worried he might hurt her, her muscles still screamed in protest. Riche hadn’t disliked it, not entirely, but it had grown exhausting after a while.

The effects of pheromones on the body were far more intense and overwhelming than she had anticipated. In her current state, with low pheromone levels, it would be nearly impossible to survive in this dimension. She had realized this clearly when her instincts surrendered to Idelli’s pheromones.

Sometimes, you have to collide head-on to gather the most accurate data.

Idelli Grace is a rare research subject, but also unbearably arrogant.

And it irritated her deeply.

That day—when she lost control and fainted under the overwhelming pressure of Idelli’s powerful pheromones—still gnawed at her. Losing control of her body was not something she was used to. It reminded her of getting food poisoning and rushing out of a meeting or being overtaken by seasickness and vomiting uncontrollably. Only this was far more violent, leaving her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

If I could increase my pheromone levels…

What she needed was a dominant alpha’s pheromones. And the only person who could provide her with them stably right now was Kairos Strigo.

Several rounds on the bed—until the sheets were thoroughly soaked—had significantly raised her pheromone levels. However, the trade-off was considerable physical exhaustion. It was enough that she found herself grateful that Raymond hadn’t shown up.

Raymond had disappeared ever since Idelli arrived—no word, no message. He vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared.

Idelli is a possessive woman. Raymond has always had a soft spot for her, so they’re probably together now.
That was the only explanation for why Raymond, who had acted like he’d show up every day, suddenly stopped visiting. The talk of marriage had clearly been nothing more than fleeting, sweet words—a trick often used by philanderers.

Riche felt a tinge of regret for wasting time on such meaningless words. She erased Raymond Strigo from her mind entirely.

The boss rose from his seat with a determined look.

“This won’t do. I need to go to the Medici Healing Center and get a proper healing potion.”

Riche looked up at him blankly, gently massaging her sore shoulder.

“A healing potion?”

“This time, it won’t be from some low-tier healer. I’m getting a potion made by a certified healing master.”

“Is it different from the one I got last time?”

“That was made by a mere healer. Slightly better than the cheap potions sold in the market, maybe effective for a mild cold. But for something like this? No way,” the boss explained.

The manager added, “It’s hard to get a real healing master’s potion. Even getting all those healing potions last time was thanks to my cousin’s connection.”

He spoke with a rather boastful tone. Riche understood the Medichina Healing Center as a kind of exclusive hospital reserved for VIPs—similar to a private medical institution for high-ranking officials or wealthy elites in her original world.

Though the Medichina Healing Center also engaged in charitable activities, such as selling potions at affordable prices to poor commoners, these were limited to three bottles per person to prevent stockpiling and reselling. This restriction was in place to stop hoarding and ensure the availability of superior-quality medicines.

“Three bottles aren’t nearly enough,” someone grumbled.

“It’s only thanks to the generous policy of the Medichina Count’s family that we get any at all. If not for that, everything would be sold off to noble households before it even reached commoners like us,” the boss said, chiding the complainer.

Riche’s interest was piqued.

“These healing master’s potions… are they really that effective?”

“Of course. Just a single sip can clear up a mild fever almost instantly.”

“What about muscle pain?”

“That’s nothing. It’ll be gone in no time.”

The boss smirked. “By the next day, you’ll be up and bouncing around.”

“Exactly. We can’t have people bedridden from suppressant side effects forever. Even big guys like Mikhail are completely wiped out.”

Riche only half-listened to the last part. So the healing master’s potions were really that good, huh? More than anyone else, she needed one right now.

“If you call for a carriage, I’ll go get it. You’re busy, boss.”

“You sure? You’re looking a little pale.”

“Just give me a couple of extra bottles while you’re at it.”

The boss hesitated for a moment but then nodded in agreement.

The journey from Queen, located near the outer walls of the city’s western gate, to the center of the capital where the Medichina Healing Center stood was quite a distance. When Riche finally arrived near the healing center, she paid the fare and stepped out of the carriage.

The capital around the Medichina Healing Center was dazzling. The roadside trees were lush and well-maintained, and sculptures were placed throughout the streets, breaking up the monotony. Even the streetlamps were adorned with the intricate engravings of Dobrak’s emblem and name.

Now that I think about it, this is my first time in the capital.

If she ever found herself unable to stay at Queen any longer, moving to the capital seemed like a reasonable option. Unlike the barren streets around Queen, the capital was bustling with people. It would be easy for an outsider like her to blend into the crowd and disappear.

Of course, that would require plenty of funds.

Riche glanced at the street vendors’ stalls, checking the prices while calculating her meager budget. Her modest salary at Queen—received in exchange for room and board—meant that living in the capital would result in a life of near poverty.

Lost in thought, she accidentally bumped shoulders with a man walking briskly in the opposite direction. A dull ache spread from the point of impact.

“Oh, sorry… Wait, it’s you, from the tavern.”

The man scowled, his expression darkening as he recognized her. At first, it seemed like he was going to apologize, but after giving her a once-over, his demeanor turned openly hostile. His change in attitude was so blatant it was almost embarrassing.

“Watch it, you wench.”

He shot her a sharp glare, brushed off his shoulder, and hurried past.

Well, that’s charming, Riche thought with a sigh. The man clearly wasn’t a noble—there was no sign of a family crest on him. Judging by his tidy but unremarkable attire, he was probably a servant of a noble household or a family of similar standing.

Riche glanced down at her own uniform: a simple navy skirt and white blouse—nothing that would give away where she worked. But then, she noticed something around her neck. Ah.

The round pendant hanging from a chain was engraved with Queen’s emblem, no larger than her thumbnail. To enter the capital, she had been required to wear it, but now it made her stand out in all the wrong ways. Encounters like the one just now were bound to happen.

I’ve already passed the gate; it should be fine.

After a moment of hesitation, she tucked the pendant inside her blouse. The cold metal brushed against her chest as she resumed walking, scanning her surroundings with renewed focus. Instead of estimating the capital’s size, she began to observe the types of people moving around her.

Those running errands in a hurry, like the man she had bumped into, were likely servants. Those riding carriages or on horseback were at least minor nobles. And the ones dressed in extravagant, high-quality clothing were unmistakably aristocrats.

Still, none of them were alphas or omegas. Alphas and omegas made up only a tiny fraction of the population, which explained their absence here.

No wonder everyone was so happy when I volunteered for this errand.

She realized they had probably sent her because conflicts were more likely to arise for someone like her. They still thought she was a beta, after all. Here in the capital, she needed to be careful not to reveal her true status.

The Medichina Healing Center was located in the most prestigious part of the capital’s center—a prime area where many aristocrats resided. Its prominence was obvious from the long line of people stretching outside the building, all waiting for their turn to enter.

Riche joined the back of the line and waited patiently for her turn.

The Healing Center had two entrances: a small door for those on foot, like Riche, and a large gate for carriages. Every carriage passing through the large gate proudly displayed a family crest. There were no hired carriages in sight—clearly, that entrance was reserved for nobility only.

The line for the small entrance moved at a snail’s pace. While Riche edged forward bit by bit, a total of ten carriages came and went through the main gate.

As she idly watched the procession, her attention caught on a man passing quickly through the crowd. Squinting, she recognized him—it was the same rude man she had bumped into earlier.

Please don’t let me run into him again inside.