I Became the Omega in a Game - Chapter 29

Though waiting in line was tedious, it wasn’t without its moments of insight.

“Look, a healing master is leaving through the main gate. He’s probably been called by a noble,” someone nearby said.

“I wish my mother could get a healing session too. Potions are effective, sure, but nothing beats a healing master’s touch.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do. We should be grateful that Medichina sells potions to the public at all. Even the largest clinic in town can’t compare to their potions.”

“That family was granted nobility solely for their healing skills during the empire’s founding. They must be incredibly talented.”

“And they pay their staff well, too. My son applied for a position there. He doesn’t have healing abilities, but he’s good with his hands, so he’ll help out with general tasks.”

“That’s a great opportunity! Even their servants are polite and well-spoken.”

As Riche listened to the scattered conversations around her, her turn finally came. She entered the Medichina Healing Center and followed a servant assigned to guide her. The building was busy, with multiple hallways branching off in different directions. Given the crowd, the servant led her to a specific room where potions for restoring stamina and improving overall condition were prepared.

“This way, please,” said the servant.

“Thank you for guiding me,” Riche replied politely and entered the room.

Inside, a man—apparently the one in charge—sat leisurely fanning himself. His enormous frame strained against a tight oatmeal-colored tunic, and a shiny, expensive-looking belt barely held his bulging belly in place. His large, meaty hands fluttered the fan with a daintiness that seemed almost comical given their size, making the fan appear like a child’s toy in comparison.

As soon as Riche’s eyes met his, her brow furrowed instinctively. Oh no.

The man paused briefly, then smirked. His lips, an unhealthy shade of purplish-red, stretched taut across his face. Riche suddenly felt nauseous.

“…Hello. We meet again,” she said, forcing a neutral tone.

The man nodded arrogantly. “Pick whatever potions you need,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

He had been condescending from the very start, and Riche didn’t appreciate it. I thought he was a noble’s servant, but he works here? Just my luck.

Suppressing a sigh, she ignored him and selected the potions she needed, bringing them to the counter. She set the yellow basket down, and the man counted the bottles with his eyes before shaking his head.

“One bottle per person,” he said flatly.

Riche glanced at the identity documents she held—proof of citizenship for the Dobrak Empire. The IDs she had gathered from her omega colleagues at Queen totaled four in all.

The current policy allowed each person to purchase up to three bottles per year. Following the boss’s instructions, she had selected two bottles for each of the eight individuals. Riche tilted her head.

“I was told we can buy up to three bottles per person,” she said.

“The rules have changed. It’s one bottle now,” the man replied, feigning disinterest.

Riche frowned at the unexpected change in policy. If what he’s saying is true, that means I can only buy four bottles.

That wasn’t nearly enough to replenish the club’s stock. She had also hoped to take a few extra bottles for herself as part of the errand’s reward, but at this rate, even her own share would be reduced.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the man’s expression. His face remained impassive, but something about his behavior felt suspicious. He didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, even raising an eyebrow as if to say, What are you looking at?

At that moment, a sudden message appeared in her mind:

[Unexpected Quest Triggered]
The Medichina family provides healing potions for less fortunate commoners. These potions are highly coveted on the black market.
Gobert, a Medichina Healing Center employee, is stealing potions and selling them to black market dealers for personal profit.
He will try to deny you your rightful share of potions to further his scheme.
Defeat the greedy clerk and claim your potions!

• Success Reward: An official apology from the Medichina Healing Center
• Failure Penalty: Expulsion from the center and loss of potions

What? Even this turns into a quest?

Riche’s eyes shifted as she analyzed Gobert’s face.

Beta. His expression and tone suggest he’s a petty opportunist who sells his pride for a few coins.
Classic.

To get the full amount of potions, she would need to bribe Gobert with a hefty tip. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the money for that.

The only way to expose his lie was with solid evidence. Suddenly, a memory surfaced—she recalled secretly flipping through the boss’s ledgers once. The records meticulously documented cash flow and detailed customer visits. The sheer volume of data was overwhelming, but her sharp memory would come in handy.

“What are you standing there for? If you’re not buying, get out,” Gobert snapped, clearly annoyed.

Riche snapped out of her thoughts and smiled sweetly.

“Since when?” she asked calmly.

“What?”

“When did the rule change?” Riche asked calmly.

Gobert narrowed one eye at her, scrutinizing her face. Finding nothing particularly suspicious, he replied with a smug tone, “Since last month.”

Last month, huh? That felt a little too vague. Riche stifled a chuckle, pretending to be puzzled as she tilted her head.

“When exactly last month?”

“The middle of the month! What’s your point?” Gobert snapped.

“That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

“Our club has consistently purchased potions from the Medichina Healing Center,” Riche began. “In the Cloudfall Moon last year, Queen purchased 10 healing potions, paying 20 silver coins and bringing in 5 identity passes. In the Rising Moon, we bought 12 potions, paid 24 silver coins and used 6 identity passes. And…”

As Riche recited a full year’s worth of records, Gobert’s eyes gradually widened in disbelief.

“Most recently, at the end of last month, we purchased 8 potions for 16 silver coins with 4 identity passes.”

“…”

“And yet, you’re saying the rule changed in the middle of last month?”

Gobert, now visibly flustered, shouted, “The rule just changed then! Maybe the staff made a mistake! Are you accusing the Medichina Healing Center of being unfair?”

His audacious attempt to turn the tables left Riche expressionless.

“I just found it curious, that’s all,” she said flatly.

Her calm demeanor rattled Gobert. Normally, customers felt intimidated by the pristine and formal atmosphere of the Medichina Healing Center. Most of them would meekly accept what they were told—or even pay extra if pressured. But here was this young woman with wide, unblinking eyes challenging him openly.

Gobert’s initial plan had been to exploit her looks. Since she was quite attractive, he’d intended to act generous and offer her a discount after making her beg a little. But now, his frustration boiled over.

“So, you’re saying I’m a liar? You think you can insult a Medichina employee like this?” he roared.

“…Hah.”

“Did you just sigh? You insolent wench! Where the hell did you crawl out from?”

He’s not even worth talking to, Riche thought, her patience wearing thin.

Gobert, mistaking her silence for fear, lowered his voice slightly.

“Look, if you just take the amount I told you and leave, we can forget this ever happened…”

Riche abruptly turned on her heel and walked toward the door. Gobert, caught off guard, looked at her in confusion.

“What, you’re just going to leave?”

Riche didn’t respond, keeping her thoughts to herself. Gobert clicked his tongue, disappointed, assuming she had given up on purchasing the potions. However, to his surprise, Riche had no intention of leaving without them.

When she reached the door, she opened it and glanced outside. The pristine white hallway was silent, befitting the clean and orderly reputation of the Medichina Healing Center.

In that silence, the faint sound of footsteps echoed. A man rounded the corner, passing a marble bust of an elderly man with a beard that fell to his chest. His clothing was precisely tailored and severe in style. The staff at the Healing Center all dressed neatly, but the healers stood out even more—they looked as if they had been sculpted from ice.

His white robes, plain and free of ornamentation, resembled a priest’s cassock, the hem flaring slightly with each step he took. Riche’s eyes landed on the golden brooch pinned to his shoulder—the unmistakable crest of the Medichina family.

He was a healer, one of the few with true healing abilities. Recognizing his status, Riche confidently approached him. Watching from the open door, Gobert’s expression shifted from curiosity to outright panic as Riche stopped the healer.

“Excuse me,” she said politely, bowing slightly.

The healer turned his gaze toward her. His face was ordinary, with lifeless eyes that seemed utterly indifferent to the world around him. Yet Riche felt a sense of relief—at least he wasn’t the type to judge her based on her appearance.

From what she’d overheard earlier, healers with actual healing abilities were leagues above the regular staff in rank, even if they were technically lower-class healers.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Gobert burst out from the room, grabbing Riche by the collar. The fabric pressed tightly against her throat, making her cough. Gobert let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

Is this girl crazy? He couldn’t believe her audacity. What if it was too late?!

You’re the crazy one, you idiot. Furious, Riche dug her nails into the back of his hand, but Gobert didn’t even flinch.

The healer watched them both with a curious expression, his glassy eyes shifting between Riche and Gobert. When his cold, unfeeling gaze finally landed on Gobert, sweat began to pour down the man’s face.

This particular healer was the head of Building One at the Medichina Healing Center. Though his healing abilities were technically on the lower end, his status was elevated by the power of his family. Gobert feared him because of his detached, indifferent nature.

Healers, despite their role in treating people, were notoriously aloof. According to rumor, they were divinely gifted with unshakable composure—immune to emotion and incapable of being swayed by sentiment. To commoners, their icy demeanor inspired awe, as if they were witnessing a messenger of the gods.

Gobert, however, felt no sense of awe—only dread. He never knew how to deal with their cold, inhuman stares.

“What is going on here?” the healer asked again, his voice calm but commanding.

“Ah, it’s nothing!” Gobert barked, his tone frantic. “This lunatic here is causing trouble! A barmaid, no less! She’s here to treat some venereal disease and started demanding extra potions. She’s causing a scene!”

A commotion caused by a desperate patient wasn’t unheard of. After all, nothing makes a person more frantic than being on the brink of death.

Venereal disease?

Riche opened her mouth to retort, but Gobert tightened his grip on the back of her collar, digging two fingers into her neck. A strained groan escaped her lips.

This lowly savage!

For someone like Riche, who relied on her intellect, the sudden violence left her stunned and enraged. Gobert was clearly planning to label her as a diseased barmaid and throw her out.

The best course of action would be for the healer to step in and mediate, but unfortunately, he didn’t seem like the type driven by justice. His cold eyes reflected nothing but indifference—he was more of a by-the-book worker than a righteous savior.

“Call security,” the healer said icily. “No need for any more disturbances.”

The cynical-eyed healer walked away without another word. Gobert’s grip on Riche’s neck loosened slightly, as if relieved. Finally freed from the pain, Riche stared at the healer’s retreating back with burning frustration.

She caught a faint whiff of alpha pheromones from him. If she could release her omega pheromones, she might have been able to communicate her distress more effectively. After all, alphas were instinctively driven to protect omegas. But would it really be wise to release her pheromones here? She hesitated.

Meanwhile, Gobert, who had almost gotten into serious trouble with the healer, took out his anger on Riche like a man seeking revenge for an earlier humiliation.

“You think I’ll let you go just like this, you crazy bitch? You tried to humiliate me—Gobert?! You’ll pay for that!”

Riche’s instincts flared with warning signals as Gobert yanked her forward. If she let him drag her away, there was no telling what might happen. Judging by the wild look in his eyes, she couldn’t rule out the possibility that he would resort to something unspeakable.

Her body acted before her mind could decide. She hated using her pheromones, but fear of the consequences outweighed her reluctance. She had no choice but to release her suppression.

Her pheromones unwound and spread like threads of silk in every direction.

At that moment—

“What’s all this commotion?”

The voice came from nearby. Gobert immediately tightened his grip on Riche’s neck, much stronger and more violent than before. Her lips trembled as the pheromones she had just released twisted and recoiled inside her body. The nausea hit her like a crashing wave, as if thick cream were being smeared inside her stomach.

According to Riche’s research, pheromones were secreted through the skin’s pores. Her body was already primed and ready to release them, like a perfume bottle that had been half-sprayed and violently shaken. Her face turned pale green, on the verge of collapse.

“L-Lascar… young master!” Gobert’s voice wavered with panic. “This isn’t something for you to concern yourself with! It’s just a lowly woman causing a scene over medicine!”

Hearing Gobert’s harsh voice made Riche’s nausea worse. Unlike his desperate attempt to dismiss the earlier healer, this time, his reaction was mixed with genuine fear and anxiety.

Riche felt a surge of intense humiliation and anger, coupled with a stubborn burst of academic curiosity, even in the face of danger. She forced strength into her neck muscles and pushed words past her tightly compressed throat.

“Ah… help… me….”

A thin groan escaped her lips. Startled, Gobert’s grip tightened even further. Riche refused to back down. She drew in a ragged breath and forced out another whisper.

“P-please… help….”

“You think I’ll fall for that trick again, you conniving little—!” Gobert shook her roughly by the collar. Riche let her body go limp, her head lolling to one side.

“H-hey!” Gobert instinctively caught her, grumbling. He wanted nothing more than to throw her out immediately, but the sharp gaze of the young master standing nearby made him hesitate.

“Y-young master… this woman… she’s not in her right mind. She’s causing trouble for no reason….”

“Really?”

“…Excuse me?” Gobert blinked.

The young man’s eyes narrowed. “All I see is a coward bullying a defenseless woman.”

Barely conscious, Riche registered the calm voice above her, the grip on her neck finally releasing. Air rushed back into her lungs. She gasped desperately, mouth wide open, pulling in deep breaths. Cough, cough. The sudden intake of air made her choke, and her face flushed bright red.

“Explain yourself.”