I Became the Omega in a Game - Chapter 7

Raymond’s long frame staggered through the hallway, his legs unsteady as he forced strength back into them. He raked his hand through his soft, curly hair, a charming feature that gave him an air of boyish innocence. Yet, the cruel twist of his thin, dark lips betrayed a savage frustration.

“That cunning Idelli.”

The thought of her was enough to reignite his anger, even through the haze of alcohol. Ironically, the more his rage simmered, the more his lust flared alongside it, leaving an uncomfortable tightness between his legs. His body, half-heated by their earlier kiss, was now screaming for release.

She must have anticipated this. There was no way Idelli wasn’t expecting him to storm out in this state. That smug, knowing smile of hers—the one she’d worn while watching him unravel—was proof enough.

She always knew how to manipulate him, and the realization only deepened his foul mood.

His patience, already worn thin by her games, was nearing its breaking point. Even Raymond himself was beginning to wonder when he might finally snap.

“She’s just toying with me.”

He let out a bitter laugh and straightened his back, rolling his shoulders to shake off some of the tension.

By now, Idelli was likely tangled up with someone else. Perhaps she’d already chosen another partner—maybe even that idiot she had teased earlier, the one she’d pushed to the edge of self-control. The thought churned in his gut, but he pushed it down.

His fierce, stormy eyes swept down the empty hallway. Not a single pretty omega in sight. Hell, not even a beta.

“Damn it. I’ll have to hit another club.”

Raymond tugged at the waistband of his uncomfortably tight trousers, loosening them as he resumed his uneven steps.

Sure, Queen had always been his favorite hunting ground, and it would have been ideal. But tonight, thanks to Idelli, the club was as barren as an empty fridge.

It wasn’t as though Queen was the only club in the city. He could cross just one bridge and find dozens of other places, filled to the brim with willing partners. There’d be no shortage of omegas—or betas, for that matter—eager to follow him home.

Still, the idea didn’t excite him the way it usually would.

With his brilliant older brother away from home, the thought crossed his mind: should he pick someone at random and drag them to his house? Kairos would hate it, given his fastidious nature and disdain for anything dirty or chaotic. Maybe it would be worth indulging in the most depraved, messy fun possible, just to spite him.

The idea stoked the embers of his lust, and Raymond let out a quiet, mischievous chuckle as he made his way toward the stairs, his steps still unsteady.

But just as he was about to descend, a small door caught his attention.

Was that a trick of the light?

No, there it was again—a faint, sweet aroma wafting through the air.

Drawn to it, he turned toward the door. The closer he got, the stronger the scent became, each step making it clearer.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

His heartbeat quickened.

Raymond tilted his head, confused by the rapid thudding of his heart. For some reason, he felt a thrill, like a boy about to embark on an adventure. His hand tightened instinctively around the doorknob.

Bang!

The door flew open, and as the interior was revealed, Raymond involuntarily held his breath.

The room was small and dimly lit, with an air that felt almost stifling. It smelled faintly musty, like a space rarely used or ventilated. There was hardly any furniture inside, save for a sofa. Even that looked too small to accommodate an adult; anyone lying on it would have their legs sticking out.

There was nothing about the room that should have caught his attention—nothing except for her.

The figure curled up on the sofa.

The moment he saw her, the intoxicating scent slammed into his senses, sharp and unrelenting. It hit him like a tidal wave, surging through his body and leaving a shiver trailing down his spine.

A temptress was in this room.

Raymond glanced down at himself and was startled to see the state of his body. He was already fully aroused, his erection straining against his trousers, demanding release. His thighs tensed involuntarily, and a heat unlike anything he had felt before clawed at his insides. The sweet pheromone in the air felt like invisible hands teasing him, pressing and prodding his sensitive flesh.

Without realizing it, Raymond took a step forward.

When he crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him, the woman on the sofa turned to look at him, her expression betraying her surprise. Her delicate features quivered slightly, and he could see the faint tremble in her flushed cheeks.

Temptress.

The word carried a sharp edge in his mind, but the girl before him was anything but intimidating. She was small, almost fragile-looking, and her presence radiated an otherworldly softness.

Was he drunk? Drunk enough to hallucinate? Could his heightened senses be playing tricks on him?

“Why does she excite me like this?”

Raymond narrowed his eyes and studied her carefully. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face, obscuring most of her features, save for her piercing blue eyes, which shone like fragments of another world.

Gulp.

“Damn, this is unbearable.”

Raymond swallowed hard, his throat dry. His body burned as if the embers of his earlier arousal had been doused with oil and reignited into a blazing inferno.

“I’m going to fuck this omega.”

The decision solidified in his mind. There was no question about it. He would take her, right here and now. His overflowing lust demanded satisfaction, and this delectable omega was the perfect outlet.

The overwhelming pheromones had completely consumed him, pulling him into a primal haze.

Half-closing his eyes, Raymond inhaled deeply, savoring the enticing sweetness that lingered in the air. His lips parted slightly as his senses became saturated with desire—until suddenly, the scent wavered.

His brows twitched.

The once-potent pheromones, which had caressed and teased him so skillfully, abruptly diminished. The flood became a trickle, like water receding from cupped hands, leaving only a frustrating emptiness behind.

Raymond’s irritation surged as he let out a low, dissatisfied sigh. His mood soured further as the alcohol buzzed faster through his system, amplifying his frustration.

Stumbling slightly, he staggered toward the sofa.

With a firm thud, he gripped the back of the sofa, looming over the woman who had caught his attention. Her body was now entirely trapped beneath his shadow.

Raymond leaned in, his voice low and suspicious as he growled, “What’s the deal with you? Are you really an omega?”

* * *

Riche felt nothing short of exasperation.

All she had intended to do was test her own pheromones—but instead, an alpha had wandered in like a fly into a web. The problem was, this particular “fly” wasn’t welcome.

She had no interest in meaningless sex, especially not with Raymond Strigo. If anything, the idea was downright inconvenient.

Clicking her tongue inwardly, she didn’t hesitate to activate her pheromone suppression skill. Like a faucet being turned off, the sweet, intoxicating aroma vanished almost instantly.

The dazed expression on Raymond’s face shifted to one of bewilderment as he staggered closer, a frustrated grumble escaping his lips.

“What the hell? Are you really an omega?”

“…”

“No, dammit. My head hurts. Am I losing it? You seemed like a beta,” he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. His blood-red eyes, however, remained locked on her, sharp and animalistic.

Those piercing eyes sent a chill down Riche’s spine. Instinctively, she swallowed.

“An omega resisting alpha pheromones? That doesn’t happen,” Raymond growled, his voice low and suspicious.

Riche knew better. Based on her research, while rare, there were cases of omegas resisting the effects of alpha pheromones.

Typically, when exposed to alpha pheromones, an omega’s body would react instinctively—lubricating itself and preparing for sex. But there were exceptions: if the alpha’s pheromones were weak, or if the omega had an exceptionally strong mental will, resistance was possible.

“Even Elsa managed to resist some sleazy alpha who tried to seduce her with his weak pheromones,” Riche recalled.

Still, it wasn’t common. Most omegas would instinctively avoid undesirable advances by physically removing themselves from the alpha’s pheromonal influence.

Riche, however, had an advantage—a skill unique to dimensional travelers like her.

Raymond Strigo was a dominant alpha. Though not as rare as the continent’s singular supreme alpha, dominant alphas were still uncommon. Riche had only encountered a handful of them during her time at Queen, including Kairos Strigo and Janice Borcyn.

In that sense, Raymond wasn’t a bad candidate for research. Maybe this was an opportunity.

“More data is always better,” she thought, weighing the possibilities.

But she hesitated.

“Still, this guy is…”

Raymond wasn’t just any dominant alpha—he was Kairos Strigo’s full-blooded brother. Only recently, she had been in bed with Kairos. The idea of sleeping with his sibling unsettled her, gnawing at some vague sense of morality she still clung to.

Though Riche had grown up in a world without the alpha-omega dynamic, where monogamy was the norm, she still carried a lingering inclination to respect basic boundaries. The idea of “doubling up” on brothers didn’t sit right with her.

Even if neither Kairos nor Raymond ever found out about sharing the same partner, the mere thought of it made her uneasy.

Just as she resolved to find a way out of this situation, a notification appeared before her eyes.

[Random Quest Activated.]
Raymond Strigo, a dominant alpha, desires to have sex with you. Respond to his advances and engage in intercourse.
Reward: Collection of Raymond Strigo’s alpha pheromones. Omega pheromone concentration +3.

Riche stared blankly at the translucent window floating in the air.

Her previous resolve to avoid the “brother sandwich” wavered in an instant.

She had her own moral standards, sure. But when it came to the thrill of research and intellectual achievement, morality suddenly felt… negotiable.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. “Am I supposed to just… go with it?”

Raymond ran a rough hand over his face, his frustration palpable. He had been fully worked up, ready for sex, only to have cold water dumped on his plans.

“Does this even make sense?!” he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation.

Riche looked up at him wordlessly, observing the way his erratic pheromones pulsed and scattered into the air around them.

Sniff. She inhaled softly, catching the scent.

It was earthy, like the mud by the sea—a salty, musky aroma that was oddly pleasant, even soothing. It was unmistakably the pheromone of a dominant alpha.

Good data.

She clicked her tongue quietly in disappointment.

“If only I could collect this data. It would add so much depth to the alpha pheromone profiles I’ve been gathering…”

Her blue eyes darted, glinting with a spark of inner conflict.

“Ugh, all this anger’s giving me a headache,” Raymond muttered, rubbing his temple as if to soothe the tension. The creases in his brow only deepened, further emphasizing his agitation.

Riche’s gaze sharpened. Beneath the dominant alpha’s pheromones, she could now distinctly smell the alcohol on him.

“Complaining of headaches caused by excessive drinking…”

Her mind spun with clinical analysis. Excessive alcohol consumption inhibits the body’s ability to break down ethanol efficiently, meaning it could take up to nine hours for him to sober up completely. Memory impairment? Statistically, about four out of ten people experience short-term memory loss after heavy drinking, and for those who exceed their tolerance, like drinking four or more bottles of 17-proof liquor, the likelihood shoots up to over 70%.

Riche thought back to how many bottles had been sent into the Diamond Room tonight.

Too many to count.

Her brain calculated swiftly.

“With a little manipulation, there’s an 80% chance he won’t remember anything tomorrow…”

An 80% chance was good enough to work with.

With a quiet resolve, Riche reached for the small side table next to the sofa. She’d noticed something there earlier, left behind by one of the staff entertaining a guest. Her fingers caught on a thin ribbon, and she pulled it out. It was a black, butterfly-shaped mask with openings for the eyes.

She slipped it over her face.

“Huh?”

Raymond, still trying to compose himself, squinted at her, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in the sudden change.

“What the hell are you doing now?” he asked suspiciously.

Riche, now masked, turned her gaze to him. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them.

Raymond’s attention locked onto the movement like a predator spotting prey. His eyes fixated on her tongue as it traced the curve of her lips.

A slow, deliberate smile spread across her mouth. Her crimson lips curved sensually, dripping with an air of seduction.

Raymond’s nostrils flared, and his gaze darkened.

Unbeknownst to him, Riche had released her pheromones once again. The sweet, intoxicating scent seeped out, curling around him like an invisible net.

The effect was immediate. Raymond’s bloodshot eyes dilated, and his expression twisted into something wild, primal. He looked like a rabid animal, his lips curling to reveal sharp teeth as he let out a low, guttural growl.

“Fuck,” he snarled, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and desire. “So I wasn’t wrong after all.”

His erection, which had softened slightly during his frustration, now surged back to full hardness, straining against his trousers as though it might tear through the fabric.

***