Chapter 4

　　"Since you already look the part, why not just manifest as an Omega?" the first son sneered, his tone dripping with vulgarity. "If you snag a rich Alpha, you could be set for life."

　　The insult struck Johanna like a physical blow. She stared, blinking, before a hollow, breathless laugh escaped her lips. To say someone "looked like an Omega" was often a crude, sexual remark. It played on the common prejudice that Omegas, whose purpose was to seduce Alphas, were born with a provocative, inherently seductive appearance.

　　She had no idea where the boys had learned such vulgarity, but for children to speak that way was deeply troubling. Johanna narrowed her eyes, her gaze sweeping over her cousins. So young, yet so utterly insolent.

　　It would be foolish to simply stand there and endure the insults of a boy so much younger than herself. She was about to open her mouth and deliver a scathing retort when a furious voice cut through the air.

　　"You son of a bitch!" Daniel roared, lunging forward and seizing his much larger cousin by the collar. He drew back his arm, his fist slicing through the air.

　　The disturbing sound of flesh and bone connecting resonated within the chapel.

　　"Daniel!" Johanna cried out, snapping from her stupor. She rushed to intervene, but she was too late.

　　Her cousin, reeling from the blow, retaliated with a wild punch of his own. In an instant, the two were a tangled mess of limbs on the floor, a chaotic brawl desecrating the solemn space.

　　"Was I wrong?" the cousin spat, struggling under Daniel.

　　"How dare you utter such filth to my sister!"

　　"You live like beggars! What other way is there to pay off your debts and live a decent life besides finding a rich man?!"

　　"Who the hell do you think you are?" Daniel snarled, his voice raw with rage. "Once I’m an adult, I’ll make sure she never has to suffer again!"

　　"Gah—l-let go of me! You’re insane… How are you this strong…?"

　　Though his cousin was significantly larger, Daniel’s inherent strength was overwhelming. It was to be expected, of course; he had been born a Dominant Alpha. The older boy seemed to realize this a moment too late, his brow furrowing in confusion before his face contorted with rage. He couldn’t believe that he, taller and broader by far, was being overpowered by the small, wiry Daniel.

　　"Damn it… an Alpha…" he choked out.

　　Daniel’s lips curled into a savage sneer. "What’s the matter? Feeling insecure because you’re a Beta? Is that why you get your kicks making crude jokes about Omegas?"

　　"Grrr…!"

　　Pinned beneath his younger cousin, the boy gritted his teeth and thrashed. A wave of crimson washed over his face, a clear sign of humiliation. The words had struck a nerve. Betas, born without secondary traits, were the embodiment of ‘ordinary.’ It wasn’t uncommon for Beta men to harbor a bitter envy for the superior physical prowess of Alphas.

　　Alpha and Omega traits were either present at birth or manifested between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. While rare cases of late manifestation in one’s early twenties existed, the probability was infinitesimal. No matter how desperately parents wished for an Alpha child, no matter how hard the child themselves tried, it was impossible to manifest without the innate trait factor.

　　Perhaps it was the frustration of chasing an unattainable ideal. Betas, unable to become the Alphas they admired, often vented their festering inferiority in twisted ways—making vulgar jokes about Omegas, for instance, the so-called ‘mates’ of Alphas. It was absurd that her fifteen-year-old cousin was already mired in such bitterness, but Johanna figured he must have fallen in with a bad crowd. The younger of the two, only fourteen, had no doubt been influenced by his older brother.

　　Looking at them now, it was clear her aunt had done a truly miserable job raising her sons.

　　"Daniel, that’s enough," Johanna said, her voice calm but firm.

　　"That’s right! Stop it, both of you!" her aunt chimed in, rushing forward. "Have you no respect? Brawling in a chapel!"

　　The fact that she didn’t immediately defend her own son told Johanna that even she recognized the foulness of his words. Her uncle stood off to the side, pressing a palm to his forehead with a heavy sigh, while the younger cousin snickered at the spectacle. A matched pair of degenerates, both of them, he thought.

　　The older boy and Daniel finally separated, glaring at each other like mortal enemies. Johanna quickly pulled Daniel to her side, gently cupping his face in her hands to inspect the damage. His lower lip was split, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. Relief washed over her.

　　"Daniel, if this ever happens again, I need you to be the one to walk away."

　　"But, Johanna…!"

　　"Thank you for defending me," she said quietly. "But no matter how upset you are, you can’t resort to violence. Do you understand?"

　　"Whew…" Daniel let out a long breath, trying to rein in his anger. He gave a reluctant nod, running a hand through his platinum-blond hair—a perfect match to her own. Johanna met his sky-blue eyes, still swirling with fierce emotion, and patted his trembling shoulders.

　　Only then did she turn back to her aunt’s family. The older boy had clearly taken a beating. A dark, angry bruise was already blooming on his left cheekbone and another on his right jaw. His mother fussed over him, stroking his face, but he shoved her hand away with a snarl. He was spoiled rotten.

　　Her aunt sighed, her expression pained, and her gaze finally met Johanna’s. Johanna bRinked slowly, holding her ground. With an irritated scowl, her aunt closed the distance between them.

　　"Your father named you as a guarantor when he borrowed the money," she said, her tone dripping with false reluctance, as if this pained her more than anyone.

　　"…What did you say?"

　　The words were so inconceivable that Johanna was sure she had misheard. But her aunt, as if brandishing a weapon, produced a neatly folded document from her pocket and thrust it at her.

　　"Your thumbprint is on the contract. See for yourself."

　　Her hands trembled as she took the paper. Sure enough, in the final signature box, there it was: her name, forged in her father’s hand, and the undeniable whorl of her own thumbprint. A hollow, bitter laugh escaped her. The man had a talent for mimicry, and this was how he used it. It was pathetic. It was absurd.

　　When did he even do this? she wondered numbly. I have no memory of it. He must have snuck into my room while I slept.

　　Johanna turned her hand over, staring at the pad of her thumb as if it belonged to a stranger. It felt unreal, that this part of her had been used against her without her knowledge. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how her father could have gone to such lengths, betraying her to borrow money from these people. A suffocating tightness constricted her chest.

　　"Hah…"

　　As her hand fell limply to her side, the contract still clutched within it, her aunt snatched the document back. The speed with which she secured it suggested it was the original. She must have been afraid I’d tear it to shreds.

　　Her aunt, who had deigned to attend her own sister’s funeral for the sole purpose of extorting money from her struggling niece, was truly a piece of work. Perhaps one needed that level of ruthlessness to hoard wealth.

　　"I’ll give you a generous year to pay it back," her aunt declared. "If you find your father before then, you can have him pay it. I won’t even charge interest. Just the principal, within a year. Understand?"

　　What would happen if she refused? Would the contract even hold up in court, given that her consent was forged? But she had no one to ask for advice, and certainly no money for a lawyer. She was trapped, forced to rely on the pittance of ‘mercy’ her aunt was so magnanimously bestowing upon her.

　　Her throat felt like she’d swallowed sandpaper. The taste in her mouth was bitter as ash. Johanna chose her words with care.

　　"I can’t pay it all back in a year. I work as an illustrator, but the freelance commissions…"

　　A sudden, unfamiliar presence made her trail off. Her body went rigid. The sound of multiple sets of footsteps was approaching the chapel, growing louder with each passing second. Startled, Johanna lifted her head, her eyes fixed on the entrance.

　　No one else was supposed to come. Who could it be? It sounded like more than just one or two people.

　　Could it be Father…?

　　A flicker of hope ignited within her, only to be extinguished an instant later, shattering like thin ice.

　　"Wh-what? Are those… loan sharks?"

　　Loan sharks?

　　Overhearing her uncle’s panicked whisper, Johanna froze completely. Daniel’s hand found hers, his grip tight, but all she could feel was the blood draining from her face as she watched them enter.

　　There were six of them. The man walking at the rear seemed to be their leader, though she couldn’t be certain. It was the aura he projected—an unmistakable air of command. He was handsome, with a powerful build that bespoke a Dominant Alpha. He possessed that unique, oppressive presence that could make even a Beta, immune to pheromones, shrink away in fear.

　　For a fleeting moment, their eyes met. He coolly removed the cigarette from his lips with two fingers, exhaling a plume of smoke. The mouth that released the acrid cloud twisted into a wry smirk. Johanna flinched, instinctively averting her gaze. The man’s languid, dangerous air was suffocating.