Chapter 8

　　The fury receded, leaving Johanna’s mind terrifyingly clear. Her eyes widened as a chill shot down her spine, freezing her in place. At some point, he had closed the distance between them.

　　He lowered his head toward her trembling shoulder and took a deep, deliberate breath.

　　"It really is a pheromone." The smile on his lips deepened. "Like fruit, but also like flowers… I’ve smelled it somewhere before. What is it?"

　　Her heart plummeted, feeling as if it might leap from her throat. Johanna clutched the brick in her bag until her hand throbbed, holding her breath.

　　Ilian lifted his head, his silver-gray eyes meeting hers. They shimmered with a savage, primal impulse.

　　"You’ve manifested as an Omega, haven’t you?" he whispered, his voice laced with absolute conviction. He smiled like a demon. "Remember what I said I’d do if you manifested? That I’d buy you?"

　　The next moment, Johanna ripped the brick from her bag and shoved him with all her might. He stumbled back, seemingly yielding to her feeble strength, and watched her intently from two paces away. She trembled, clutching the brick so tightly her knuckles turned white. If he took one more step, she was fully prepared to bash his skull in.

　　As if reading her thoughts, his lips twisted into a smirk. He lifted his chin arrogantly, and then his expression went utterly blank. The air around him grew heavy and oppressive as his Alpha pheromones bloomed, spreading like thick oil paint.

　　A strangled gasp escaped her.

　　The scent, sharp and potent like strong liquor, washed over her, and Johanna’s breath caught in her throat. Her breathing hitched, her senses screaming into overdrive as her entire body trembled and strength drained from her limbs. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched her throat, gasping for air. She was the perfect picture of an Omega overwhelmed by an Alpha’s dominance.

　　Ilian’s narrow eyes curved into cruel crescents.

　　"Huh… d-don’t come any closer," she choked out.

　　"What are you going to do with that? Hit me?" he taunted, his voice laced with amusement. He ran a hand through his slightly disheveled hair and, with a single, sharp intake of breath, suppressed his pheromones. The oppressive scent thinned, and the air cleared.

　　As her lungs filled with clean air, Johanna wheezed raggedly and staggered, her body shaking with a toxic mix of fear and humiliation.

　　"You know when the interest is due," Ilian stated, his tone flat as he looked down at her collapsed form. "The thirty-first of this month. Including the overdue interest, the total is two thousand seven hundred Rubels."

　　Catching her breath, Johanna snapped her head up, her face a mask of disbelief.

　　"Two thousand seven hundred? You said the interest was nine hundred Rubels a month!"

　　"I told you, you’re a month behind. If you’re late, the interest doubles the next month. So that’s two thousand seven hundred in total, including this month’s payment."

　　The amount was absurd. Doubles if you’re late? Even for a loan shark, that was an impossible calculation.

　　"That’s what the contract said from the beginning. If you doubt me, we can go to the office right now, and I’ll show you," he offered, holding out a hand as if to help her up.

　　Johanna ignored it, pushing herself to her feet. Her hand was too weak to hold the brick any longer, and it clattered to the ground. Ilian kicked it away without a second glance. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and held it out to her.

　　"Want one?"

　　She was so dumbfounded she could only stare, her mouth agape. Seeing her stunned expression, he gave a wicked smile, put a cigarette to his lips, and lit it. A puff of hazy smoke drifted from his mouth toward the sky. He reached out and lightly brushed a strand of her hair, then clicked his tongue with a look of feigned regret.

　　"Wouldn’t it be so much easier if you were a little more obedient?"

　　He turned his back with a low chuckle.

　　"The thirty-first. I’ll be waiting."

　　Johanna stood rooted to the spot long after he was gone, before finally slumping against the brick wall and dropping her head. She buried her face in her hands, and the suffocating darkness that filled her vision felt like a premonition of her future.

* * *

　　The next day, Johanna met with the newspaper’s president and politely asked if he could raise her freelance fee. They had known each other for over three years, and she had never once missed a deadline for her illustrations. She hoped he might take her situation into account.

　　"I’m afraid I can’t do that…" he said, not bothering to hide his displeasure as he flatly refused. He was already paying the industry average, he explained, and simply couldn’t afford more. "There’s nothing I can do. I barely have enough to cover my own employees’ salaries. How can I raise the rate for freelance illustrations? It’s the same everywhere else, not just here."

　　She tried other newspapers, publishing houses, and magazines, but it was always the same story. Everyone pitied her, but no one was willing to help. Having gained nothing, Johanna wandered aimlessly through the streets until she found herself in a park. As she sat on a cold bench, pigeons gathered at her feet, pecking around for scraps.

　　She had nothing to give them.

　　"Sorry…" she murmured.

　　As she watched the birds, a deep gloom settling over her, she sensed someone approaching. Her nerves were still raw from her encounter with Ilian, and she tensed, ready for a threat. But when a familiar face came into view, the tension drained out of her in a rush.

　　"Johanna? What are you doing here?"

　　It was Victoria, a friend she had grown up with. Dressed casually for a walk, she held a leash in one hand. At the end of it, a golden retriever named Luther wagged his tail furiously, nudging her leg in greeting.

　　"He seems happy to see you," Victoria said with a smile. "How have you been?"

　　Victoria had attended her mother’s funeral on the first day, but she didn’t know about the loan shark.

　　"I’m… just thinking," Johanna trailed off, staring blankly at her friend’s kind face. They were friendly, but not close enough to share their deepest secrets. Yet after one hardship after another, Johanna’s spirit was worn thin. She desperately needed to unburden herself.

　　She gently stroked Luther’s head as he panted beside her. Victoria sat down next to her, her concerned gaze a silent invitation. Though she knew Victoria could offer no real solution, perhaps she could at least find some comfort in sharing the burden.

　　Deciding to confide in her, Johanna let the mask of composure fall from her face.

　　"Actually…"

　　The story spilled out of her—about her missing father, the crushing debt, and her sudden, terrifying manifestation as an Omega. Victoria listened with a calm intensity, nodding quietly or offering a simple, "I see." Johanna was grateful for her friend’s composure in the face of a story that sounded like a trashy melodrama. A profound sense of relief washed over her; if she had kept it all bottled up, her heart might have rotted away.

　　"That must have been so hard," Victoria said softly.

　　"…Yeah."

　　Johanna didn’t bother with an empty denial, simply nodding. She’d been forced to become the head of the household far too early, but she was still just a young woman who had barely turned twenty.

　　"So… you haven’t found the money yet? What about your aunt? I heard their business is doing so well they’re rolling in it."

　　At Victoria’s cautious question, Johanna let out a bitter laugh and shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to say that her aunt was a greedy monster who would never help anyone, so she softened the truth.

　　"Apparently, my father also owed my aunt’s family money. They came to my mother’s funeral to demand repayment."

　　"What? Seriously?"

　　"Yes. So I can’t expect any help from them. My aunt knows the loan shark came by, but she hasn’t said a word. That’s her way of saying no."

　　"Ugh," Victoria sighed, her mouth agape with disgust. Knowing her, she was surely cursing the aunt’s family in her head. "All that money… and to her own niece… Never mind, it’s not even worth talking about." She muttered contemptuously before waving a hand dismissively.

　　Johanna offered a weak, awkward smile. Still, having someone on her side made her feel a little less alone.

　　"And the newspapers and magazines you work for… no help there, I take it?"

　　"No. I guess things are bad for them, too. There’s nothing to be done…" Johanna answered, her voice faint as she picked at a hangnail.

　　Even as she felt herself being crushed by this sudden wave of misfortune, she tried to find a way out. But every path was a dead end. It felt as if fate itself was pushing her toward a cliff. If she couldn’t find the money, if she couldn’t find her father… she would be at Ilian Redis’s mercy.

　　Her hand, clutching the hem of her skirt, trembled. Humiliation. Shame. But more terrifying than any of that was the possibility that Daniel would be dragged into the gutter with her. He wasn’t just her younger brother. With a six-year age gap, she had raised him like her own son. Her attachment to him was bone-deep.

　　She had to protect him, whatever it took. That was her only wish.

　　"…Hey, Johanna."

　　Victoria, who had been silent beside her, wet her lips and began to speak. She seemed nervous, glancing around as if to check for eavesdroppers, like someone about to confess a crime.

　　"This is a secret you absolutely cannot tell anyone…"

　　"…Okay."

　　What is she about to say? Johanna turned to her friend, her own face growing serious.

* * *