Chapter 2
2476words
That sycamore turned green then gold, gold then green again, and the two figures beneath it grew from small children into a tall young man and a graceful young woman.
Sean, entering adolescence, was like a carefully tempered blade, revealing astonishing brilliance. He shed his frailty, growing tall with broad shoulders.
Sean was no longer that wounded wolf cub, but a handsome young man with budding Alpha charm. Only his pitch-black eyes had become more serene and profound, concealing secrets beyond his years.
Every weekend, Sean would leave the orphanage under the pretext of "going to the city center for tutoring."
No one questioned it—he was the smartest kid in the orphanage. But he wasn't attending tutoring classes. Instead, he went to a secret Hunting Association training facility at the city's edge.
There, he was no longer Sean, but code-named "Frost." Ruthless instructors poured knowledge into his brain like molten iron—combat techniques, weapons training, and the deadly weaknesses of werewolves.
Director Chen, his nominal "guardian" and direct superior, would pat his shoulder and tell him in a tone mixing expectation with coldness: "Remember, Frost. Your mission is to become our sharpest blade. Infiltrate the werewolves, gather intelligence, find each leader's weakness, and when the moment comes, deliver the fatal strike. This is sacred purification, child."
At first, Sean believed this without question. The iron-blooded education of the Hunting Association, steeped in hatred and "justice," had branded a deep loathing for werewolves into his blank childhood memories. Yet whenever he dragged his exhausted body back to the orphanage and saw Amy waiting under the lamp, smiling as she handed him a cup of hot milk, that "sacred mission" began to waver.
He could still be ruthless toward werewolves he'd never met, viewing them as "targets" to be eliminated. But when this concept of "target" was applied to Amy, he simply couldn't do it—no matter what.
Did purifying the world really require extinguishing the only light in his life?
This thought became his daily nightmare. He would dream of plunging a blade into Amy's heart with his own hands, watching her eyes change from complete trust to bitter resentment, all against a backdrop of chaotic noise as countless people screamed "Something's happened to Amy."
Each time, he would wake in cold sweat, his heart pounding uncontrollably.
As time passed, the phrase "something happened to Amy" became his most dreaded curse.
"Something terrible has happened to Amy in the classroom next door!"
When these words unexpectedly came from the doorway, Sean, who had been playing basketball in the classroom, jerked his head up, bloodshot eyes wide open. He pinched his thigh hard, and the intense pain told him—this was not a dream.
At that moment, Amy was huddled in the corner, tightly gripping a thick metal triangle ruler, its sharp point aimed forward. Not far in front of her, a tall, robust Alpha student lay on the ground in pain. He was the first to lose control and rush toward her, and the first she had struck down with all her might.
"Stay back!" She tried to make her voice threatening, but the warning carried an uncontrollable tremor. "Whoever comes closer will end up just like him!"
High fever and instinctive fear burned away her rationality like wildfire.
She didn't know exactly what had happened, only vaguely remembering that those Alpha male classmates, usually quite friendly, had suddenly transformed into beasts possessed by frenzy, bearing a naked desire she couldn't comprehend, rushing toward her with reckless abandon.
At that moment, another Alpha who had lost his senses let out a frustrated roar, ignoring her warning and struggling to push through the crowd, attempting to lunge at her once more. But before he could get close, a dark shadow flashed by like lightning, and with a dull thud, that Alpha was violently kicked away.
"Get lost."
Sean had arrived.
The Alpha who had just been kicked away struggled to rise, but Sean caught up to him and firmly pinned him down with his foot on his chest.
Sean's voice was low, but the powerful intimidation of an S-class Alpha contained within it was like an invisible mountain, instantly subduing the core of the disturbance. Some Alphas who were still lingering outside the door, tempted and stirred by the pheromones, were as if doused with a bucket of ice water. They suddenly awoke from their passionate desires, revealing expressions of fear and confusion, before quickly dispersing in shame.
Sean didn't spare them another glance. He quickly stripped off his school uniform jacket, bent down, and wrapped it tightly around Amy. The jacket—still warm and carrying his faint cedar scent—helped isolate her dangerously tempting pheromone.
After doing all this, he straightened up and swept the empty corridor with a cold, warning gaze.
Suddenly, his eyes briefly met those of a girl in an inconspicuous corner of the staircase. She wore the same school uniform but seemed completely out of place in her demeanor. That girl, Wendy, was looking at him with an inquisitive and complicated expression, as though assessing the cost of competing for a priceless treasure.
It was a silent, possessive standoff between top-tier Alphas over the same "prey."
Sean instinctively pulled Amy closer to his chest.
Soon, the school teachers and doctor rushed over and took Amy to the infirmary.
The diagnosis came quickly. As expected, these were typical symptoms of an Omega's first heat, but the reaction was unusually intense, causing such chaos.
The doctor prescribed suppressants while reassuring the accompanying teacher: "It's fine, it's normal, we get a few cases like this every year. Just means the kid's gland is developing well."
Sean, being an Alpha, naturally couldn't go near Amy during her unstable period. He leaned against the corridor wall outside the infirmary, still able to hear whispers about the commotion from other classrooms.
"Dude, did you smell that? Amy's pheromone, holy shit, it smelled amazing!"
"Yeah, like ripe lychees, sweet and juicy. One whiff and you're hooked!"
Lychee scent?
Sean frowned. What he had clearly smelled in that classroom—the scent that nearly burned away his reason—was distinctly jasmine, clean and pure. Nothing like the "lychee scent" others described as sweet and full of suggestive desire.
Could there be something wrong with his sense of smell?
Wait, floral scent! The realization struck his mind like lightning, making his heart clench.
He instantly recalled the crucial information about "Pure-blood Omegas" in the Hunting Association's database—their pheromones, without exception, were all floral scents.
This terrifying possibility made his heart stop momentarily, but the discussions around him interrupted his thoughts.
"No wonder the Alphas in that class lost it. Nobody could resist that."
"Shh—shut up, he's right behind you." A male student quietly warned his companion, nodding toward Sean.
Another nonchalant voice rang out: "Why be scared of him? What's wrong with talking about it? It's just an Omega's pheromone scent, not some state secret."
Before the words faded, a cold shadow loomed over them. Sean stood before them, his eyes as cold as an ice-tempered blade.
"Discussing an Omega's pheromone scent behind their back," he began slowly, his voice quiet yet instantly silencing the students whose faces drained of color, "Is this how you treat your classmates?"
No one dared speak further. They quickly lowered their heads and slunk away.
Once they were gone, Sean leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly.
He finally understood why his self-control had been tested so severely in that classroom—a test that had nearly burned away his rationality.
A week ago, Sean had gone to the Hunting Association's secret base for his regular training.
That time, Director Chen—the woman who always wore neat combat gear with a hard expression—personally took charge of his "theory class." In a completely sealed room glinting with cold metallic light, she pulled up several files marked "Top Secret."
"Frost," Director Chen's voice, like her person, had not a trace of warmth, "Given your recent performance and the importance of future missions, there are some things you should know now."
On the screen appeared an entry—【Pure-blood Omega】.
"The Omegas we commonly see have mixed and impure pheromones—fruits, desserts, cream... all sorts, which are merely the lowest forms," Director Chen's finger slid across the screen, bringing up a set of charts. "But there is one type of Omega that transcends all others. They are the masterpieces of creation, and in our 'purification' work, they are the most precious 'materials'—Pure-blood Omegas."
"They share another common characteristic," Director Chen's gaze shifted to Sean, her eyes sharp as a knife. "Their pheromones, without exception, are all floral scents. Moreover, every Pure-blood Omega is born with a unique special ability, and their attraction to Alphas far exceeds that of ordinary Omegas. Sometimes, to protect themselves, they change their scent to confuse others. But there is only one existence that can ignore this confusion and smell their most original, most authentic scent—their destined 'Soul Mate'."
When Director Chen uttered the term "Soul Mate," her tone dripped with scientific disdain and contempt. But this word struck Sean's heart like a bullet, with perfect precision.
On the screen appeared photographs and files of several women.
"An Xia," Director Chen pointed at one of the photos. "Her pheromone is the rare snow lotus fragrance. Her ability is 'Disguise,' allowing her to mimic her own or others' pheromones into any form, and even create a 'safe zone' that blocks all pheromones. The most effective pheromone suppressants on the black market have core ingredients extracted from samples of her gland."
The photo changed to show another woman with a haggard face.
"Elsa," Director Chen's tone carried a hint of barely disguised greed. "Her pheromone is sacred lily. Her ability is 'Healing.' She can accelerate wound healing and even repair damaged tissues. The life-saving potions exclusively used by our headquarters originate from her."
Finally, a code name appeared on the screen, but in place of a photo was only a black silhouette.
"Tala," Director Chen's voice sank. "Her pheromone is like ghostly black belladonna. Her ability is most unique—'empathic sharing.' She can make all targets within a designated range share her current feelings. If she feels pain, everyone will empathize and suffer unbearably; if she feels fear, that fear will spread like a plague. She is, to date, the most dangerous psychic weapon we've discovered, but unfortunately... she lost control during a transfer experiment and has gone missing."
Experiment! Extraction!
Sean leaned against the wall of the teaching building, his hand hanging at his side, hidden from view, clenched into a tight fist, his nails digging into his palm.
Flower fragrance.
Soul Mate.
Special ability—that astonishing healing power that could make his injuries recover almost overnight.
All the clues suddenly linked together, forming a terrifying truth that made him feel as if he'd fallen into an icy abyss, yet also brought a touch of fateful, wild joy.
Amy.
His Soul Mate Amy was the most precious "material" that the Hunting Association had been dreaming of—a Pure-blood Omega.
At the same time, he recalled the first order Director Chen had given him.
"Remember, Frost," that voice was like a death sentence, "Pure-blood Omegas are our highest priority targets among the werewolf clans. Their value far exceeds that of a hundred ordinary werewolf leaders. No matter where you are, once you discover any werewolf suspected of being a Pure-blood Omega, you must abandon all tasks and capture them alive at all costs, then report back. This is the highest directive."
The tree shadows swayed, patches of light shifted, and Sean lowered his head, shadows concealing his face.
By the time Angela rushed back to the orphanage, Sean had already fallen peacefully asleep. After hearing about the chaos from the teachers' reports, her expression became unprecedentedly grave.
Angela shut herself in her office, lit a slim cigarette, and allowed the smoke to envelop her.
"It's so strange..." she leaned back in her chair, brows tightly furrowed. From the first day Sean arrived at the orphanage, she had noticed something unusual. That seven-year-old boy covered in blood, the protective instinct that flashed in his eyes the moment he saw Amy, couldn't be faked. Over the years, the way he looked at Amy, his instinct to protect her, clearly indicated the bond of destined mates, just like when her sister and brother-in-law first met years ago.
But her sister had once told her tearfully: "Sister, a pure-blood Omega's pheromones are an irresistible poison to their destined Alpha."
"Irresistible," Angela murmured.
But why could Sean maintain his sanity? According to everything she knew, Amy's pheromones were completely out of control at that time, and as her destined mate, he should have been the first to lose control.
Unless, he wasn't a pureblooded werewolf!
A forbidden word emerged in her mind—half-blood. Ancient documents recorded that the offspring of Hunters and werewolves had a natural resistance to pheromones! This terrifying possibility made the orphanage director break out in a cold sweat.
If he really was a pawn of the Hunting Association...
But in the next moment of doubt, she recalled Sean's actions over the years—he not only protected Amy with his life, but also stood up whenever other cubs were bullied. That stubborn protection extended to the entire orphanage.
This couldn't be faked.
Angela crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray, deciding to remain silent for now and observe how things unfolded. She needed more evidence.
Meanwhile, Sean leaned against the headboard, replaying everything that had happened during the day in his mind. A key question he had overlooked now emerged with absolute clarity—who had the ability to change the scent of Amy's pheromone?
This was certainly not something that could be achieved by ordinary means. He rapidly reviewed in his mind all the people and events since Amy had entered the orphanage, and ultimately, the range of suspects narrowed dramatically. Only two parties could have done this and had the motive to do so—the director, or Amy's parents.
Amy's parents had long since passed away. So the most likely possibility was the director.
Sean's gaze darkened. If the director had known Amy's identity all along and had been using some means to conceal it for her... this would mean that Amy would be safe, both now and for some time to come.
Regardless, this discovery allowed the enormous weight in Sean's heart, which had been suspended due to the exposure of her identity, to temporarily settle.
But he could not relax his vigilance. The fact that the director knew this secret meant it was not impenetrable. He must be more careful, more powerful, to deal with any unexpected crisis that might arise in the future.
