Sen_TLP 的作品

LEAH’S POV My bag drops from my hand. My chest heaves frantically as a full-blown panic attack tears through me. I press my palms flat against the cold floor, gasping for air that feels like it won't reach my lungs. Dark spots dance across my eyes, and my heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped animal. They are going to be here soon. Thousands of them. The Alphas, the Betas, the upperclassmen, the teachers who look the other way... They will see me in the hallways. They will laugh. They will corner me in the labs. They will— "Stop," I choke out, my voice cracking in the quiet, empty lobby. "Stop it... shut up... stop..." I curl into a ball right there on the floor, wrapping my arms tight around my head, trying to block out the phantom sounds of hallway crowds, mocking laughter, and heavy boots echoing down the corridors. ‘You are first,’ I tell myself, digging my fingernails into my palms until the pain grounds me. ‘You are seven days early. The halls are empty. There is n

LEAH’S POV The heavy gold card feels unnaturally cold and solid in my palm. I don’t turn around to look at the five Ghost Instructors lurking high above the steel gates. I don’t need to. I can feel their hidden, burning eyes fixed on my spine, tracking every measured step I take across the vast entrance courtyard. Let them watch. Those creepy bastards. Let them wonder how a lone omega—a girl in a dirty, water-logged green dress and scuffed boots—managed to cross the dangerous neutral zones and breach the ancient security wards of Eclipse Academy an entire week before the grand Alpha heirs. I want to laugh out loud at the thought, but as my boots hit the polished concrete of the inner walkway, my breath catches sharply in my throat. The silence of the midnight campus is heavy, almost suffocating. The massive, glass-and-steel modern architecture looms over me like sleeping monsters. The sharp lines of the high-rise lecture halls, the neon-lit perimeter arches, and the sprawling

UNKNOWN POV The fog surrounding Eclipse Academy doesn’t move like normal mist. It clings to the sharp, dark stones of the valley like a heavy, living shroud, thick with ancient warding magic that keeps uninvited eyes away. High above the iron entrance gates, perched on the dark stone arches, sit five motionless figures. They wear long gray cloaks that blend seamlessly into the gloom, their faces hidden behind identical, featureless porcelain masks. Among the ranks of the academy staff, they are known simply as the Ghost Instructors. They are five elite spellcasters appointed directly by Dean Grayson, tasked with a singular, quiet duty every new academic term— to watch the protective boundaries of the valley, monitor the incoming students, and record who among the four great packs possessed the drive, strength, and cunning to arrive first. The lead Ghost Instructor rests his gloved hands against the cold stone railing, his hidden eyes fixed on the blank, white wall of fog stretchin

LEAH’S POV I step out of the heavy wooden servant's door and into the cool, damp night air. The smell of pine needles and damp earth fills my lungs, a sharp contrast to the suffocating aura of the main house. “Free at last…” I don’t return to my drafty attic room to gather my things. I have no need for the ragged clothes, the cheap ribbons, or the fake family heirlooms Augustine gave me over the years to keep me docile. Everything in that room belongs to the Leah who died weeping in the flames. All I carry with me is a small leather bag slung across my shoulder—containing a few dried medicinal herbs, a sharp silver knife I slipped from the kitchen prep counter, and a handful of silver coins I managed to hoard away over the past few months. I walk along the shadowed perimeter of the estate, keeping my steps light and silent against the soft grass. The guards are stationed at the main iron gates, laughing loudly and drinking cheap beer from wooden mugs, completely unbothered by t

LEAH’S POV "Do not... do not say a single word," Luna Mary whispers, her voice trembling violently despite her desperate attempt to sound authoritative and cold. "You will speak of this to no one. Do you hear me, Leah? Not a single soul!" "I... I understand, Luna Mary," I say, dropping my gaze meekly and letting my shoulder drop as if cowed by her command. "I will keep quiet. I’m just an omega, after all." Luna Mary shoves my hand away as if my skin has burned her. Her chest rises and falls in rapid, panicked sweeps as she forces herself to take three deep, shuddering breaths. She reaches up with shaking, gloved hands, frantically smoothing down her hair, adjusting her high collar, and pulling her cold, high-class mask back over her pale face. She picks up the heavy silver tray of sweet berry desserts from the counter, her hands visibly trembling against the polished metal surface, causing the glass bowls to rattle softly against each other. "Know your place, Leah," she snaps,

LEAH’S POV Luna Mary stops moving entirely. The color in her face begins to drain away in real time, turning her pale skin a sickly, chalky white under the dim overhead lamps. Bloodroot ivy isn’t an ordinary herb that one brews for a common cold. It’s a rare, highly controlled plant with thick red veins running through its dark leaves, harvested only under strict pack supervision. Anyone who studies traditional medicine—as I have done for my entire life while tending to the pack's supplies—knows its primary, dark function. It’s the most potent, irreversible herbal tonic for abortion known to the wolf packs. A single cup of tea brewed from its roots can strip a female wolf of an unwanted pregnancy within hours, leaving no lingering trace behind. "What... what did you just say?" Luna Mary asks, her voice cracking slightly, dropping its disgust as her breath catches in her throat. "Bloodroot ivy," I repeat, my eyes wide, clear, and free of any malice. "It’s a very delicate plant t

I would tell you all the other things we did that night, but I’m shy, and you’re all too nosy for me— why else would you want to hear about Miyamura bending me over? What a bunch of nosy bastards. Anyway…the world is changing. Little by little, but it definitely is. The good news is that omegas are no longer seen as objects for trade…there’s nothing like stocks anymore. Also, no one’s being forced to bow their heads to alphas anymore— all the leftover rules from the dark era have finally come to an end. The bad news is that no one knows what to do. There’s a tentative peace in the air, fragile but there, but no one knows how to make the first move. It’s like we’re all just waiting for it to be real. All the Omega Rehabilitation Centers in Japan have been torn down and renovated into actual open therapy facilities for omegas. Many of the broken omegas from the ORC have found a home in these places. Those who were sold by their families find peace in these facilities, an

“No Sorahiko, I’m stalking you”. His horror gives way to annoyance. “You’re currently wearing clothes I bought as a courting gift, but you’re still asking if I’m actually courting you?”. Oh, come on. “I thought you bought them…for fun”. I do my best to ignore Miyamura’s raised brow. “Besides, they’re soft! And you bought them for me, should I not have worn them?”. “No, you should wear them. I bought them for you because I wanted to see you in them, so keep them on”. He sighs heavily. “I’ve been courting you for a while, Sorahiko…your ignorance is honestly discouraging”. How am I being ignorant? How was I supposed to know he was courting me? “You’re always buying me stuff, Miyamura. Even when I was still your secretary, you would take me out to eat things that I liked, so how was I supposed to know?”. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it never occurred to me that those were courting gifts— thinking otherwise would have been very delusional. “You’re right…”. He scoffs.

“The Omega Rehabilitation Center has been unanimously stripped of its power as of today…wardens have been taken away to be tried in court for perceived foul play…”. Has the world lost its mind? Or have I lost mine? “Numerous crimes involving omegas have been brought to light…suspected omega trafficking under the guise of rehabilitation…the stock system has been broken as of today…”. “What is going on…?”. “I changed things”. Miyamura’s grip on my hand might be the only thing keeping me standing. “I put in effort and I changed everything… Misa and me.”. He changed things? He put in effort? This isn’t just changing things, nor is it the product of mere effort. He restructured the world for omegas— he’s changed everything. “Why? Why would you do all this?”. I won’t lie, a part of me had always resented him for having the power to change things and not doing anything about it. Back then, when he informed me of the gala and showed me the catalogue the ORC sent him, I was

“Give me some time, I’ll come find you”. It’s been two weeks and I haven’t even seen Miyamura’s shadow. I’ve called and sent texts, which he’s seen, but not replied to. He reads all my texts and sees my calls, but he doesn’t call back or text. So, I stopped reaching out. I decided to try therapy instead— on Sakura’s insistence. She made me realize that Aito tried to use my stupid paranoia to make me kill myself, and it almost worked. I was actually going to do it, if she hadn’t stopped me. I would’ve killed myself like an idiot and fallen to his schemes. I probably wouldn’t be the first, but I’d be the biggest fool out of the rest. So, I signed up for therapy, and I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to learn how to word my thoughts better and open myself up to my therapist— I just want to have a healthy mindset for once in my life. No more unreliable thoughts. No more unneeded stressful thinking…I’ll be better. I promise myself. “Delivery for Mr. Hagakure!”. I

TWO WEEKS LATER… “Thanks for having me”. She pulls off her shoes and walks into Misa’s familiar apartment. “I’m the one who should be thanking you for coming over”. Even after all that’s happened— all the dirty secrets that have been revealed— Misa still has that easygoing air around her. She wastes no time in guiding Sakura straight into the kitchen. “I think I’ve got it this time. It tastes good, I swear”. Sakura fights back a grin— Misa’s excitement already drawing her in. “I’m sure it tastes great, Misa”. She is unceremoniously pushed down to sit, while Misa cuts a slice of the banana bread cooling at the counter, plates it, and then places it in front of her. “Try it. There’s no way I didn’t get it this time”. Sakura has come to realize that Misa is very competitive, in the sense that she dislikes losing, not to herself, and not to anyone. This whole banana bread fiasco began when she mentioned while texting that she loved the snack, and Misa being a good b

“You deserve much better”. Miyamura’s heartfelt words fall like a rock, shattering the last of Rei’s defenses. The omega stops muttering to himself and looks up— face wet with tears. “I-I just want to…breathe”. He says, voice as low as a whisper. “I don’t want to b-be used anymore. I’m a man, not a woman, and I don’t want to dance ballet…I never wanted to…”. He looks down at his leg sadly. “M-my ankles always hurt, and my feet are always swollen. I never even wanted to do it, b-but I…”. His voice cracks. “I had no choice”. “I want to eat something d-different. I-I want to eat meat…”. Miyamura holds his gaze steadily— teary eyes meet tired, red ones. “I want to e-eat something that I like…do what I like…not what someone else w-wants me to”. He looks down, drawing Miyamura’s eyes to his shaking hands. “I want to live, Miyamura…”. “I don’t want to…I can’t spend the rest of m-my life in fear. I know what I did was w-wrong, and I know you really don’t want to forgive me”.