Fate is A Wretched Thing

In the end, Alvin did not let me go.

My tears had been shielded by lust. I could finally cry freely, while he just thought I was too happy.

He always knew how to get me to give up. I didn't want to be so obedient today, so I frantically tore the sheets beneath me and told him not to do it here.

It didn't matter where it was as long as it wasn't here.

I would have puked if I had smelled the residual pheromones and imagined their intertwined flesh.

I expected Alvin to respond to my ferocious resistance with even harsher treatment, but he didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Instead, he carried me outside to the sofa.

I got a touch of light and a little hit of tenderness, probably because the little omega had served him happily.

"Aside from crying, what else can you do?"

Nothing.

I had no idea how to be coquettish or softly address him as a lover. I have no idea how to please my alpha and must rely on instinct, unlike the other omegas.

Even my pheromone was fake.

The doctor stated that the type of pheromones I would receive after the gland transplant would be determined by the original body, so my plan to choose a flavour that matched Alvin's failed.

Nora's pheromone was lemon-scented, and Alvin's bed partners were mostly sweet and fruity scented. I couldn't satisfy him with something so simple.

I used to believe that no matter how well I behaved or how much I liked him, Alvin would one day leave me a small place in his heart.

But the closer Nora got to the city, the colder he became towards me.

Only then wish I had known that delusion was just that: delusion, and having a place in Alvin's heart was just pure fantasy.

There was no way I could stay with him even for a short time.

Perhaps I should take the professor's advice into account.

Alvin had a meeting in the afternoon and asked me to stay here and wait for him.

I didn't want to go back to my bedroom, so I curled up on the couch, wrapped myself in a blanket, and fell asleep.

During this time, the butler came to deliver coffee and dessert to me, and he carefully advised me not to bother Alvin. Every time he became enraged, the people beneath would suffer.

'Am I causing trouble with Alvin?' 

You've given me far too much credit.

I inquired of the butler as to who the omega was today.

The butler became pale and stammered, "It's a new intern," he said.

An 18 or 19-year-old who had just graduated from university was able to work as an intern for Alvin's company? Only a complete moron would believe it.

After the butler had left, I called the doctor and asked if I could schedule a physical examination for tomorrow. I briefly described my symptoms, and after a brief pause, the other side inquired, "How frequently do you faint specifically?"

I considered it.

And I replied, "A couple of days each time, it would happen out of nowhere."

"There could be an issue with your gland. Please arrive as soon as possible tomorrow." The doctor's voice was solemn.

"All right, thank you."

Something is wrong with the gland...

I touched the back of my neck, which had just been bitten by Alvin.

The smell of amber lingered on my skin and lingered even after I cleaned it. I had no idea he was so much like a dog who liked to mark its territory.

I recall him sniffing the back of my neck and mumbling, "Why aren't you an omega?" a long time ago when I had just finished. I was in a daze at the time and didn't have the opportunity to respond.

Later, when I asked him if he wanted me to be an omega, he said belligerently, "Don't think about those useless things," and we never discussed omegas again. He was dissatisfied until I had the transplant.

If you're unhappy, stay unhappy. Every bite was indispensable.

This was most likely the instinct of a weaker alpha.

I hung up and promptly fell asleep. I had no idea how long I had slept. I was dragged up and thrown into the car. I heard Alvin say, semi-consciously, "I have to fuck you to convince you to be obedient."

"I've always been obedient..." I instinctively retorted.

"Did you listen to me when I told you to avoid those sloppy alphas?" Alvin inquired.

He didn't move gently and slammed my head against the car window, calling me a "bastard."

Aside from that patch of skin, what else is there?

Why should I care about him?

"Only you are the messiest...

You sleep with other people...

You're filthy..."

Oh no, I appear to have said what I was thinking.

'Don't even think about opening your eyes!'

My entire body tensed up when I felt Alvin sitting beside me. His eyes were so inescapable that they pierced my heart.

"You speak as if you're so clean."

Alvin finally chuckled after a long time.

"How are you going to meet him now that you're so filthy?"

'Who?'

I pricked my ears and waited for Alvin to respond, but he had already stopped.

That night, we didn't sleep together. He was hard at work in his study. I didn't dare to bother him. When I awoke the next morning, there was no sign of anyone lying beside me.

I listened to the doctor's advice and arrived at the hospital early.

Private hospitals would always appear deserted as if there were not many people in the world suffering from illness.

The doctor's expression was similar to Adam's when he saw me.

I was unaccompanied before and after my first visit to the surgery, and I acted extremely self-reliant.

Because the doctor probably thought I was a strong person, I didn't hold back my expression.

He regarded me as if I were dying of a terminal illness.

Fortunately, it wasn't a fatal disease.

"...in short, the artificial gland is unable to communicate with your body. The game between the two sides is constantly draining your energy..."

As he smacked his lips together, the doctor took the CT scans. I had to listen for a few minutes before I realised what he was saying.

"...your heart has already shown signs of failure, and all of your body's indicators aren't looking good. If you keep going like this, you might not be able to last long..."

Oh, the little tool at the back of my neck that didn't belong to me was going to kill me.

"...And then I...So what should I do..." I interrupted the doctor.

Despite the fact that life was hopeless, I didn't want to die just yet.

"The simplest and most effective method is to have the glands removed immediately." 

"But..." paused the doctor.

It's all over. There's a but.

He gave me a thoughtful look and sighed, "But removing the gland could have unanticipated consequences for the unborn child.  You should be aware of how important the mother's pheromones are during pregnancy...in other words, your glands and your child are coexisting."

‘Wait…'

'I didn't understand it again.'

'Wait, what foetus?'

'What child?'

"What are you on about, Doc?"

"Do you have no idea?" The doctor's surprised expression was genuine. "You're six weeks along."

‘Pregnant.’

'How did that happen?!'

Because beta male childbirth was not fully developed, the likelihood of pregnancy was extremely low. Alvin hasn't used a condom in a long time.

The doctor also stated prior to the surgery that, in general, transplanting omega glands did not increase the likelihood of conception.

How could I possibly be pregnant?

My head was buzzing, so I grabbed the armrest and tried to control my trembling body. "Am I really...pregnant?" I asked the doctor. "Is there any error?"

"There is no room for error.  Your recent weakness is also related to pregnancy," the doctor insisted.

'So...I'm pregnant...with Alvin's child...?'

I felt compelled to cry and laugh at the same time.

Fate is a wretched thing. It won't let me go for even a second.

"It's best if the father comes to the hospital," the doctor advised.

“He’s…very busy.” I said with difficulty, “I’ll go back and tell him…”

"In addition, I recommend you get some psychological counselling," The doctor said without hesitation.

"During pregnancy, emotional outbursts are common. Your insomnia and anorexia aren't solely due to physical causes. Oh, there are two specialists in the psychiatric and psychology departments. You're welcome to come back later."

I was preoccupied with other things and didn't pay attention to what the doctor said.

Both the gland and the foetus coexist and will die together.

And, in turn, the gland was in a life-or-death situation with my body.

That is to say...

"Doctor, how long can I live if I don't have the gland removed?"

"Mr Jill," The doctor's words were tinged with rage, "A physically healthy beta male's childbirth still posed a significant risk, you..."

"I understand, I was just wondering..."

For a long time, the doctor stared at me blankly before finally compromising. "...half a year if you take good care of yourself."

Half a year...

When I got the answer, I suddenly calmed down.

My morals couldn't be more familiar to me. I would give birth to the child even if I had to fight death itself as long as Alvin said he wanted it.

'However, he probably doesn't want it.'

Nonetheless, it is favourable to find an opportunity to inquire.

Just in case.