Chapter 6: Power Comes First

Cha Hae-jun sank into the plush sofa, long legs crossed with effortless elegance as he leisurely scanned the document displayed on his tablet.

The afternoon sun poured generously into the suite, warm and drowsy, but his expression was anything but relaxed. His sharp eyes were laced with irritation and fatigue.

He was staying temporarily at one of the most famous hotels in New York City, and in its most expensive suite, no less. To others, it would have seemed flawless.

To him, it was inadequate. Partly because it wasn’t home, but mostly because a hotel that charged this much should at least justify its arrogance.

The lavish furniture, undoubtedly expensive, lacked refinement. Nouveau riche taste, he dismissed internally. If he had to name one object in the entire suite worth acknowledging, it had been the painting Bae Si-hyeon tore apart. And even that was gone now.

After reviewing the files for some time, Hae-jun paused when his secretary handed him a single sheet of paper.

“What is this?”

It contained Bae Si-hyeon’s medical expense breakdown, the transferred auction purchase documents, and notarized paperwork confirming that Hae-jun had assumed Si-hyeon’s debt. He clicked his tongue. Making formalities out of such trivial sums felt absurd.

Seventy-one billion won wouldn’t even qualify as discretionary funds to him. But judging by Si-hyeon’s reaction, it had clearly been a catastrophic figure. Convenient, if nothing else. Still, that was where his interest ended. To him, it was merely another nuisance.

“Secretary Kang,” he said coldly, flicking the paper aside, “do I need to concern myself with this? How many times must I say it? If you keep doing foolish things, why should I keep you? One incompetent omega is already more than enough.”

Secretary Kang hesitated before carefully retrieving the discarded paper.

“Vice President, forgive me… may I ask who you’re referring to?”

“The one in the hospital.”

Kang pieced together the clues quickly.

“You mean Bae Si-hyeon? He is… registered as a beta.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hae-jun’s voice sharpened. “There’s no way he’s a beta. If he’s been tested, you should know. He’s an omega. Instead of bringing me pointless paperwork, pressure him to find my property.”

So slender. So irritating in that subtle, grating way. Only one type fit that description. Omega.

The memory of Si-hyeon smiling foolishly while calling him “CEO” lingered unpleasantly in his mind.

Hae-jun believed every person should fulfill their role. Those who couldn’t had no value. His distaste toward omegas had formed naturally from that belief.

Creatures who couldn’t even maintain control of themselves without pheromones. Who lost composure at the slightest provocation and chased alphas during rut. Not fully “human” in his eyes.

“Vice President,” Kang continued cautiously, “the detailed examination clearly classified him as beta.”

“Replace the entire medical team. Incompetent fools.” Hae-jun’s tone dropped. “He reacted to my pheromones. When he collapsed at the hotel a few days ago…”

He stopped mid-sentence.

He habitually suppressed his pheromones. It wasn’t a matter of mood; it was discipline. Yet Si-hyeon had responded, distinctly, to even the faintest trace.

An omega who tested as beta.

His fingers brushed absently over his lips.

In this world, there were alphas, betas, and omegas. Historically, alphas and omegas had been likened to beasts because of rut and heat cycles.

Over time, alphas, with superior strength, intellect, and physique, ascended into ruling classes. Public perception shifted accordingly.

Omegas, however, were not afforded the same courtesy. Frail bodies, susceptibility to heat, accused of lacking restraint. They were described cruelly, dismissed as little more than animals wearing human skin.

That narrative only softened when it became widely accepted that true alpha offspring could only be born through omegas.

As research progressed, even betas began to perceive pheromones faintly, not as scent, but as a subtle sensation. Some scholars went so far as to frame alphas and omegas as an evolved branch of humanity.

Power followed biology. Those who controlled wealth desired superior bloodlines. Omegas became tools to achieve that end.

Incestuous pairings among dominant traits increased in the name of “genetic preservation.” Whether from such practices or from generations of exploitation, a problem emerged.

Specifically among dominant alphas.

Stronger pheromones. Superior physiques. Exceptional appearance. Ironically, their perfection birthed a fatal flaw.

Pheromone imbalance.

Some claimed overproduction; others insisted it was a structural defect. Regardless, without periodic release, dominant alphas deteriorated. The severity varied, but the prognosis was often shortened lifespan.

The only solution?

The very omegas they despised.

More precisely, an extremely rare subtype: hyper-recessive omega. One in a thousand at best. Though their own pheromones were weak, they possessed the unique ability to absorb and disperse those of dominant alphas.

It was classified knowledge. Dominant alphas did not advertise weakness. Publicly, it was known only as certain alphas “dying young.”

“Vice President… could this possibly be a hyper-recessive…?”

Before Kang could finish, Hae-jun hurled the tablet onto the opposite sofa. He tilted his head slightly toward his secretary, gaze cold.

“It’s possible. Hyper-recessive omega. So what?” His voice was flat. “If he didn’t steal anything, handle it appropriately and discard him.”

The implication was clear. Not a person. A thing.

Kang swallowed.

“The test results could be inaccurate. As you know, hyper-recessives are extremely rare. Many live their entire lives unaware of their trait. If by any chance he could resolve your condition-”

“Secretary Kang. That’s enough.”

“…My apologies.”

Hae-jun waved dismissively.

“Omegas…” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t need one right now. Medication still works. Other matters are more urgent.”

“Vice President.”

At Kang’s tense tone, Hae-jun pressed his fingers to his brow.

If he were already firmly seated at the top, he might not ignore the possibility of securing a golden goose like that. But timing was everything.

“My grandfather must remain alive and conscious,” he said quietly. “Only then does holding an omega have meaning. An omega matters only if the company remains mine.”

Chairman Cha Jin-tae. Owner of GQ Group. A man who endlessly spoke of donating the majority of his fortune to society. The reason likely traced back to Hae-jun’s father.

Three sons. One daughter. All betas or recessive alphas.

Then, as if by divine intervention, a dominant alpha grandson was born, from a recessive alpha son.

That fragile father ended his own life when Hae-jun was still young. Leaving behind a perfect dominant alpha son.

Afterward, his grandfather announced plans to donate over half his wealth. His reasons remained his own.

“If he wakes up and rewrites everything,” Hae-jun muttered darkly, “none of this will matter.”

He closed his eyes briefly, suppressing a rising sigh.

An omega, hyper-recessive or not, was a luxury problem.

Power came first.