By Zephyria 
“Hah.”
Letting out a short, irritated sigh, Nathaniel readily stood up. Chrissy half-rose from his seat, watching as the man walked around the bar table toward the display cabinet. After a brief moment of confusion, Chrissy waited for Nathaniel to pour and drink a glass of liquor before speaking.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit much to refer to one of the parents who gave birth to you as an Omega, or as ‘Mr. Niles’?”
Just as he wondered if all Dominant Alphas were like this, Nathaniel set the glass back down on the bar and spoke.
“I’m too old to call them Daddy or Papa.”
Following a short silence—whether intentional or merely a habit—he added in his characteristic slow drawl:
“It’s better for everyone to keep a distance.”
Chrissy found it difficult to grasp exactly what that meant. However, the atmosphere was not one for further questioning, nor was there a need. The sole reason he was here was to uncover the hidden truth about Anthony Smith.
“I want more hints,” Chrissy said, forcing his sliding shirt back up. “I looked into James Barry. I re-examined the case files, but I didn’t see any similar names.”
“I believe I mentioned my conditions.”
Nathaniel looked down at Chrissy with narrowed eyes and sneered.
“Today’s show was quite pathetic, Prosecutor. Therefore, there is no prize.”
Nathaniel raised his glass as if making a toast, his lips curled in mockery. It was clear that the man was in a foul mood. Hah. Chrissy brushed back his hair with one hand, his brow furrowing in irritation.
He had never agreed to this game in the first place. This man had simply started it on his own, and Chrissy had been swept up in it. But that didn’t mean he intended to keep being dragged along like this.
“Lawyer.”
Chrissy gripped the edge of the bar table with both hands and leaned his upper body toward Nathaniel.
“I can’t play around with other people’s lives like you do. I’m deathly busy, unlike some people.”
Deliberately emphasizing the word ‘some,’ he asked with a still-scowling face, “So, either have a serious conversation with me, or refuse. I’ll leave this place and I won’t come back.”
As if asking what will it be?, Chrissy fell silent and waited for an answer. Nathaniel Miller merely tilted his glass slowly and drank. Chrissy watched in silence as the alcohol slid down his throat. The wait was long. But Chrissy was counting the seconds precisely. 10 seconds. 9 seconds. 8 seconds.
“Take care. I hope we never meet again.”
Having counted the time exactly, he offered a sarcastic farewell. Even as he turned and walked away, he harbored a sliver of hope that Nathaniel Miller might call out to him, but it never happened.
Damn it.
Ultimately, as he rode the elevator down, he cursed inwardly. …He was back to square one.
“Working too much isn’t good for you, Chrissy.”
Chrissy replied with a tired face to the therapist, who was speaking to him with a smile.
“I’m fine. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Continuing to suffer from sleep deprivation isn’t good either.”
She lightly ignored Chrissy’s casual denial and added her remark. Chrissy let out a loud, heavy sigh.
“Are you still having nightmares?”
“Which kind? The first father? The second father?”
The therapist responded calmly to the inadvertently sarcastic question.
“Either way—or perhaps both?”
“Sigh.”
Chrissy sighed once more. He knew very well why he was acting so sensitive. Reacting this way during a precious therapy session would only result in his own loss. Changing his mindset, he closed and opened his eyes. Lying on the long therapy chair and staring at the ceiling, Chrissy spoke.
“I don’t have nightmares. Unless reality itself has become a nightmare.”
“What happened?”
Chrissy paused before speaking.
“I’m re-investigating a case I thought was closed recently.”
“Was it not closed?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know.”
He rubbed his tired eyes with his hand and continued.
“I have no lead at all. I looked through the files again and asked the investigators, but there were no secrets I had missed. I’m pushing the visit to the victim’s bereaved family to the very end…”
“Is the case the only thing on your mind right now?”
At the therapist’s question, Chrissy fell into thought for a moment and then answered, “No.”
“There is one man who is on my mind.”
“In what way? Romance? Or…”
“Not romance. I don’t do useless things like that.”
He denied it firmly, but he couldn’t bring himself to say more. As Chrissy fell silent, the therapist offered advice.
“You know your own hidden emotions best. You know that you can only move forward once you bring them to the surface, right?”
Of course. He had heard that countless times. But putting it into words was not easy, even if the listener was a therapist who knew his darkest parts.
Sigh. Following another escaped sigh, the words that followed were tinged with embarrassment.
“…I did think about wanting to sleep with him.”
Once the words he had struggled to utter finally escaped his lips, his heart suddenly began to race wildly. A sense of guilt, as if he had committed a crime, seemed to squeeze his heart. Shifting the hands he had been clasping over his chest, he recalled the thought with a reluctant, frowning face.
Let’s admit it; I was sexually attracted to that man.
“But I will absolutely not sleep with him.”
Though we did something similar, he added inwardly.
Upon hearing this, the therapist asked, “You mentioned that a free sex life helps you, Chrissy. That it’s a way to relieve stress from work or other matters. Is there a reason why it can’t be with that man?”
Even before starting therapy, Chrissy had lived a debauched life. When he spoke about it, he expected her to urge him to exercise restraint, but unexpectedly, the therapist had placed no particular restrictions on it. Chrissy pondered the obvious question for a moment before answering.
“That man is a Dominant Alpha. Because of that, I keep getting swept away by his pheromones.”
“Ah… that can happen.”
The therapist, who was a Beta like Chrissy, nodded and continued.
“A Dominant Alpha’s pheromones affect even Betas like us. Trait transformation can occur… Is that the reason why it can’t be that man? Because you’re afraid a mutation might occur?”
“I can’t say it’s not,” Chrissy answered reluctantly. “It’s better not to be close to that man.”
“In what sense?”
Chrissy spat out the words.
“Because he’s trash.”
The therapist looked down at Chrissy with a surprised expression.
“I see. Then again, they say most Dominant Alphas have poor personalities. It may be temperamentally unavoidable, but…”
She continued, “In Chrissy’s case, given your parents’ traits, you’ll be more affected. It means you’re more sensitive than a typical Beta born between Betas. Are you aware of that?”
“No, but I understand what you mean.”
“Right.”
The therapist nodded.
“If necessary, I’ll prescribe a medication to flush out pheromones. If you have to meet him again, taking that medication beforehand will be helpful. Whether it’s resisting temptation or in various other ways.”
“I’m fine.”
Chrissy spoke as if making a vow to himself, still glaring at the ceiling.
“Because there’s no way I’ll meet him again.”
“I’ll prescribe a sleeping pill as well.”
She smiled again.
“When necessary, it’s better to sleep even if you have to rely on medication. It’s a relief that you aren’t having nightmares lately. If the medication doesn’t suit you, feel free to contact me anytime. Our time is up. Your next appointment is…”
While paying at the reception desk, Chrissy noticed a medication he had never seen before written on the prescription. He realized that despite saying he was fine, she had prescribed a pheromone detoxifier. Hah. Letting out a short sigh, he submitted the prescription to the pharmacy and, while waiting, opened his messages and froze.
There was a message from Anthony Smith’s friend, whom he had contacted the previous day.