Chapter Three : A Tattoo on Memory, a Scar on the Flesh
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When pain becomes a language for learning,
And when tears are wiped before they're seen—
That's when the true lesson begins—
Not in the words, but in the silence that follows them.
---
"Ah…"
"Please… no."
"No…"
" "
" "
There was no sound anymore.
That frightened voice
that begged and cried for its life, for a chance to live,
was silenced with a single blow
from the hand of that powerful Alpha.
Undisputed.
No one stopped him.
He did what he did.
Ordered what he ordered.
And that silence was a command
to end everything.
In the end, there was no sound left—
Only the sound of breaths being regulated,
No one dared to make a noise,
afraid they'd be the next.
"Click."
The bitter sound of footsteps
walking among the piled bodies.
No one dared to stop him—
he was the only one
who could calm their master's foul mood.
A male Omega, stunningly beautiful—
even Alphas held their breath in his presence.
But his aura,
his steps,
his rank—
they made you crawl on your belly
for daring to desire him.
And that wasn't all—
even his spouse,
his own Alpha,
another leader of the world,
no one dared reject him.
In the end, their power grew,
both becoming even more powerful
through a strategic marriage—
between the head of the Alphas
and the head of the Omegas.
And their bond became one of the most harmonious unions.
Love,
Care,
Respect.
That bond grew stronger
when they had their little lord.
Well,
Truthfully—
He couldn't be called "little lord" anymore.
Who would dare?
He was in his final year at university.
And for the past two years,
his mood had been constantly sour.
No one knew why—
not even his parents.
---
The Omega leader approached with grace and quiet,
speaking in a soft voice like a whisper.
Yet everyone heard.
Everyone listened.
"Ashin, keep your calm."
It wasn't a request.
It was a command,
from someone with undisputed authority.
On the surface, she was a leader—
a dominant Omega,
a ruler's wife.
Strong,
her words carried weight.
But now—she was just a mother.
A mother worried about her child.
Everything changed since that night.
Her son was never the same again.
Even she had faced a wall
that refused to crumble.
A wall that stood firm against every storm.
"Ashin, your rut is approaching."
She knew her son would reject any Omega she sent to him.
He always did.
Rejected all arranged proposals.
Even refused the children of her closest friends.
"We won't have this conversation again. Not here."
His voice was deep,
so terrifying it could shake the air.
The way his hand toyed with his neck
was nervous—
though only his mother noticed that tension.
"Ashin, stop dodging this subject again."
"Mother, we are here for work."
"We're leaving—home."
She said this without looking at her son.
Just walked away.
No more words.
She didn't want more arguing—
especially not in front of their followers.
She didn't want to start this useless debate.
---
"Tch."
Noya rose slowly from a hospital bed,
his posture slouched.
His eyes floated in the air,
and he saw three people around him.
None of them were doctors,
nor nurses,
not even attendants—
just three individuals,
none of whom looked pleased.
Their eyes scanned Noya intensely,
refusing to leave him alone with his state.
"What is it?"
Noya was always like this—
Indifferent to others.
Unbothered by the world.
Focused solely on himself.
"Noya Nireth."
"What, Officer?"
"Where were you planning to go right after opening your eyes?"
"I have work, probably."
"You're not in a condition to do that."
"Really? I don't think so."
"Congratulations on your victory, my boy."
A new voice—
Someone who wasn't there before Noya passed out.
Someone strong,
yet very old.
Someone who knew Noya better than anyone.
Had watched him grow.
Knew every detail.
Shared every moment with him.
And at the same time—
someone Noya didn't want to ask
for help with his father's debts.
Noya never wanted to involve those he loved
in his private life.
"Thank you, Grandpa."
Not his real grandfather,
but Noya loved calling him that.
The man was close to him,
and in return,
he loved Noya like a grandson.
Always tried to help him—
but only when Noya asked.
"So, should we celebrate your recovery or your victory, my boy?"
The conversation wasn't ominous or unsettling to the other two men,
because before Noya even woke up,
this man had already turned the hospital upside down
for his grandson—Noya.
He had made it clear to the officer—
Noya was not someone who accepted defeat.
He did not bow to anyone,
nor to a world determined to humiliate him.
"But, my boy, are you truly satisfied with your victory?"
The "grandfather" watched Noya carefully
with his honey-golden eyes,
analyzing every motion,
every part of him.
Leaving nothing unstudied—
just to understand how his boy felt.
To know how to treat him.
And indeed,
regret lingered deep inside Noya,
in the deepest parts of him.
But the idea of victory
hid the guilt and sorrow.
Noya moved his hand across his stomach,
touching it lightly with his fingers,
as if afraid.
As if it were fragile glass
that could shatter at any moment.
He wasn't afraid the wound would reopen.
He was afraid he'd lost his purpose.
The role that made him stand out—
from Alphas, Betas,
even other Omegas.
He shared the same sex as Omegas,
but he was different.
Unique.
Marked.
The best of them.
He was the pinnacle of Omega-kind.
Unchallenged.
And that made him a little arrogant—
unwilling to bow to any Alpha.
"It doesn't matter anymore, Grandpa."
Mr. Richard stepped toward Noya—
steady steps,
organized presence,
strong but silent movements.
He reached out and ruffled Noya's hair roughly.
He didn't want to see him like this.
Though Noya's expression was cold,
Richard knew the boy.
And whenever Noya's face darkened,
he would mess his hair violently—
as if to calm him,
to ease him.
He'd done this for years
while watching Noya work at the bar.
Noya raised his head, fixed his hair,
and looked at the man standing next to his grandfather.
"Let's go celebrate Noya's recovery."
Noya frowned, raising an eyebrow,
staring at the man's face.
"Everything's on me."
For him, it wasn't a loss—
because Noya was the most important.
He didn't know Noya well,
but he liked him—
had once asked him to teach his son.
But Noya had refused,
saying he was too busy with work.
Noya observed the care in his grandfather and the man—
smiled inwardly.
He was happy to still have people by his side.
He reached out his hand into the void—
but it didn't stay empty for long.
Nor alone.
A hand reached back,
gently touching his,
stroking the back of his hand with reassurance.
His grandfather's hand—
always kind and loving.
And Noya loved that warmth.
---
Despite that warm moment,
elsewhere—
a mother was anxious for her son,
and a quiet conversation stirred between a father and his child.
---
{ In a large and beautiful home }
"Ashin, do you know how old you are now?"
There sat a terrifying presence on the couch.
His voice even more frightening.
Even the air seemed to bow to him.
The lights dimmed,
as if scared to disturb him.
Everything around him was quiet,
trying not to provoke
this powerful Alpha.
Everything screamed silently—
not to get involved in a conversation
that had nothing to do with them.
"I know, Father. I know well."
Ashin's words were more faded than the lights themselves—
like desperate pleas for deliverance.
He didn't want this topic.
Didn't want to touch it.
He hated everything—
and everyone
that forced him to remember.
"What do you know, Ashin?"
A quiet, angry growl
shook the air.
Ashin slammed his hands on the table in frustration.
He truly didn't want to deal with this.
But his parents didn't understand.
Didn't listen to his silent begging.
But who could be blamed?
He knew they were thinking of his well-being.
His future.
But—he couldn't.
Didn't want to.
Didn't love.
Especially with that tattoo on his body.
How could he forget
when every time his mind tried to erase the memory,
his body reminded him?
As if the world laughed at his efforts.
"You, Father—
you're the one who knows nothing."
Ashin shook his head,
drenched in pain.
He wanted to be alone.
Wanted to punish himself.
He didn't know why—
but a voice inside him told him so.
Told him he was the one at fault.
That's why
every rut that approached
So every time his heat visited,
He stayed alone.
He didn't leave the underground room.
No suppressants.
No omegas.
He just sat there,
Enduring his hardest moments in a stony chamber,
Trying to remember something that no longer belonged to him,
Letting the days take him back to a smile he shattered,
And a love he destroyed.
It was merely self-inflicted torture.
_
The father watched his only child suffering through every heat.
His cold heart cracked at the sight.
He didn't understand why his gentle son did this to himself.
"Ashin, don't raise your voice."
Things were about to escalate between father and son, but the mother stepped in.
She didn't want to see her family like this.
Where had they gone wrong?
Was it when she stopped paying attention to her child's private life?
Or when she stopped asking how he was?
But now wasn't the time to figure out the mistake,
Or who was at fault.
Now was the time for comfort.
And they had to offer that.
"Ashin, my love, you know this is hurting you."
Ashin didn't hesitate,
He didn't shout,
He didn't get angry.
He just replied to his mother's broken voice calmly.
Even though his emotions raged like a mighty wave,
They didn't reach the shore,
Their strikes didn't manage to shake the dam,
They just vanished,
As if they had never existed.
That was Ashin.
His mother's voice wiped out every storming cry that wanted to escape his throat.
"I know. I know, Mother."
His voice was incredibly calm, carrying sorrow and gloom within it.
"But I can't. I really can't."
Ashin lightly hit his chest—
Above his heart.
"This, Mother…"
Ashin pleaded—
And pleaded only for silence.
His parents were upset.
They didn't know what their son meant.
They didn't understand the reason behind his pain.
"No one but him."
Ashin's words struck his parents like lightning.
Time froze, as if Ashin realized he had said his inner voice aloud—
He had spoken something he kept only to himself.
Awareness came to him swiftly.
His father stood and tried to approach him.
"Who is it, Ashin?"
This father—he wanted to know the person who had made his son like this.
He would do the impossible to bring him here and place him beside his son.
Even if it was the son of his enemy.
Even if it was a beggar.
He would do anything,
Just to take the pain off his child's face.
But Ashin stepped back.
He rushed toward his room.
He climbed the stairs, leaving behind scattered words:
"No one… I didn't mean anyone… It's nothing, really."
He left his parents.
Left the silence.
And what remained—was the pain.
__
Pain was what wrapped that night in its warm covers.
Noya was sad for what he had done to his womb,
And for losing the ability to bear children.
And Ashin was sad for what he had done—
For leaving the one he loved,
And destroying his relationship with his parents
---