* * *
On a night when sleep was hard to come by, the Duchess tossed and turned before finally drifting off.
Barely thirty minutes had passed.
“……!!”
Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly.
Beside her, Duke Pantheon did the same.
Their gazes met.
After all the time they had spent together, they didn’t need words to know they were thinking the same thing.
Without hesitation, the duke and duchess left the room.
The corridor was thick with an intense scent. From the far end, the townhouse butler came running.
“Your Grace! My Lady!”
“Gordon.”
The butler came to a halt before them, steadying his breath before speaking.
“It seems that Young Master Raizen’s manifestation has begun.”
A manifestation was a blessing in itself, so normally, the butler’s face should have been filled with anticipation and excitement.
But instead, his eyes were filled with nothing but unease.
“But we scheduled only Marked individuals on duty…”
Not knowing when Raizen would manifest, the duke and duchess had meticulously prepared for the event.
Only Marked servants had been assigned to work in the townhouse to prevent anyone from being affected by the pheromones Raizen would release upon manifestation.
In other words, no one in the townhouse should have been susceptible to going into a heat cycle due to Raizen’s pheromones.
And yet, why?
Why were there two distinct scents and pheromones lingering in the corridor?
“I swear, Your Graces, I didn’t just rely on the schedule—I personally checked the staff every day.”
The Duke of Pantheon placed a reassuring hand on the butler’s shoulder.
“We know. We received the same reports daily.”
“Honey.”
At the Duchess’s firm call, the Duke turned to her.
She gave him a resolute nod before turning back to the butler.
“We’ll go up and check for ourselves. In the meantime, calm the others.”
If even the butler had been startled enough to rush over, the other servants must be questioning the situation, wondering if a mistake had been made.
“Yes, understood.”
The butler gave a deep bow before hurrying back the way he had come.
With a quiet sigh, the Duke of Pantheon grasped his wife’s hand and ascended to the third floor, where Raizen and Sean’s rooms were located.
The higher they climbed, the stronger the scents and pheromones became.
A thick, almost suffocating aroma of roses filled the air, intertwined with a crisp, cooling note of mint.
A Dominant Alpha and a Recessive Omega.
The duke and duchess instinctively tightened their clasped hands.
Something was wrong.
Normally, a Recessive Omega’s pheromones would be overwhelmed, suppressed beneath the sheer force of a Dominant Alpha’s presence.
And yet…
The Omega’s scent was still there—small but distinct, like a single breeze slipping through a slightly open window.
It wasn’t being drowned out. It moved within the Alpha’s pheromones as if swimming through them.
The corridor was lined with magic stone lamps, which could be lit with just the brush of a fingertip.
But neither of them even thought to turn them on.
Instead, they moved forward, feeling their way through the darkness.
With each step, the concentration of pheromones grew denser.
Then, their eyes, now adjusted to the dimness, caught sight of a figure slumped on the floor.
“Rai…!”
The Duchess rushed to her son’s side.
His body, burning with fever, trembled with each shallow breath.
“My love, it’s Mama. Can you hear my voice?”
She felt a faint nod from Raizen, barely perceptible.
Gently, she caressed his face.
“You have manifestation fever. Your father will help you to your room, alright?”
Through labored breaths, Raizen managed another small nod.
Biting her lip, the Duchess carefully handed him over to her husband before turning away.
She moved quickly.
Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to walk faster.
Stopping before the closed door at the end of the hallway, she slowly reached for the handle.
The moment she opened it, a wave of cool mint flooded the air.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
‘Why… why?’
Why did it feel like these things only ever happened to them, Daisy?
Silently calling out to a friend who no longer existed in this world, the Duchess stepped into the room.
On the bed lay another boy, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
For a moment, she found herself speechless, sinking to the floor before the bed.
“Sei… Sei…”
Sean was also burning with manifestation fever.
At only thirteen, the boy had broken the absolute law of the world—manifesting far too soon.
∗ ∗ ∗
[What the hell is going on?!]
BANG!
The door slammed open, and a man with long, deep navy hair stormed into the room.
Noah sighed, rubbing his temple.
He had expected this, but that didn’t mean he welcomed the arrival of an unwanted guest.
[Do you all think I’m the ‘Ancient God’ or something? The moment a problem arises, you come running and bark like mad dogs.]
[What are you saying…?!]
The navy-haired man, Poseon, belatedly scanned the room and momentarily froze.
The vast space, large enough to be mistaken for a living room rather than a chamber, was already filled with familiar faces.
Ancient gods, gathered in a huddle, met his gaze and awkwardly waved.
Poseon grit his teeth unconsciously before striding toward Noah—though he still kept a careful distance from the others.
Seeing this, a brown-haired man with round glasses shrugged.
[So, you seriously know nothing? You?]
Poseon glared at Noah, then turned his sharp gaze to the man with glasses.
[And you?!]
[Whoa, you make it sound like I’m responsible for this.]
[Scylla!!]
[Yikes. Scary.]
The bespectacled man, Scylla, grinned before ducking behind the woman beside him.
Poseon’s fists trembled, but instead of lashing out, he ran a hand roughly through his hair.
[I knew this was going to happen. That damn rule never should’ve existed in the first place!]
[Poseon.]
A soft yet unwavering voice made him flinch.
Slowly, he turned his gaze.
A woman stood there, her robe flowing like a piece of the starlit night itself, drawn up to cover her face.
[We all agreed to this, remember?]
Her voice was gentle, but her words carried an undeniable weight.
Beneath the shadow of her hood, her lips curved in a smooth arc.
Perhaps it was because she was the Goddess of Fate.
‘Fate. That cursed fate.’
Poseon clenched his jaw.
Gods may be eternal, but they were not indestructible.
Most could die if they sustained injuries beyond their ability to heal.
And some… some harbored their own secret, singular vulnerabilities.
That was why the gods feared fate—because at its end, destruction awaited.
Poseon forced a smile, suppressing his frustration.
But despite his efforts, his lips trembled at the corners.
Scylla let out a stifled laugh.
[Seems I lost my temper. My apologies, Fatum.]
[It’s alright. Thank you.]
Fatum’s voice was as soothing as ever. She swept her gaze over the gathered gods.
[We may not know why this happened.
But… we do know how to fix it, don’t we?]
One by one, they nodded.
Only Noah remained silent, his golden eyes fixed on Fatum.
She smiled, just as she always did.
[We created the law of Traits to govern this world. There can be no exceptions. Otherwise, the world will fracture.]
In other words, Noah knew better than anyone—there was no turning back.
This universe, which exists across multiple dimensions, was created by the Ancient god, Gaia.
Afterward, she shaped beings who resembled her to some extent—those who would later be called the “Ancient Gods.”
She bestowed upon them her wisdom and power, and after teaching all the gods equally, Gaia fell into an eternal slumber.
It was the Ancient Gods who created humans.
However, they did not create the world itself; they merely obtained a form of administrative authority from Gaia.
Perhaps that was why.
Every time the gods defied fate and intervened in the world, cracks would form.
[This world has repeated itself for too long, and it has grown unstable. We created new laws despite knowing the risks. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?]
Thus, those laws must not be broken.
Every human in this world was meant to manifest their nature at the age of fourteen and experience their first heat cycle after reaching adulthood at eighteen.
It was a fundamental rule.
But then, an exception appeared.
■■■, also known as Sean Noir Kreveta.
Poseon, who had been silently listening to Fatum, finally spoke.
[Put him to sleep.]
Everyone in the room understood the meaning behind those words.
He did not simply mean to put Sean into a deep sleep from which he wouldn’t wake.
His soul had to be temporarily displaced elsewhere—to deceive the world.
At least until Sean’s body reached the age of fourteen.
Noah remained silent for a long time.
The heavy stillness was broken by Sickle.
[Why do you keep barking out orders?]
His voice was far too loud to be considered a mere mutter. Poseon’s eyes glinted with hostility.
[Sickle, you…!]
[All you do is shout and give orders. You never actually do anything. And what, now you’re saying that absurd law shouldn’t have been made? Even though everything has gone to ruin because you all followed it like fools? How can you say that now?]
[Hah, you all agreed to this as well! Don’t forget that you refused to acknowledge the truth until things reached this point. Baldur’s ‘Absolute Prophecy’—!]
The atmosphere instantly turned cold. Poseon’s face twisted as if wounded by his own words, and he turned away from Sickle entirely.
At last, Noah, who had been silent all this time, spoke.
[……I will prepare the dream to hold his soul.]
* * *
