Omega Manual chapter 20

Dangerous Pleasure

Shelley was stunned for two or three seconds before he understood what Irey was talking about.

An Alpha’s sensitive period. He almost forgot about it if Irey hadn’t mentioned it.

During their sensitive period, Alphas become irritable, aggressive, have difficulty controlling the release of pheromones, and have an instinctual craving for Omegas. Like the Omega’s heat period, it is a periodic physiological phenomenon.

However, unlike Omegas, Alphas are not restricted by marking. Any Omega’s pheromones are attractive to an Alpha in their sensitive period. If conditions allow, an Alpha can even mark multiple Omegas simultaneously.

Therefore, compared to an Omega’s heat period, an Alpha’s sensitive period is easily satisfied. Sleeping with a marked Omega, sleeping with an unmarked Omega, purchasing or renting a stranger Omega, and even the government-provided monthly free Omega “Offering Day” activity are all viable options.

In this era where Omegas are treated as sexual resources, the sensitive period is really not a big problem.

However, Irey told him this seriously, as if he were making a work report.

Irey leaned against the door, listening to the sound of the shower spraying water onto the tile floor from the bathroom. He didn’t speak or urge, quietly waiting.

Two seconds later, Shelley’s voice broke the bizarre, subtly ambiguous atmosphere.

“What, do you think I’m such an unreasonable boss that I won’t let you go out to deal with your physiological needs?”

“Who knows—” Irey exaggeratedly elongated his voice, “who was it that docked two-thirds of my pay just because I got hit by a few snowballs yesterday?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll definitely give you time off during your sensitive period.” Shelley lowered his head, rinsing the foam from his hair under the warm water. “A whole day off.”

“With pay?” Irey asked.

“In your dreams,” Shelley said.

Irey laughed for a long time before finally stopping, leaning against the tightly shut bathroom door, and slowly exhaling a breath from his lungs. “Don’t worry, I won’t take leave, nor do I plan to go out and find an Omega. I’m not interested in that sort of thing.”

Shelley was taken aback. “Huh? But…”

“The sensitive period isn’t the same as the heat period, it’s not that delicate.” Irey said, “I just wanted to let you know so you’d be mentally prepared, not scared by my pheromones. Otherwise, it won’t be much different from usual.”

With Irey saying this, Shelley didn’t know how to react. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Irey said. “When you’re done with your shower, remember to dry your neck and keep water out of the wound. Clean your hair well too, so you don’t catch a cold.”

Shelley was about to respond when he heard footsteps growing distant outside. Irey had already left.

When Shelley finished his shower, the sunset outside the window had already dipped below the horizon. The afterglow, not yet fully following the sun’s steps, still lingered in the sky, illuminating the last piece of earth.

The living room was clearly tidied up, the floor clean, the miscellaneous items on the table gone, and the suitcase neatly standing in the corner with its contents sorted out.

But Irey Halton himself was not there, and there was a hastily scribbled note on the table.

Shelley sat on the sofa, wiping his hair, and picked up the note. It read: ——There’s food in the kitchen. I went out for a drink. I.H.

“Talking about leave and taking it right away, huh,” Shelley muttered.

Even though there was nothing inherently wrong with it and Shelley had never set a rule against “going out drinking on your own,” an irritable emotion churned in his chest, refusing to be suppressed.

He crumpled the note into a ball and threw it forcefully into the trash can.

……

Irey wasn’t wearing the suit Shelley had bought for him, but had changed back into his old jacket and jeans he’d worn for years.

The edges of the fabric had worn white, and some parts even had holes, but the clothes were still warm, keeping the cold wind out tightly, so he wouldn’t feel cold even walking briskly against the wind.

Of course, part of the reason was that the heat in his chest remained hard to dissipate. Without finding something to distract himself, the whole night he might be haunted by the sound of the shower water hitting the tiles and the faint scent of flowers lingering in the steam. Tuberose.

The flower’s language is… dangerous pleasure.

He lit a cigarette, bit it between his teeth, and pushed open the small door of the bar. It was similar to the bars in Lansai, a narrow space bustling with noise, like three hundred sparrows in a pot, with the smell of alcohol, sweat, decaying wood, and a mess of pheromones mixed together, forming a nauseating scent that hell might not even concoct.

Inferior, dirty, foul-smelling, but familiar to Irey. The underclass needed cheap and efficient stimulation, needed to huddle together with equally filthy things, throwing the root of misfortune to the outside world to gain a bit of shallow self-comfort.

He sat on a chair in front of the bar counter, glanced at the drink list on the wall, and ordered the top name, “Brandy.”

“Wow, I thought this would stay in the cabinet as a decoration forever.”

The bar owner, a fat Beta over fifty, turned around, took an unopened bottle of brandy from the top shelf of the cabinet, and filled a glass in front of Irey.

“Not many in Leisau can afford brandy, you must be an outsider?” The bar owner pushed the drink to Irey. “What do you do for work?”

Irey took a sip, the spicy taste sliding from his mouth down his esophagus into his stomach, but he could still taste at least a third of the water mixed in.

“Bunny performance,” Irey said.

The owner was stunned for a moment, then laughed, “Oh, you mean a magic show, right? I took my little son to see one before. They pulled three or four bunnies out of a hat, and a whole bunch of pigeons. Ah, such fond memories…”

Irey smiled in response, suddenly feeling a vibration in his pocket, followed by a crisp ringing.

He lifted his head and finished his drink, simultaneously pulling his phone from his pocket with the other hand.

No one else would call this phone; the screen clearly displayed the name “Shelley Manta.”

Irey set down his glass, leaned back in his chair, and lazily pressed the answer button. “Hello?”

There was no immediate response from the other end, only the noisy, bustling sounds of the bar serving as background noise.

“Where are you?” came the voice after a while.

Irey could almost picture Shelley’s slightly furrowed brows as he said this, and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“At a bar. Didn’t you see the note I left?” Irey said.

“Which bar?”

“What, are you checking up on me?” Irey tilted his head back, the back of his head hitting the edge of the chair, “Or are you going to count me as truant?”

The other end went silent for a moment. The glass of strangely colored liquid seemed to be picked up and swirled, the surface rippling quietly, tacitly tapping the glass walls, waiting for someone to admit defeat first.

Shelley sighed, “No, I want to come over and find you.”

Irey raised an eyebrow in surprise, “You? Come find me? For a drink?”

“Why not?” There was some rustling on the other end, as if Shelley was putting on a coat, “It’s boring to stay home alone at night. I’ll join you for a few drinks.”

Irey pinched the bridge of his nose, “Boss, the bars in Leisau are different from those in Nantes. They’re not the kind of clean places playing piano music. There’s no champagne or red wine, and the crowd is mixed, the environment isn’t clean…”

“Irey Harlton,” Shelley interrupted with a hint of amusement, “I’m already 31, not some naïve elementary school kid.”

“…” Irey rubbed his chin vigorously, “And it’s already sunset now. According to the rules, you as an Omega aren’t supposed to be out alone at night—”

“Do you think the police can control what goes on here?” Shelley interrupted nonchalantly.

Irey was momentarily speechless. He almost forgot that his boss was never one to be trifled with, throwing his own words back at him.

“You really are…” Irey held his forehead, laughing.

“Tell me the location, I’ll come find you,” Shelley said.

“Sun Bar.” Irey sighed, compromising, “Walk east from the house, turn right after 200 meters, it’s at the end of the alley with the mangy dog at the entrance.”

Sun Bar had nothing about it that matched the word “Sun.”

A dilapidated sign, a roof that looked like it would leak on rainy days, walls so dark you couldn’t tell their original color, and a rusty door that Shelley had to push with all his might to open.

It was no exaggeration to say that Shelley had never seen so many people crammed into such a small space.

Various pungent odors mingled together, making his temples throb. Soon, someone noticed the well-dressed, attractive Omega and gave him suggestive looks, with someone even whistling.

“Boss!”

Shelley looked in the direction of the voice. Irey was leaning against a corner of the bar counter, holding a drink, and lazily raised his hand in greeting.

He had clearly been drinking alone for a while; the bottle next to him was half empty, his cheeks were flushed with a light blush, and his eyes were half-closed, like a lion resting under a tree, satiated. It was hard to tell if he had become lazier or more dangerous.

Ignoring the ill-intentioned glances around him, Shelley walked straight to Irey and sat on the seat next to him.

“Get him a cider,” Irey said, turning his head.

The bar owner nodded, but was interrupted by Shelley.

“Whiskey, please,” Shelley said, pulling out a bill from his wallet and placing it on the counter.