Chapter 34

The word Alpha appeared entirely out of nowhere. Dante’s close friend Lazzaro was an Alpha, but outside of seeing him, Dante almost never had occasion in daily life to discuss Omegas or Alphas, so the comment felt distinctly unfamiliar. As Dante listened to Mateo’s incomprehensible observation, Rhys’s sharp words from earlier flashed through his mind.

“I thought you only went for women, but now men work too? Omegas are acceptable, is that it?”

“You smiled at him because you were trying to seduce him.”

“Do you not remember going all the way to stand beside me and smiling at the clerk? You smiled so prettily, making sure I saw it, and he liked it too.”

Even remembering those words now made them feel like bitter jealousy, and his chest ached all over again. Pushing down that sharp feeling, Dante used Rhys’s words as his basis and asked Mateo, just in case: “By the way… are you an Omega?”

As though he had been asked a remarkably strange question, Mateo tilted his head. “Huh? Was it not obvious? Yes, of course I’m an Omega. I intentionally spray my blocker lightly, so if someone comes close enough, they usually know. My manager is always telling me to spray it properly, but how am I supposed to seduce an Alpha I like if I don’t have pheromones?”

Mateo explained it as though Dante should have already known all of this. But Dante’s head only filled with more questions.

He really was an Omega? How on earth did Rhys notice? I can’t tell no matter how I look at him.

And that was not all. Even if Rhys had somehow guessed correctly by pure chance, Dante could not understand why Mateo believed Dante would naturally recognize his designation. Was there some subtle sign Dante didn’t know about? Some external trait that clearly showed whether someone was an Omega or an Alpha? That couldn’t be true. If such a thing existed, he certainly would have learned about it during his medical training as an EMT.

After thinking for a moment, Dante asked carefully, “Do I look like someone who would know that kind of thing?”

The answer came back full of profound disappointment. “Dante… you’re not an Alpha?”

Ah, so he had mistaken him. It happened now and then. In America—especially in New York—the general cultural mood dictated that asking someone else about their designation first was considered rude unless that person disclosed it willingly on their own. But parties, clubs, and crowded bars were a little different. Since people looking for partners frequented those spaces, asking there was considered acceptable enough.

Before joining the rescue service, when Dante had been in his early twenties, this sort of thing had happened regularly. Alpha women or Omega women usually asked him, and sometimes men asked as well, though the latter case could be counted on one hand. Perhaps it was because he so obviously read as heterosexual to the casual observer. That was why even when Rhys had been making subtle advances early on, Dante had not initially thought, This man likes me.

In any case, Mateo’s mistake was not especially strange. Because Alphas and Omegas possessed the specific biological factor of a secondary designation, there were distinct bodily stereotypes associated with them, and a tall, well-built man like Dante was almost always assumed to be an Alpha. Betas tended to receive thorough education that casually guessing someone’s designation from appearance alone was discriminatory, so they were less likely to hold that immediate perception. But among Alphas and Omegas, it clearly functioned as an instinctual judgment standard.

“Unfortunately, I’m a Beta,” Dante corrected smoothly. “What made you think that?”

He already anticipated the answer, but when he asked, Mateo made no attempt to hide his disappointment. “Because you look exactly like an Alpha! This is what happens because so many Alphas use blockers these days. What’s so wrong with letting pheromones out naturally?”

Apparently, Mateo was a young man entirely faithful to his instincts. Over the past decade, global attitudes among both Omegas and Alphas had shifted drastically toward not wanting to be involuntarily exposed to someone else’s pheromones in public spaces, and wearing pheromone blockers when going out had settled into standard social etiquette.

In particular, because more people had begun abusing the instinctive attraction someone’s pheromones could provoke regardless of the other person’s consent, a distinct prejudice had formed against anyone who exposed their pheromones except when completely unavoidable, such as during a heat or rut cycle.

“Haha. I suppose that must be frustrating from your perspective, Mateo,” Dante chuckled. “But why did you say I seemed like the type to date Alphas?”

“Because the boyfr… no, ex-boyfriend you came to the hotel with looked like a total Alpha too. Haaah, based on appearance alone, I was absolutely sure you were the Alpha in that equation.”

The way Mateo quickly corrected himself to ex-boyfriend—whether out of deliberate consideration or simple observation—made Dante’s heart sting. He shook his head. “Rhys is a Beta, just like me.”

Mateo wailed dramatically against the sky. “Damn blockers!”

For some reason, Dante felt as if he should take Mateo’s side and curse the pharmaceutical industry with him, so he asked with genuine curiosity, “Are blockers really that effective?”

“Fucking effective!” Mateo vented. “If you spray them roughly into the air like I do, they scatter over time. But if you spray them properly on your wrists, stomach, or the back of your neck, they neutralize pheromones completely. People and animals having their own natural scent is one of nature’s laws, isn’t it? Blocking us from smelling that? Pharmaceutical companies are literal demons.”

So that was how it worked. Dante truly had not known. Fundamentally, the Coast Guard operated under strict regulations, managing units composed entirely of the same designation to avoid complications, so all the members of Dante’s rescue unit were Betas. Even when they occasionally met other units, mentioning designation or sex could lead to swift accusations of workplace discrimination, so no one ever brought up the subject. Most of the friends he kept around him were Betas as well, leaving him very little opportunity to learn the nuances of secondary dynamics.

Lazzaro was an Alpha, but Dante almost never discussed designations with him. The only things he and Lazzaro ever debated were the results of the Serie A soccer matches that aired at dawn, or newly released video games. Besides, both of them were far too busy while on duty, so they only exchanged occasional texts during short breaks. When they did have free time, they were each occupied with seeing their respective lovers. In Lazzaro’s case, he more often had partners who changed every few months rather than a steady lover.

“So as long as someone uses a blocker, there’s absolutely no way to tell?” Dante pressed, curious.

“Hmm, I think it’s a little different between Alphas themselves,” Mateo mused, tapping his chin. “I’m not an Alpha, so I wouldn’t know firsthand, but apparently there’s always some instinctive sense of threat or raw repulsion between them? They say it has nothing to do with pheromones and is more like pure animal intuition.”

Dante thought he understood. Was it not similar to the unpleasant, defensive resistance he usually felt when he encountered men who were physically more impressive or intimidating than him?

“The more I hear, the more fascinating it is,” Dante admitted. He had asked without thinking much, but it was far more interesting than he had expected. All Dante actually knew about Omegas and Alphas were their baseline medical characteristics, which made the social reality even more intriguing. The precise position of the uterus in female and male Omegas, structural differences between Alpha female and male reproductive organs, genital changes required for insemination, and so on—the strict medical knowledge he required for emergency triage was the absolute entirety of what he knew.

Because Dante had lived entirely in a world where he could not actively perceive designations, the only way he ever recognized people with secondary designations was by checking their health insurance cards during an intake. Only when he saw the small, official mark written alongside their personal information did he ever think, Ah, so that’s their designation.

“I don’t find it fascinating at all. I’m just upset,” Mateo huffed.

“Oh dear. I didn’t mean to upset you. I apologize,” Dante offered with a troubled, charming smile.

Mateo caught sight of it and let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders drooping entirely. “Well… Dante must be having a hard time because of heartbreak anyway, so I’ll let it go.”

People naturally flinched when struck directly in a sore spot. Dante could not let Mateo’s casual words pass unheard, his expression tightening as he reacted, stung. “…Haha, me? Does it look that way? No. I’m completely fine.”

He tried laughing it off as though the subject didn’t bother him in the slightest, but Mateo only looked at him with an even deeper sense of pity.

“Dante’s ex-lover dressed up beautifully and went out early in the morning without coming back, while Dante only emerged from the room in the evening,” Mateo pointed out logic-bites. “Obviously, something went horribly wrong. Am I wrong?”

Dante wanted fiercely to deny it, but his lips simply would not move. To think that this painfully young kid had read his pitiful situation so flawlessly. Seeing Dante’s expression sink in an instant, Mateo offered a gentler tone. “Cheer up, Dante.”

Dante did not want pity—especially not from a child who had probably never properly tasted the true bitterness of love. He forced strength back into the corners of his mouth, lifting them into another pleasant, practiced smile, and pretended once again to be fine.

“I’m perfectly all right, so you don’t have to comfort me.”

Please stop now. Even when I stay completely still, Rhys fills my mind. If you keep talking about the breakup, my lingering feelings are going to sprout like weeds until I don’t know what I’ll do.

“You forget sorrow with a new love! I’ll help you, Dante,” Mateo declared brightly.

“I said I’m really fine. Stop talking about it,” Dante finally snapped, failing to hold back. He responded a little too sharply, instantly regretting the harsh edge when Mateo’s eyes went round in surprise.

What would a kid know? In his own unique way, he was probably just trying to comfort a lonely guest, and Dante simply did not possess enough emotional room in himself to accept it gracefully.

“Haah… I’m sorry if I startled you,” Dante sighed, softening his posture. “I haven’t eaten anything all day, so I think my nerves are a bit on edge. Mateo, didn’t you say you knew an excellent place to eat?”

Fortunately, Mateo immediately seized the transition, moving on to the new subject without offense. “My God, you haven’t eaten a single meal today? How can you come all the way to Italy and do that? Hurry, hurry. Follow me!”

At the explicit mention of dinner, Dante’s stomach suddenly roared. He had completely forgotten, but he had not put a single thing in his mouth since arriving in Rome. Not even a drop of water. He desperately needed to eat something.

That did not mean he wanted to return to the hotel and order solitary room service somewhere Rhys was explicitly absent, nor did he feel like entering a formal restaurant alone. Mateo talked a truly incredible amount, but he wasn’t uncomfortable to be around. If left entirely to his own devices, he simply entertained himself, which was comforting to watch.

And Dante had promised to buy him a glass of wine in exchange for his help.

“Do you really know somewhere good?” Dante asked.

Mateo nodded vigorously, his eyes lighting up as if a brilliant idea had struck. “There’s a bar near here I go to all the time. Someone I know works there, so let’s have a drink. Oh, right! Have you ever tried fried artichokes? If you come to Rome, you absolutely have to eat them. And the place we’re going to happens to make absolutely amazing fried artichokes!”

He brought his fingertips tightly together and flicked them outward in front of his lips in that uniquely, stereotypically Italian gesture. Dante had seen it often throughout his life; both Lazzaro and his own father always made exactly that kind of passionate fuss whenever they discussed delicious food. Unlike the two of them, Dante did not use his hands very much for an Italian, except occasionally when he was thoroughly enraged.

Whenever he had done so in the past, Rhys had looked at him as though he found the display endlessly adorable.

At the sudden thought of Rhys—which came as naturally and inevitably as breathing—Dante swallowed a heavy sigh. The corners of his eyes, usually shaped as if he were always smiling, drooped without any remaining strength. He no longer possessed the energy required to manage his expression. He had always tended to smile simply because he hated people asking whether he was all right whenever he looked tired or hurt, but today, even that basic defense was proving too difficult to maintain.

Perhaps it was entirely fortunate that he was currently in Rome.

If his rescue colleagues back home had seen him in this raw state, they certainly would have worried. They would have pressed him, asking whether something else had happened after his initial breakup with Rhys, and then he would have had to agonize over how to explain the sordid details of what had occurred between them in this suite.

But with a passing, temporary connection like Mateo, there was absolutely no need for explanations.

Suddenly, he recalled something Rhys had once told him during a quiet moment. When Dante had asked why he loved traveling so much, Rhys had confessed that he liked it because no one in a new city knew a single thing about him. When Dante had asked if that anonymity didn’t just make him feel lonelier, Rhys had smiled quietly, answering that it no longer did.

You and I both had so many things we never told each other.

The stubborn belief that they knew each other better than anyone else after four years together had, in truth, been nothing more than a beautiful illusion. They had not truly known what anxieties the other carried in the dark. Dante had thought there had been no lack of communication between them, yet they had said nothing of true importance.

It was almost as if they had spent years dating only each other’s beautiful shells.

A suffocating, heavy blockage seemed to form deep in his throat. Dante tugged at the tight collar of his polo shirt with his fingertips and exhaled slowly. The inexplicable, sudden heat he had felt briefly that morning struck again without warning. As his vision blurred slightly with a sense of profound loss—like an endless, silent fall—Mateo’s voice called out to him from farther down the cobblestone street.

“Dantino! What are you doing back there? Come on! Hurry! Quickly!”

Hearing Mateo’s voice as he began calling him by an affectionate pet name entirely at his own discretion, Dante snapped back to reality. When he turned his gaze, Mateo had already safely crossed the street, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Just watching Mateo jump up and down in place was enough to force his dark mind to scatter. And Dante acknowledged, with a grim sort of gratitude, that this exact distraction was precisely what he needed right now.

Fine. The trip was entirely ruined from the beginning anyway. Let whatever happens happen.

Rhys seemed to be enjoying the historic trip fully without him, so Dante would at least go through the motions and pretend to enjoy himself too.

***