“So, how’s work these days?”As we ate, Mother asked. I kept my eyes on the plate and replied,“The same as always… nothing’s really changed.”It sounded harsh, so I forced a smile and added,“But it’s rewarding.”Still, an awkward silence settled over the table. It was inevitable—this dinner was out of obligation, and no amount of effort could make it feel sincere.“It must be hard. Take care not to overdo it.”Even at Mother’s gentle words, I only managed a curt, “Yes.” The clink of cutlery filled the lull until Mother broached a new topic.“Do you have someone special?”I’d expected the question and offered my usual reply.“I’m too busy.”“You’re not getting any younger. It’s time you find someone to marry.”She smiled softly, trying to reassure me.“I’ll do my best.”That usually ended the subject for Mother, and sure enough, she turned to Father. I bowed my head again. As a devout Christian like many Americans, my stepmother believed a Beta man should marry and have children. Since she and Father were both Betas, it seemed natural… although the idea of her son being gay was unimaginable to her. Unless one was an Alpha or Omega, sleeping with a man was unthinkable. And Betas couldn’t bear children, so homosexuality defied God’s plan.If I brought home an Omega as a spouse, perhaps she’d understand—though she’d never welcome it as warmly as a woman. But I was a dedicated bottom; that scenario was impossible too.Sadly, she would never see grandchildren. I’d never felt arousal for a woman, no matter how hard I tried. I was sorry for her, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. I’d convinced myself that childhood experiences had shaped my orientation—though that realization came too late to matter.The silence stretched on. I needed a new topic but drew a blank. Spotting that Mother wore a different ring than her wedding band gave me an opening.“A new ring?”Without lifting my gaze from her face, I asked. She looked down at her hand and smiled.“Yes—it was a gift from your father for our anniversary. It’s my birthstone. Do you like it?”She squeezed Father’s hand affectionately. I refused to look at him, fixing my eyes instead on Mother’s profile.“It suits you.”“Thank you.”Father spoke [N O V E L I G H T] for the first time. I glanced up and faced him properly for the first time that evening. When our eyes met, he offered the kindest smile imaginable. I returned it, though no one noticed the moment I almost stabbed him in the throat with my fork.“Be careful on your way home, Chrissy.”After the interminable dinner finally ended, I escaped the restaurant. Outside, Mother gave me a quick hug. This time I couldn’t ignore Father’s outstretched hand.Wearing gloves, I brushed his hand briefly, then pulled away. Still, the faint touch burned into my skin. It wasn’t like before—I didn’t want to sever the contact—but I desperately wanted to wash it off.Panicked, I scrubbed my hands repeatedly in the parking lot, trying to dull the sensation. Hurry, hurry. Hiding my unease, I offered my customary smile.“I’ll see you next month.”I climbed into the car and quickly removed my gloves before gripping the wheel. The gloves, carelessly discarded, would go straight into the trash when I got home.It was well past ten; the streets were nearly deserted. I started the car without hurry. In the side mirror, my step-parents receded until they vanished. Yet my chest tightened.Anger flared. It’d been over ten years—why did seeing that man’s face still unnerve me so? Worse, he felt nothing. As if I didn’t exist, as if he were innocent.Only I suffered.“Damn it…!”I slammed my fist on the wheel.Suddenly, a black Jaguar cut me off. Startled by the massive vehicle’s unexpected intrusion, I jammed the brakes.Too late. The car wouldn’t stop in time.Crash!The jolt vibrated through me. I sat dazed, unable to comprehend what had happened.After a few seconds, I realized we’d collided.“What the…!”Cursing, I undid my seatbelt and climbed out. My chest ached where the belt had restrained me. Rubbing the sore spot, I approached the crumpled Jaguar.I pounded its heavily tinted window with my fist.“Get out here, you bastard!”My free hand still rubbed my chest, the pain sharp as my anger boiled. Through the dark glass, I saw the driver move ever so slowly—unbuckling his seatbelt, opening the door.In that moment, a sweetness cut through the city’s exhaust-choked air.First, I saw his stark white hair—a flash of snowy brilliance.“…Very well, then.”The city’s noise faded, leaving only his low voice in my ears.Haah.With a short sigh, he ended his call and looked down at me. To meet his gaze, I had to lift my chin. Beneath furrowed brows, those intense violet eyes locked onto mine, and I swallowed hard.“Prosecutor Chrissy Jin.”

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