Elio's pheromones were contained within the room.
The pavilion's scent-locking tech worked overtime, scrambling to scrub the air clean, but even as it trapped the scent, it couldn't do anything against the surge of his raw biology.
At that exact moment, the sheer force of his breaking control triggered a massive, invisible electromagnetic spike. It bled through the containment walls, slipped past the filters, and slammed straight into the building's power grid.
The pressure in the air turned suffocating—too dense, too heavy, soaked in grief so intense it felt like the room itself was cracking under it.
In the main hall, a sudden, terrifying shift passed through the atmosphere.
Before the lights even wavered, a raw, commanding gravity pressed down on the entire room. There was no scent, no pheromonal signature to identify—only a sudden, crushing weight that seemed to steal the oxygen straight out of the space.
For the average guests—the Betas, common people, and standard corporate staff—it hit like a wave of pure, unexplained dread, making it hard to breathe, their hearts slamming against their ribs in a primal reflex.
But for the high-tier Alphas and Omegas, it was something else entirely.
The elite Omegas near the front rows went pale, their systems shaking under a phantom pressure that felt like an invisible force pushing them down, almost forcing them to their knees.
At the VIP table, Chairman Maximillian Mercier—an undisputed, ruthless S-Class Alpha—stopped mid-expression. His polite, controlled smile vanished. His fingers tightened around his glass until the crystal threatened to crack, his biology flaring in sharp, immediate aggression against something he couldn't see or name.
Deep backstage, Vyn's S-Class senses locked down. His chest heaved as a heavy, phantom frequency echoed through his blood, forcing his jaw to clench.
Shit. What the hell is going on?
His instincts screamed that a dominant predator had just violated the grand hall.
The pressure settled into his bones, heavy and suffocating.
This aura.
A sharp realization cut through his defenses. He had felt a trace of it before. But he couldn't pinpoint exactly who it belonged to. All he knew was that the sheer, crushing weight of it was dangerous.
Elio!
Immediately, a fierce, blinding urge to protect him overrode everything else.
Vyn reached out instinctively, throwing his consciousness into their bond-tether to anchor onto Elio's location—but he was met with a terrifying wall of static.
The familiar, comforting frequency of his Omega's presence was fading rapidly, drowning under the heavy, ancient pressure suffocating the room.
Panic seizing his chest, Vyn turned sharply toward the grand hall. His eyes frantically swept across the crowded pavilion, completely focused on locating Elio's table, desperate to find him and shield him before this terrifying entity tore the room apart.
The seat was empty. Yet, even through the mounting static, he could still feel the faint, desperate pull of their bond, guiding him toward the back corridors.
Then, the air broke, and the grand hall caught up to the unseen force.
The towering crystal chandeliers violently flickered. A loud, sharp pop echoed from the primary amplifiers, causing a massive short circuit that plunged the entire ballroom into sudden, pitch-black darkness. The microphones went dead.
Darkness erupted into a calculated, high-alert chaos.
Elite Onyx security operatives deployed across the perimeter moved like shadows in the dark, the sharp clicks of their earpieces cutting through the darkness as their tactical visors snapped down, switching to thermal night-vision.
A tight, armed perimeter immediately formed around the front VIP tables, weapons subtly unholstered but kept low as senior guards physically shielded Chairman Maximillian and Kael, their eyes scanning the dark room for an external biological breach.
Amidst the turmoil, the emergency PA system crackled to life with a sterile, pre-recorded alert: "Attention: structural power failure. Remain in your seats until manual override is complete."
The guests murmured in confusion, the automated voice doing little to quell the rising fear. Kael, standing in the dark on stage, felt a cold, sharp understanding anchor in his chest. He knew exactly what this shift meant, but as the unease in the room grew, he chose to weaponize his composure.
He stepped toward the microphone, casting aside any clinical tone for a voice that was smooth, controlled, and entirely unbothered.
"Please, stay calm, everyone. It is a minor grid fluctuation, not a failure. We have everything under control."
His flawless delivery acted as an immediate anchor for the panicked crowd, defusing the tension. He remained perfectly still for a tense, drawn-out minute, his sharp eyes piercing the gloom while the emergency generators slowly cycled the power back to life.
Back in the private room, Elio cried until his chest ached, staring blankly at the frozen frame of Lucian's ghost.
The sudden vibration of his phone shattered the silence, making him flinch violently. The screen lit up.
It was Yohan.
Elio's heart seized. He desperately wiped the hot tears from his face, forcing air back into his burning lungs as he tried to piece his fractured composure back together. Swallowing the knot of grief in his throat, he pressed the phone to his ear, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice.
"Elio, where are you?" Yohan's voice came through, sounding worried over the distant roar of the pavilion hall as the power finally kicked back on.
"I'm on my way," Elio murmured, voice tight, barely a whisper, steady enough to hide the fact that his entire world had just collapsed. The call ended right after.
Another call came through—it was Vyn.
"Elio! Are you okay? Where are you right now?" he asked, voice tight, breathless with urgency.
Elio swallowed past the dry lump in his throat, forcing his vocal cords to comply. "I'm... I'm in the restroom, Vyn."
A heavy, relieved exhale rattled through the speaker, followed by the tense noise of the backstage area behind him.
"God, I was so worried. Let's meet up later, alright? As soon as I can get away."
"Okay," Elio whispered.
As the line went dead, the violent, unravelling chaos within his chest began to shift.
The absolute necessity of survival—the primal instinct to hide his vulnerability from the wolves outside—forced his body into a state of severe defense.
Unconsciously, without him even understanding what he was doing, his broken biology began to shut down.
A cold, invisible barrier slammed shut over his core, pulling the suffocating aura back under his skin like holding his breath. The heavy, volatile notes of amber and dark oud vanished from the air, completely suppressed and sealed away under the sheer, desperate force of his will.
Pull yourself together.
He stood on weak legs, forcing himself upright. He slipped out of the private room and hurried into the grand, marble-tiled restroom nearby. It was empty now, everyone already back in the hall.
Stepping in front of the large mirror, Elio forced himself to breathe. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face to dull the redness around his eyes.
He aggressively wiped away the heavy tears, smoothed down his suit, and checked his collar to ensure no trace of his breakdown remained.
Then he finally looked up, intending to fix his hair.
His breath caught in his throat. Elio's hands slammed flat against the marble counter as he stared into the mirror, a cold spike of panic shooting straight down his spine.
His aura was gone. His pheromones were locked away. But his left eye hadn't changed back.
He blinked hard, rubbing his fist against his eyelid until the skin burned, desperately hoping the familiar dark pigment would return when he opened his eyes. But the same cold, pale gaze stared back at him, unyielding.
Not an illusion. Not a temporary side effect.
It was permanent.
The ticking clock outside didn't care about his shock.
Shaking, Elio brushed his dark bangs forward, dragging the strands down in a rough, desperate motion until they covered the left side of his face. He tilted his chin down, making sure the shadow swallowed the unnatural color completely.
With a tight, shaking breath, he shoved the panic and grief down, locking them somewhere far back in his mind.
Down the corridor, the pavilion lighting dipped into a dim, muted glow.
A familiar actor passed by and smiled at him. In the low light and under his hair, nothing showed. Elio smiled back just as easily—warm, practiced, hiding everything underneath.
As he stepped out of the corridor, he nearly ran into Yohan, who had been pacing.
Yohan stopped short. His eyes swept over Elio, sharp and uneasy, like he was trying to read something that wasn't sitting right.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," Yohan said, frowning. "You don't look right. You're barely holding it together, Elio. What's going on?"
Elio gave a thin, practiced smile, keeping his head slightly angled so the left side of his face stayed in the dark.
"I'm okay, Yohan."
Yohan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, protective murmur. "If you can't go back out there, we can tell Leia you're not feeling well."
He leaned in slightly—and the shift in light cut through the gaps in Elio's bangs.
Yohan froze mid-breath. The words died on his tongue.
One of Elio's eyes was still familiar, the same dark hue he'd always known. The other wasn't. Even in the dim corridor, the contrast was impossible to miss.
Wrong. Cold. Unnatural against his face.
Yohan's hand lifted on instinct, stopping just short of him. His eyes locked in.
"Elio… your eye. What happened?"
Elio flinched. He turned his face further into the shadows, pulling his bangs lower.
"I don't know, Yohan," he whispered, voice breaking.
Before Yohan could press him further, the suffocating pressure in the air eased.
Backstage, a technician gave a frantic thumbs-up over the comms—just a temporary frequency glitch.
No threat detected.
The tension in the pavilion loosened at once, guests taking easier breaths again, the moment already being filed away as a system error.
Yohan barely had time to react before the Chairman's voice returned over the restored sound system.
"My apologies, honored guests," he said smoothly, expression unchanged. "A brief interference with our frequency regulators—nothing more than a minor technical issue. Rest assured, everything has been recalibrated. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening."
He paused, letting a thin, cold smile touch his lips.
"The world has always known Kael as my singular heir," Maximillian's voice carried through the grand hall.
"But as a father, I've always believed in letting my bloodline find its own strength. Years ago, I allowed my youngest son the freedom to carve his own path outside our corporate walls—to understand the world before he ruled it. Now that he has grown, and to ensure the Mercier legacy remains absolute… I am proud to introduce my youngest son, Vyn Mercier, who will soon be joining his brother on the Onyx executive board."
The hall went silent for a beat.
Then came the collective gasp—followed by applause, loud and stunned.
At the AXIOM table, everything tightened at once. Dane's knuckles went white against the tablecloth. Axis froze mid-breath, eyes snapping to the stage. Lee leaned back in disbelief, while Reon looked around like he was still waiting for someone to call it a joke.
Only Joey remained unmoved. He had grown up alongside Vyn, so none of this came as a shock. While the rest of them spiraled, Joey simply leaned back, quiet, watching with a knowing look.
A few tables away, the members of ELYS sat frozen in confusion.
Lucas leaned forward, eyes scanning the crowd in disbelief. Sixth let out a sharp breath, hands trembling as he looked toward Elio's empty seat. Beside him, Leia's smile had completely fallen.
The auxiliary spotlight cut through the dim hall, catching a tall figure stepping out from backstage shadows.
He was far from where Elio and Yohan stood, but the shift was immediate.
Vyn.
He walked toward the stage.
The man under the light didn't look the same anymore. The soft silver-gray hair Elio knew was gone, replaced with dark brown strands pushed back cleanly. The suit he wore was sharp, expensive, unmistakably old money.
Even his presence had changed.
The elite idol aura was gone, replaced with something heavier, colder—dominant in a way that made the air feel tighter.
His jaw was set, expression controlled and unyielding as he gazed toward the stage.
Every bit the Mercier heir.
Beside Elio, Yohan's breath hitched in disbelief. "Vyn… a Mercier?"
Elio didn't answer. He couldn't.
The moment it sank in, something closed around his throat, stealing the air from his lungs.
Vyn Mercier.
The name burned. His brother's death, the rage, the betrayal all collided at once, sharp and suffocating.
His body gave in under the strain. The suppressants in his system fought to keep it down, but it was already slipping. A faint, unstable trace began to leak through his skin, heavy in the air.
Yohan, despite being a Beta and mostly unaffected by pheromones, still felt the shift in Elio's state.
"Elio…" Yohan's voice dropped, tense. "You're shaking. Are you okay?"
Elio couldn't answer.
He knew he didn't have much time. Every second made it worse—harder to hold it in. If he stayed, it would show. He had to get out.
Now.
Yohan didn't wait for a response. He grabbed Elio's arm and pulled him in, shielding him as he guided him toward the side exit.
Elio didn't resist. He let himself be moved, silent, pulled through the crowd and into the dark.
——
The heavy, soundproofed walls of the Onyx Grand Pavilion dulled the cheering inside, but they couldn't stop the ringing in Elio's ears.
Yohan guided him through the back corridors, grip tight on his arm, steadying him as they went. Elio's legs shook so badly each step felt unsteady, like he might drop at any moment.
They finally stumbled into the dim service alley. The moment fresh air hit, Elio slumped against the concrete wall, fingers digging into it just to stay upright.
"Elio… you're scaring me," Yohan said, voice tight. He stayed close, eyes flicking toward the exit. "You're burning up. Are you entering your cycle early? What's happening to you?"
Elio didn't answer. He could barely focus. His hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone.
Aris.
He hit call with a trembling thumb.
"Aris…" His voice cracked. "Something's wrong with me. Pick me up. Behind the pavilion. Hurry."
He cut the call off and dragged in a sharp breath.
Yohan didn't move away. He stayed in front of him, guarding him instinctively.
Then he stiffened.
"Someone's here."
Before Elio could react, a shadow broke from the dark.
A woman slammed into him, pinning him hard against the wall.
Elio barely had time to register her grip.
"My beautiful angel," she breathed, eyes glassy and unfocused, flushed with something wrong. Her hands grabbed at his jacket like she couldn't let go. "I waited… I finally found you."
A sharp, metallic wave hit the air—copper and ozone, heavy and suffocating.
Yohan lunged forward, trying to pry her fingers off Elio's lapels. But she didn't budge. She was no ordinary fan—she was the same sasaeng from the mall.
She twisted toward him with a sharp snarl. The moment she did, the pressure of her Alpha tier slammed into Yohan like a physical wall.
He staggered back.
He tried again, but his grip slipped. His body didn't respond the way it should. She was stronger, faster, and driven by something unstable and predatory that made it hard to breathe, let alone hold her off.
Elio stayed still.
Pinned against the wall, he didn't fight her. He just looked at her.
She leaned in closer, forcing him deeper into the concrete, her hands locked tight on his shoulders.
Then Elio tilted his head.
His eyes met hers.
"Your scent," he said, voice low and cold. "It's disgusting."
The air changed.
Something in Elio broke loose.
The night air turned heavy, sweet and suffocating—smoked cardamom, sun-warmed amber, and dark, sinking oud spilling out into the alley.
The alleyway turned into a pressure cooker. The air thickened until it felt heavy in the lungs, swallowing her copper-ozone scent whole.
The sasaeng froze.
The manic panic that had been driving her died in her throat as the pressure slammed down on her, leaving her lungs clawing at nothing.
She was still touching him, fingers locked in a tight grip on his shoulders, when Elio finally lifted his head.
The idol facade was gone.
No warmth. No softness.
Just something cold underneath it all.
His bangs shifted slightly as he moved, and for the first time, his face was fully visible in the open air.
One eye was his familiar dark, but the left iris burned with that sharp, luminous icy blue winter gray.
A stare that didn't feel human.
"Let go."
That was all he said. The effect was immediate.
Her grip broke like it had never existed. Her knees gave out, and she dropped straight to the ground, choking for air as if her body had forgotten how to function. She couldn't even look at him anymore.
She went still. Unconscious.
Yohan pressed back against the opposite wall, staring.
Even as a Beta, the pressure hit wrong. Heavy. Wrong in a way his body couldn't ignore. His hands trembled slightly as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
Elio—an Omega, by all accounts—had just taken down a high-tier Alpha without moving.
But it was the sight of him that really froze Yohan in place.
Now that Elio's face was fully uncovered in the open air, there was no mistaking it. Not lighting. Not shadows. The change was there, permanent and clear. One eye was his natural dark; the other was that sharp, icy blue almost winter gray.
It shouldn't have been possible.
"Elio…" Yohan's voice came out shaky. His gaze flicked from the unconscious sasaeng back to him. "What… what did you just do?"
Elio didn't answer right away.
He stayed slumped against the concrete, breathing uneven, like his body hadn't caught up with what just happened. He looked drained—almost empty—suit rumpled, skin pale, like something had been torn through him from the inside.
But his eyes stayed fixed on the woman on the ground.
Still sharp. Still there.
Then he finally turned to Yohan.
The movement was slow, off, like it cost him.
"I didn't do anything," Elio said hoarsely. His brows tightened as he pressed his fingers to his temples. "I just… stopped the noise."
His hands shook as they dropped back into his lap.
Whatever that was in him, it was gone just as fast as it came. And now he just looked like someone trying not to fall apart.
Seconds later, tires screeched against the asphalt. Aris's SUV swung into the alley, headlights slicing through the haze.
White beams flooded everything.
Aris got out with a medical kit in hand—but stopped the moment he saw the scene.
The unconscious sasaeng. The heavy, suffocating air still hanging in the alley. And Elio—
Even from a few steps away, Aris felt it. Not just what he saw, but what lingered in the space. His lungs tightened as he took it in, expression shifting into something stunned, unsettled.
Something had happened here. Something bad.
He looked at Yohan.
"Yohan," Aris said low, controlled but urgent. "Tell Leia Elio had a sudden heat spike. He needs rest. I'm taking him to my clinic now."
Yohan's eyes flicked between the sasaeng on the ground and Elio, who looked barely conscious—like the fight had already drained out of him.
He nodded. "Yeah… I'll handle it."
He knelt beside Elio, hesitating before brushing damp hair off his forehead, trying to cover him again without thinking. His hands were shaking.
"Elio…" he said quietly. "Call me when you can, alright?"
Elio didn't respond. His head tilted slightly, breath uneven, the pale icy eye dulled with exhaustion.
Yohan stood slowly, looking at Aris like he wanted to say more but couldn't find the words.
"Please," he said instead, voice cracking. "Just take care of him."
Aris didn't answer. He just moved.
Efficient. Focused.
He secured the sasaeng's wrists and ankles with zip ties, then lifted her into the cargo space and shut it without hesitation. After that, he returned to Elio and carefully got him into the passenger seat.
The engine started. The SUV pulled out, leaving the alley behind in a blur of light and silence.
Back in the Grand Pavilion, the air felt too normal.
Yohan walked back in, face tight, hands still unsteady. He forced himself toward their table.
He leaned in toward their manager.
"Elio had a sudden heat spike," he said quietly. "His doctor took him to the clinic."
Sixth glanced up, then leaned back. "That explains why he never came back from the restroom."
Leia turned sharply. "Is he okay?"
Yohan didn't look at her.
"No," he said.
Meanwhile, at the AXIOM table near the stage, Vyn sat like a king on a hollow throne. The noise around him didn't register. His gaze stayed locked on the ELYS table a few yards away.
Elio's seat was empty.
Something in him had already gone terribly wrong.
Earlier, when that suffocating pressure had hit the hall, the bond-tether hadn't just flickered—it had dropped into nothing. No trace. No pull. Just a sudden, hollow silence where Elio should have been.
Vyn pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. He clicked Elio's contact and hit call.
Unavailable.
His jaw tightened. He opened the chat instead.
Vyn: Where are you? Are you okay? The power grid issue is resolved.
Vyn: Elio, are you okay? I can't reach you.
Vyn: I'm getting worried. Please reply.
Vyn: Let's cancel our plan. I'll come to you.
Vyn: Please. Just answer me.
No read receipts. No typing indicator. Nothing.
He stared at the screen a second too long, then tried calling again.
Same result.
Joey, sitting just a seat away, noticed the rigid, terrifyingly tense line of Vyn's shoulders. He watched Vyn try the call for a third time, his expression growing progressively darker by the second.
Without a word, Joey stood and crossed the floor to the ELYS table. After a brief, whispered exchange with a visibly stressed Leia, Joey returned to the AXIOM table.
He leaned down, placing a grounding hand on the back of Vyn's chair, and whispered directly into his ear.
"Elio's doctor picked him up, Vyn. He had a sudden biological spike."
Vyn looked up at him immediately.
"…Are you sure?"
Joey gave a small, tired shrug. "Do you think Leia would lie about that?"
Vyn looked down at his glowing screen, the text messages remaining unread. The brief relief of knowing Elio was safe was instantly swallowed by a strange, hollow ache in his chest.
He tried to call Elio one last time, but the cold, automated voicemail answered him instead.
Without a word, Vyn bolted from the event, casting his velvet jacket aside as he sprinted toward Dr. Aris' clinic.
He arrived breathless, only to find the building dark and shuttered.
He sped to their private residential building, his heart hammering against his ribs in a rhythm that felt entirely foreign. He keyed in the password to Elio's unit and shoved the door open.
"Elio!"
The unit was cold. The scent he was looking for—that familiar white lilies—was gone, leaving only a faint, ghost-like trace clinging to the air.
Elio was not there.
Vyn stood in the center of the silent living room, chest heaving as he reached for the bond. He pushed into the void, trying to find that familiar pull that should have anchored him to Elio's location.
But there was nothing.
The hum he was used to was gone, replaced by absolute, freezing static. His Alpha sense, usually stretching wide like a map across miles, went blind all at once—as if Elio had been wiped out of it completely.
A sharp realization sank in slowly, heavy in his bones.
This wasn't just silence.
It was being blocked.
A tight dread settled in his chest. He was thrown back into that same isolating quiet he had lived with before—but now it felt worse.
The world felt too big, too cold, like it had lost its center without Elio in it.