Chapter Text
A new passenger had appeared on the Astral Express.
A strange young man with a Stellaron inside him, his memories lost, utterly adrift in the world he found himself in. In other words—an ideal candidate for the Nameless. And, as it turned out, he was a beta, which was certainly a plus. The explosive nature of an alpha combined with the ticking time bomb within him would have been a dangerous mix. And if he’d been an omega, there might have been complications with the other alphas on the Express—Himeko and Dan Heng.
But before boarding, the boy underwent a thorough examination by Herta, who firmly assured them he was an ordinary beta.
And yet, over time, his behavior began to change in strange ways.
***
By his second month aboard the Express, Caelus had taken to loitering in the archives, staring aimlessly at Dan Heng as he read. In the time they had spent together, they’d managed to become fairly close, despite Dan Heng’s reserved nature. And with each passing day, Caelus grew ever more glad of it.
After all, Dan Heng was so smart, attentive, caring, patient, and strong. And handsome. And he smelled very good.
Caelus let out a dreamy sigh, not even understanding the source of the strange ache in his chest. It must have been too loud, because Dan Heng lifted his gaze toward him.
“What is it?”
“Mm. Nothing. Read out loud?”
Dan Heng hesitated, but in the end, he obliged, beginning to read aloud. Caelus wasn’t the least bit interested in hearing about the principles of hereditary data transmission among inorganic life forms. What he liked was the sound of Dan Heng’s voice. And his scent. So he scooted a little closer.
A month ago, Dan Heng had met Caelus’s growing clinginess with skepticism. He’d tried to keep his distance, cut off sudden attempts at physical contact, even left the room to avoid being the target of those long, thoughtful stares. But now, he’d grown used to it. Caelus was settling in, feeling freer, showing more of his true nature. Which meant he saw the Express as a comfortable, safe place, and all of them as his friends, right? That was good. Even if Dan Heng couldn’t quite understand why he was the only one receiving such “special” attention.
At the time, the behavior hadn’t seemed all that strange. But then it began to escalate.
***
They were ambushed by a pack of space monsters. Caelus watched in a daze as Dan Heng wiped the blood of the fallen foes from his spear. A dozen savage beasts, dispatched in mere minutes—quickly, effortlessly, with a calm that stirred something deep within the soul.
So strong. Strong enough to protect him if danger ever came. Not that Caelus was incapable of defending himself… but there was something about that raw display of strength that stirred something primal inside him.
Dan Heng cleaned his weapon with meticulous care, eyeing the carnage around them with displeasure. And then he noticed the stare fixed on him.
He was spattered head to toe in stinking blood, tattered clothes slashed open by claws, mangled corpses at his feet. But Caelus was looking at him as though he were gazing at a god come down to earth. What was wrong with this guy? And then, to make matters worse, Caelus had followed him into the bathroom, insisting in anxious tones that he needed to check him for injuries (there were none). In reality, he was shamelessly staring at his bare body, helping him scrub the blood away.
Well, maybe Caelus was simply impressed with his skill in battle. And maybe he was just worried about his friend’s well-being.
But other moments weren’t so easy to dismiss.
***
The three of them were watching a movie in March’s room. At some point, the popcorn ran out, and she sent Dan Heng to fetch more. But Caelus suddenly clutched his sleeve, looking alarmed.
“Don’t go!”
“I’m just getting more popcorn.”
“Let March go.”
“Caelus…”
“Let March go!”
The two exchanged bewildered glances. Caelus looked as if Dan Heng’s brief absence might kill him. His lips trembled, eyes brimming with tears, his grip unyielding on Dan Heng’s sleeve. March had been about to protest, but for reasons he couldn’t explain even to himself, Dan Heng sat back down, giving Caelus’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You go, March.”
“Are you kidding me—”
“Please.”
Yes, Caelus had become even clingier than before. Now he spent nearly every waking moment in Dan Heng’s company, retreating to his own room only at night—and even then, reluctantly. Why couldn’t he just stay and sleep in the archives?
His behavior was becoming increasingly strange, but what was stranger still was that Dan Heng, who normally prized his privacy, seemed to have abandoned his principles entirely. On the contrary—Caelus’s presence soothed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain, filling him with an odd sense of contentment.
March was the first to notice the “warning signs.” Wherever they went, Caelus always stood as close to Dan Heng as physically possible. On an enormous, empty couch, he would sit practically on his lap. During meals, he dragged their chairs together and ate from his hands. March wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they were helping each other bathe.
Caelus, however, didn’t see his behavior as strange or inappropriate. They were friends, weren’t they? What was wrong with enjoying each other’s company? And if sitting close meant he could better enjoy that pleasant scent—well, that was perfectly logical.
But eventually, even Caelus himself began to realize something was wrong. Very wrong.
***
He was standing in the archives, staring for a good five minutes at the futon laid out and the shirt lying on top of it. Dan Heng had taken off his clothes before heading to shower. And that damn shirt wouldn’t leave Caelus alone.
He felt an overwhelming urge to take it. And the blanket too. Dan Heng’s things, still holding his warmth. Still carrying his scent.
He wanted them so badly it almost hurt. And in the end, he gave in. They were friends, weren’t they? Friends shared things. Clothes included.
Without the slightest pang of guilt, he scooped up both the shirt and the blanket and carried them to his room.
That night, Caelus slept like a baby. Dan Heng’s stolen scent filled his dreams with sweetness.
***
The next one to notice Caelus’s new oddities was Himeko. One morning, she’d approached him intending to ask for a small favor, only for him to recoil with a look of disgust. A second later, he seemed startled by his own reaction and asked what she wanted. But when he left, Himeko could have sworn she smelled a faint, sweet trace in the air.
It happened again later. The boy who had always been friendly and eager to help suddenly began avoiding her. Whenever she entered a room, his calm expression would twist with irritation, and he’d search for any excuse to leave.
Himeko was concerned. What had she done to provoke this sudden hostility? And where had that faint, honeyed fragrance come from, one she had never noticed before?
***
The shirt and blanket were no longer enough. Caelus felt restless, hurt, helpless, and desperate. He was upset and didn’t even know why. Himeko tried to speak with him constantly, but her very presence made him nauseous. March and Welt might as well have ceased to exist—he barely noticed them.
Only Dan Heng mattered.
Caelus sought his company endlessly, and even the briefest moments alone left him so wretched he wanted to howl.
And so he found himself back in the archives, rifling through Dan Heng’s closet in search of new treasures. That scent—like sea breeze and maple leaves—had become a necessity. He clutched a pile of shirts and sweaters, a set of bed linens, even a winter scarf. And that was when Dan Heng himself walked in, catching him in the act.
“What are you… doing?”
“I don’t know.”
And truly, he didn’t. He needed Dan Heng’s clothes, his belongings, anything that still carried his scent. He had one shirt and one blanket, which he clung to every night, but their smell had long since faded. He needed more.
Dan Heng stared at him in surprise, at the armful of clothes and bedding. Caelus didn’t look embarrassed or ashamed—more like… anxious. And there was a strange, sweet, honeyed scent lingering in the air. It clung to Dan Heng’s tongue, silencing any words of reproach. He simply stepped aside, letting Caelus hurry past him with his haul.
And somehow, it felt like the right choice.
In his own room, Caelus dumped everything onto the bed, pacing nervously back and forth. He was hot, his head buzzing. Strange, unfamiliar, almost instinctive thoughts flickered through his mind. Following an inexplicable inner impulse, he began folding and rearranging Dan Heng’s things, over and over, searching for the “right” order.
And to his surprise, the act soothed him.
Just like that…
***
March knocked on Caelus’s door, intending to ask if he wanted to join another movie night. When no one answered, she cautiously pushed the door open and peeked inside. What she saw made her blink in surprise.
Caelus was curled up on the bed, surrounded on all sides by crumpled clothes and soft blankets. His cheeks were feverishly red, his gaze hazy and unfocused. He clutched one of Dan Heng’s sweaters in his hands, nearly in tears.
“Caelus…?”
He flinched at the sound of her voice, wincing, then let out a pitiful groan and buried his face in the folds of the sweater.
“Dan Heng…”
March didn’t dare step inside. Caelus kept whimpering, mumbling Dan Heng’s name, ignoring her worried questions completely.
Well then—Dan Heng it was. Let him deal with this!
Meanwhile, Dan Heng sat in the archives, still in a daze, replaying all the strange events of recent weeks in his mind. Caelus’s attachment to him had crossed the line into obsession. He had started sneaking his belongings, constantly sniffing at him, barely interacting with March or Welt anymore, and showing an inexplicable hostility toward Himeko.
Looking back now, Dan Heng couldn’t understand why he hadn’t noticed the truth sooner. Why had Caelus’s odd behavior felt so natural, even right? Why did he himself feel the constant urge to keep him close, to indulge his whims, to shield him from every threat?
Just as he was trying to untangle those thoughts, March burst into the archives, frantic, insisting he come with her at once.
On the way, Dan Heng kept asking what had happened, but she couldn’t explain—only that something was very wrong with Caelus.
And Dan Heng knew she was right the moment they approached the door. Even through it, the scent was overwhelming, making the blood in his veins burn. When the door swung open, the wave of it nearly knocked him off his feet.
That sweet, honeyed aroma filled his mouth with saliva. And it was pouring off the boy whining miserably on the bed.
Dan Heng swallowed hard. This couldn’t be happening.
***
He told March to fetch Himeko immediately so they could reroute the Express to Herta’s space station. Then he stepped inside and locked the door, slowly advancing toward the mess within.
Caelus was supposed to be a beta. One hundred percent. Herta had run every test and confirmed it. Yet the boy whimpering in a nest of Dan Heng’s clothes, radiating sweet pheromones, was clearly no beta.
At last, all the pieces fell into place.
His desperate obsession with Dan Heng. His need to always be near him, to surround himself with his scent. His aversion to another alpha. That intoxicating honeyed smell.
The behavior of an omega. More precisely—an omega in heat. But how could that be?
Three months ago, Caelus had been nothing but an ordinary beta. Dan Heng was certain of it. No particular scent, no preference in company, no stealing clothes or throwing tantrums.
And yet, his behavior had been shifting little by little. And Dan Heng couldn’t believe he had ignored it. Subconsciously, as an alpha, he had simply accepted the fact that the beta beside him was slowly becoming an omega. And accepted it with deep, instinctive satisfaction. That explained his own need to protect him, to keep him close. Instinctively, he had already claimed Caelus as his omega—without even realizing it.
And Caelus, it seemed, already considered Dan Heng his alpha. For the moment he saw him, he jolted upright on the bed, reaching for him.
Dan Heng stopped at the edge of the bed, hesitating to enter Caelus’s territory without permission. He had never dealt with an omega before, but something deep inside told him: don’t disturb the nest.
“May I?” he asked softly. Only when Caelus nodded frantically did he sit on the edge of the bed. Caelus immediately threw himself at him, pressing his fevered cheek against his chest.
So hot. Caelus was breathing hard, mumbling incoherently, trembling hands clutching at Dan Heng’s collar and sleeves. His body burned, damp skin releasing that intoxicating honeyed aroma.
Dan Heng had always taken strong suppressants, and he prided himself on his restraint. But now, looking at Caelus—tearful, disheveled, clinging to him—he felt that restraint slipping through his fingers. His mouth watered, fangs aching with the need to sink into soft skin.
“Dan Heng… I feel… so strange.”
“I know.”
“I… I took your clothes. I don’t know why… Is that bad?”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Dan Heng?”
“Mm?”
“I… need something… I don’t understand…”
That desperate, pleading tone tore at Dan Heng’s heart. What kind of alpha was he if he couldn’t care for his omega, couldn’t ease his suffering?
No. What was he thinking? They weren’t bonded, and Caelus hadn’t even been an omega until recently. No matter how loudly his instincts screamed at him to claim Caelus here and now, reason had to prevail.
***
Researchers at Herta’s station turned their heads in surprise at the sight of two Nameless travelers. One was practically hanging off the other, looking utterly miserable. The other—clearly an alpha—cast murderous looks at anyone who dared to glance at the whimpering omega in his arms. Three more trailed behind them, an anxious support group.
Caelus had never felt so wretched. Fever burned through him, his mouth was dry, every unfamiliar scent made him nauseous and dizzy. His stomach twisted with a strange new emptiness, his body weak and heavy.
Worst of all, Dan Heng was right there, but doing nothing. Just holding his shoulders, guiding him somewhere unknown. The unfairness of it brought tears to his eyes. Why was he being led away when what he needed most was… what? His own body felt alien, new instincts grating at him.
Everything hurt.
As soon as Dan Heng explained the situation, Welt and Himeko had made the jump to Herta’s station so she could examine Caelus again and provide some kind of help.
It had been hard enough to convince him to leave his nest, harder still to get him to the right office and pry him from Dan Heng’s side. The only saving grace was that Herta’s puppets carried no scent, so Caelus didn’t recoil from them the way he did from every alpha and omega they passed along the way.
The second examination confirmed Dan Heng’s suspicions: Caelus’s body had completely changed. He had, indeed, become an omega. And when asked how and why, Herta delivered them a long report.
“Subject 0909, Caelus. Initial examination recorded no secondary gender. Subsequent examination revealed significant physiological changes: secondary gender identified as omega. Hypothesis: as Subject 0909 was artificially created as a vessel for a Stellaron, his nature was originally ‘neutral.’ After prolonged exposure to the pheromones of a dominant alpha, the subject’s body adapted to assume a more compatible role to ensure natural synchronization. Conclusion: Subject 0909 is an omega. Recommendations: a mating bond with the aforementioned dominant alpha is advised to stabilize the subject’s condition.”
***
Dan Heng had to reread the report several times before the words sank in.
So… because Caelus had stayed by his side, constantly breathing in his pheromones—even dulled by suppressants—his body had reshaped itself into an omega? Because, instinctively, he wanted to be with him? All the strange behaviors of the past months had been symptoms of that transformation. And now he was experiencing his first heat. And according to Herta’s “recommendations,” Dan Heng was supposed to mark him, to bring the chaos in Caelus’s body under control.
As for that…
Dan Heng glanced at the closed door. Caelus was sleeping now, knocked out by the sedative Herta had administered. But it was only a temporary measure. When he woke up…
Dan Heng inhaled, the honeyed scent still lingering in the air, and stepped inside, locking the door behind him.
He would take care of his omega.