I dated Doug for about three years before we broke up; now we only use each other to blow off steam. Since we work in the same office and broke up amicably, we’ve remained friends.The reason we split was that we were both Betas. He wanted children, and I couldn’t give him that.Another reason was that I never grew to like anal sex. No matter how much we tried, I could never get used to it—it hurt, yes, but more than that, I couldn’t stand the discomfort of having a foreign object inside me.I’d felt the same way long before Doug. I’ve never experienced pleasure from that end, no matter who I’ve been with. And I hated giving it more than receiving it.If I’d been an Omega, Doug probably would have married me. I would’ve given him what he wanted in every way: bearing his children and feeling pleasure naturally in that way. Omegas are specialized for that, after all.Of course, whether I would have willingly married Doug is another matter. Sometimes I wonder: if I’d been an Omega, would I have married him? If I hadn’t been a Beta, would my life have turned out completely differently?“Hah…”I sighed breathily, my fingers tracing Doug’s brown hair between my thighs. I disliked anal sex, but I liked someone touching or licking me from the front. He enjoyed that too, but Doug preferred the lower region far more than the upper.Not just Doug—all my exes were the same. Once I gave consent, they always wanted more, and I’d get fed up and break it off.Still, Doug took the breakup hardest. He was good at fellatio and laid-back enough not to cling to me. When we split, he was disappointed but accepted it gracefully. He even apologized, saying,“I know it’s not your thing. I’m sorry for pushing.”And yet here we were again.Despite having broken up, Doug and I still slept together occasionally. Our schedules were too busy to date new people, and we still held some fondness for each other.Sometimes you just need to let off steam—and neither of us had anyone special.So, with no real feelings involved, we kept up our arrangement. Once or twice a month, whichever of us brought it up first, this would happen.Lying on the desk with my lower half exposed, I stared at the ceiling through glazed eyes. I thought I heard footsteps in the hallway. Just as my racing heart twinged, Doug collapsed into me.The footsteps brushed past my office door and faded away. I panted, remaining where I lay. I saw Doug sit up. When he found a tissue and spat into it, I exhaled softly and slowly rolled onto my side. I pulled a condom from the drawer and held it out; he said thanks and took it.He straightened his suit as he reentered, and I grimaced as the pleasant afterglow vanished. Doug panted behind me, moving against my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some documents. As he shifted, they fluttered; I reached out and grabbed them.“Ugh, ah… oops.”As Doug uttered a ragged groan and climaxed, I highlighted a line in the report.“Could you not do that?”Doug lit a cigarette, scowling. I plucked it from his hand and brought it to my lips, asking indifferently,“What?”“In the middle of this, you’re working.”He looked absurdly offended. I inhaled deeply, exhaled, and said—still focused on the documents,“I’m done.”“I’m not.”Doug blew a gust of smoke, fuming, then shrugged and lit another cigarette. I ignored him, perching on the desk in just my shirt, smoking and working. I should have dressed properly, but I was too lazy.I’ll have to hold off on this in the office from now on…I’d just thought that when I realized I’d thought it before. I frowned. Doug misread my expression, came over with his cigarette, and peered at the papers.“Why? Something up?”“No, nothing.”I flipped to the next page without looking. After a while, Doug stood and said,“I should get going too. Let me know if you need anything—up here or down there.”He tossed a playful sexual joke over his shoulder as he left.“Doug.”He paused and turned. I kept my eyes on the documents and said without looking up,“Lock the door on your way out.”“All right.”He said yes but shook his head, then clicked the lock. Only then did I set the papers aside and inhale deeply.Ah…My sigh turned to smoke.…It’s so empty.I stared into the distance, unseeing.On the day of the preliminary hearing, the courthouse plaza was packed with reporters and onlookers. I carried my briefcase and pushed past them to enter. The victim’s family would be watching.As usual, I spared a glance at the defense’s preposterous media theatrics before taking my seat. Today I’d paid more attention to my appearance than ever: hair neatly combed, cheap suit impeccably pressed.I’d even swapped my contact lenses for glasses—a perfect picture of a by-the-book prosecutor, I told myself.By contrast, the defense looked dripping with wealth. Even I, not one for fashion, could tell that the price of his suit alone could buy thirty of mine.Before ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ I graduated law school—and well afterward—Miller Law Firm was every graduate’s dream. Their undefeated win rate was legendary, and they paid exorbitant salaries, provided cars and lavish housing on hire. Their influence meant a pathway to politics. It was said that becoming a Miller attorney was harder than becoming president.I wondered if he was an Alpha.I recalled that one of the few places where Alphas and Omegas couldn’t release pheromones was the courthouse. They banned it to prevent juries or judges from being swayed. Inside, you couldn’t detect anyone’s identity—unless they had a visible trait.I’d only ever seen an Extreme Alpha on television.I’d heard rumors that the owner of Miller Law Firm was an Extreme Alpha. Among Alphas—who make up ten percent of the population—Extreme Alphas are only about 0.01 percent. They dominate the highest strata: media moguls, presidents, corporate titans—all known to be Extreme Alphas.The stronger an Alpha’s traits, the weaker their moral compass seemed to be.

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