6

"I was… I was immature. I know saying that doesn't change anything, but my father raised me with prejudice against omegas since I was a child. I should've been wiser. I should've known he was wrong. I was a complete bastard, so… I'm really sorry. I hope we can start over—not as consort and prince, but maybe as friends. But I'd understand if you don't want to forgive me."

Silas heard the apology. But he had mixed feelings about it.

That rejection from his first love had been a harsh awakening—a brutal reminder of the difference in status between them. It had taught him that, as an omega, he needed to know his place, that he was foolish to have feelings for an alpha.

Alric lowered his head. The man—so much taller and broader than Silas—suddenly looked small. Pitiful, even.

Silas remained silent. He didn't respond.

And as the silence dragged on, Alric slowly lifted his face, panic creeping into his expression.

"Silas?"

He called his name with urgency, as if making sure Silas could hear him. Silas blinked—wasn't that reaction a bit too dramatic? He had already forgiven him. Maybe it was difficult to forget the bad things he had experienced back then, and Alric's rejection had been harsh, but Silas also knew that they had both been just two unstable teenagers trying to figure out their identities—typical rebellious adolescents.

"Silas, are you okay?"

"Give me a second."

Silas scratched his forehead, and he heard a quiet sigh of relief from Alric. If they hadn't been sitting so close, he probably wouldn't have caught it.

"... Come to think of it, back then... I should've been more careful and carried medicine. You know, at that time, my pheromones hadn't manifested—there was no sign that I was an omega, except for my eye color. Since I hadn't presented yet, I thought maybe my eyes were just unique, not a sign that I was an omega. And that day, when my pheromones suddenly emerged in front of you, that was the first time. I couldn't control them. Ha. And to be honest, your reaction really pissed me off..."

Alric listened intently, not interrupting, waiting for Silas to say everything he wanted. Seeing that there was no sign of offense from Alric, Silas continued.

"Besides, you kept talking down to me, acting like I approached you with the intent to seduce you, when in reality, I was just experiencing my pheromones for the first time and had no idea how to control them. But thanks to the suppressant you gave me, I was able to manage it, and nothing happened. I got home safely."

"...I'm sorry."

There was nothing else Alric could say except an apology. Silas gave a small smile. Yeah, he should apologize too—for assuming the worst about Alric. He had still been thinking that the grown-up Alric was the same as the one he had known back in school. But people grow and change; they don't remain stagnant. Humans are highly adaptable creatures—though, sure, many of them end up worse than before. But it seemed that even though Alric's father despised omegas, and Alric himself had once had his own reasons to hate them, what mattered was that he wasn't that kind of person anymore.

"Really, … You were so rude to me."

"…I'm sorry."

As if addicted to hearing those words, Silas kept bringing it up.

"I just wanted to give you a birthday present—a carrot cake that wasn't too sweet because I knew you didn't like sweets."

"…I'm sorry."

"…I also actually wanted to give you a confession letter that time, but I withdrew that plan."

"…I'm sor—wait, what?"

Alric looked surprised—he hadn't known about that. Silas was just as shocked, considering he thought it had been obvious back then that he had a crush on the arrogant man. If he looked at the situation objectively, he had called Alric to the back garden near the rose bushes, where it was just the two of them, and given him a cake—wasn't that clearly the act of someone trying to confess?

"It was... Ugh." Silas' face burned as a flush spread across his cheeks. "Were you really that dense? You were popular back then—practically everyone, guys and girls alike, had a crush on you. So, of course, I... liked you too. But that was in the past. I don't feel that way anymore. I was just a reckless teenager, and those kinds of feelings are normal when you're going through puberty. Okay, you can relax now. I don't have feelings for you anymore."

"You liked me… back in school? Why am I only hearing about this now? You never told me."

"Maybe because we barely spoke. And you were impossible to approach back then—intimidating, even. Not to mention, you hated omegas."

"...."

Alric went silent. Silas mentally kicked himself. Once he got comfortable speaking, it became hard to filter his words. Back in etiquette class, he had been scolded countless times for his tone and way of speaking—and if his instructor were here now, his hands would probably be struck with a wooden stick in reprimand.

"...Yeah, you're right. We never really talked properly. That was my fault."

Silas tilted his head slightly. Alric's eyes held a tinge of melancholy as he spoke again.

"Communication is the key to resolving problems, but sometimes, there are things that words alone can't fix, Silas…"

"Yeah?"

"Would you be my friend? At the very least, I don't want you to feel like a prisoner here. I want you to tell me what you like and what you want. You can be honest with me. Like friends, we can talk informally. You should call me by my name. But… I won't force you."

"..."

He had already said this multiple times.

But honestly, Silas still couldn't believe that the man sitting in front of him was Alric von Wittenheim. Saying this wasn't something he had to force himself to believe—it just didn't seem real.

He vividly remembered how this man acted. His lips rarely moved, unless it was absolutely necessary. He had no friends, rather, he always had followers who trailed after him, though they rarely interacted, and it was always one-sided.

Alric also hated being touched— he had once nearly had someone quarantined just for accidentally touching his arm—this man was terrifying. That didn't change when he entered senior high and later went to college. Silas might claim that he no longer liked Alric—perhaps that was the story he wanted to believe—but sometimes, he found himself listening in on conversations about Alric when he went to the opera, or when he accompanied his father to important events full of nobility.

'You're in the same tennis club as Prince Alric, aren't you?'

It wasn't common for noble peers to use formal titles in such informal settings, and Silas, holding a glass of champagne, though he longed to take a sip, deliberately pretended to savor it as he listened to their conversation.

'Ah, he's still impossible to get close to.'

'He's handsome, but absolutely intimidating. I was barely a few feet away when I tried to greet him, and he gave me that cold look—told me flat out to 'stay away.''

'Really? But isn't there something about a man like that? The kind of aloof attitude just makes him... fascinating. Makes you want to break through that cold exterior.'

'Good lord, I value my life, thank you very much. But, I'll admit, he is rather striking...'

Silas nodded silently. The man was still the same.

Still arrogant and callous toward others—what on earth is wrong with the man? Were you brought up with some kind of misanthropic philosophy, or do you truly believe that the pure royal blue blood running through your veins gives you the right to look down on everyone else?

And yet, here he was, the same man— Alric, sitting across him with a soft expression, looking at him as though trying not to blink. The arrogant one, the one who could lash out at someone just for touching him, the one who avoided any sort of friendship—now he was asking to be friends? Silas was certain his ears weren't deceiving him, but he still couldn't shake the disbelief, as if he were caught in a dream.

But, well, people change. And it wouldn't be right for Silas to stay fixated on the image of Alric, the handsome, aloof nobleman from his teenage past.