No Stars in This Sky

The question hovered in the air, burning and electric, as the digital confetti slowly faded around her.

[Serenya Vale… would you like to become a star, just like your precious Asher Nyx?]

For a long, suspended moment, she couldn't move.

Then the weight of it hit her.

Become a star?

Like it was that simple?

Like it wasn't the most absurd, horrifying, insensitive question anyone—or anything—could ask at that moment?

Her breath hitched, sharp and unnatural. "What… what kind of sick joke is this?"

She stood, legs trembling beneath her, and backed away from the hovering interface. As if putting distance between herself and the system would somehow help. As if running from the truth could undo it.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, the chill of reality biting through her borrowed body.

"I died," she whispered, eyes darting around the sterile, glowing room as if trying to find some crack in the illusion. "I actually died."

Images slammed through her mind. The concert. Kira's screaming laughter. Mina's perfume-sweet hug. The feel of her ticket in her hand, her heart racing with joy. And then blackness , then this.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and this time, she didn't blink them away. "My friends," she croaked, "my family what are they thinking right now? Do they think I'm in a coma? That I'm gone forever? Are they are they looking for me? Are they crying right now? God, what about my sister—"

Her breath became uneven. Shaky. Too fast.

The sob broke free before she could stop it.

And then another.

She dropped to the floor, hands shaking, fingers digging into the alien material beneath her. Her whole body trembled. Her lungs felt too small. Her chest burned like she was drowning in air that refused to give her life.

"This isn't fair," she gasped. "This isn't how it's supposed to be."

She sobbed harder, voice breaking, unable to keep herself together. "In anime, the isekai girl gets hit by a truck, wakes up in a world full of magic and hot princes, and she's just fine with it! She just rolls with it like it's some vacation. But this this is wrong! I didn't ask for this!"

Her vision blurred, the room spinning around her like a carousel of light and guilt and grief. She pressed her forehead to the cool floor.

"I don't want this," she whispered.

[Serenya Vale, you are experiencing a panic response. Initiating soothing sequence.]

"No," she snapped, voice raw. "Shut up. Just shut the hell up!"

[Playing ambient forest sounds. Administering breathing rhythm visualization.]

"I said shut up!"

The room dimmed, the hovering screen projecting a soft forest glow and a slow, pulsing circle meant to mimic calm breath.

But it didn't help.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

After several long minutes, her body finally began to slow. Her sobs became hiccups. Her lungs, though strained, remembered how to breathe. Her arms hung limp at her sides as she stared at the glowing white floor.

And yet the truth didn't change.

She was still here.

Still in someone else's body.

Still not Serenya Vale.

Just a memory pretending to be alive.

"Fine," she rasped eventually, voice hollow. "You want me to listen? Then talk. Where the hell am I?"

A pause. Then the system responded, voice now soft and neutral.

[You are currently in the city of Asterhelm, capital of the Sireya Dominion, located on the continent of Ovrinel.]

She blinked.

None of those names meant anything to her.

[This world is called Kaerith. It is composed of four major continents: Ovrinel, Kaeruna, Vesthar, and Ilyndros. Each region is ruled independently, though all subscribe to the social hierarchy based on designations: Alpha, Beta, and Omega.]

Her breath caught again.

She'd seen enough fiction too much fiction to know where this was going.

"…Designations?"

[Correct. Upon reaching maturity, every citizen undergoes a physical and hormonal awakening known as their designation onset. There are three primary classifications:]

[Alpha – dominant in both body and presence, often leaders and protectors. Enhanced strength, high drive, and strong pheromone output.]

[Beta – neutral, balanced, and the majority population. Betas are versatile and unaffected by pheromonal cycles.]

[Omega – rare, submissive in instinct but not intellect. Sensitive to pheromones, capable of entering estrus cycles, and possess mating glands located at the base of the neck.]

Her hand immediately went to her nape.

She found the patch there thin, barely noticeable, but undeniably real. It stuck to her skin like second nature.

She swallowed hard.

"And I…?"

[You are an Omega, currently fitted with a Class B pheromone suppression patch. Your glands have not been permanently altered. Odor masking is active.]

She flinched.

"But that's not me," she protested, weakly. "I'm not— I was never—"

[You have reincarnated into the body of a twenty-two-year-old Omega woman named Liora Asvelle.]

"Liora?" she whispered.

[Liora Asvelle was a lower-tier Omega born in the outer sectors of Asterhelm. Despite socioeconomic challenges and lack of familial support, she pursued a dream of stardom. She signed with the minor agency Rhose Entertainment six months ago and auditioned for various vocal performance roles.]

Serenya sat up slowly, as if afraid the world might collapse again if she moved too quickly.

"…What happened to her?"

[On the evening of her first live showcase, Liora was struck by a vehicle while crossing the mid-sector intersection. She died upon impact. The body was sustained in emergency stasis for twelve minutes before cellular shutdown.]

And somehow, that body had become hers.

She wasn't Serenya Vale anymore. Not completely.

But she wasn't Liora Asvelle, either.

She was… both.

Or maybe neither.

Her hands were trembling again.

"Why me?" she whispered. "Why this body?"

[Selection parameters unknown. The Star System was triggered upon your death, synchronized with a compatible host within the appropriate window.]

Appropriate window.

God.

She buried her face in her hands.

She didn't know whether to laugh, scream, or pass out.

After a long silence, she asked, quieter now, "This… patch. What does it do exactly?"

[It suppresses the production and diffusion of pheromones from your mating glands. Each Omega's natural scent is genetically unique and subconsciously readable by compatible Alphas. Without suppression, your scent may trigger involuntary attraction or biological reactions during an estrus period.]

Serenya stared at the wall.

Her voice was flat when she said, "I have an estrus period."

[Every twenty-nine to thirty-one days. It lasts approximately three to four days. Symptoms include increased sensitivity, irritability, elevated body temperature, and—]

"Stop," she said quickly, raising a hand. "Just… stop. I don't need more details. Not right now."

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

So this was it.

She wasn't Serenya Vale, the music fan from Chicago, anymore.

She was Liora Asvelle. A dead Omega girl. A forgotten nobody in a world that functioned on biology and instinct and rules she had never agreed to.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the patch again.

The system had said her scent was unique. She didn't know what it smelled like. She didn't want to know.

Her entire existence had been rewritten without her permission.

And somehow, in all of that, the only emotion she could hold onto was despair.

"…My life is ruined," she whispered.

The system didn't respond.