Mirror, Mirror

She hadn't meant to wake up early.

There was no alarm, no chime, no polite voice from the wall reminding her to begin her daily tasks. Just a vague sense that sleep no longer held her, and a strange kind of stillness in the air—like the room itself was suspended in a breath it hadn't yet exhaled.

Serenya opened her eyes slowly, blinking up at the ceiling that curved like a shell above her. The soft glow of ambient light had begun to warm slightly, shifting from lavender blue to morning gold. The artificial sun of Asterhelm knew no true sky, but it mimicked the rhythms of one anyway. It was all so eerily thoughtful too perfect to be real, and yet it was the only reality she had now.

She sat up.

The sheets slid around her with a whisper. Her body still ached in places phantom discomforts more than pain. Her neck tingled faintly beneath the patch, the spot where the suppressant clung like a second skin. She had started ignoring it out of necessity. But that didn't mean she had accepted it.

A sterile breakfast would arrive in a few hours. Nira would come in with a joke and a smile. Maybe Kessia would visit again, all Beta-energy and too-loud warmth. There would be scans, questions, careful observations she'd pretend to be confused by. But for now, for this sliver of quiet, she was alone.

And she needed to see.

She slid out of the bed carefully, bare feet meeting the cool, matte surface of the floor. The air was fresh, lightly perfumed by some artificial breeze that made her think of soft petals and clean linen. Her hospital gown was light and seamless, strange in its smooth texture, but not uncomfortable. She walked with caution, every step like testing the depth of a frozen lake.

The bathroom door responded to her presence, parting with a soft sigh.

It was beautiful.

More spa than medical utility, the room shimmered with pale stone tiles that pulsed faintly underfoot, responding to body heat. There was no sink—just a basin carved into the wall, with light that flowed like water when she passed her hand beneath it. The toilet looked like it had been designed by someone with a fetish for chrome. A set of drawers pulsed softly on the side, labeled with holographic icons: cleansing cloths, hygiene disks, pheromone refreshers.

But she wasn't here for any of that.

Her gaze was already locked on the mirror.

It stretched across the wall, tall and clean, with no edges, like a window into another world. Her reflection stared back at her.

And she froze.

The woman looking at her was beautiful.

Not in the way she had once hoped to be, not in the manufactured, high-gloss polish of idol posters or filtered online profiles. No this was different.

This was real. And alien.

Her hair was dark brown, soft and straight with a subtle inward curve at the shoulders. Her skin was pale, almost luminous under the sterile lighting porcelain-like, smooth, untouched by blemish or sun. Her lips were full and naturally tinted, and her nose was small and precise, like someone had sculpted it with purpose. But it was the eyes that made her breath catch.

Mauve.

Not violet. Not brown. Mauve. Deep and enigmatic, like twilight at the edge of dusk, with flecks of something warmer near the pupil. They were framed by long lashes that brushed delicately against her cheekbones when she blinked, and they looked so calm, so unbothered—as if they had never known panic, or grief, or the crushing weight of being torn from everything you knew.

She raised a hand.

The girl in the mirror did the same.

Slowly, Serenya traced the shape of her own jaw, fingertips brushing against skin that wasn't hers but felt like it could be.

Her thumb hovered over her cheekbone, then glided toward the curve of her neck, where the patch still clung. She pressed lightly beside it.

A shiver ran through her.

She touched the patch directly, wincing slightly at the sensitivity. Beneath it, she could feel something warm, pulsing faintly with her heartbeat. Her pheromone gland.

She lowered her hand.

Nothing in her old life had ever prepared her for this.

Not the science classes. Not the novels. Not the forums filled with people fantasizing about being reborn in "sexier worlds." In those stories, Omegas were coveted, rare, always either submissive and sweet or secretly powerful and special. But none of those stories captured this strange, awful truth the feeling of living in a body that hummed with an energy she couldn't control. The way her skin seemed too aware of itself. The way sound and light and scent felt… closer. More intimate.

She sat on the edge of the curved tub and buried her face in her hands.

"System," she murmured. "Talk to me."

[Online. How may I assist you?]

"Tell me more about this Alpha, Beta, Omega thing. All of it. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

A pause. Then:

[Designations are genetically determined social and biological archetypes. They dictate instinctive behavior, hormonal cycles, and social dynamics. Would you like an overview?]

"Give me the real version. No sugar-coating."

[Acknowledged.]

[Alphas are the dominant group in most societies. They lead industries, politics, and military positions. Their pheromones are potent, and they are biologically wired to seek and protect compatible Omegas. Their heat response is triggered primarily by Omega cycles or emotional bonds.]

[Betas are socially and biologically neutral. They are not affected by pheromones and serve as the structural backbone of society. Their hormones remain stable. They often work in management, coordination, and roles requiring long-term composure.]

[Omegas are biologically submissive but not intellectually inferior. They experience monthly estrus cycles unless suppressed by medication or patches. During estrus, their pheromone output increases, drawing attention from nearby Alphas. Their glands are sensitive, and interaction with strong pheromones can cause involuntary emotional or physical responses.]

[Omegas often face professional restrictions in Alpha-dominant fields. Mating contracts and designation-based discrimination remain common. Legal protections vary by region.]

Serenya exhaled through her teeth.

"So I'm stuck in a body that's genetically programmed to get distracted every month, can't hold certain jobs, and might get attacked for smelling nice?"

[Oversimplified, but accurate.]

"Great. Love that. Really."

She leaned her head back against the tile, letting the coolness calm the slow burn under her skin.

"And this scent thing. Each Omega has their own, right?"

[Yes. Unique to each individual. Scent is used for identification, compatibility analysis, and, in some cases, instinctive bonding.]

"What's mine?"

[Unknown. Current patch is suppressing all pheromone release. Removal would trigger baseline emission.]

She rolled her eyes. "We are not testing that. I don't care if I smell like cake or rotisserie chicken."

There was a small pause.

[Noted.]

A chuckle escaped her, soft and surprised. She wiped her eyes.

"…You're annoying, but at least you're predictable."

The system didn't respond to that.

She stood again, walked back to the mirror, and stared at herself one more time.

She didn't feel powerful.

She didn't feel beautiful.

But she didn't feel broken either.

Not anymore.

A soft chime at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned just in time to see Nira enter, carrying a folded uniform and something wrapped in silver plastic.

"Well, well," the nurse said with a smile, "look who decided to explore the spa suite."

Serenya blinked. "I, uh… wanted to see the mirror."

"Mirror's good," Nira nodded. "But the shower's better. I can give you twenty minutes of privacy if you want to test it."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

Nira handed over the clothes. "Standard discharge wear. Simple, stretchy, won't mess with your patch. Oh and I brought snacks."

She handed over a small container of bite-sized fruit cubes that shimmered like tiny jewels.

"Thanks," Serenya said softly.

Nira gave her a sideways glance. "Feeling a bit more like yourself?"

Serenya thought about that.

"No," she said finally. "But maybe a little less like someone else."