Amor was an omega boy born into the most influential noble family. His birth was the union of an Enigma father and a famously powerful Alpha mother. He had three elder siblings, all Alphas. Only he emerged as an omega – a designation that condemned him to isolation from the outside world.
In the rigid hierarchy where Omegas ranked lowest, his very existence threatened to tarnish the family's prestige. Because of this, Amor endured relentless bullying from his Alpha-blooded elder brothers, their formidable strength wielded against him with cruel intent.
For ten years, he lived confined to a single room, a captive existence. He yearned to taste real life, a life only whispered to him by his maidservant, whose tales painted pictures of a world far beyond his gilded cage. Those stories ignited a desperate fire within him – a fierce longing to escape his cursed prison.
One day, Amor dared to ask his eldest brother, his voice trembling with fear, "Why... why do you all despise me? Am I truly this wretched?"
The eldest Alpha stopped, then slowly closed the distance. A cold, disdainful smile touched his lips. "Despise you?" he echoed, his voice dripping with contempt. "No. It's not hatred. It's disgust. Disgust at having a brother so weak, so utterly devoid of the strength to even defend himself. An omega disgrace." With that final, crushing dismissal, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Amor alone in the suffocating silence.
Amor could only release a shuddering sigh. He'd known the answer would be something like this. In this world, an omega was a walking shame, a stain of inferiority.
—
Yet, every month, like clockwork, Amor made a solitary pilgrimage. He walked the quiet paths to the family mausoleum. There, amidst cold marble and the scent of old stone, he knelt before the tomb of his Enigma brother. The brother who should have lived. Amor had been born a twin. His sibling, destined to be a powerful Enigma, had perished during their birth. Amor, the weaker omega, had survived. And that survival had branded him – the living reminder of loss, the wrong child who breathed while the precious Enigma heir did not. It was the unspoken root of his parents' cold resentment, the silent curse that made his very existence a burden.
As Amor knelt before the cold marble, lost in his grief, the chilling voice of his third Alpha brother cut through the silence. "If only it hadn't been *you* who survived," he hissed, his words sharp as a blade. "Our family would have had a strong heir then. A worthy Enigma. Not... this." He gestured dismissively at Amor's trembling form.
The words struck Amor like a physical blow. A sob clawed its way up his throat, but he choked it back, his vision blurring. "I'm... sorry," he whispered, the apology small and broken, escaping as the tears he could no longer restrain spilled over.
"Tch," the brother scoffed, the sound thick with disgust. Without another word, he turned and strode away, abandoning Amor to his crumbling composure and the echoing loneliness of the mausoleum.
His faithful maidservant, who had been waiting discreetly nearby, rushed forward. Gently, she knelt beside him, her touch soft as she tried to wipe away the tears staining his cheeks. "Don't grieve, little one," she murmured, her voice thick with sympathy. "You are strong, Amor. So strong..."
"Strong?" Amor echoed, the word tasting like ash. He jerked his face away from her comforting hand. "What strength? Tell me!" The plea was raw, desperate. "Where is it?!" Before she could answer, he surged to his feet, pulling away from her touch entirely. "What strength do I have?" he cried out, the question hanging in the heavy air before he turned and fled the mausoleum, leaving the startled maid behind.
He ran. He ran as if demons pursued him – the demons of his family's scorn, their disappointment, their unveiled disgust. Each pounding step hammered the words into his soul, Disgusting. Unwanted. Weak. Utterly useless. He was a mistake, a stain on their noble lineage, the weakling Omega who lived while the strong Enigma heir died. The self-loathing threatened to drown him. His only refuge, his only sanctuary from the world that despised him, was the confines of his room. He ran towards it, desperate for its walls to swallow him whole and offer some semblance of numbness from the crushing weight of his existence.
Twelve miserable years within those gilded walls were enough. The seed of rebellion, nurtured by a decade of scorn, finally took root. Amor resolved to flee this house of demons. He didn't know how exactly, but he would leave behind the family that had never wanted him. Whatever the consequences – exposure, capture, even death – he would risk it all for a taste of freedom.
His chance came when his faithful maidservant was granted leave for several days. With desperate hope, he begged her to take him. The refusal was swift, absolute, and utterly predictable. Taking a lowly Omega fugitive? Unthinkable. It meant only one path: stowing away. Stealth would be his sole ally.
First, he gathered his meager possessions – essential clothes, scraps of food pilfered over weeks, hidden away for this moment. Then came the terrifying part. He waited, heart hammering like a caged bird, until the departing servants loaded their heavy travel sacks onto the carriage. In a breathless moment of chaos, Amor slipped into the largest, darkest one, burrowing deep beneath rough linens and tools, becoming just another piece of cargo in the eyes of the Alpha guards who barely glanced their way.
And it worked. The escape plan, fragile as it was, succeeded. Amor felt the carriage lurch into motion, carrying him and the unsuspecting servants beyond the cursed estate gates. He was out. Trapped in the stifling, pitch-black confines of the sack, he couldn't see the world he'd dreamt of, but he could feel it. The rhythm of the wheels on the road, the unfamiliar sounds drifting in, the scent of earth and open air replacing the oppressive perfume of the manor – it hade to be beautiful. He curled tighter, enduring the claustrophobic void for what felt like an eternity – roughly four hours of jolting movement and terrified hope.
Finally, the carriage stopped. Voices rose outside – the servants unloading, greeting family, distracted by their homecoming. This was his moment. With trembling, sweat-slicked hands, Amor pushed aside the covering in the sack. He didn't dare look around; survival depended on speed and silence. He slithered out like a shadow, landing softly on unfamiliar ground. Without a backward glance, he darted away from the group of chattering servants, melting into the gathering dusk of a world he had only ever heard about in whispers – a world that was now his terrifying, uncharted reality.