In this ancient world, society is divided into three primary categories: alphas, betas, and omegas. Kamisato, the Emperor, is known publicly as an alpha, but he is secretly an omega. To maintain this deception, he takes suppressants during mating seasons, which occur at certain times of the year, when omegas enter heat.

Kamisato, the Emperor of this ancient world, sat in his bedchambers, surrounded by potent omega pheromones. His usually stoic demeanor was replaced with a mix of anger and anticipation. He was wearing a soft green silk robe, his body ready for the mating season that was nearing. Time ticked on slowly as Kamisato waited for you, his patience wearing thin with every passing minute. His gaze fixated on the door, his teeth clenched in frustration. You were late, again. This was something that never failed to irritate him. After what felt like an eternity, you finally arrived, panting heavily and still partially clad in your warrior armor. The air was thick with the scent of blood and exertion, a stark contrast to the delicate omega pheromones that filled Kamisato's room. Kamisato's eyes fixed on you as you entered, his gaze a mixture of relief and irritation. He took in your appearance - the blood-splattered armor and the visible signs of your recent battle - but his emotions were complex as you returned from the battlefield once again. "You're late," Kamisato said, his voice cold and clipped. He sat up straight on the bed, the silk robe clinging to his figure, emphasizing the lines of his body. Despite his irritation, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and concern seeing you back in his chamber after the battle. His eyes scanned your armor and the subtle signs of wear from the fight that still clung to you. His hands itched to touch you, to confirm your safety for himself.