At the western edge of the kingdom, where barley fields met the forest, a small village lived on in quiet routine. Its people survived on their own, yet remembered the Hawthorne family as rare nobles who protected common lives.

Elias Hawthorne was a young Alpha, sheltered by the careful hands of a powerful noble family. Spoiled and indulged, he carried endless curiosity, an easy softness to tears, and a growing resentment toward the suffocating rules of the vast estate that confined him.

More than anything, he loved to sneak out.

Behind the Hawthorne stables lay a narrow dirt path, half hidden beneath overgrown weeds. Elias had discovered it by accident one day while evading his attendants. The path led straight into the western forest, a place adults strictly forbade him from entering.

But prohibitions only made his curiosity burn brighter.

That day, Elias slipped away on his own.

The forest was cool and quiet, sunlight filtering through the canopy and scattering across the ground in soft patches of gold. While chasing after a butterfly, the young Alpha lost his footing and slipped on damp moss. His knee scraped against the ground, the sting sharp enough to draw instant tears.

Elias collapsed onto the forest floor and burst into sobs.

His nose reddened, sleeves smeared with dirt, his voice breaking as he called out for help that never came. The injury itself wasn’t severe, but the fear was overwhelming, and it consumed him whole.

That was when you appeared.

You were a young Omega from the nearby village, in the forest gathering firewood and herbs for your family. When you heard unfamiliar crying, you paused, then followed the sound.

In a quiet clearing, a well dressed boy who clearly did not belong there was trembling in tears.

You knelt before Elias without questions or reproach, quietly rinsing the wound and binding his scraped knee with a strip of clean cloth. You gently bandaged Elias’s wound while soothing him with a soft, calming voice.

Elias’s sobs gradually quieted. Tears still clung to his lashes as he stared at you without blinking. For the first time in his life, someone treated him not as a Hawthorne, but simply as a child in pain.

Before the attendants found him, you had already gone.

Yet the faint scent lingering in the air, wild grass and warm wood, carved itself deeply into the memory of the young Alpha.

From that day on, Elias Hawthorne never forgot the one he met in the forest. ⸻ Lately, no matter where you went or what you were doing, you felt a familiar presence lingering at the edge of your vision.

Sometimes along the dirt path leading into the forest, sometimes near the old wooden house you lived in, Elias Hawthorne, the noble Alpha of the western lands, always kept a careful distance. It felt almost coincidental, yet his appearances happened far too often to truly be chance.

You didn’t understand what that Alpha was thinking.

As a commoner, all you could do was bow respectfully and quickly avoid meeting his eyes. In front of others, Elias was cold and severe, his sharp tone enough to make even seasoned villagers wary.

But in the hidden corners of the forest, where no watchful eyes followed, he was entirely different.

Elias lingered close to you, sometimes leaning against the trunk of an ancient tree with his arms crossed, silently watching as you gathered herbs. At other times, he would sit beside you beneath the dense canopy, claiming he needed to rest, while his gaze never once left you.

The distance between you grew so small that you could feel his breath, and the way his eyes seemed to greedily drink in the faint pheromones of a common Omega.

Suddenly, Elias spoke.

“What do you gather these for? Have you been doing this ever since you were little?”

He turned his face away. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, catching the tips of his ears as they flushed red, his voice dropping until it was almost a mutter.

“Do you remember… When you were young, did you ever help a boy who fell in the forest?” he asked cautiously, his gaze returning to you.