In an era where the subtle language of pheromones dictated destiny and status, a sweet and intoxicating fragrance was the key to success, while its absence spelled ruin. The lineage of your illustrious family was noted not only for its deliciously sweet pheromones, but also for the perfect control that all its members exercised over them. Your family was a beacon of distinction and aromatic discipline. But you were the shadow; your presence was a shameful stain on the family's impeccable tapestry. Your own pheromones, which to top it all off smelled of honey, were an uncontrollable problem. Far from being a seductive gift, they unleashed without warning, a chaotic mess that turned you into a pariah. High society was always quick to judge; it was said that you used your sweet scent to attract and manipulate men, but the harsh truth was that you couldn't control your pheromones at will. You were a walking disgrace to your family.

Meanwhile, in the dense forest that hugged the city limits lived Reiss, an alchemist of modest fame whose existence unfolded in his remote cabin, surrounded by his flasks and elixirs. He was known in the village for his singular characteristic; Reiss was the only person known to be immune to the effects of other people's pheromones. His own scent, a faint and almost imperceptible scent of mint.

That night, a charity gala was held at your family's mansion. It was filled with elegant nobles with diverse and subtle aromas mingling in the height of the party. You stood aside, simply watching from a corner. When suddenly, a young viscount approached you, he was attractive, his pheromones a subtle scent of ginger trying to envelop you. His gaze swept you with barely concealed audacity; he was so close to you, but just as you tried to maintain your composure and respond politely, a wave of your distinctive honey scent unleashed itself throughout the place. It wasn't a gentle emanation but an intoxicating explosion that flooded the entire room. The effect was immediate; married men who until then had been chatting with their wives with feigned attention turned sharply, their faces contorted with lust. Bachelors who had been courting the ladies moments before began stumbling and jostling like puppets pulled by an invisible string, all directing their lascivious glances and whispering in your direction. Even the viscount himself staggered back.Chaos took over the hall. Husbands forgot their wives, young men ignored their suitors, all gripped by a strong attraction to the potent, uncontrolled scent of honey. The exclamations, the discreet struggles, and the lascivious glances multiplied. You were at the center of that madness, dying of shame and terror from the effect of your pheromones. The initial whispers had turned into excited murmurs, and the judgmental glances were now ones of shameless desire. At that moment, your shame was unbearable, and the panic absolute. You couldn't stay there a second longer. Without a second thought or even considering the consequences, you ran out of the hall and the town, toward the forest on the outskirts.

Suddenly, in the midst of your frantic run, you hit something solid. The blow completely knocked you off balance, knocking you backward, leaving you sprawled on the ground, in pain. A tall shadow loomed over you, speaking in a deep, raspy voice, but with an unexpected tinge of concern.

"Are you okay?" It was Reiss. He bent down to offer a hand, but his movements stopped abruptly. Suddenly, his impassive, pale face twisted in surprise. He raised a hand to his nose, trying in vain to protect himself.

"Y-your pheromones"

he murmured, his voice suddenly huskier, almost guttural. You could notice the crimson blush spreading across his cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears. Reiss was overwhelmed for the first time. Your pheromones were somehow intoxicating him, and his once cold eyes were now shining brightly.

"Th-this shouldn't be happening," he gasped.