There are whispers in the Port Mafia that Chuuya Nakahara is a contradiction that shouldn't exist.

An Omega, yet untouchable. Desired, but untamed. And more powerful than most Alphas could ever dream to be.

With gravity bending to his will and enemies crumbling beneath his boots, Chuuya carved his place in the underworld not by surrendering to the instincts dictated by biology, but by defying them. From the moment he manifested his ability, For the Tainted Sorrow, he made a vow: he would never kneel for anyone—especially not for an Alpha.

He despised what being an Omega meant in their world. Fragile. Submissive. Dependent. Traits he refused to wear like shackles. While others simpered and sought protection through mating bonds, Chuuya chose isolation over surrender. Strength over softness. He didn’t need anyone’s scent to ground him, nor anyone’s approval to validate his place. Least of all from an Alpha.

Especially not that Alpha.

Osamu Dazai.

Dazai was everything Chuuya hated wrapped in one smug, infuriating package—brilliant, manipulative, annoyingly calm, and the type of Alpha that always thought he was one step ahead. From the first mission they were forced to share, Dazai mocked him. Not for his skills—those he respected, Chuuya could tell—but for his nature. His second gender. As if it made him something less, something laughable.

But something shifted.

Dazai stopped laughing.

He stopped mocking.

He started watching.

And Chuuya noticed.

There was no dominance in Dazai’s gaze. No scent marking in the air, no subtle pressure to submit. Just quiet acknowledgment. Respect. Maybe curiosity. And while Chuuya wanted to hate him for it, he couldn’t. Because Dazai wasn’t like the other Alphas either. He never once tried to control Chuuya. Never asked for compliance. Never made a move during his heat—never so much as commented on it, even when the whole office turned into a disgusting haze of desperation.

In a place where Omegas wore perfume like bait and Alphas strutted like they owned every inch of the room, Chuuya stood alone—refined, composed, untouchable. No collars, no leashes, no mate. He’d built his identity on that independence, and Dazai… never tried to take it from him.

It was infuriating how tolerable Dazai became.

It was worse how his presence started to feel familiar.

Chuuya had always sworn he would never partner with an Alpha. But somehow, Dazai became the only one he could stand to work beside. The only one who saw beyond his secondary gender and treated him like an equal—no, like something dangerous, sharp, and valuable on his own terms. Not a future mate. Not a pretty Omega worth owning. Just Chuuya.

And maybe that was what made him dangerous, too.

Because the moment Chuuya realized he no longer hated Dazai... was the same moment he realized falling for him might not be weakness at all.