She doesn’t want to pretend to be an Omega either! - Chapter 1

“What kind of dog-blood plot is this?!” Wen Mo cursed, furiously tossing her phone onto the desk. “I’m done! Not reading another word!”

“What’s up with you now?” Her roommate Liu Wenwen, eyes glued to her phone game, didn’t even lift her head as she asked casually.

“I was reading a novel,” Wen Mo said, still sulking. She turned immediately to Wenwen, eager to vent. “And guess what—there’s a character in it with the exact same name as me.”

“What novel?” Wenwen’s thumbs moved at lightning speed across the screen, leading her team through a battle while somehow still sparing brainpower to chat.

Wen Mo didn’t mind her roommate’s divided attention. She even dragged her chair a little closer.

“The Adorable Omega Is Everyone’s Darling,” Wen Mo said, reporting the title.

Wenwen, who rarely read novels, blinked in confusion. When a team fight finally ended, she glanced up at Wen Mo with a baffled look. “…What the heck kind of title is that? You’re everyone’s darling now?”

“If I really were a darling, would I be this mad??!” Wen Mo snapped.

Fair point. If you were the beloved darling of the whole world, you wouldn’t be complaining.

Wenwen chuckled, lowered her head back to her game, and asked, “So what’s your role in it? And, uh, what’s an ‘Omega’? A watch? A letter?”

“It’s a gender,” Wen Mo said.

Wenwen’s fingers nearly slipped right off the screen. “…Novels are this wild nowadays?”

“That’s not the point!” Wen Mo waved her hand impatiently. “Just listen to me rant, okay?”

Wenwen pressed her lips together, making a “fine, I’m listening” gesture.

So Wen Mo launched into a long tirade.

By the time she finally wound down, Wenwen had just watched her team’s crystal get destroyed. The words “DEFEAT” flashed across her screen. She hadn’t even had time to sigh when Wen Mo let out a dramatic groan of her own, summing up her rant with a final statement:

“Tell me that isn’t tragic. Tell me that isn’t the most messed-up thing ever!”

“It’s tragic! Super messed up!” Wenwen said emphatically, nodding along.

Wen Mo eyed her friend’s screen, then Wenwen’s overly earnest expression, and burst out laughing. “Did you even understand what I was saying?”

“More or less.” Wenwen raised her head, frowning as she summarized: “Basically, this character who shares your name is some useless second-generation rich kid. She tries to mess with the delicate, angelic Omega heroine, but gets caught in the act by one of the heroine’s admirers—a super rich and powerful male side character. He scares her limp on the spot, then beats her up, leaves her crippled, destroys her family, gets her kicked out with no support, and all her past enemies come after her. In the end, she even gets hit by a car and dies miserably in the street.”

Wen Mo gave her a thumbs-up. “Wenwen, you’re amazing. Playing a game and still summarizing that perfectly? Respect.”

Wenwen smirked modestly at the praise. “But I do have a question.”

“What question?”

“Are you… a guy?” Wenwen asked.

“…Excuse me?” Wen Mo flipped her long hair dramatically, fluttered her lashes, and said in a sugary falsetto: “Of course I’m a girly-girl~”

Wenwen just stared silently.

Wen Mo chuckled, knowing full well Wenwen had meant the novel’s Wen Mo, not her. She’d just wanted to mess around.

“She’s a girl too. More precisely, she’s a female Alpha,” Wen Mo admitted honestly.

“Female Alpha?” Wenwen’s brow furrowed. “So that’s the same kind of thing as this Omega?”

“Mm… how should I explain?” Wen Mo tapped her chin, then began: “It’s a special trope in fanfiction. Gender is divided into six categories—besides male and female, there are Alpha, Beta, and Omega secondary genders, distinguished by pheromones. If you’re curious, you can look it up online. Honestly, every ABO novel has its own private settings. It’s all fictional anyway.”

Wenwen nodded vaguely, only half-interested. But one thing did bother her.

“Okay, but when you said she got scared limp… what exactly did you mean? And also, a girl going after another girl? What does ‘defile’ even mean here? How?”

“My Wenwen, you go straight to the key points!” Wen Mo shot her a mischievous look. “It’s not girl on girl—it’s Alpha on Omega. In the ABO setup, secondary gender matters more than primary gender. Male and female Alphas and Betas all have the ‘tools’ to do the deed. Only female Omegas don’t.”

“…Huh?” Wenwen blinked, stunned.

“And this author is even wilder. Unlike the standard setting, in this novel female Alphas and Betas only manifest their ‘tools’ when they’re aroused.”

“…HUH?!” Wenwen was more shocked.

“Explosive, right?” Wen Mo exclaimed. “I swear the author must be insane. Female Alphas and Betas only reveal it during mating—otherwise it’s tucked away in a kind of specialized sheath, so they look like normal girls most of the time.

And thank goodness they only have one. If they had two? That’d be next-level crazy.”

“…Wow.” Wenwen was at a loss for words. She looked Wen Mo up and down. “So this is what you read?”

Wen Mo looked the picture of innocence—big doe eyes, long lashes, delicate features, and just a hint of baby fat in her cheeks that made her look soft and sweet.

When they first became roommates in college, Wenwen had really thought Wen Mo was that kind of soft, cute, harmless girl.

Two years later, Wenwen was completely immune to the illusion. She knew beneath the sweet exterior was a wild, chaotic, shameless soul.

She’d known Wen Mo liked reading novels of all kinds, but this “snake-brained” setting was new to her.

“Of course not. This is the first time I’ve seen a ‘retractable’ one,” Wen Mo explained cheerfully. “Honestly, I only picked up the book because of that setting. If the character with my name hadn’t been made into cannon fodder, I’d still be reading it seriously!”

“…” Wenwen was speechless. So the real reason she was mad was just because her name got trashed?

“Your taste is…” Wenwen paused under Wen Mo’s wide-eyed gaze and softened her wording. “…pretty unique.”

Wen Mo grinned. “It’s not that bad. I just have high tolerance.”

Wenwen laughed, shook her phone screen at her. “Done ranting? Then come duo with me. I’ve been losing all day.”

Something else that always surprised people—Wen Mo was a god-tier gamer, a jungler queen.

She’d once claimed, in her usual over-the-top dramatic tone, that a pro team had tried to recruit her back in the day, and she’d been tempted. But her parents had refused and forced her to focus on studying. The world’s next championship had been strangled in the cradle.

Her other roommates thought it was just bragging, but Wenwen wasn’t so sure—because Wen Mo really was that good.

Together, they queued up for several matches. Wen Mo carried hard, dragging Wenwen up from Star tier all the way to King. By the time they were done, it was almost lights-out in the dorm, so they quickly showered and got ready for bed.

After all that fun, Wen Mo had nearly forgotten about the annoying novel. But to her dismay, she ended up dreaming about it—
—dreaming vividly, in fact. It was as if she had become the cannon-fodder Alpha Wen Mo from “The Adorable Omega Is Everyone’s Darling”, reliving the twenty short, wasted years of her life in fast-forward.

And what a life—

Spoiled since childhood, arrogant and cruel as an adult, bullying anyone weaker. If not for her family background, she’d have been dealt with long ago.

And now she even dared set her sights on the heroine—trying to use force?!

Classic case: if you don’t court death, you won’t die.

Sure enough, her second-generation reign ended in disaster.

Wen Mo was in the middle of shaking her head at the tragedy when—SLAP! A burning pain exploded across her cheek.

“Holy shit!” she yelped.

The pain was real. The heroine must’ve used full force, because Wen Mo’s cheek was blazing hot. But more shocking than the pain was—how real it felt. Too real.

She blinked, her mind clearing in the haze of confusion. Wait.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a dream?

How could a dream feel like this? The sting on her cheek, the heady mix of water-lily and jasmine fragrance in the air, even the heat burning through her body—everything was too clear.

As a veteran webnovel reader, one thought immediately flashed through her mind—

She had transmigrated!

No way. Really?

What were the odds she’d end up inside a book just because of a name?!

Even with her high tolerance for weirdness, Wen Mo was stunned.

“Wen Mo! L-let me go!” A girl’s angry, yet sweet voice rang in her ears—calling her name.

Wen Mo looked up instinctively.

She found herself pressed right up against another girl, pinning her to the wall. One hand was braced beside the girl’s head, the other tugging at her shirt buttons.

The very picture of a scoundrel.

Because that’s what the original Wen Mo had been doing.

Frowning, Wen Mo realized with growing clarity—this was no dream.

Which meant… she had really transmigrated?! The montage of those twenty wasted years must’ve been the original cannon-fodder Alpha’s memories!

Could she be any more unlucky?

Not only did she fail to become the darling, she’d been dumped into the role of the doomed cannon-fodder.

While she was still mentally screaming, a thunderous BANG shook the room.

Her head whipped toward the sound.

The door had been kicked open so hard it was still trembling, as if one more push would send it toppling over. The sheer force behind that kick was terrifying.

And there in the doorway stood a man, lowering the long leg he’d just used to break in.

Wen Mo’s gaze traveled upward.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black tailored suit, crisp white shirt, lean frame hidden underneath—but clearly powerful.

With those long legs and striking proportions, he looked like he’d stepped off a runway. A standard-issue CEO aura clung to him, making the ordinary suit suddenly aristocratic.

Before she could study his face, he was already striding toward her. A single step covered half the room, and in a blink he was right in front of her.

He was tall—so tall she had to crane her neck to look up.

Handsome.

Devastatingly handsome.

Faced with this kind of visual impact, college-girl Wen Mo’s mind could only produce the most pitiful vocabulary: Wow. Hot.

She loved looking at handsome men, especially the unpolished, natural kind—none of that beauty-filtered, pose-for-the-camera nonsense.

This one was pure and raw. No makeup, no filter. A clean, ruthless face full of menace, as if he might throw a punch at any second. That kind of natural danger was exactly her type.

And her instincts were right.

In the next second, the devastatingly handsome man grabbed her collar with one hand, raised the other, and swung—
—straight at her face.

The gorgeous man was really going to hit her!