The Dark-Skinned Bodyguard Says He Won’t Submit - Chapter 1

During the globally televised press conference, the man who is blue-eyed and golden-haired maintained a mask of frozen indifference as he looked down at the protestors.

“I will reiterate,” Clemens Austin said, his voice cold. “The emergence of those with Uncontrolled Pheromones will not incite gender conflict. The world’s leading medical experts are developing treatment protocols. I expect measures to be implemented shortly.”

Below the podium, a mob of Alpha protestors screamed in a frenzy. “You’re the Safety Supervisor for that ‘Destroyer’! Of course you’re biased!”

“We protest the existence of anyone with Absolute Attraction! He is the one destroying the balance!”

“With a face like that, if he ever tore off that collar, everyone in the vicinity would fall into a heat!”

“Clemens! As the Secretary-General of the International ABO Union, you are abusing your power to shield him! He is a threat to social stability, a sociopath in the making!”

Clemens’s blue eyes turned glacial. He leaned in slightly, hand gripping the microphone as he surveyed the crowd with a detached gaze.

“I appreciate your consensus on my Omega’s beauty,” he said tonelessly. “But he is well-behaved. He poses no threat to society. Thank you.”

As he checked his watch, his exquisite rose-gold cufflinks caught the light, gleaming with a cold, expensive luster.

******

Ten years ago, on the eve of the bicentennial anniversary of the Neutralizer’s invention, an unprecedented magnetic storm threw the global ABO medical system into chaos. Under the storm’s influence, those undergoing their second differentiation developed “Pheromone Dysregulation”, a genetic anomaly that even the strongest Neutralizers could not suppress.

Thus, a dangerous class of “Uncontrolled” individuals emerged, each wielding unique abilities: Absolute Vision, Absolute Hearing, Absolute Healing, Absolute Mental Pheromones, or even—most dangerously—Absolute Universal Attraction.

For the Alphas who had spent their lives atop the social hierarchy, this was a devastating blow. It shattered the delicate social balance maintained by medical intervention. For this new class of people, the old Neutralizers were useless, and a cure remained a fantasy.

******

On the other side of the ocean, in China.

It was mid-afternoon.

The man the world called the “Uncontrollable and Depraved Destroyer” stood by a window. Dressed in an apricot silk shirt and black trousers that made his legs look impossibly long, his proportions were nothing short of perfection.

His gaze was fixed on a nearby construction site. Finding something of interest, he reached out with a slender, elegant hand to adjust a pair of binoculars.

The device obscured half of his face, leaving only a sharp, jade-like profile visible. His features were exquisite yet fierce, tempered by a soft jawline and an air of detached arrogance. His skin was a stark, blinding white—making the black “Butterfly” electronic collar around his slender throat look particularly jarring.

From behind, his careless, lounging posture was a study in aesthetic grace, yet the sight of such high-born elegance restrained by a control collar created a visceral, contradictory tension.

On the wall to the left, the television flickered with the news. Clemens’s cold, official voice echoed through the office:

“…he is well-behaved. He poses no threat to society. Thank you.”

Duan Yanchu ignored the broadcast. He adjusted the focus of the binoculars, zooming in further and further until the image sharpened on a specific figure at the construction site: a dark-skinned, powerfully built man.

He had been watching him for days.

The corners of Yanchu’s lips curled upward. As his eyes brightened with genuine amusement, his beauty became almost devastating. “Now, that,” he murmured, “is a truly magnificent body.”

“Brother, what is Clemens playing at?”

Duan Yanchu straightened up lazily and turned to look at his cousin, Luo Zhengyu, who was frowning over a stack of documents. “What do you mean?”

Slap. Zhengyu threw the files onto the desk.

Yanchu arched an eyebrow.

“If I remember correctly,” Zhengyu said, leaning back and eyeing his cousin, who had been secretly escorted back to the country, “Clemens stepped down as your Safety Supervisor five years ago.”

“Mhm.”

Then what does he mean by saying those things to the global media? ‘His Omega’?” Zhengyu grabbed a tablet and let out a cold sneer. “Who gave him permission? Do the Omegas of the Chu-Luo family just belong to any Alpha who asks? The man’s skin is thicker than a fortress wall.”

As if bored, Yanchu slid a finger under the black collar at his throat. His tone was light and slow. “Let him talk.”

He tilted his head, his expression relaxed and smiling, yet his eyes remained sharply cold and arrogant. As his pale finger hooked into the collar, the electronic ring at its base began to pulse with a rhythmic blue light.

Tugging at that collar was the equivalent of pulling the pin on a live grenade.

Zhengyu paled and waved his hands frantically. “Calm down! Okay! Topic dropped!”

******

A decade ago, in the dead of winter amidst a heavy snowfall, a man holding a large black umbrella had stopped before a young boy sitting on the steps. He had tilted the umbrella to shield the boy from the wind and sleet.

[My name is Clemens Austin. From today, I am your Safety Supervisor. Do not be afraid; I will always put your wishes first.]

But the shelter of that umbrella hadn’t lasted long.

[Lorcan, the extremists abroad have gone mad. The Restorationists want your serum to replicate your genes.]

[Currently, only my pheromones are compatible with yours. We are at an eighty-percent match.]

[I am the Secretary-General now. I have the power to legislate, to change the world. If you just become my Omega, I can protect your kind.]

Alphas were all the same. They smelled a hint of his scent and lost all control. If he didn’t submit, they turned to force.

*******

Duan Yanchu gave his cousin a bright smile before turning back to the window. He gripped the binoculars again, but the figure he had been watching had vanished. A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes. Where did he run off to now?

Zhengyu sighed in relief when Yanchu moved his hand away from the collar, but his gaze remained complex as he watched his brother’s silhouette.

Before the “incident,” his brother had been a celebrated prodigy, a genius who had skipped grades so often that his academic achievements were the least of his talents. From the violin to architectural design and pharmacology, he was gifted. At thirteen, he had independently formulated a high-potency Neutralizer that was still in clinical use. At fifteen, he was already pursuing a doctorate.

The family had poured everything into ensuring he followed the research path of their ancestor, Chu Yi.

But tragedy had struck without warning.

At sixteen, during his differentiation, the magnetic storm had hit. He was diagnosed with Pheromone Dysregulation. Later, after a fall from a building, he had nearly died on the operating table. As the only Omega of their generation, the damage he sustained was a catastrophic blow to the family.

Since that fall, his brother had become a different person. He hadn’t spoken a word for a year. He accepted medical treatment but developed a violent physical repulsion toward Alphas—even family members. It wasn’t until his Safety Supervisor appeared and took him to Country D for psychological therapy that he began to stabilize.

But since then, he had abandoned academia. He never stepped foot in a lab again. And, perhaps due to his time abroad, he had developed a singular hobby: staring at men with exceptional physiques. Even the personal security team he’d established looked more like a lineup of supermodels than bodyguards.

“Luo Zhengyu, I want a new bodyguard.”

Zhengyu actually felt a sense of relief. He leaned back in his chair. “Sure. I’ll have some candidates sent over for you to pick from.” As long as he wasn’t hurting himself, wanting a few handsome men around was a small price to pay.

Yanchu leaned against the window frame, one hand still on his binoculars, a smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t want those Alphas. I want the hunk from the construction site.”

It was common knowledge that Alphas wouldn’t deign to work such labor; only Beta workers or common laborers toiled there.

Zhengyu’s face fell. He bolted upright, eyes wide. “A construction site? There aren’t any bodyguards there! Those are laborers!” He was reaching his limit having an Omega this rebellious in the family was enough to make his head spin.

“So what if he’s a laborer?” Yanchu set the binoculars down and headed for the door. “His physique is perfect. That’s enough.”

As long as he wasn’t an Alpha.

Betas were better.

Zhengyu stood there, taking a deep breath as his vision blurred with frustration. “Duan Yanchu! You come back here!” he roared at the retreating back.

The family had given him an impossible task. How was he supposed to control this “ancestor”?

*****

Under the scorching sun, dust swirled across the construction site.

A tall young man, shirtless and wielding a shovel, was mixing cement. He wore heavy work trousers, his body slick with sweat as he bent over his task with focused intensity.

From behind, his back was a landscape of defined muscle. His waist was tight, and every movement revealed the sharp lines of his core. He was built like a tank, his deep bronze skin glistening. He smelled strongly of sweat and grit—a raw, pheromonal masculinity that felt like a physical force.

His hands, gripping the tools, were large and calloused.

Suddenly, a pair of expensive leather shoes stopped in front of the pile of cement. The tips were immediately splattered with mud.

“Hello. My name is Duan Yanchu. Would you be interested in a chat?”

Chen Yupo lifted his gaze, his hand on the shovel pausing.

In the harsh sunlight, the man before him was a vision of refined elegance, standing tall and backlit. Seeing him look up, the stranger tucked his hands behind his back and leaned in closer.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

His bone structure was superior, framed by slightly curled hair that gave him an air of scholarly grace. Even the dust couldn’t dull the visual impact of his features. The black butterfly collar against his snow-white skin was mesmerizing.

He was beautiful, certainly. But he wasn’t wearing a hard hat.

“I’m working,” Chen Yupo said, his eyes briefly flicking to the butterfly collar before he looked away. Then, he added: “You need a safety helmet on a construction site.”

Yanchu glanced at the site manager nearby, arching an eyebrow.

The manager was drenched in a cold sweat. Kid, do you have any idea who this is? He’s a walking grenade!

“Chen Yupo! This is the Eldest Young Master! Greet him, quickly!” The manager hissed, nodding frantically at the boy to stop working.

Instead, the shovel plunged back into the cement. With staggering strength, Chen Yupo mixed the heavy sludge in a few quick strokes. A stray glob of wet cement flew up, landing right on Yanchu’s pristine leather shoes.

The manager’s heart nearly stopped. The Young Master was a notorious germaphobe. He could already feel his career ending.

“You’re sweating a lot.”

The situation took an unexpected turn.

The manager stared, bewildered.

Chen Yupo’s hand froze. The beautiful man had produced a high-quality silk handkerchief and was pressing it against the boy’s bicep. Yanchu looked up at him, his eyes filled with a gentle, almost tender concern.

“You’ve worked so hard building my skyscraper,” Yanchu murmured.

His eyes were deep and full of unspoken emotion, a lethal combination when paired with such a face.

“If the opportunity arises, I’d like to invite you to be my bodyguard.” Yanchu’s gaze dropped to his own hand on the boy’s arm. Even through the silk, he could feel the heat and the iron-hard lines of the muscle. His heart skipped. This physique… it was better than any man he had ever seen.

He’d heard this boy hadn’t differentiated yet. That was even better.

“I don’t know how to fight.” Chen Yupo assumed the cloth was for his face. He took it with a rough hand and wiped his forehead twice. The handkerchief was too small and not very absorbent, leaving streaks of sweat behind.

Noticing the dirt on the man’s shoes, Chen Yupo knelt down and used the expensive silk to wipe the mud off the leather. “Thanks for the towel. Sorry for getting your shoes dirty.”

Duan Yanchu blinked. Well, he’s polite. But a towel? This is a handcrafted silk handkerchief.

He smiled, his eyes drifting to the boy’s waist. The sight of that powerful, sweat-slicked back—broad shoulders tapering to a lean, strong waist—was distracting. The hands cleaning his shoes were wide and rough, covered in thick calluses and small scars from years of manual labor.

Ugly hands, really.

“Will you consider it, then? If you’re my bodyguard, I’ll pay you a high salary. Two hundred thousand a month.”

Chen Yupo felt the man’s shadow loom over him. He looked up to see Yanchu leaning down toward him. Even in a crouch, the man exuded an unreachable nobility. A scent of cold, expensive perfume brushed against his nose as he met those deep, soulful eyes.

It felt like a beautiful trap.

Two hundred thousand? Money falling from the sky?

“I think I’ll stay at the site. I don’t think being a bodyguard suits me.” Chen Yupo stood back up, grabbed his shovel, and went back to his cement. He didn’t believe it for a second. There had to be a catch.

The manager watched Yanchu’s expression, swallowing hard.

Duan Yanchu wasn’t angry. He straightened up slowly, feeling a flicker of genuine surprise. He had been rejected. It made all those Alphas who had crawled after him in the past look utterly pathetic.

“Fine. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

He didn’t push. With a slight smile, he turned and walked away.

The manager scrambled to catch up, whispering apologies. “Young Master, I’m so sorry. The boy is young, he hasn’t seen the world. He probably didn’t know what to say. I’ll make sure he remembers who you are from now on.”

Yanchu tilted his head. “How old is he?”

“Nineteen.” The manager had been terrified when Yanchu showed up unannounced. He’d run down from his office without even putting on a coat, terrified the “Destroyer” would lose his temper and trigger a disaster.

“Only nineteen,” Yanchu said, his smile widening. He looked at the manager. “He’s very young, isn’t he?”

The manager was momentarily dazed by the beauty of that smile. Then he saw the blue light on the butterfly collar pulse. The cold sweat returned. “Yes… very young.”

“From tomorrow on, he doesn’t need to work at the construction site.”

The manager’s heart sank. I knew it! That brat offended him! He knew Chen Yupo had a hard life and tried to plead for him. “Young Master, please, Yupo is—”

“Tell him to come to my studio tomorrow.”

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