The Omega Attacked the Alpha - Chapter 27

A dark and windy night is the perfect time for murder and arson.

In the darkness, a figure shifted, causing the clinking of chains to echo. This was followed by heavy, ragged breathing, and then, with a loud clatter, the figure scrambled up from the floor.

“What’s happening? Am I blind?”

The clanking was incessant. The figure was panicked, shouting into the void: “Is anyone there? Where am I?”

“What is this thing?”

He finally noticed the chains binding him. Suddenly, the lights flared to life, illuminating the man’s face—it was Liu Kun.

He shrank back, startled by the sudden brightness. After blinking rapidly a few times, he managed to open his eyes fully and looked around in confusion.

He was in a place resembling a public restroom. The door was locked, and the window was blocked from the outside. Opposite the window was a large mirror; there was no sink beneath it.

Aside from him, the only thing in the room was a small, old-fashioned tape recorder sitting on the floor.

Massive iron chains were shackled to his ankles, the other end connected to a thick iron pillar behind him. For a moment, he didn’t dare touch the recorder. He just kept asking: “Is someone there? Anyone? Why are you doing this to me? This is illegal! I’ll call the police!”

After a while, he began to plead piteously: “I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I was wrong. Please, let me go. I have elders and children at home; they’re waiting for me. I can’t disappear like this, please.”

Tears and snot flowed freely.

When no one responded for several minutes, he stopped his performance. His gaze focused on the mirror. He had a feeling it was a one-way glass and that someone was watching him from the other side.

He was right.

Song Tao and Qin Zheng were behind the glass, watching his performance while sipping champagne from tall flutes.

Qin Zheng: “You forgot to give him a hacksaw.”

Song Tao (surprised): “You’ve seen Saw too? But forget the saw; it’s too bloody and brutal. I don’t actually agree with Jigsaw’s philosophy.”

Qin Zheng swirled his glass, the champagne bubbles bursting to release a pleasant aroma. “Then what exactly are you doing now?”

He had originally planned to play the part of the “scumbag brother” and beat the truth out of Liu Kun. He hadn’t expected Song Tao to have his own “grand ideas,” making the whole affair quite a hassle. Still, it didn’t matter. To him, this wasn’t even a minor skirmish; it was just a way to kill time. He handled work on his device while he watched.

Song Tao explained: “If we use physical force, it’s too easy for him to retract his statement later, saying he was coerced.” His grey-blue eyes flashed with murderous intent. “What I want is for him to be so thoroughly exposed that there’s no way back.”

When Liu Kun finally shouted himself hoarse and realized no one was going to answer, he slumped down exhausted. His gaze fell back on the recorder. After a moment’s hesitation, he picked it up. He didn’t know how long he had been held here, nor did he know what was happening in the outside world. He had to take it one step at a time.

He used his jacket as a makeshift tool to snag the recorder from a distance.

He pressed play.

“Hello, Liu Kun. I want to play a game.”

The voice was processed a stuttering, electronic drone that sounded even more terrifying in the confined space.

“A game?” Liu Kun repeated, bewildered.

Then he suddenly snapped, screaming at the machine: “Who are you?! Who the hell are you?! Why are you doing this?!”

“Heh—he clearly hasn’t seen Saw,” Song Tao remarked. He used a silver fork to pick up an apple slice carved into a rabbit ear. He crunched down with his white teeth, savoring the sweet juice before swallowing.

Qin Zheng looked up from his screen. The Omega sitting in the chair had his long legs elegantly crossed, swiveling slightly left and right with an air of leisure, like a cunning cat toying with a mouse.

A bad seed, he thought.

Then he added a mental postscript: Just like me.

“It seems you like the first movie the best,” Qin Zheng replied nonchalantly, his fingers tapping away at a virtual keyboard.

Song Tao nodded. “The first one is the masterpiece. No cheap jumpscares, just pure, suffocating despair. Brilliant. So, I’m being quite kind to Liu Kun, don’t you think? I arranged a scenario very similar to the first film.”

He put on a cute, “please-praise-me” expression, though Liu Kun certainly wasn’t in the mood to praise him.

Liu Kun continued to rage at the recorder, but after a while, realizing it was just a machine, he slumped into a cold silence. The recording had finished playing while he was screaming, so he had to rewind it.

“Hello, Liu Kun. I want to play a game.”

“You are a teacher a noble profession—but you are unworthy of the title. You manipulate academia, toy with your students, and hide atrocities behind a kind face. Do you act this way in your other roles as well?”

“Let us hear the answers.”

“Confess ten hidden sins you have committed, and you may leave.”

Liu Kun’s hand began to shake. The distorted voice continued: “If you have not left by midnight, you will never leave at all.”

Liu Kun didn’t know what time it was. How long was it until midnight?

“At least tell me what time it is!”

“The explosives will detonate at midnight. The path to survival is in your hands. You don’t have much time left.”

Liu Kun stared at the recorder in horror. Explosives!

“What?! What explosives?! Where are they?!”

The recording was over. No matter how much he screamed or fell into a panic, the machine wouldn’t answer. Finally, in a fit of desperate rage, he hurled the recorder away.

It smashed against the far wall and split in two.

Liu Kun clutched his head in agony. He didn’t understand why this was happening. Was it a prank? A reality TV show? He clung to that hope. As he lowered his hands, something caught the light. His eyes darted toward the broken recorder. Tucked inside one of the halves was a key.

A key?

A key!

Liu Kun lunged for the chains on his feet. He sat down and checked the lock on his ankle cuff it was a cross-lock. The key was a cross-key.

The final words of the recording echoed in his mind: The path to survival is in your hands.

In my hands… in my hands…

He had thought the phrase meant he had to speak his sins. His face turned paper-white, a mixture of rage and despair.

Behind the mirror, Song Tao rested his chin on his palm, admiring the view.

The pleasure of manipulating someone’s heart was no less satisfying than… other physical releases. Every cell in his body was singing with joy. Though, admittedly, it couldn’t quite compare to being “serviced” by Qin Zheng; that was an experience where even his soul felt like it was on fire with excitement.

Liu Kun sprawled on the floor, stretching his arm and fingers as far as they could go to reach the key.

Song Tao: “He can’t quite reach it~”

Qin Zheng had been watching Song Tao for a while. Compared to a “pure and beautiful” face, this version of Song Tao was exciting enough to make one’s heart race. A “white lotus” is pretty and stirs a man’s protective instincts, but it’s boring, isn’t it? All you ever get is someone hiding under your wing, looking at you with timid eyes.

But a wild rose with thorns? That’s different. Where can you touch without getting pricked? How deep will the thorns go? What price must be paid to strip those thorns away? What lies beneath them? And what kind of flower do you end up with? And if you don’t strip them, how will those thorns protect the flower from the “pests” of the world?

There was so much to see, so much to anticipate.

He used to think Song Tao had “turned bad” over the years, but now he felt the boy had grown “crooked” in exactly the right way.

Turning bad is fine; turning stupid is what’s truly repulsive. Fortunately, he hadn’t. Qin Zheng stared at Song Tao’s back and raised his glass. He gulped down the champagne, the sharp texture refreshing him.

Liu Kun’s ankle was raw and bleeding from the constant straining against the iron cuff. His fingers were scraped from the floor, yet he still couldn’t reach the key he had thrown away himself.

He collapsed on the floor, sobbing piteously.

By the time he regained his composure, it was 7:30 PM.

After shouting a few more times to no avail, he began trying to rub the iron cuff against the pillar to break it. He worked until he was gasping for air, but a sixty-year-old body couldn’t handle that kind of exertion. He’d only managed to polish a bit of dirt off the iron.

Song Tao watched the pathetic sight, feeling a wave of disgust.

Click. The lights went out. The room plunged into total darkness. Liu Kun, who had just managed to lie down for a rest, scrambled up in terror. He was blind, but Song Tao could still see him through the infrared monitor. Liu Kun pulled his hands to his chest, eyes darting around wildly, pressing himself tight against the pillar.

“Why the lights? Why?!”

“You’re there, aren’t you? What do you want? Money? I’ll give you money! Let me out, please…”

Only silence answered him.

No matter how much he screamed, the lights stayed off. Darkness deepened the fear. He didn’t dare lie down anymore; he sat huddled against the pillar, hugging his knees, staring into the void. He began to mumble to himself: “Why me? Why are they doing this to me?”

“Master, 1582333… is calling~”

A stranger’s number.

Song Tao answered, and a familiar voice came through: “Song Tao, have you heard from the Professor? He’s gone missing.”

It was Pang Zhijie.

“Am I his mother or his father? Whether he’s missing or not is none of my damn business. Don’t call me, you’re disgusting.” Song Tao hung up immediately.

It had only been five hours since they grabbed Liu Kun, and Pang Zhijie was already looking for him. He was keeping a tight leash. Even the man’s wife and kids hadn’t raised an alarm yet. It was likely about their research project.

Song Tao glanced at the thick stack of files on Liu Kun beside him.

Qin Zheng stood up.

Song Tao: “Eating?”

Qin Zheng: “I have to go out for a bit.”

“Where?” Song Tao didn’t want him to leave. “Can’t you wait until it’s over? This is getting interesting.”

How could he leave in the middle of the show? He blocked Qin Zheng’s path. Qin Zheng rested a hand on his head and nudged him aside. “Don’t act spoiled.”

The man left without a second glance.

Song Tao bared his teeth like a kitten. He looked at Liu Kun behind the mirror and imagined locking Qin Zheng in a dark room like this. Of course, he wouldn’t bind him like Liu Kun; he’d strip him of his clothes to show off those massive pectoral muscles. He’d use leather belts to hoist his arms high, stretching his external obliques until they looked beautiful and his waist looked even narrower. He wondered if the Lust Brand below his navel would stretch into a different shape.

The lines of his arms would be exaggerated, bulging with power, yet unable to break free.

His feet would be just barely off the ground, forcing him to stand on tiptoe. He’d be pinned against the wall so his tail would be trapped, only able to lash left and right. His little wings wouldn’t be able to flap.

And the water? He’d drench him from head to toe. Droplets would drip from his nipples like he was leaking milk.

Then, around the night of the full moon, he’d go into heat. He’d need to be fed, but he’d be hanging too high for your “gear” to reach his mouth.

In that case, the only place left to “feed” would be.

Time passed in silence. Liu Kun finally broke under the sensory deprivation of the darkness and began to confess.

“I have secret savings! Yes, I’ve hidden a lot of money from my wife.” It seemed he was still playing games, hoping to get by with trivial “sins” that weren’t really crimes.

Behind the mirror, the Omega barely listened, continuing his own “handiwork.” Driven by his vivid imagination, he’d triggered his own “addiction” and had to settle it himself.

The Omega bit down on the shirt belonging to Qin Zheng, revealing the lean muscles of his waist. A few faint blue veins stretched upward like vibrant branches toward his abdomen, tensing with strength.

He looked quite capable.

Liu Kun peered into the darkness with shifty eyes, hoping for a reaction—or at least for the lights to come back on.

His wish was granted.

A buzzer sounded, and a square electronic screen flickered to life above him. It displayed a massive red ‘X’.

Liu Kun’s pupils dilated. He felt a bone-chilling sensation of being completely seen. Clearly, the person behind this didn’t accept this “sin.”

That person is watching me!

He fell into another breakdown, screaming. Song Tao, meanwhile, reached for the bottle of wine Qin Zheng had poured. As his brow relaxed, the level of liquid in the bottle rose slightly. Then, he shook the bottle.

Having cleaned himself up, Song Tao felt refreshed. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed the bottle. He’d only added a tiny bit; he couldn’t smell the difference at all. He wondered if Qin Zheng could.

He looked forward to it. If he didn’t mess with Qin Zheng at least once a day, he felt uncomfortable.

The screen turned off, and the room was black once more, leaving a shattered Liu Kun. After a while, he screamed: “I need to pee! I need to use the bathroom!”

Song Tao covered his ears. “Not listening, not listening, move along.”

Liu Kun really did need to go. He reached his limit. He fumbled around in the dark before finally finding a corner. He turned his back to where he remembered the mirror being and relieved himself.

Defeated and humiliated, Liu Kun slumped onto the floor. He had never been this wretched in his life.

He had lost all track of time. He didn’t know if anyone had found out he was missing.

Recalling that red ‘X’, he hesitated before speaking again: “I… I was once involved in a hit-and-run.”

He waited anxiously. Another red ‘X’ appeared. His heart sank. He had intentionally lied, offering a fake but “believable” crime to see if the person really knew everything about him.

The result was chilling. They truly did know everything.

He ground his teeth. “I once manipulated the system to give a scholarship meant for a poor student to a student who flattered me.”

That poor student had been forced to take on more part-time jobs and was eventually involved in a car accident late at night after work. His hands were injured, and he could no longer perform precision tasks. In their major, that was a death sentence. His career was over before it began.

Shortly after leaving the hospital, the student transferred to a mundane major.

Liu Kun waited. A green ‘1’ appeared on the screen. He realized it was a counter; he had to reach ten to leave.

The person could tell truth from lies. Realizing he had to comply to survive, he prepared to lay it all bare.

Song Tao sat with his fingers laced under his chin, his expression cold.

Scumbag.

“Can you tell me how long it’s been?” Liu Kun asked weakly. No one answered.

Song Tao was busy mentally cursing him. A man like this deserved to have his reputation destroyed and lose everything before rotting in prison, spending the rest of his life in despair.

Liu Kun began to trickle out confessions like squeezing a tube of toothpaste. “I confess. I committed domestic violence.”

His bloodshot eyes watched the screen. The ‘1’ became a ‘2’. He let out a maniacal laugh. “I also cheated on my wife while she was pregnant! Oh, and I embezzled the research funds the school gave to our group! Hahahaha! Add it up! Add it up to ten and let me out!”

The last part was a roar.

A pure piece of trash.

He had committed almost every low act imaginable while maintaining the respect of a top-tier university professor.

The numbers on the counter changed rapidly, soon reaching ‘7’. Song Tao narrowed his eyes, his heart rate speeding up. He was waiting for the one specific confession.

“I helped a student frame another student. Yes, I helped Pang Zhijie frame Song Tao. The designs were Song Tao’s; he showed me the blueprints when he first conceptualized them…”

He mumbled the words.

Song Tao stood up, leaning against the table. Two years. For two whole years, he had waited for the truth—for his innocence!

“Qin Zheng! Did you hear that!”

He looked excitedly toward the chair where Qin Zheng had been sitting, but the seat was empty. A flicker of loneliness passed through his eyes.

Why isn’t he back yet?

With no one to share it with, Song Tao did a little victory dance on the spot. Then he heard Liu Kun continue: “It was because I was sleeping with Pang Zhijie! That’s right! He’s my lover!”

Song Tao: “!”

He stopped dancing, his face almost touching the monitor. He stared at the crazed Liu Kun in total shock. Pang Zhijie slept with this old geezer. How?! How could he stomach that?

They were nearly forty years apart!

This was an unexpected bonus; this hadn’t been in the files Qin Zheng had gathered. Song Tao paused before pressing the counter; Liu Kun didn’t react, meaning the statement was true.

Liu Kun muttered, “He was the one who seduced me.”

The counter reached ‘9’. Only one sin left. Song Tao was on the edge of his seat, staring at Liu Kun. But the man, who had been spilling secrets like beans from a jar, suddenly went quiet.

It seemed this last one was too hard to say.

Of course it was. Song Tao looked at the files again before tossing them aside. It was because he had killed someone.

This old bastard was a truly evil man who had done it all.

The door opened, and Qin Zheng walked back in. Song Tao immediately ran over to him. “Qin Zheng! He said it! He told the truth about my case! And guess what else?”

“What else?” Qin Zheng headed straight for his chair.

Song Tao wrinkled his nose. Like a cat, he followed Qin Zheng and sniffed him. “Blood. What did you do?”

Qin Zheng poured himself a drink, his tone flat. “Dealt with a few traitors.”

He noticed a smear of blood on his knuckles that hadn’t been washed off. He set the glass down and wiped his hand casually with a handkerchief.

The “Big Boss” aura was on full display.

Song Tao watched him thoughtfully. As the ruler of Seko City, the law was whatever they decided it was. Internal gang affairs existed outside the legal system; power required a heavy hand to maintain.

He felt a bit dazed. The little boy from his childhood had truly grown up and changed.

He’s become so handsome!

Qin Zheng tossed the handkerchief aside and looked at the silent Song Tao. “What?”

Song Tao looked away. Thinking he’s handsome is the thought of a traitor. I won’t allow it. He paced back to his seat. “Nothing. Just that Pang Zhijie and Liu Kun slept together. Gross…”

The words felt like they dirtied his mouth just by saying them. An old man with a wife—these two really weren’t human.

Qin Zheng raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised. Well, that explained why Liu Kun was so willing to help Pang Zhijie.

He went back to his drink. Song Tao snuck a quick glance before looking away, nervous and expectant. He heard the sound of liquid pouring; so far, Qin Zheng hadn’t noticed anything.

The aroma of wine filled the air. Qin Zheng’s nostrils flared. He looked down at the glass.

The scent of essence.

As an awakened Succubus, he was hyper-sensitive to this smell. He didn’t even have to think to know who was behind this. He glanced at the Omega’s straight back. He should go over and pour this glass over Song Tao’s head.

But… he really wanted to drink it.

He wasn’t in his cycle, yet he still craved it. His mouth was salivating like crazy. There was only a tiny amount; Song Tao had been clever, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He could easily use this chance to pretend he didn’t know.

It was a choice.

Song Tao thought to himself: Can he smell it? Will he drink it? Hurry up! Hurry up!

Qin Zheng set the bottle down and swirled the glass. The scent grew even stronger. pure temptation. It looked like a choice, but there was only one real option.

The Alpha, freshly back from dealing with traitors with blood still on his hands, raised the glass and drank the “spiked” wine right in front of the Omega—the owner of said essence.

In an instant, he felt like a flower blooming in spring.

Song Tao turned around. “You…”

Qin Zheng swallowed the wine with an expression of total ignorance. “What?”

Song Tao felt a twinge of disappointment. It wasn’t fun if the man couldn’t smell it. But the fact that he’d drunk it still made Song Tao excited. He was torn.

Qin Zheng pushed the bottle forward. “You want some too?”

Song Tao shook his head frantically. “No, no, no! You drink it. I don’t like the taste of this wine.” He intentionally let a bit of his secret show, but Qin Zheng acted as if he hadn’t noticed and continued drinking, his other hand tapping idly on the arm of the chair.

Song Tao looked away.

Qin Zheng closed his eyes. The bliss was so intense he “leaked” a little.

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