Kiss the Stranger

In the heavy silence I sat motionless, not daring to move. I had no idea why he’d ordered me to stay behind. All I could sharply feel was the pheromone haze pressing down on my body.
I forced my breath to slow as it threatened to quicken again. Cautiously, I lifted my head—and our eyes met. Asgail hadn’t taken his gaze off me for a moment. His blatant stare set my chest fluttering with unease.

We were alone in the vast hall. The omegas writhing on the floor numbered over ten, ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) but none of them were in their right minds. Once the drugs wore off, they’d likely remember nothing of this. The prince’s pheromones mixed with theirs, dulling my senses. My body throbbed, probably from exposure to Kamar’s own scent. I clenched my fist so hard my nails bit into my palm, bringing a shred of clarity. At last Asgail spoke.
“...So, what exactly can you do?”
His calm, even voice carried no emotion. I couldn’t tell whether he was genuinely curious, mocking me, or merely testing. I swallowed and struggled to answer. For a moment I felt disoriented. Was I looking at Kamar or at Asgail?

“I—I’ve only been…running errands.”
At my confession, Asgail’s eyes narrowed. Did he disbelieve me?
“Just odd jobs, tidying up…most of the research…not much.”

I had nothing else to say. He watched me silently, and the thick pheromone fog made it harder by the second to stay composed. I unclenched and clenched my fist again, fighting for control, when he murmured slowly,
“That’s strange. The doctor told me something completely different.”
“Excuse me?” I blinked in surprise.
For the first time, he twisted his lips into a sneer.

“He said you were indispensable to the research. That you played a very important role.”
Hearing that, I was left utterly speechless. My heart ached thinking of how hard the steward had worked for me—and I grew even more anxious.
It’s fine. The steward isn’t here.

But if he really returns, won’t things go badly for me?
As those thoughts swirled, Asgail let out a cold chuckle.
“So after claiming you were essential, the doctor begged me to keep you here. Then made every excuse to hold you.”

I parted my mouth but could only stare. Asgail, expecting no answer, lifted his wine glass and continued.
“And yet he ran away, leaving you behind. How amusing.”
Despite his words, he showed no amusement. I racked my brain for an excuse, but nothing came. Before panic could take over, he changed the subject.

“When I studied in England,” he said suddenly.
I blinked, bewildered. He set down the empty glass and went on.
“I saw people like you there. Men crying in another man’s arms, spreading their legs.”

“...”
“And they weren’t even omegas.”
His lips curled with contempt. I was too stunned to speak. When I finally summoned a voice it was weak.

“I—I’m not…that kind of relationship with the steward.”
I denied it, but Asgail didn’t believe me. He laughed briefly, hollowly, then jeered,
“So you went to such lengths to bring someone useless like you?”

“That’s….”
Even I wasn’t sure why. Claiming the steward’s kindness alone wouldn’t sway him—I didn’t even know why the steward had been so kind.
“Do you know why he rushed back to America?”
Asgail asked again. I couldn’t answer, only shook my head. He chuckled to himself, musing,

“You really know nothing.”
“ I heard…he had urgent business,” I managed.
He stared at me, and a chill ran through my chest. I’d assumed the steward’s reason was some private matter I didn’t need to know. But was there more?

“Do you think he’ll really come back?”
His face bore only distrust. Like the others, he clearly didn’t trust the steward. I hesitated, then replied,
“If he doesn’t return, there must be a reason….”

“So you have that much faith in him.”
At his words, I asked carefully,
“Your Highness, did you trust the steward too? You must have entrusted him with your care….”

He studied me silently. My heart sank, fearing I’d offended him, when he asked,
“How old are you?”
“ I—I’ll be twenty-one soon….”

Asgail laughed in disbelief and shook his head, though I felt his irritation rather than humor. My anxiety spiked as he walked over to a nearby table, picked up a wine bottle, and poured himself a full glass. He drank deeply, then set it down and faced me. Even amid this overpowering pheromone cloud, he seemed utterly unperturbed as he spoke.
“If the steward does return, he’ll want to know exactly what’s happened here. Watch carefully and report back—tell your lover the results of his proposal.”
I couldn’t imagine what came next, but I had to answer.

“The steward…is not my lover.”
Asgail said nothing. He glanced at me, then turned away.
Don’t deny it.

My chest tightened and I drew in a shaky breath.
Kamar, please don’t deny our love.
The room blurred, and I squeezed my eyes shut until my vision cleared. But the sight before me was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. One of the omegas had crawled onto the bed, and Asgail grabbed him, pulling him close.

No way.
I stared in horror, frozen. In front of me, the aroused omega spread his legs and sat on Asgail. His rigid length slid into the omega’s slicked-up opening.
“...!”

I covered my mouth with both hands. Asgail, as if it were nothing, thrust into another omega just as eagerly. The moaning, writhing bodies made no impression on him beyond a clinical fascination. He reached for the remaining wine, drank, set down the glass, and returned his gaze to the omega he was filling with his seed and the omega’s juices. I was forced to watch—just as ordered—every detail: pulling out his cock dripping with fluids, dropping the exhausted omega back onto the bed, and thrusting again.
After several repetitions, Asgail tossed the spent omega aside like trash and took the next one, and the next, until he’d poured his pheromones into every single omega in that room for what felt like hours. When he finally tossed the last one out, time had lost all meaning. I’d watched motionless, every moment seared into my mind.
Asgail surveyed the trembling, barely breathing omegas, then at last turned his gaze on me.

“The experiment was a failure.”
His voice laced with irritation and mockery as he ordered,
“Tell Haham to find another method. These pheromones won’t even get a rut started.”

Just as he said, Asgail had shown no real interest all this time. He stood, took long strides toward me, and I held my breath as he approached. The cloud of pheromones stung my skin, but my vision sharpened once more. When I blinked, I realized I was crying. In that fleeting clear view I saw the hem of his robe brushing the floor. I lifted my eyes hesitantly and met Asgail’s stare. I froze, and he asked,
“Why are you crying? Do you miss your man?”
I tried to deny it, but my throat tightened and no words came. I could only shake my head. Asgail sneered,

“If he’s really coming back soon as you say, I hope you don’t expose your filthy lusts in my palace.”
“...Then what happens?”
I hardly recognized my own voice when it came. He looked down at me and warned in a low tone,

“If you want to gamble your life, be my guest.”
Then he strode past me. With a loud thud the door closed behind him, and I came to. A few omegas still lay moaning just out of reach. I felt a complex ache—pity for them, dread for myself. The lingering pheromones burned against my skin. Yet none of it brought me comfort. Like his scent, Asgail’s presence eluded all grasp, and tears stung my eyes once more.