Kiss the Stranger

I woke with a strange chill in the air. Blinking drowsily, I hugged Rikal close and shivered. The air felt unusually cold and damp. When I lifted my head, still half-asleep, I saw the sky outside was dark. Glancing at the clock, I slid from the bed and looked out: heavy clouds had gathered. Anxiety coiled in my chest and I clutched the cat tighter. The slow-moving clouds blotted out the sun, leaving everything dim.
Rikal mewed softly and rubbed his head against my cheek. Rousing myself, I stepped away from the window and headed to the shelf. They’d come for me this afternoon. Though they’d left enough food to last a day, my unease made me dump it all out.
Tomorrow I must bring back food…

If I say it, someone will give me something. After giving Rikal any scraps I might have eaten, I drank the tea the steward had left. Though I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, I wasn’t very hungry—I just watched Rikal eat. Before I forgot, I poured suppressants into my palm, and my heart sank. The steward had given me all his doses before he left, but lately they’d dwindled; I’d needed far more than usual to withstand Asgail’s pheromones.
But without them, I’d be exposed immediately. I couldn’t refuse or hide. The only comfort was that this was the final day.
I won’t have to watch anymore.

The thought of watching on—and the fear of being discovered as an omega—hurt more than any dread of exposure. How fortunate it is that everything ends. My eyes burned and I took a deep breath. Will this pain ever end? Will there be a day without this ache?
A chill breeze brushed my back, seeping into my bones.
The room felt heavy with tension. The men sat around a round table, serious, eating and talking. I stood in a corner, stomach twisting at the aroma of lamb. I knew better than to react—if I tried to eat, or even drew attention, I might be slapped or kicked. So I stood quiet, convincing myself this too would end soon. Haham set down his lamb chop with frustration.

“If we fail today, we’ll have no face before His Highness.”
Another man murmured, “We should’ve waited for that American to return…”
Haham glared, and a third man snapped back, “What happened is done. Figure out a solution instead of whining.”
“His Highness’s pheromone levels haven’t changed, right?” someone asked.

“They haven’t risen—if anything they’ve fallen. We’re draining him every few days; how could it accumulate?”
“I wish we’d spaced them out more.”
“But it’s too late. Try to delay it now, and do you think he’d agree? Be grateful we haven’t lost our heads yet.”

“If we fail again, one of us might actually lose his.”
Silence fell. I wondered—if that happened, would I be first or last? To Asgail, I and these men were the same.
My chest tightened and I clenched my fists, when someone spoke up.

“The rainy season will start soon. His Highness isn’t well in the rains, so we’ll have time. They can’t behead us immediately—no one to brew medicine in the rains. He might even rest.”
“The rainy season?” I couldn’t help asking. All eyes turned to me. I froze—too late. One man sprang up and struck me for daring to speak. I fell, his slap stinging my cheek. He spat at me.
“How dare you interfere? If the prince hadn’t spared you, you’d have been thrown out long ago. Do you think you’re one of us?”

He kicked me again before returning to his seat. They resumed their discussion. I curled up small, cradling my throbbing cheek, doing my best to vanish. Their voices still reached me.
“They said rain starts tomorrow. Look at those clouds.”
“Right. His Highness won’t be in a good mood today. Let’s protect ourselves too.”

I thought I understood. The palace city sat on the coast, so heavy rains were common. Having lived my life in the desert—and before that inland—I’d never really seen rain. Perhaps I had as a child. I couldn’t recall, but their serious faces made me uneasy.
‘I hate the rain.’
I remembered Kamar’s words when a chamberlain entered and announced, “His Highness commands preparations to begin.”

They stood, and I rose stiffly. Outside the window, dark clouds fully hid the sun.
“Ugh, ugh, ahh, haa…”
Amid screams and cries, I stood in my corner. More omegas than ever were being dosed and drained, yet it did little. Asgail seemed slightly stirred by the pheromones, but not enough to lose control. When he finally pushed the last omega off him, he showed no satisfaction. He reached for the wine and drained it in one gulp—the cup held stimulants and more, yet it barely affected him. He set the glass down, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back. His pheromones flooded the room. He was clearly displeased.
Asgail never removed his clothes. In a light shirt and trousers, he only freed himself long enough to thrust. Royal flesh was sacred—no attendant could see him naked. To him, this was purely a pheromone harvest, so no need to undress. The omegas were bound or gagged to prevent contact. To Asgail, they were nothing but holes. When he finished, he rearranged his garments and lay back as if nothing had happened. If not for the scattered omegas, I’d have thought it a dream.

I opened the door to admit the waiting chamberlains, who dragged away the fallen omegas like cargo. Watching naked bodies hauled off, I felt a tangle of sorrow and relief. This was the end of my torment too.
‘If we fail again, we might actually lose our heads.’
One of the men’s words echoed in my mind. Even if no one died, I’d never again see Asgail so close. I dared to look at him one last time. I wanted to memorize Kamar’s face again, but tears blurred my vision. Blinking, I squeezed them away—and startled to see Asgail watching me. He propped himself half-up on the bed and spoke softly.

“You cry every time you look at me. What’s wrong now?”
It wasn’t curiosity. I didn’t know whether it was pity, mockery, or something else. I dropped my gaze and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t ask more. I thought I could leave at last—then he said, “Tell the chamberlain to bring more drugs.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”
I stepped to the table beside the bed to gather empty bottles, careful not to leave any evidence or I’d be beaten again. As I cleared the cups, a sudden chill made me look up. Rain was falling—though they’d said it wouldn’t start until tomorrow.
I stood and watched the first raindrops streak the dark sky. It was my first real view of rain. Asgail spoke sharply, “What are you doing? Go.”

I jolted and stammered, “I’m sorry. It’s my first time seeing rain…”
As I spoke, a memory struck: a massive body trembling, purple eyes brimming with tears, ragged breaths as he held me close. Kamar’s face flashed before me.
“What are you looking at?”

Asgail’s voice drew me back. The man before me was nothing like that frightened stranger. He looked bored, tired but unafraid. Seeing him so composed, I felt both relief and disappointment. Perhaps he wasn’t Kamar at all—maybe /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ only a lookalike. Or maybe he wasn’t afraid now, and only lost his memory then…
Before I could decide, a sudden flash lit the room and thunder roared. There it was again—the sound of a gun mixed in with the thunder.
Kamar.

I couldn’t hold back. I bolted forward and wrapped him in my arms, clamping my hands over Asgail’s ears. Another terrible thunderclap shook the hall, rain pounding outside.
Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.
I held him tight, desperate that he hear nothing. Lightning flashed again, the storm roaring.

I’d do anything for you, even betray God.
As the lightning waned and thunder receded, I thought the danger had passed—until Kamar gripped my hand.
“…Ah!”

His fierce hold made me cry out, and Asgail, who’d thrown me onto the bed, spoke in a whisper.
“…What are you doing?”