For an entire week, Luo Hai hadn’t seen Eugene.
It was as if Eugene had vanished into thin air. He appeared without a sound and disappeared just as silently, like a ghost haunting Nantes—noticed by no one except Luo Hai.
When Luo Hai asked Colin why Enyouge hadn’t been coming to work, Colin avoided the question, only saying that it was under Kliman’s jurisdiction and that he didn’t know the details.
Luo Hai could see the unease and evasion in Colin’s expression.
Colin didn’t like Kliman, but for now, he had to work for her. And Kliman’s hatred for Luo Hai was well known throughout the office.
As a mere assistant, if he got caught talking to Luo Hai during work hours, he could easily be fired.
Of course, he preferred Luo Hai. If he could be transferred back to assist Luo Hai again, he wouldn’t mind a lower salary. But that wasn’t up to him. He was just a paper boat without a sail, drifting with the tides of power struggles, barely able to keep himself afloat.
Luo Hai understood this better than anyone, so he didn’t make things difficult for Colin. He simply nodded and let him leave.
Without Eugene, Nantes seemed both the same as always and completely different.
The streets were still the same. The shops were still the same. But the signs and banners had changed. Instead of advertising products, they now displayed slogans calling for the expulsion of Omegas and support for Alpha rights.
With the prosecution office’s backing, the protestors grew bolder. They roamed every street and alley, smashing anything remotely related to Omegas—photos, posters, maternity products, Offering Day medications—without a second thought for property rights.
Even though the weeklong purge had ended, no one dared to take an Omega outside.
Forget going out—Omegas didn’t even dare open their windows to hang laundry. If they did, their neighbors would immediately curse them out, forcing them to retreat in silence.
Years of education had molded most Omegas into gentle, obedient, and compliant beings.
They didn’t understand rights. They didn’t resist. They never even considered injustice.
Deep down, they truly believed Omegas were an inferior species, that Alphas were born with the right to humiliate, mark, and torment them.
If anything was to blame, it was their bad luck—drawing the worst possible lot in the genetic lottery when they differentiated.
And in this lifetime, the only thing they could do was pray that in the next life, they would be reborn as a better gender.
…..
Winter came, and night fell even earlier.
Luo Hai continued his routine of traveling back and forth between the prosecutor’s office and his apartment. By the time he reached the commercial street, the sky was already completely dark.
A few inconspicuous shops on the street had closed. Their owners, whether men or women, were all Omegas. But no one paid attention to those tiny storefronts—they did not affect the city’s prosperity or hinder its commercial development.
Luo Hai bought a hot dog from a small stall.
A parade marched past him, waving flags. The leader was holding some kind of instrument, producing a loud, ear-piercing noise while shouting, “Tomorrow at nine in the morning—public trial! The prosecution will execute the captured Lightwing Society traitors by firing squad for all to see! Tomorrow at nine in the morning—public trial!”
People were used to the shouting of these parades. No one looked up; they were all busy with their own affairs.
“Ketchup?” the stall owner asked.
“Mayonnaise,” Luo Hai replied.
The owner acknowledged and began squeezing the sauce onto the hot dog.
At that moment, a man rushed over, charging straight through the parade and scattering the formation.
His clothes were tattered, ripped into several pieces, and he was missing a shoe. If not for his disheveled appearance, this young Alpha’s outfit would have been considered decent—he could have been a fresh graduate or an office worker.
“Stop banging that thing!” the young Alpha snapped, yanking the instrument from the parade leader’s hands and tossing it to the ground. “The base is gone, and you’re still making noise?!”
The leader was startled. “What are you talking about?”
“Our base! North Square!” The young Alpha’s face flushed with urgency. “Our brothers were packing up when a bunch of Betas suddenly stormed in! They smashed what they could, stole what they could, and even beat up our people! Look at my clothes!” He was nearly out of breath. “Come with me now and see for yourself!”
At this, the surrounding vendors finally looked up. The hot dog stall owner tilted his head to watch while wrapping up Luo Hai’s hot dog, nearly pressing it against Luo Hai’s nose.
The once-mighty parade instantly collapsed, their flags lowered in disarray as they hurriedly followed the young Alpha away.
Alpha parades were nothing new, but an Alpha base being taken down by Betas—that was something unheard of. The nearby vendors immediately began discussing it in hushed voices. At this rate, the entire commercial street would know about it within two hours.
Luo Hai stepped back slightly, taking the hot dog from the stall owner. His fingers instinctively tightened around it.
Even though the young man’s account lacked details, Luo Hai knew—this was Eugene’s doing.
And those so-called Betas who had barged into the Alpha base were likely not Betas at all.
The night grew darker, but the moonlight was bright. A large, round moon hung over the city, silent and resolute. Even the brightest white neon lights of the commercial street could not fully mask its glow.
Luo Hai finished his hot dog on the way home.
When he arrived at his apartment, his phone rang in his pocket.
With one hand, he tossed his keys onto the shoe cabinet and shut the door behind him. The noise from outside was completely sealed off, leaving only the persistent, mechanical ringtone of the phone.
He freed up a hand to answer the call but did not speak first, waiting for the other side to talk.
“Finally willing to pick up?”
Doyle’s voice was calm and deliberate, as if he were talking to a sulking child.
“Sorry, it was too noisy outside. I couldn’t hear you,” Luo Hai replied, neither humble nor overbearing.
Doyle neither questioned him nor showed any sign of belief. He simply got straight to the point. “Director Kliman has fallen ill. She won’t be able to attend tomorrow’s public trial.”
Luo Hai was momentarily stunned.
Fallen ill? And at this exact moment?
He had just seen Kliman that afternoon—she had been full of energy, instructing Colin to move documents for her. How had she suddenly collapsed by nightfall?
Was she really sick?
“So, tomorrow’s public trial is missing a presiding officer,” Doyle continued, his tone unshaken. “Prepare yourself. You will attend the trial in her place.”
Luo Hai’s mind went blank for a split second.
Before he could think, the words had already left his mouth. “I wasn’t involved in this operation. I don’t know the details or the plan. I can’t—”
Before he could finish, Doyle interrupted. His voice remained calm and deliberate, allowing no room for argument.
“I’m not asking for your opinion,” he said. “The trial starts at nine tomorrow morning. You need to be there before eight. A speech has been prepared for you, but you will be responsible for the final transfer of the prisoners and for delivering the execution order on behalf of the prosecutor’s office.”
Luo Hai felt as if something thick and metallic was lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Every breath carried a bitter, iron taste. His lungs felt like they were about to burst—or sink into the ground forever.
“Luo Hai, it’s time for you to make a choice,” Doyle said flatly. “Will you be the weak one, waiting to be slaughtered, or will you pick up the knife and become the executioner?”
With that, Doyle hung up.
The line went silent, yet Luo Hai remained standing, still holding the phone to his ear.
After a long time, he slowly lowered the phone and leaned back against the door.
Yes, he had to choose. There was no avoiding it.
The world was an unstoppable, ever-turning wheel. It rolled forward without concern for who was lifted up or crushed beneath it.
If he refused to choose, someone else would make the choice for him.
Or perhaps, from the very beginning, he had never truly had a choice. The only options before him were bad ones and even worse ones—no matter what he chose, he would be dragged into an abyss from which there was no return.
That night, Nantes was a city without sleep. People indulged in small celebrations, preparing to welcome a grander spectacle tomorrow.
Luo Hai tossed his phone onto the table and turned on the living room light.
The apartment was empty. Only the oversized alpaca plush sat foolishly on the sofa.
His home felt like a fragile paper house, barely standing amidst the city’s frenzied celebrations, unable to keep out the tremors and roaring waves.
He walked into the guest room and lay down on the bed where Eugene had once slept.
Stuffed animals surrounded him, numbing his nerves and shielding his vision, momentarily burying him in the soft fabric and familiar scent.
But no violin played.
The night was deafening in its chaos, yet utterly silent.
