Chapter 107#
Distant Star Reflection 15#
The alpha section wrote: omega’s fear stemmed from external world. Alpha’s fear stemmed from uncontrollable self.
Their behavior driven by inner heart, yet inner desire remained uncontrollable wild beast. They fixated on leaving observable marks upon external world, thereby concealing panic facing themselves. These marks sometimes manifested as glorious achievement, sometimes as slaughter and destruction, yet essentially resembled how madmen confirmed existence by scratching diagonal lines on walls with fingernails.
To understand an alpha’s nature, don’t listen to their self-righteous confessions. Their soul remained chaos. Look toward traces they left, observing what they chose throughout life and what they abandoned. An alpha truly recognizing themselves, subsequently saving themselves, employed this method.
Yu Feichen simultaneously felt this author spoke nonsense while feeling himself dissected and bound. The terrace blazed with sunlight, yet behind seemed air conditioning opening—forced maintaining twelve times alertness against the writer’s questioning.
The comedy performance outside continued, yet eternal sleep flower scent suddenly brushed his ears. He suddenly landed back into reality.
He wasn’t constrained by physiological ineptitude. Since never fearing all external things, why evade his chaotic soul?
He must accept it. Then see clearly through it.
He needed knowing what he truly wanted to obtain and longed for. Leaving paradise or possessing his own kingdom—these were pathways pursuing that answer. Before clarifying the question’s essence, he’d already begun.
Henceforth, he decided forgetting all self-limiting rules weighing pros-cons, doing something from his heart—like the “why are you looking at him” statement to the secretary.
He might then discover himself a bloodthirsty maniac, a tyrannical despot, or more benignly, merely an unrestrained alpha. Such people usually met bad ends. Yet a certain supreme deity expressed willingness buying the cost.
Replacing someone else, he’d suspect ulterior motives. Yet the deity enjoyed rescuing lost lambs.
He removed the pheromone-soaked overcoat. Four people looked at him.
Bai Song waved fingers before his eyes: “Yu-ge?”
Yu Feichen earnestly replied: “Hello.”
Secretary: “…Brain damaged?”
Driver: “Looks like it.”
Windsor: “Truly unfortunate.”
Yu Feichen ignored them. He’d now obtained pure pursuit—became a new person.
After briefing Bai Song several things, he packed the overcoat away, returning the information terminal to the secretary. Continuing sitting on the viewing stairs observing landscape beyond the estate, showing no intention leaving.
“Though you seemingly underwent profound reflection, I must remind one thing,” Windsor said. “Leaving newly-marked omega alone in the room seems even worse.”
Yu Feichen: “Indeed.”
Yet he seemed unmoved. Three minutes later, the secretary’s temporary communicator chimed. Hearing the message, he told Yu Feichen: “Duke, the kitchen head says per your instructions, carefully prepared dinner is now at the corridor entrance.”
Yu Feichen said: “From now, you all receive half salary increase.”
Finishing, he departed amid the secretary’s enthusiastic farewells.
“See, you worried unnecessarily,” Bai Song patted Windsor’s shoulder. “He waited outside so long to personally hand dinner to omega. Don’t always view alphas with bias—you’re also one yourself.”
Windsor made a dismissive sound.
Yu Feichen opened the door, first sending the dinner cart inside, then entering himself. He’d accepted himself, yet still hoped they’d sleep longer.
Unfortunately, upon entering, the supreme deity was already awake.
They’d risen, sitting at the bed’s edge, gazing outside through the window. Light filtered through white gauze curtains. The deity wore soft white bathrobe, their silhouette appearing somewhat illusory under such light.
Hearing Yu Feichen enter, they turned back.
“How are you?” Yu Feichen said. Speaking, he disbelieved such gentle tone emerged from himself—ten-thousand times more saccharine than feigning before the Pope.
Fortunately the phrase was short. The deity seemingly heard no difference.
“Not well,” their voice slightly hoarse, words trailing nasal tones. They glanced at the dated antique clock nearby, speaking with mild helplessness: “Omega too… troublesome.”
Beneath half-parted golden hair, their slender neck showed mottled pattern—bite marks and finger marks extending to where the bathrobe collar concealed.
Evidence conclusive, yet since the deity also attributed to physiological traits, Yu Feichen said: “Indeed.”
The deity gazed at him flatly. In those ice-clear pupils, perhaps subtle laughter glimmered. “You maintained perfect calm beforehand. I thought it wouldn’t last long,” they said.
Yu Feichen: “…”
Just interrogated by reference books, now the deity deliberately stepped on his tail. Yet having decided accepting everything, this caused little effect.
He said: “Because your heat cycle lasted too long.”
Without waiting for response, he handed a juice glass, matter-of-factly saying: “Drink water.”
The reversal technique learned, the deity accepted the glass. The juice appeared wine-red. They bit the transparent straw, sipping, eyelashes slightly closing in lazy manner. Swallowing showed their delicate larynx moving subtly. Watching, Yu Feichen found it beautiful.
He arranged the remaining dinner items. The small kitchen made things quite elaborate—clearly not prepared for their duke.
He simply drank a glass of milk. While the deity quietly ate, he briefly recounted what occurred during the disappeared days.
First: their genetic test results came back—perfect match, decimal places beyond equality uncertain due to instrument precision limits.
So Tan Per’s retrial was scheduled—in ten days.
The retrial’s result Yu Feichen could roughly predict: either stripping status with exile to Landon star system, or lifetime house arrest. Either way, Tan Per accessing cathedral power remained impossible. Their only lifelong position: Landon duke’s omega.
The deity nodded, indicating this was expected.
Second: though the emperor’s remains lacked corpse, they still ceremonially buried with empire flag-draped coffin with great fanfare. Duke Landon’s absence greatly displeased the Pope, yet nothing could be done.
Additionally, snowmen appeared across various star systems, exceeding all historical frequency. Countless dead and injured. The cathedral and empire jointly released edicts researching the phenomenon, recommending citizens reducing outdoor activity. They’d also best not venture out.
Yet these ten days awaiting trial weren’t entirely uneventful. Five days hence would occur an imperial grand festival called “Extinguish Star Festival.” Coincidentally, Bishop Kayan—played by Bai Song—was this year’s festival organizer. Bai Song daily struggled processing affairs using secret language through guessing. Even Windsor became troubled alongside him.
The festival’s name attracted the deity’s attention. They softly repeated: “Extinguish Star Festival?”
“That’s the name, related to their energy systems. I think it might be an important clue, though currently uncertain where applicable.”
The deity: “Explain.”
Yu Feichen: “Too lengthy. Later.”
He wrote a note on sticky paper, passing it. They accepted, slightly surprised, saying: “Thank you.”
“No thanks,” Yu Feichen said. He remembered their expression seeking answers, so obtained Bai Song’s Answer Section account—no entertainment here; use as diversion.
The deity folded the sticky note into a neat triangle, tucking it into a notebook, treating it with surprising solemnity. Like receiving unexpected commendation, Yu Feichen felt subtle pleasant emotion.
——Then began discussing “Extinguish Star Festival.”