Critical Stage

Despite his impeccable accent, he was not a Balletan.

Despite its accuracy, the fact that his accents and choice of words were ‘too’ accurate didn’t make him sound like a native.

‘Maybe he knows who I am...’

That thought struck, and Cesare’s words died, leaving his mouth agape.

“You should know that this ship lacks any kind of suppressants strong enough to counteract a heat cycle. And, according to my knowledge, there are many Alphas here,” the Alpha said.

The man’s thigh, previously only implied by his slurred speech, now assertively slid between Cesare’s legs.

Cesare flinched at the sudden jolt of sensation, while the man continued speaking in a languid tone,

“Unfortunately, I am also an Alpha.”

Suddenly, a potent rush of pheromones overpowered Cesare.

Yet, even amidst the intense aroma, the man behind the mask seemed entirely composed, as though he were merely displaying typical dominance.

Instinctively, Cesare realized that this man was an extremely dominant Alpha.

Figures.

Of course, he’d run into this kind of luck.

The overpowering pheromones made Cesare’s hands tremble.

His hold on the flimsy railing felt shaky.

Still, he tried to focus on the man’s words, still being spoken in Balletan.

“If you enter the room exuding pheromones this strongly, it will be immediately obvious to everyone that an unknown Omega is in the midst of a heat cycle,” the Alpha said.

“...What do you want?” Cesare barely managed to ask, his voice quivering with nervousness.

“So, I finally get to hear your sweet voice.”

Despite Cesare barely speaking, the man behind the mask appeared ridiculously pleased.

‘Damn, lay your cards on the table!’

Biting back a shout, Cesare clenched his jaws in frustration and shot the other a secretive yet blazing look.

The mask felt as if it weighed a ton, suffocating him.

He longed to rip it off, but he was afraid to reveal his identity, even though there were signs that the mystery man already knew who Cesare was behind the mask.

Cesare took a deep breath, attempting to calm the turbulent feelings inside, and gently pushed the man away.

Speaking in a hushed tone, he said, “Please step back, otherwise we might attract unwanted attention.”

“Nah, that’s not the tune that I wanted to hear,”

the Alpha mockingly countered, effortlessly turning down Cesare’s request.

He leaned in closer, his dominating Alpha scent practically shackling Cesare’s senses, and playfully nipped at Cesare’s earlobe.

“I’m thinking about us tumbling in the sheets, trading kisses with an Omega smelling as divine as you. May I have your permission?”

“Who even are you? Do you really think I’d just dive into such a level of craziness?”

“It’s a masquerade, caro. Tonight, we have the freedom to be anyone or no one at all.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Their masks were their shields.

Cesare wasn’t naive enough to misinterpret what was being offered.

He chewed on his lip, mulling it over.

It was a wild, outlandish idea, borderline crazy.

But, God, it was tempting.

The man’s dark eyes, barely discernible behind his mask, seemed to be dancing as they read every flicker on Cesare’s face.

“Yeah, there’s no obstacle for us. If you wish, I can personally escort you to the most secluded chamber on this ship,” the Alpha said.

The offer sounded devilishly enticing.

* * *

Splaaaash.

His ears were reached by a resounding noise of a massive ship cutting through the waves.

Cesare, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness as he drifted off, was gradually drawn back to his senses by the noise.

When he opened his eyes, the scenery was different from when he had fallen asleep.

The previously dark surroundings were now bathed in sunshine.

Cesare was dazzled by the dim sunlight filtering through the semi-transparent window.

After squinting and blinking a few times, his awareness began to return.

He soon realized there was a dull pain around his waist.

‘Right...’

He only then recalled the events of the previous night.

Cesare barely lifted his heavy body and stood up.

After ensuring that no one else was in the room, he removed the stifling mask that covered his face.

First things first, he caught his reflection in the mirror in the corner of the room.

His blonde hair was disheveled and his deep blue eyes, resembling the mysterious yet enigmatic beauty of the deep sea, were clouded with drowsiness.

He was the very picture of a complete wreck.

He let out a light sigh and began searching for a comb.

Instead, he found a piece of paper accompanied by the butterfly mask worn by the man from the previous night.

[Zahir al-Tamid.

That’s my name.]

Cesare’s brows furrowed upon reading the short note.

It was unfair to agree to remain anonymous but leave behind a name.

But what made this even more alarming was the name itself: Zahir al-Tamid.

With a hazy mind, Cesare soon remembered whose name it was as he mulled over the familiar pronunciation in his mouth.

There was no doubt.

It was a reference to the prince from a desert kingdom, who is both the owner of this cruise and the host of the party.