Little Pink Starfish

“The nature of Master Su Liang’s differentiation is extremely rare—his level could be considered the highest class of Omega. And based on current observations, his rank might have even surpassed yours…” The medical officer licked his dry lips and explained with difficulty, “With a high-level suppressive force plus an extraordinarily high compatibility rate, it appears that the person who has developed pheromone dependency isn’t Master Su Liang.”

At this point, the medical officer’s voice grew quiet.

“The one who has developed pheromone dependency… is you, Master Snake.”

The aging Beta had worked in the Snake Pit for many years—he had practically watched Lu Taipan grow up.

In the past, he could always face this cold, unapproachable master of the Snake Pit with composure. But today, for the first time, he felt uneasy.

When he heard the words from the medical officer, the man’s normally impassive expression flickered briefly with shock and stiffness. But almost instantly, the outward reaction was once again suppressed beneath an icy facade.

“I doubt that conclusion,” Lu Taipan said flatly, his tone sharp. “I don’t believe I have developed pheromone dependency on Little Liang. If I had, there should be signs of emotional confusion. But I can state with certainty that my feelings for him have always developed naturally—”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that,” the medical officer quickly interjected.

“Master Snake, your mental strength is double S-class. We tested this long ago, during your pheromone imbalance episode. There’s no known hormone or mental influence in existence strong enough to cause cognitive distortion or unnatural emotional changes in someone like you. And Alpha-to-Omega pheromone dependency manifests quite differently from the traditional forms.”

As he spoke, the medical officer tapped on the nearby instrument. A floating screen appeared, displaying a few rare cases of A-O pheromone dependency.

“All the cases we’ve been able to find involve low-ranking Alphas developing dependency toward high-ranking Omegas under special conditions. So we can reasonably conclude that it’s Master Su Liang’s rare physiology that caused this.”

Now that the conversation had entered his professional domain, the doctor’s nerves eased.

“You haven’t developed an unnatural emotional attachment to him. Rather… ahem, your body is adjusting your pheromones.”

He glanced at Lu Taipan.

“I’m not sure if Master Su Liang has mentioned this to you, but I’ve reviewed both current and past records—your pheromone composition has shifted drastically. Previously, we attributed that to your pheromone imbalance, but now with new evidence, it’s clear this isn’t a disorder, but a conscious physiological adaptation. Your body is instinctively adjusting your pheromones to align with Su Liang’s preferences… In short, you’re subconsciously trying to seduce him.”

At this, Lu Taipan narrowed his eyes.

“Every Alpha does that when they’re around an Omega they like,” he said coolly and logically. “We naturally highlight our strengths to gain their attention.”

The medical officer coughed.

“True, yes. When in the presence of someone we’re attracted to, any Alpha will instinctively try to present their best side. But most only change their behavior or speech patterns. Pheromones, however, are usually stable.”

Unless that Alpha has developed A-O pheromone dependency.

The moment the doctor finished speaking, Lu Taipan fell silent for a long time.

The medical officer maintained his calm expression, though inside he was stiff with tension.

“The good news is that this type of dependency is much milder than traditional forms. There’s no mental distortion, no obsessive mania. It’s more like… a natural evolutionary adaptation. When an Alpha cannot secure a powerful mate through strength alone, the body develops new methods of courtship.”

Of course, most Alphas could never imagine—even in their wildest dreams—that someone already at double S-rank might one day develop such a rare condition.

“Master Snake, from now on, you may begin to experience slight emotional changes. For example, your jealousy may intensify, your temper might become more sensitive, and your desire to be around your Omega will increase significantly. Especially since your rut cycle is overlapping with the pheromone dependency onset. The next few days may be rough. But I believe you will restrain yourself. Even during your worst period before, you behaved impeccably.”

“Su Liang’s development requires your pheromones, and your emotional stability. However, as a physically superior Alpha—particularly one whose strength vastly overpowers an undifferentiated Omega—I strongly advise you to continue wearing a bite inhibitor and increase your restraint devices. In short, you can remain close—but absolutely no further.”

“Before he completes his differentiation, you must not mark him under any circumstances!”

That last warning was delivered with rare authority and firmness.

Lu Taipan’s gaze was still icy and calm.

“I’ll be careful,” he said dryly.

“Considering you’ve developed pheromone dependency, I am obligated by medical protocol to inform Master Su Liang and advise him to remain alert around you. If he’s willing, I will also use his pheromones as a base to make you a calming agent to ease any uncontrollable urges.”

The medical officer nodded.

“Wait—I’ll explain it to him myself.”

Lu Taipan inhaled, then spoke with rare hesitation.

The Beta raised his head and studied him.

As a medical officer, he had always respected and trusted his commander. But now, seeing the Alpha traits and data recorded on the screen, he couldn’t help feeling a sliver of concern.

“Alright. I trust you’ll tell him clearly. But… please remember. Don’t act on impulse—”

As an elder who had been around the Snake Pit for years, the doctor’s nagging tone was a rare sign of genuine concern.

Lu Taipan had never minded it before. But this time, as he walked out of the medical wing, he—uncharacteristically—felt a flash of awkwardness and embarrassment… just like Su Liang had felt a few days ago.

Outside the metal door, Lu Taipan let out a heavy sigh.

In the empty corridor, he suddenly stopped, raised a hand, and lightly pressed his fingers to his lips.

Lately, his marking teeth had refused to fully retract. His dreams had been filled with sweet, heated, wet images—causing his private shower room’s usage rate to spike.

He was increasingly sensitive, always craving to hold the youth, to leave his scent on that person’s body.

He had thought it was just his rut cycle. But now, with the truth laid bare—

It wasn’t just rut.

It was…

“Pheromone dependency, huh?”

He murmured to himself.

He remembered the cases he’d seen in the medical files. In nearly all of them, the Alphas were ashamed, unable to accept that they’d become dependent on an Omega.

But Lu Taipan realized his feelings were nothing like those examples.

In fact, he felt something close to secret… joy.

As if he had suddenly been granted official, legitimate permission to be alone and close to the person he wanted most.

Of course, this private thought flashed by only briefly in his mind.

With a hint of expectation—even he didn’t notice—he opened his communicator.

Unlike what the medical officer worried, Lu Taipan had no intention of hiding this from Su Liang. But when he saw Su Liang’s name on the screen, he hesitated.

Maybe… waiting a little longer would make the results more favorable?

“Steward.”

He called.

“Yes, Master. What are your instructions?”

“Where is Little Liang right now?”

“Well…” The steward, usually quick to respond, hesitated. “My system just detected the medical officer uploading your test results. As your AI, I strongly recommend you rest and fully process this emotional impact before informing Master Su Liang. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

As the AI rambled on, Lu Taipan’s gaze turned cold.

“Locate Su Liang’s current cabin coordinates. Now.”

Lu Taipan ordered, his tone glacial.

---

Deep within the Snake Pit ship, in a secure medical ward for monitored individuals…

Su Liang stood beside a curved medical pod, quietly watching the man inside.

Lu Zhi Zhao was completely encased in translucent medical gel. His form barely discernible through the thick substance. Only a faint, pale shadow was visible.

If not for the identity displayed on the screen above, Su Liang might not have recognized him at all.

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of monitoring devices and the pod’s operation. But the peace was soon broken by a familiar, snake-tongued voice beside him.

“I don’t get it.” Xue Yinheng grumbled. “What are you looking at this bastard for? He’s not worth your time. The fact that he’s even alive is a miracle.”

Xue sneered.

“Is his life in danger?” Su Liang suddenly asked.

Xue paused, then thought for a moment.

“Not exactly. But boss really didn’t hold back. Every bone in his body was crushed. Even if they replace him with synthetic bone back at the Lu estate, he’ll never recover fully. And that’s not even the worst part. Boss used psychic pierce when beating him. His mental sea was already breaking—now it’s completely shattered. Even with treatment, he’ll be lucky to be a B-class at best. Can’t wait to see Lu Zheng’en’s face when they return his trash son.”

He looked at the man inside and scoffed.

“But I still don’t get why boss spared him. By law, attacking you is attacking a Snake Pit officer—we could’ve executed him on the spot. Not to mention that he tried to forcefully mark an undifferentiated Omega. Under Alliance Law, that’s double capital punishment.”

As he ranted, Xue suddenly noticed Su Liang’s silence and frowned.

“Hey, kid—what’s that expression? Tell me I’m imagining things, or did you just sigh in relief when you saw this bastard was still alive?”

“I…”

Su Liang blinked, caught off guard.

Just as he was about to explain, a cold voice interrupted them.

“Though I didn’t kill him, I’ve already issued a formal injunction against him as master of the Snake Pit. He’ll return to the Lu estate, yes—but he’s been permanently exiled. He will live in a locked-down facility for the rest of his life.”

Lu Taipan had arrived silently, his aura frigid as he stood beside Su Liang.

“He may still be alive,” he said coldly, “but he’s no different from a corpse.”

“Boss?! When did you—ah, doesn’t matter. That’s what I’m talking about! That’s how this scum should be treated!”

Xue cheered.

But Lu Taipan didn’t react to the praise.

Instead, he glanced at Xue. “You’ve got unfinished missions.”

“Me? I’m on break tod—”

Xue froze mid-sentence.

He opened his task list—and was horrified to find it suddenly packed with urgent items.

“…Boss, if I leave now, can you maybe reduce my task load a little?”

Lu Taipan didn’t answer.

But his silent stare made Xue pale. He bolted.

On his way out, he shot Su Liang a meaningful look.

“Good luck, kid.”

Even Xue could tell Lu Taipan was in a bad mood—how could Su Liang not notice?

“I just… wanted to check if he was alive. That’s all,” Su Liang muttered, unsure why he was suddenly so nervous.

“I know.”

Lu Taipan’s face was calm—on the surface. Cold and unreadable as always.

“I didn’t spare him out of mercy,” he said evenly. “I did it because I believe living will be more painful for him than dying.”

Before Su Liang could speak, Lu Taipan smiled faintly.

“Are you feeling pity for him?”

Su Liang didn’t answer immediately.

After a moment of silence, he said, “I didn’t want him to die.”

He looked into Lu Taipan’s eyes and added quietly, “But not because I have feelings for him. Honestly… I was surprised to realize I feel nothing. Maybe you’re not the cold one—I am.”

His voice was honest and calm.

Even though he had broken up with Lu Zhi Zhao early in this life, in the past… they had been together for a long time.

But now, staring at him, Su Liang truly felt nothing at all.

Perhaps it was because of that final encounter, when Lu Zhi Zhao tried to force him—shattering every last remaining feeling Su Liang had for him.

The kind of man Su Liang admired would never be someone capable of attempted forced marking.

“I didn’t want him to die by your hand because—well, he’s still your nephew. If he died, the acting Lu patriarch—”

“You can just say Lu Zheng’en.”

“Fine. Lu Zheng’en would’ve taken the chance to attack you. Things between the Snake Pit and the Lu family are already tense. And more importantly… I don’t want to see you dragged into scandal again over something like this.”

As Su Liang murmured, the shadows in Lu Taipan’s eyes began to fade.

Hearing Su Liang’s concern, he let out a faint scoff.

“That’s nothing worth worrying about.”

“I know. But I still worry.”

Lu Taipan froze.

“…Why?”

“Because it hurts me to see you hurt.”

He paused again.

Su Liang stared up at this tall, cold Alpha, and gently hooked his pinky with Lu Taipan’s.

“I didn’t know the truth about the Snake Pit before. Or what kind of person you really were. Back when I was at the Lu family, even at Xingchuan University, people used to say terrible things about you. The rumors made you out to be a demon, a madman, a butcher soaked in blood.”

His tone was soft, but his words were laced with regret.

“I know you don’t care about what others say. But still… Mr. Si, do you know how it feels to hear the person you like being called a monster?”

The moment the words fell, Su Liang felt Lu Taipan grasp his hand tightly.

After several long seconds, Lu Taipan’s low voice reached his ears.

“So, it was for me.”

His voice was strained.

“Yes. I only care about you.”

Su Liang said honestly.

Lu Taipan said nothing.

Su Liang watched him nervously, uncertain.

He felt like Lu Taipan was pleased—but the man’s expression gave nothing away. In fact… he seemed almost upset?

Su Liang, confused, scooted closer.

Blushing, he gently tickled Lu Taipan’s palm with his fingertip.

“…Are you mad at me, Mr. Si?”

He tried to act spoiled—but clumsily.

Still, it made Lu Taipan’s body tense.

—He should’ve worn the bite inhibitor before seeing him.

The regret flickered.

Now that he was aware of his pheromone dependency, the sweet scent from Su Liang’s body had become impossible to resist.

He had to control every breath, staying completely still.

But to Su Liang, this restraint seemed like…

A rejection.

Su Liang panicked. He tried to pull his hand away.

“I know you’re mad because I came to check on Lu Zhi Zhao. I won’t do it again—”

Seeing Su Liang’s expression fall, Lu Taipan blurted:

“I’m not mad.”

He emphasized it.

“My body… has a problem.”

He looked down, voice low.

“The medical officer will explain it later. Just know—I need you. More than ever.”

“…What?”

Su Liang looked stunned.

“I may act… scary,” Lu Taipan murmured, leaning into the crook of Su Liang’s neck. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent.

“But please… don’t hate me. Xiao Liang, without you, I’ll go mad. I’ll fall apart.”

His voice was hoarse.

“I’ll become a monster.”

…

…

…

Neither of them noticed—

Inside the pod beside them, the eyes of Lu Zhi Zhao—supposedly unconscious under deep sedation—twitched beneath closed lids.