How to ferment apple cider

by PumpkinSeed_A01

Summary:

Caleb is Gege.
Caleb is an Alpha.
You are an Omega.
For a better life, you disguise yourself as an Alpha.

* You and Caleb are biological siblings in this AU.
* This work is translated from my previous fic.

Notes:

• A translation of 【夏以昼】低温发酵（ABO） by PumpkinSeed_A01

1

The summer you graduated from high school, Caleb came home from college. As he opened the door, he caught the exclamation of surprise from your neighbor.

“Oh my… Josephine, it’s incredible. Both of your kids are alpha!”

You stepped aside, clutching the test report in your hand, smiling politely at your neighbor.

Caleb’s eyes flicked from you to Grandma, who was busy chatting with your neighbor. Grandma beckoned him over: “Your sister’s test results came back. She’s an alpha too, and she’s just started taking suppressants. Make sure to help her if she has any questions.”

Caleb nodded at Grandma, then turned to you with a soft, almost unreadable smile. He bent slightly, ruffling your hair gently: “It doesn’t matter what secondary gender you are. Congrats, my little sis — you’ve grown up.”

The emotion in his voice was hard for you to decipher.

“Thanks, Gege.” You mumbled.

Only you know that you are an imposter.

The story itself was not complicated. Just a few weeks before submitting university application forms, a cool and capable female hunter came to school for an information session. After delivering a flawless simulated combat demonstration, your resolve to become a Deepspace Hunter grew even stronger.

Then you heard her say: “We fully support gender equality, and welcome applicants of all genders to Hunter Academy. However, for safety reasons, most positions in the Hunter Association cannot accept omegas who are not permanently marked. Please consider this carefully when filling out your application.”

It did not trouble you at first, since your secondary gender hadn’t manifested, even in your final year of high school. However, on the day you passed the hunter admission exam, you unexpectedly experienced a night you would never forget.

You were home alone that night. Grandma was away at a week-long conference abroad, and Caleb had already called you to say he would be busy with training recently and wouldn’t be back all week. Not wanting to disturb them, you decided to save the good news until they came back. Thinking about what Caleb said a few days earlier — drinking milk could still help you grow taller at your age—you warmed a glass of milk for yourself and soon slipped into a sweet dream.

The dream was sweet and peaceful at first. You and Caleb were sitting on a freshly cut lawn, laughing together. Somehow, fire erupted at the edge of the grass. It quickly spread to your feet, but you found you couldn’t escape, as your body was completely immobilized. In a panic, Caleb stepped in front of you without hesitation, and the flames vanished the moment they touched him.

You woke from the dream, drenched in sweat, your body burning with a frightening heat. The flame in your dream was nothing other than the belated secondary gender manifestation. And Caleb’s ability to extinguish the flames in the dream came from the faint pheromones drifting from his room.

Even though you knew Caleb wasn’t home, you still had a guilty conscience as you stepped outside his room. The intense pheromones from the top-tier Alpha swept through your brain like a storm as you pushed the door open. Cold sweat broke out the moment you realized you were an omega. Your body moved on its own, drawn toward the area with high concentrations of the pheromones, like a dying traveler in the desert instinctively rushing toward an oasis. You opened the closet and lifted Caleb’s clothes one by one, breathing in their scent. Your gaze finally settled on the center of the pheromone storm—his bed.

You curled up on his bed, burying your face in his pillow and wrapping yourself in his blanket. Enveloped in his pheromones, your burning thirst inside eased slightly. But Caleb left for college two days ago, and the lingering scent in his room was barely enough to satisfy you. Gathering the last of your strength, you called emergency services with trembling hands. The paramedics arrived shortly afterward and took you to the hospital.

The doctor who saw you was an Omega as well. The moment you walked into her office, disbelief was written all over her face: “Unbelievable, an omega with pheromones this strong?”

By the time you were brought in, you were already on the verge of delirium. One injection of artificial pheromones and two doses of suppressants finally cleared your mind. After the doctor repeatedly confirmed that you were over eighteen and understood the nature of secondary gender manifestation, you were allowed to sign the consent form.

The doctor reviewed all indicators in your test report. Her expression was serious: “Your pheromone is strong and unique; traditional therapy will place a heavy burden on your body in the long term.”

Seeing the hopeless look on your face, the doctor sighed quietly. After all, she is an omega too and knows how hard life can be as an omega.

“I suggest you undergo hormone therapy to completely mask your omega scent,” she said gently and sincerely. “Don’t worry, under anti-discrimination regulations, these treatments are common and legal. But we can’t make you beta because your pheromone is strong; it is impossible to cover it up. The best approach is to disguise your scent as an alpha’s.”

You agreed to the plan without any hesitation. The doctor recommended staying in the hospital for two days to adapt to the hormone therapy and monitor any side effects. She also instructed you to continue the medication twice a week after discharge.

You adapted to the therapy well during your hospitalization. As your doctor had said, your pheromone level was exceptionally high, which is extremely rare for an omega. Your pheromone carried a wine-like scent, a type more commonly found in alphas, which made it seem entirely natural for you to pass as one. After two days of treatment, the A/O patients in the hospital all remarked that you smelled like a true alpha.

On the day of your discharge, you arranged a pheromone-cleaning service. Within two hours, professional cleaners arrived and thoroughly eliminated the omega scent you left at home. You took a deep breath, feeling satisfied that only two distinct alpha scents remained in the house.

This is your first secret.

You got another test report from a third-party agency for unexpected needs. When Grandma returned home from the conference, you showed her the report, and it so happened that your neighbor was visiting, and Caleb was home for summer break. Your face flushed amid their praise and congratulations.

However, a perfect disguise of your scent as an alpha’s does not mean you were immune to an alpha’s pheromone. The hormone therapy could only alter your pheromone scent; it cannot actually transform you into an alpha. So whenever you had to stay close to Caleb, a recognized top male alpha, you endured a torment unlike anything before—you had to pretend that you were not attracted to his pervasive pheromones. A couple of times that summer, when you were in the same space, you were nearly overwhelmed by his rich, sweet, apple-like fragrance. You faked a cough to cover it up. Caleb even laughed, teasing that your alpha’s scent could never compete with his, and you were obviously jealous.

“Indeed,” you pouted, “I am not like someone—a top alpha, also tall and handsome, chased by girls and showered with love letters every day.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Love letters? I don’t recall bringing any home.”

“See?” You forced your tone to stay light, suppressing the strange emotion twisting inside you as you endured his pheromones. “I know you get plenty.”

Caleb’s purple eyes darted around: “You didn’t happen to see the letter paper with little hearts on my desk… did you?”

You shrugged and put on a brave face.

“That’s…well, never mind.” He paused, the hesitation obvious, then smiled faintly. “Right. Yes, it was a love letter.”

His gaze lingered on you. “Are you jealous of how popular I am?”

You smiled and pretended to hit him, masking the sting in your heart.

This is another secret of yours.

You had known all along that you harbored a crush on your older brother. Not the instinctive pull an alpha feels toward an omega, but simply because… he is Caleb.

After saying farewell to high school, you felt a sense of relief stepping into your dream university, because you could finally use all sorts of excuses to go home less often. Going home meant being surrounded by his irresistible pheromones, leaving you unable to sleep. You had to admit that you could still get along with him as before, but controlling your biological instincts was becoming increasingly difficult. During the short time he was away, you almost always sneaked into his room to collect his scent from his clothes and bedsheets, seeking a fleeting satisfaction. Frankly, even if Caleb weren’t your crush, the addictive scent of sunlight mingled with the woody aroma of apples would instinctively make you want to be marked by him again and again.

University life passed quickly. As you had expected, becoming a hunter was no easy feat. Both the physical training courses and theoretical exams were exceptionally demanding, with a very high failure rate. Yet, thanks to your talent and hard work, you excelled in every subject and often earned scholarships for outstanding performance. The only downside was that most of your classmates were alphas, which could be quite uncomfortable at times.

Nonetheless, you had never encountered anyone else with a pheromone like Caleb’s — one that could make you intoxicated from the slightest trace.

Sometimes, you worried about your future after graduation. After years of hormone therapy, your body had begun developing some resistance, requiring an extra dose each week to maintain its effectiveness. Internships and assessments were coming up soon, crucial for your career. You were not concerned about your abilities, but lifelong medication is undeniably troublesome, especially when training with a group of alpha teammates. You had to slip away from your classmates to take your doses discreetly, all while enduring the dizzying pheromones your teammates exuded through sweat during training camps. You knew the simplest and most effective solution would be to find an alpha to mark you permanently, but every time the word "mark" crossed your mind, your older brother’s face flashed unbidden in your thoughts, and you hastily found something else to focus on.

Today is the last day before summer break. You are packing slowly, and you suddenly realize that you have been deliberately avoiding Caleb for a whole semester. Even when visiting Grandma, you would subtly ask beforehand what time Caleb would be home. There was no other reason—you were simply becoming less and less capable of resisting his pheromones.

Over the past two years, you have come to understand that your attraction to Caleb’s scents was more than just infatuation. After initially sneaking into his bedroom every day to gather traces of his pheromones, you even experienced mild withdrawal symptoms. Once you stopped inhaling them, your body grew restless, as though deprived of something essential.

The cruel irony was this: the longer you abstained, the stronger the craving became when you encountered his scent again, and the harder it was to endure. The paradox has no solutions. You didn't know whether you should avoid his pheromones to escape the addiction or expose yourself to them more frequently for desensitization.

Your doctor couldn’t answer this question either. She could only tell you that, from a biological perspective, such a strong attraction could only prove one thing—this person is your destined alpha. She even suggested you seek the opportunity to be permanently marked by him. Being marked by such a highly compatible alpha would greatly increase your chances of no longer needing medication.

You gave her a helpless smile: "Impossible, that person is my brother."

For a moment, her mouth fell open in a small “O” of surprise before she quickly closed it. She gently reassured you that the hormone therapy had worked quite well for you over the years. She praised your success in pretending to be an alpha and your ability to navigate among a group of alpha classmates every day without ever resorting to suppressants.

As you are packing the last few pieces of your luggage, your phone screen lights up. A message from Caleb pops up: “Summer vacation is coming. When are you coming home?”

You purse your lips. Of course you want to go home early. You want to talk to Grandma face-to-face, you want to see the person behind the screen that you'd been dreaming about day and night. You even want to throw yourself into his arms, greedily inhaling every trace of his apple-scented pheromones, indulging in it until your reason crumbles.

You stare at the message for a while, take a deep breath, and finally reply: “I'm coming back tomorrow. What about you? How long are you coming back this time?"

"Two months. I don't have to participate in group training this summer. We haven't seen each other in a long time, have we? Don't you want to take Grandma on a trip and enjoy the vacation?"

You hesitated for a moment, then finally typed a simple "okay".

As for the reason behind your hesitation and unease—aside from the fact that Caleb is your blood brother—is that after finding the letter paper in his room, you have finally discovered his secret.

One night last year, Caleb was not home. You sneaked into his room again, only to unexpectedly see a hidden compartment built into the bookshelf. When you opened it, you saw the heart-patterned letter paper—a sight etched deeply into your memory—written in that all-too-familiar handwriting.

You glanced at the first line, and your breath caught in your throat. Suppressing the desire for pheromones, you put the letter back and fled his room as if escaping something dangerous. Because the letter clearly read:

I like you not because you're an omega...

It was not a love letter some girl had given him. It was something he wrote to someone else.

You stumbled back to your bed, letting your pheromones surge uncontrollably within you. You clenched your teeth tightly, refusing to make a sound. Suppressing the churning pain in your chest and the craving for pheromones, you curled up into a tight ball, buried your face in the blankets, and let your tears silently soak the pillow. Only when all your longing and resentment were crushed by exhaustion did you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in suffocating silence.

 

 

 

2

Dragging your luggage to the familiar front door, you are just about to knock when it seems to sense your presence and opens a crack on its own. You pull the door open and meet the eyes you have been longing for.

Caleb walks over to help you with your luggage: "Was the train crowded?"

You close your eyes as he looks down at the suitcase, suppressing the intense urge your body feels toward his pheromones. When you look at him again, your tone is calm.

 "It's alright, everything went smoothly. How about you, Gege? This is the first time you’ve come home earlier than me in the summer."

Caleb smiles: "I came back yesterday as soon as the assessment results came out. Since I got first place, I don't have to participate in group training this summer."

"Wait," you vaguely remember hearing acquaintances from the flight academy talking about their assessment standards, "So getting first place means unconditional admission to the DAA, right? That's why you don't have to go to training."

Caleb’s lips curl up slightly: "That's right."

"Wow, congrats." Your eyes light up, crinkling into crescent shapes as you smile, "Why didn't you tell me about such important news?"

As you speak, you habitually reach out to hug him. But before you could make contact, you freeze for a moment, startled by his pheromones. Caleb has already lifted his arms to receive the hug, yet when he notices your reaction, he pauses and withdraws his hand, ultimately just giving your back a gentle pat.

The moment becomes slightly awkward, and you don't know how to smooth it over. After all, dealing with those ever-present pheromones already takes up almost all your energy.

You scratch your head and force a smile: "So, shall we have a nice dinner together?"

Caleb, however, remains calm: "Aren’t we going on a trip? Actually, there’s a nice place in the mountains about two hours from the city. I've already booked the train tickets and the hotel for the three of us." He shows you the family suite he reserved for two nights, with three rooms in total. One room with a balcony is for Grandma, and the other two are for you to choose from.

“What does it matter which room? We’ve always shared everything since we were little,” you say with a smile, though cold sweat trickles down your back as you struggle to suppress your reaction.

Just then, Grandma returns from shopping and happily pulls you down to sit beside her. You feel as if you have seen a savior, clinging tightly to beta Grandma for a brief moment of respite.

Then you hear her say, “This arrangement was a bit sudden. The team needs me to guide the research group in the on-site investigation. Caleb, I’m very satisfied with your arrangements and your thoughtfulness. But this time, you may take your sister out to enjoy yourselves. Grandma will definitely come next time.”

Something seems to explode above your head, and you can’t see Caleb’s expression.

After enduring pheromone throughout dinner, you quickly retreat to your room, open the window to clear away the alpha scent clinging to you, and give yourself your first suppressant in almost half a year.

On the day of the trip, you wonder if you should make one last attempt — perhaps pretending to be sick. But after much deliberation, you let out a long sigh. How could you refuse your brother’s graduation trip when Grandma is already unable to attend?

After injecting the highest dose of suppressant at home beforehand, you and Caleb wave goodbye to Grandma.

The sunset casts blurry shadows of trees across the train window. The train winds its way through the mountains, road lights occasionally sweeping across the carriage, the only constant sound the low rumble of the engine.

You rest your forehead against the glass, watching the mountains slowly darken. Now and then, you catch a glimpse of Caleb’s profile reflected in the window. Fortunately, a gentle evening breeze drifts in through the small gap in the window, dispersing some of the apple-scented pheromones.

After setting off in the afternoon, you bombard him with questions about his school life to avoid an awkward silence, from his courses to club activities, even gossip about his roommates. He answers briefly, and you follow up with more questions, your laughter sometimes sounding a little forced.

The conversation circles back and forth until he begins asking about your hunter training results and assessments, and you reply in an even livelier tone than usual. After talking for so long, remembering the awkward hug when you arrived home, you suddenly feel like a deflated balloon, a wave of bittersweet emotion rising in your chest.

Caleb seems to notice the shift in your mood, and the two of you fall into a brief, unspoken silence.

“So you’ve been this busy all semester?” he suddenly asks. For some reason, the scent of apples seems to grow stronger.

Your thoughts are pulled back once again, and you answer absentmindedly, “Well… you could say that.”

After a few seconds of silence, you hear him chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice: “So busy that even your trip home happens to clash with mine?”

“No.” You lower your gaze, unsure whether to make up an excuse to escape to the next carriage or take the opportunity to breathe in the apple scent a few more times.

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Your heart skips a beat at those words. You want to retort immediately, but what can you say? Should you tell him that, quite the opposite, you are hopelessly infatuated with his pheromones, easily attracted even after the highest dose of suppressant?

Seeing your continued silence, his voice lowers even more, as if struggling to utter an answer he couldn't accept: "Or... you hate me?"

The word "hate" sounds colder than the evening breeze from the window. You can’t hold back any longer and turn to meet his eyes. His purple eyes, in the ambiguous light, seem to have lost their usual sharpness, leaving only a jumble of emotions you couldn't decipher. You almost couldn't resist touching his face, explaining all the emotions in your heart to him.

"No, no..." you stammer, your words almost blurting out the truth without careful consideration. But the thought of your memory as siblings, of that love letter, sends a sharp pain through your heart, and all the words are swallowed back. Just then, the train's announcement comes on, saving your nearly shattered pride.

The train arrives at the station. Caleb, without a word, picks up your luggage with one hand and grabs your wrist with the other, pulling you off the train. His scent wafts intermittently into your nostrils on the wind. You are dazed as he leads you to your room, not even remembering how you checked in.

It has been a long time since you last smelled this apple scent this closely and for such a long time. You realize you may overestimate the suppressant’s effect and sense that the highest dose of medication you'd injected that morning is almost worn off. The moment you enter the room and close the door, the lack of outside air and wind makes the pheromone scent suddenly intensify, making your legs go weak. Caleb is clearly startled by your appearance and quickly helps you sit down on the sofa.

"What's wrong?" His tone is clearly anxious. "Got a cold? Feeling dizzy?"

"..Gege." There is a softness in your voice that you yourself don’t realize.

Caleb is startled. You haven't called him "brother" in a long time. Since growing up, you mostly called him by his full name, only using that when you needed his help.

"Help me...get some suppressants. There are blue and red labeled ones in the bag, get me one of each." Cold sweat pours down your forehead to your chin, and even the back of your neck is damp. You stared intently at the ground, avoiding looking at Caleb's face to prevent further aggravating your reaction. However, a faint apple scent floats in the air; the more you try to ignore it, the more your sense of smell actively seeks it out.

Caleb immediately opens your backpack, and upon seeing it crammed full of medication, he looks surprised: "Why did you bring so many suppressants for a three-day trip? Why are you using two at once?"

Of course, it's because one is a regular omega suppressant, and the other is a high-concentration pheromone converter, instructed by the doctor for use only in "worst case" emergencies. It can quickly break down your omega pheromones and a small portion of the alpha pheromones already in your body, at the cost of placing a huge burden on your liver and kidneys in a short period.

And now, the person responsible for this "worst case" is right in front of you. You think this to yourself, but aloud you utter a pre-prepared excuse: "My alpha hormones have a special nature; both medications are more effective when used simultaneously."

The lie flows too smoothly, but the truth is, you have no idea. The suppressant you injected this morning reached the maximum dose, and according to the doctor's orders, you must wait another 24 hours before re-injecting. The doctor has already told you about the consequences of an overdose; while it's unlikely to have any effect, serious side effects could cause irreversible damage to your organs. The doctor didn't tell too many details of the side effects, after all, no one in the world would be foolish enough to intentionally overdose on medication.

Caleb brings two injections to you as you requested. Looking at your flushed face and trembling body, his expression is full of suspicion. Just as you are about to take the injections, he suddenly raises them high, then, under your pleading gaze, resolutely holds them even further away. His expression towards you becomes somewhat complicated.

"I just saw this morning… you'd already given yourself one." Caleb crouches down to your eye level, the distance suddenly closing. The alpha's pheromones, carrying the sweet scent of ripe fruit baked in the sun, press down on you in waves. That scent is familiar yet dangerous; you could almost feel it seeping into your lungs with each breath.

"What's going on? Are you entering your most vulnerable period? Didn't the doctor tell you about basic safe medication use?" He asks in a low voice.

"Don't… don't get so close to me…" You use the last of your strength to push him away, but you lose control the moment your fingers touch him. A surge of alcohol-scented pheromones erupts from your glands. His pupils instantly lose focus, and the syringe in your hand falls to the floor, rolling under the sofa. You frantically try to pick it up, but as you bend down, Caleb suddenly slams his body against you, pressing you back onto the sofa.

His intense pheromones instantly envelop you, his body heat seeping through your clothes, your muscles tensing instinctively. The apple scent, almost bitter, mingles with your alcohol scent, intertwining and fermenting in the confined space, seemingly foreshadowing an uncontrollable chemical reaction.

You hear your brain buzzing, your reason melting away in the intense heat. Yet, you unleash an astonishing willpower to maintain your last shred of sanity, continuing to try to break free. However, he instinctively holds you captive. His tall, muscular adult male body was like a solid wall; you couldn't budge him an inch. As the pheromones spread and seep into your skin, you finally lose all the rationality you had so desperately clung to.

"Gege..." You cup the face you have longed for in your hands, the intense physical repression blurring your vision, all your senses focus on the aroma of apples.

You lean closer, gazing at him with almost tearful eyes, then nuzzle his chin with your nose, lowering your head to reveal your moist glands.

"Gege, sorry... I'm sorry, I've been lying to you... I'm an omega... Mark... Mark me."

Your voice is broken and tinged with soft sobs, like the whimpers of a newborn animal cowering. A sweet, rich fragrance wafted from your glands, and abundant juice slowly seeps towards Caleb’s nose.

 

 

 

3

What you didn’t know is that Caleb's suffering was far more painful and prolonged than you imagined.

During their rut, besides using suppressants to help control the spread of their scent and reduce pheromone secretion, alphas also need the deeper calming effects of omega pheromones to restrain their uncontrollable instincts. As a mature top-tier alpha, Caleb's sense of smell and perception are far more acute than average, almost to the point of being demanding when it comes to distinguishing pheromones. Because of this, the stimulation and desire he experiences during his rut are far more intense than those of most alphas.

However, this alpha survived his rut shortly after manifestation solely with artificially synthesized pheromones.

Generally, most alphas avoid artificial pheromones. Their effects are short-lived, the side effects are noticeable, and the scent itself is unpleasant—far less convenient or effective than marking an omega. This is especially true for top-tier alphas with highly developed senses of smell. To Caleb, even the best artificial pheromones on the market smelled as acrid as cheap plastic burning. Even so, Caleb had no choice but to take large amounts of artificial pheromones during each rut, simply because it was the only antidote preventing him from losing control.

After differentiating into an alpha, Caleb considered countless possibilities for his future. But he had never imagined marking an omega in his life.

Because long ago, he had decided that his sister would be the one and only.

You were adopted from an orphanage by Grandma when you were little. When you grew a bit older, you learned from Grandma that you came from the same origins. Normally, biological siblings are more likely to share the same secondary gender, and given your independent and decisive personality, Caleb had long assumed you would be an alpha just like him.

In the year you entered your final year of high school, Caleb finally breathed a sigh of relief. By that age, secondary gender differentiation rarely occurred anymore, which meant you were almost certainly a beta.

He believed that it was best for his sister to be a beta.

As a beta, you would never have to endure the agony of gender manifestation, never be driven to the brink of losing control by pheromones, and never have to suffer through the torment of rut or heat cycles. Society has always been tolerant of betas. You could choose your career and the way you wished to live far more freely, without being bound by boring and unnecessary things such as pheromone compatibility or marking bonds.

Caleb never wanted you to become an alpha. He had experienced the loss of control during differentiation. He remembered the helplessness of holding a syringe in the clinic for the first time. He didn't want his sister to experience the cold sting of a needle piercing her glands or the burning sensation of medication flowing into her veins. He hoped you would never have to learn the types of suppressants, worry about the side effects of drugs, or spend quiet nights hating the arrival of your rut. One year, when you went to the temple together to make New Year wishes, Caleb prayed that his sister would never need to learn how to use a syringe in her life.

As your high school graduation approached, Caleb had already checked the exact time when the Hunter Qualification Exam results would be released. The moment they were published, he immediately called your teacher and learned that his younger sister had passed. He had hoped you would tell him the news in person, but he waited and waited, and the message never came. His original plan was to spend the entire week in training without returning home. But the urge to celebrate with you in person proved impossible to ignore, and in the end, he decided to take a day off and go home to see you.

That morning, Caleb arrived home early. The moment he opened the door, he was stunned for nearly a minute by the omega scent lingering in the air. It was sweet with a hint of fermented alcohol, slightly bitter at the end, and a damp warmth—clearly the pheromones of a newly differentiated omega. In the instant his reason returned, Caleb pinpointed the source of the scent. He strode towards your room. The moment he opened the door, a disheveled bed came into view, your personal belongings scattered on the floor, and the empty room filled with the lingering sweetness of alcohol.

He immediately understood what had happened.

He didn't even need to ask where you had gone, your pheromones were the best clue. There were only two hospitals in the city that could provide emergency care for omegas, and he only spent a few seconds determining the direction the pheromones had faded toward and knew where you were.

Caleb’s tense nerves relaxed slightly. He went to his own room, only to be shocked to find that the omega pheromones lingering in his room were no less than those in yours. His sister had smelled his clothes, slept in his bed—you see, how cruel. The tracking ability of a top-tier alpha is terrifying, he could easily and clearly identify your scent and reconstruct every movement you made.

His sister was an omega, and an extremely rare one at that, almost perfectly compatible with him. This realization made his blood boil with excitement. Pheromones surged through his veins, nearly overwhelming his reason. His alpha instincts clamored to possess her, to mark her.

But after the initial surge of physical pleasure subsided, worry and fear washed over his mind like a bucket of cold water.

What will become of your life?

This was the first question that came to Caleb’s mind.

Because of anti-discrimination regulations, legal provisions are generally written in a roundabout and vague way, but in practice society remained indifferent. Most public institutions would never easily accept applications from unmarked omegas. Not to mention his sister wanted to join the Hunter Association, a place with almost cruelly demanding physical and mental standards, a place where even most alphas are eliminated in the selection process.

Caleb stood still, his fingers slowly tightening. He knew all too well how much training and sweat you had put into this path, and he also knew how easily the system could dismiss it all.

On another note, however, as long as you could find a compatible alpha and complete the permanent marking before graduation, all of these problems would be solved. Besides, at your university, finding an outstanding alpha would not be difficult.

However, the moment this thought surfaced in his mind, Caleb's fist slammed heavily on the table.

You would date another alpha man, be attracted to their pheromones, develop a dependence, and slowly get used to it. And one day, you would bare the nape of your neck to another alpha without hesitation. Permanent marking is not merely a promise between ordinary lovers. It is a lifelong physiological bond. Your scents would blend, your pheromones would intertwine, and you would be bound together for life. Just imagining that scene made his pheromones surge uncontrollably, like a wild beast that had sensed its territory being invaded.

The lingering scent of alcohol in the room had not yet faded. Its fragrance clung to him like fine threads, constantly reminding him of the dangerous compatibility between the two of you.

“If marking is inevitable…”

Caleb’s Adam's apple bobbed slightly. He forcefully closed his eyes, suppressing that fleeting image back into the depths of his consciousness. He should never have had this thought.

You are siblings.

He could stand by your side as your older brother, silently protecting you, sheltering you from the wind and rain, planning your future, but he could never cross that line.

Even though his biological instincts did not understand basic ethics.

After careful consideration, Caleb decided to return to school temporarily, distancing himself from your pheromones while suppressing his alpha instincts. He planned to take suppressants in a few days and then go home during the holidays as if nothing had happened.

However, when he saw you again at home, he discovered that you had successfully disguised your pheromones as those of an alpha. It did not trigger the instinctive suppression response of another alpha, yet it stirred indescribable emotions within him.

Caleb remained silent for a long time, pondering your motives. Did you despise your omega identity? Or did you choose to disguise yourself for life because you didn't want to be marked by anyone?

If that were the case…

A secret joy and relief welled up within him. As long as you did not intend to be possessed by anyone else, he was more than willing to take on the responsibility of protecting you. For Caleb, as long as he was still your closest brother, as long as you were still by his side in the future, that was enough.

After you went to university, Caleb sensed you were gradually distancing yourself from him. Although you still replied to his messages as usual, you started coming home noticeably less often, and each visit seemed shorter than the last. At first, he assumed it was simply because your university life kept you busy, but that explanation slowly became unconvincing.

Caleb was not someone who was used to doubting himself. From being the street-tough kid in the Linkon neighborhood to the campus heartthrob at Sky Haven University, his life had always been surrounded by flowers and applause. The gaze of others and their emotions were always clear and predictable to him. Caleb was used to being in control, being needed, and being trusted.

Yet the person he most wanted to hold close became the only exception. The more normal your behavior appeared, the more certain he felt that something was wrong. That invisible wall between you was more unsettling than open arguments or estrangement.

Caleb tried so many ways to understand your day-to-day life. For example, while helping you fix your computer, he would quietly install a location-tracking plug-in or two. Sometimes he even contacted your counselor, presenting himself as a responsible guardian while carefully asking about every detail of your training and daily life. If you had been a little more perceptive, you might have noticed that several of your close classmates occasionally mentioned how much they envied you for having such an excellent and attentive older brother, even though you had never told them too much about Caleb.

On a stormy midsummer night, during one of his rut periods, Caleb quietly entered your room and lingered by your bedside for a long time. He gazed at your unguarded sleeping face, struggling to suppress the nauseating smell of artificial pheromones churning in his stomach. In your deep sleep, your pheromones fluctuated slightly, and a faint trace of omega scent uncontrollably slipped into the air. Caleb had already memorized your omega pheromones from that day. It was effortless for him to distinguish your real scent, the warm fragrance of fermented alcohol, from the alpha scent you used as a disguise. That faint, almost imperceptible omega scent soothed his nerves more directly than any drug; at the same time, it stirred his instincts with a cruel intensity. He dared not stay for long. Silently counting a few seconds, he forced himself to turn and leave. But distance did nothing to quiet the turmoil in his heart. Longing and guilt tangled together inside him, desperately searching for an outlet. He sat at the table for a long time, then he looked up at the dark night sky outside the window. Finally, he opened the drawer and took out the heart-patterned letter paper he had once bought for no clear reason. Slowly, he began to write:

I like you not because you are an omega.

He knew this would be a love letter that would never be sent. Strangely, that realization made Caleb feel a little lighter. So he simply followed his heart and continued writing.

I like you because you are… you.

Even when you were still a child who understood nothing, when you ran after me calling me “gege,” when you cried and said that one day you would become strong and stand beside me, I was already thinking that I would probably spend my whole life watching over you.

Whether you become an alpha or an omega makes no difference to me. Of course, if I could choose, I would rather you were neither.

Then you would never be forced to belong to anyone.

…including me.

From that point on, the handwriting grew slightly unsteady. Yet the most important confession of the letter had not been written yet. Caleb steadied himself and continued.

I never imagined I would have a partner.

In this life, I thought it would be enough simply to stay by your side.

But if one day you have to be marked by someone, if you must take someone’s hand and walk through the rest of your life with them,

Then that person should be… no, it can only be me.

And if that is not what you wish for,

I will remain in the place of your older brother.

Caleb stared at those final two contradictory sentences for a long time before letting out a soft chuckle.

The letter bore neither salutation nor signature. When he finished, he folded it and tucked it into a hidden compartment deep within his bookshelf.

Throughout that entire semester, during which he had barely seen you at all, Caleb felt as though his heart was slowly being hollowed out.

The moment he received his acceptance letter from the DAA, his first instinct was to share the news with you. Yet when he opened the chat with you on his phone, and saw that your profile picture had been changed to a selfie taken at a coffee shop he had never been to, his fingers hovered over the keyboard a few times before he finally closed the chat.

When he returned home, Grandma was in her study, attending a video conference. The door had not been fully closed, and fragments of the conversation drifted into the hallway. He heard one of her colleagues mention that they were short-handed for an upcoming field inspection out of the city and that it would likely require Grandma to go in person to oversee it.

After standing by the doorway and listening to the entire conversation, Caleb took out his phone and booked a travel package for three people without the slightest hesitation.

 

 

4

Although this private trip for the two of you had been planned all along, your sudden loss of control came as a complete and utter surprise to Caleb.

Despite his long-standing efforts to track down scientific articles on the suppression of omega pheromones, Caleb had rarely encountered any detailed, real-world case studies of an omega successfully passing as an alpha. The few scattered search results he did find mostly consisted of queries posted on online forums—threads where the replies were almost always derisive. Comments such as, "An omega pretending to be an alpha? OP must be dreaming," or "OP definitely overdosed on artificial pheromones, can someone splash some water on them to wake them up?" were typical. 

Of course, the number of people discussing this topic was sparse to begin with, and the literature available online rarely ventured beyond abstract speculation. Caleb had once considered contacting the hospital you attended to inquire about your condition. However, it was clear that the facility adhered to strict patient confidentiality protocols, and information regarding omega patients in particular was kept under especially tight control. 

Because your pheromone conversion had been far too successful, even Caleb had never once suspected that the hormone therapy you underwent had done nothing more than alter the scent of your pheromones. Furthermore, your resistance to the pheromones of other alphas was not the result of any specialized medical treatment. Rather, it had arisen from an unintentional tolerance you had first built up towards Caleb’s own potent alpha pheromones—a tolerance you subsequently relied upon, alongside standard suppressants and sheer force of will, to maintain your composure.

Moreover, during his casual conversations with your classmates, Caleb had never detected anything unusual. In the eyes of everyone around you, you had always appeared to be nothing other than an ordinary alpha. Taken together, these countless small confirmations ensured that he never once considered the possibility that his own pheromones might influence you in a way that went far beyond the ordinary.

And so, the instant your omega pheromones burst from your glands without the slightest warning, Caleb’s vision goes abruptly black, his mind momentarily goes blank for several disorienting seconds. By the time his sight finally clears, he realizes that his body has already moved—he is now pressing you down beneath him.

You burrow against him in his arms like a startled, helpless little animal. Your breathing is uneven, your head drifting uncontrollably toward his neck. The scent of liquor clinging to you is thick and damp, tangling with his apple scent and blending into the sweet fragrance of fruit wine.

When you receive no response, you lower your head and expose your most vulnerable area, your gland. The cool, clear scent of alcohol drifts from it, tempting him—silently begging him to mark you.

Caleb feels as if he is about to lose his mind.

Your soft, warm breath brushes against the side of his neck, and you keep rubbing against his chest with reckless abandon. The unmasked scent of wine seeps gradually into his senses, carrying a fermented sweetness that dulls his judgment. Inside him, instinct and reason clash in a brutal struggle. For a fleeting moment, he almost lowers his head to bite into your gland.

That raw, impulsive instinct whispers to him: She comes to you on her own, doesn’t she? Isn’t this exactly what you dream about? Just mark her. Forget morality. Forget everything else.

But the next second, his reason, just as powerful as his physical desire, drags him back to reality. It tells him that once he crosses that line, there will be no turning back. This is only his sister’s instinctive response under the influence of pheromones, not a genuine wish to become his mate. You are siblings by blood. The foolish fantasy of spending a lifetime together as partners is impossible from the very beginning.

An indescribable emotion washes over him. Together with the dull ache that has long settled deep within him, it ultimately overcomes the surging alpha instinct and nails his body firmly in place.

He turns his head slightly, avoiding the scent drifting continuously from your gland. Then he reaches out, gripping your shoulders and pressing you gently back onto the sofa. His hand remains there for a moment, steadying you, making sure you won’t collapse forward without his support.

The knuckles of both his hands have already turned white from how tightly he clenches them, yet Caleb does not respond to you at all. Instead, he strides over and throws open every window. The night wind sweeps away the lingering apple-wine scent, clearing his mind for the moment.

He quickly retrieves a suppressant from his luggage and injects it into his own arm with ease. As his alpha’s reaction gradually subsides, he looks at you with deep concern. Your entire body burns with heat, your breathing ragged.

There is no way he can give you another suppressant. He decides to call the emergency center for help.

Still groggy and disoriented, you raise a hand and knock his phone to the floor. Just as he bends down to retrieve it, you reach out and tug at the hem of his shirt. Driven by surging emotions, your scent of alcohol intensifies once again, spreading around his body in waves of humid heat. Caleb, who typically never uses suppressants except during his rut, has the uneasy feeling that even suppressants would soon stop working on him.

“Why...?” You gaze up at him with eyes glistening and unfocused. “Just mark me, that’s all you have to do, Gege...”

Caleb rubs his temples, then closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself. He retrieves a blanket from a nearby cabinet and, under your look of utter disbelief, begins to wrap it around you until you are bundled up tight as a Zongzi. He unfastens two curtain ties and secures them around the blanket to keep you firmly in place. As for the scent gland at the nape of your neck, Caleb takes special care to cushion it with a soft towel before tucking it firmly beneath the layers of fabric.

“Gege, I don’t want this! I’m gonna get heatstroke...” You lie on the sofa, whimpering and squirming, with your bangs plastered to your forehead in sweat. The rapidly rising concentration of pheromones flushes your face a deep crimson, leaving not a trace of the cool, self-possessed hunter you usually were.

Caleb turns his head away, refusing to look at you any longer. He picks up his phone, and after a long wait on hold, finally connects to the emergency hotline for omegas. Unfortunately, the dispatcher on the other end seems utterly baffled by his request.

“Sir, let me get this straight: you are an adult, single male alpha, and you’re asking how to help an adult, unmarked female omega who has gone into an uncontrolled heat, without using any suppressants?”

After a few seconds of silence, a voice whispers from the other end of the line: “Sir, sorry to be offensive, are you gay?”

Caleb hangs up the phone with an expressionless face. It is almost amusing. This world seemed to operate on the assumption that alphas and omegas should naturally pair off simply because of pheromones. Their own opinions and emotions appear to count for nothing in the face of absolute biological imperative. Society takes it for granted that as long as an alpha and an omega pair up and don’t cause trouble for anyone else, everything is perfectly acceptable.

Caleb gazes at you, bundled up like a Zongzi and whimpering softly, and feels a sharp ache deep within his heart. He knows you are craving his pheromones. This doesn't necessarily mean a marking. Even a certain degree of bodily fluid contact, such as saliva, would be enough to ease your symptoms. Yet he fears losing control. He fears that once you regain your senses, you might only feel regret.

But as he watches your face growing redder with every passing second, and your breathing growing increasingly labored, he realizes he can delay no longer. Bracing one hand against the sofa, he leans over you, lowering his body closer to yours.

"Everything will be fine..." Caleb murmurs, gently stroking your back. Carefully pressing down on the towel wrapped around your scent gland, he lowers his head. His face brushes against your cheek. The cool, silky touch of his skin instantly alleviates the burning heat on your face. Your lips part slightly, and your soft exhaled breath grazes his skin, sending a subtle tremor of longing through his heart.

He intends merely to brush his lips against yours—a tentative, fleeting kiss—but you immediately lean in to meet him, startling him enough that he instinctively recoils slightly. Wrapped tightly in a blanket, your body is too restricted to move freely; unable to reach his lips even by craning your neck forward, your mouth droops into a pout, and—fueled by a surge of hormones—your eyes begin to well with tears.

“You’re so mean, Gege…” You bite your lip in aggrieved complaint, clearly still savoring the lingering sensation of that brief contact. “You don’t even allow me to kiss you.”

With the soft, pleading voice of his beloved murmuring right beside his ear, how can Caleb possibly hold back any longer? He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest, and kisses you with reckless abandon. The moment your lips meet, your tongue instinctively seeks entry into his mouth. He immediately, and obligingly, parts his lips to grant you access. A faint trace of alluring alpha pheromones seeps from the mucous membranes of his mouth. Acting on pure instinct, you trace the contours of his oral cavity, greedily gathering every last hint of that fragrant apple scent into your own mouth—a sensation that finally brings a measure of relief to your restless, agitated nerves.

Only then do you become dimly aware of what you are doing. You are just about to pull away from the kiss when Caleb suddenly clamps a firm hand against the back of your head, holding you fast. His broad tongue now begins its true conquest, thrusting into your mouth without hesitation and ruthlessly laying claim to every inch of space within—mirroring exactly what you had just done to him, yet executed with far greater force and intensity. His tongue scours your mouth in a frenzy, seeking out every trace of your crisp, liquor-like scent. At times it curls upward to tease your gums and the roof of your mouth, at others, it envelops your tongue, gently sucking on it—as if determined to touch and claim every single spot that had previously remained beyond his reach.

His arms, which initially hold back with some restraint, now press you against his body with crushing force. You, poor little Zongzi, already unable to move your arms or legs, are utterly powerless to offer even the slightest protest against such treatment. Still not fully awake, you have not yet grasped the implication of his sudden boldness. You only know that being enveloped by the scent of the alpha most familiar and beloved to you feels utterly comforting and safe. And so, you allow your older brother free rein throughout the kiss.

It is only when you begin to feel breathless that Caleb reluctantly lets you go. Gazing at your flushed face and glistening eyes, he is suddenly reminded of the erotic dreams he has been having about you lately. With the sweet, clean scent of wine lingering on his lips and tongue, he realizes that this kiss makes his heart pound even harder than the chaotic, vivid scenes from his dreams.

“Caleb. Untie me.” Freed at last from that lingering kiss, the very first thing you—Little Zongzi—say is a demand to be released from the bonds holding you captive. The effects of a top-tier alpha’s saliva are immediate; your mind is already far clearer than it was just moments ago.

Yet kissing the person you have secretly loved for years did not bring you joy. Just as that dreamlike tangle of lips and tongues drew to a close, that love letter, inappropriately, flashed through your mind. At this moment, you feel an urgent need to know what became of it.

During the time you deliberately keep your distance from Caleb, your conversations retreat into the safe territory of daily trivialities. It has been ages since you joked and bickered with him as freely as you did before. Countless times, you want to speak up—to ask him, with feigned casualness, “Caleb, you’ve already graduated from college. Have you found yourself a girlfriend yet?”—and countless times you lose your nerve. More than the uncertainty of not knowing the answer, you fear hearing a result you simply cannot bear.

Later, you never saw that stack of heart-patterned letter paper again. You told yourself: if that love letter was indeed delivered, then wouldn’t what the two of you have just done be a terrible betrayal of that omega girl?

Look at you, you poor thing. After years of agonizing over unrequited love, you never even consider the possibility that Caleb’s confession might have been rejected. But then again, how could someone reject Caleb? Your thoughts begin to spiral into wild fantasies. You even find yourself secretly praying that the girl in question is actually an alpha masquerading as an omega—or better yet, that her biological instincts simply render her incapable of liking him.

And then, just as quickly, you begin to mock your own delusions. Yes, you truly are incorrigible, allowing your forbidden desires to run rampant, and then, in a moment of lost control, disregarding your brother’s own wishes to seduce him into kissing you and sharing his pheromones.

Caleb gazes at your face, which remains flushed crimson, convinced that you have not yet fully recovered from the effects of his pheromones. Yet seeing you bound up like that strikes him as genuinely pitiful, so he kneels to help you slowly undo your restraints.

“Was pretending to be an alpha… fun?”

Caleb attempts to probe your true thoughts while your guard is down. However, lost in the chaotic swirl of your own emotions, you instinctively interpret his question as a reproach—one heavy with disappointment.

Indeed, you think silently: if the person standing in front of you today had not been Caleb—if he had not possessed the iron self-control of a top-tier alpha—you would have crossed the line and done something wrong tonight.

You lower your gaze. Thinking of your sibling relationship, and of the omega lover he might have, you suppress the emotions stirring within you and press your lips together.

“Let’s just forget about what happened today… Brother.” You force out a strained smile. “We’re still good siblings, right?”

…Good siblings.

Caleb takes a slow breath, his expression becoming inscrutable. At that very moment, he once again catches the scent of sweet wine wafting from your scent gland—soft, warm, and clinging. A surge of restless heat and stifled anger rises within him at the same time. His Adam’s apple bobs, yet in the end, he says nothing.

Instead, he simply picks up his luggage, strides quickly into his room, and warns you not to come out for the rest of the night.

Just as expected. You give a bitter smile to yourself. After all, you are merely exploiting his indulgence and affection as an older brother to behave with such reckless abandon.

Go to sleep, you tell yourself.

When you wake up tomorrow, everything will be back to exactly how it was before.

 

 

5

You barely close your eyes all night.

The room next door remains silent throughout the night. Whenever the thought crosses your mind to go and speak with Caleb, the warning look he casts your way flashes before your eyes, bringing you to a sudden halt. You toss and turn until the bedsheets are crumpled into a chaotic tangle. The window remains wide open all night, while you curl up beneath the covers, silently waiting for dawn to break.

Finally, as a faint orange glow appears on the horizon, you roll out of bed, quickly wash up, change your clothes, and decide to head out for a walk to clear your muddled thoughts.

The moment you step into the living room, you spot Caleb—already fully dressed in his jacket—crouching by the entryway, tying his shoelaces. Hearing your footsteps, he looks up, glances in your direction, and says in a natural, easygoing tone, “Good morning.”

His air of nonchalant ease is such that you cannot help but fall prey to an illusion: as if that bizarre yet vivid dream from the night before had been an experience to you alone.

“Ready?” he asks, his expression unchanged. “Morning run in the woods?”

The air in the woods still holds the lingering chill of the receding night. Crystalline dewdrops cling to the tips of the grass blades, and with every step you take, your footfalls stir up a fresh, earthy scent mingled with the fragrance of the foliage. The scent of apples in the air has faded to a barely perceptible trace—you realize that Caleb must have taken one suppressant injection in the early hours of the morning.

You run close behind him. Although the distance is less than half that of your usual morning workout, to your senses, this stretch of road feels interminable—as if it will never end.

Finally, a beam of sunlight crests the treetops and slants down into the woods, illuminating the lingering moisture in the air. Dappled shafts of light filter through the gaps in the branches and leaves. Dust motes and mist drift gently within the interplay of light and shadow, making the entire forest appear as though it is bathed in a translucent golden glow.

You and Caleb come to a halt at almost the same moment.

Walking amidst this golden light, a thought suddenly surges through your mind: if life could simply go on like this—remaining exactly as it is right now—that would be enough. Perhaps there is nothing left between the two of you to be talked about. Maintaining this quiet distance ought to be enough, shouldn’t it?

That kiss last night is clearly nothing more than an accident—a mere impulse meant only to soothe a physiological reaction. In truth, it holds no real significance at all.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” As if he has seen straight through your thoughts, Caleb chooses this exact moment to speak, “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

He knows the answer already.

“Yeah,” you say, wearing an expression as if nothing is amiss. “I guess I just have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar beds.”

Then, in a small act of retaliation, you fix your gaze on Caleb’s face. His expression remains as pristine and composed as ever, showing not the slightest trace of fatigue. How could he possibly sleep well last night? A sudden pang of indignation rises within you. You want to probe a little deeper, to uncover some clue. Your eyes sweep across his face, finally coming to rest on those beautiful, thin lips.

Those are the lips I shared my first kiss with yesterday, you think to yourself, before quickly averting your gaze.

“That should do it for today. Shall we head back?” Caleb asks, acting as if he hasn’t noticed a thing, his eyes gesturing toward the direction of the hotel.

You nod, and you two shift from jogging single-file to strolling side by side.

You exchange very few words until you are nearly back at the hotel. Just when you assume he will remain tight-lipped about the accident last night, he suddenly speaks—catching you completely off guard.

“What’s your plan next?” Caleb turns his head to look at you. “Graduation is just around the corner. If you intend to become a hunter, you can’t keep up this alpha charade forever.”

You freeze for a moment, then quickly adopt a tone of cool composure. “My pheromone levels are perfectly stable. They’ve been that way for years…”

“A very successful charade?” Caleb gazes deep into your eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. “In that case, my dear little sister… who was it, exactly, who was wrapped up in a blanket yesterday, complaining that I wouldn’t even give her a kiss?”

Your face flushes crimson in an instant.

“W-what are you talking about? Even if I did say that—which I didn’t! it was just a physiological—”

“Sure, a physiological reaction.”

Caleb suddenly seizes your wrist, pulling you close against his chest. With his free hand, he reaches behind his own neck and presses his fingertips against his scent gland until they are slick with a potent, concentrated pheromone secretion. Then he brings his fingers right up to the tip of your nose.

You let out a startled cry, instinctively holding your breath and recoiling backward. The reaction draws a soft chuckle from Caleb.

“When you become a hunter, what will you do if you run into a villain who treats you like this?” Caleb withdraws one hand, clasping it behind his back, yet his other hand remains firmly wrapped around your wrist, refusing to let go. “And—every job requires a pre-employment physical. Do you really think a doctor wouldn’t be able to tell that you’re an omega?”

Gazing at the earnest expression on Caleb’s face—and enduring the faint, almost imperceptible scent of apples lingering in the air—a sense of deep injustice begins to well up inside you.

This world has never been fair to omegas. You are incredibly lucky to have found a doctor who genuinely cares about you—and for the new treatment to have actually proven effective for you. You know that countless other omegas never even have the chance to choose their own destiny. You understand all of this. Yet precisely because you understand it, that bitter resentment feels all the more acute.

If you aren’t even granted the right to try, then what was the point of all those years you spent striving desperately to keep pace with your alpha classmates, or even to surpass them?

You lift your eyes, your voice far calmer than it was just moments before.

“So what? Just because I’m an omega, am I supposed to give up?”

Caleb stares steadily at you for a moment, then smiles. Bathed in the sunlight, his profile appears crisp, clean, and radiantly bright.

“Do you remember? We came to this mountain together when we were kids.” He looks up at a small white bird flying overhead, his gaze drifting as it follows its path. “Back then, I deliberately took a shortcut just to leave you behind. I thought I’d come back in a little while to comfort you once you started crying. But instead, I saw you still back on that little slope, climbing one step at a time upward. That slope was too steep for you back then—full of loose gravel—and you’d slide back a little after every few steps you took. I asked you why you didn’t just shout for me to come help you, and you said… said that since we’d promised to reach the finish line together, you had to make it there on your own. That was the moment I realized just how amazing my little sister really was.”

“But actually… sometimes… you can let your brother help you.”

You step into the hallway, and the sunlight on his face recedes slightly. Caleb turns his gaze toward you and slowly releases your wrist.

In truth, you have already mostly processed your emotions on your own late last night. Or, to be more precise, it is thanks to the fact that all these years you have constantly—relentlessly—reminded yourself that this secret crush of yours would never amount to anything. And now, hearing Caleb—who remains completely oblivious to your feelings—earnestly offer to help you, you suddenly find it a little amusing.

Just then, you swipe your keycard to unlock your hotel room door. Turning around, you lean against the doorframe and smile at him.

“Help me? Let me think… Well, why don’t you tell me what kind of girl you like?”

“Why are you curious about that?” For a moment, you think you see Caleb’s eyes light up slightly, as if harboring some secret expectation.

“I actually do plan to make a serious effort at dating this year—I mean blind dates—so I can find a partner to form a ‘lifelong bond’ with before I graduate. That way, it’ll be easier for me to get a job and settle down later on. So I wanted to know what an exceptional alpha like you looks for—that way I can boost my success rate on dates.”

When Caleb shows little reaction on his face, you keep talking on your own.

“You know my doctor’s actually really nice. She is quite concerned about my situation. She’s been keeping an eye out for potential matches for me. The other day, she passed my contact information along to two alphas. One of them is a physician at her hospital—apparently his pheromone rating is quite high.”

Caleb’s voice drops to a low register. “Have you met him yet?”

“Not yet, but next week—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Suddenly, the scent of apples intensifies, becoming impossible to ignore. Assuming your suppressant is about to wear off, you immediately turn and rush into your room—only to discover that the small pouch containing your suppressants is no longer where you left it.

Panic seizes you instantly. Spinning around, you see that your pouch is now in Caleb’s hands. You hurry forward, lunging to snatch it back—but he uses his height advantage to keep you at a distance.

“I’ve realized you have absolutely zero awareness when it comes to medication safety.” Right in front of you, Caleb places your suppressants into a safe and locks it with a decisive click. “You already took the maximum dosage yesterday, didn’t you? You can’t inject any more.”

As you stare at him in astonishment, he takes your hand and presses it against his own cheek. “The most effective suppressant is right here.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Your hand flinches slightly within his grasp, and your brain momentarily short-circuits. The scent of apples suddenly seems far stronger than before; you almost wonder if the person standing before you is deliberately releasing his pheromones to test your willpower.

“While the pheromone concentration is still low, and before anyone loses control... I want to confirm: you didn’t dislike what we did yesterday, did you?” His fingertips brush against your lower lip, his gaze lingering there just as long as his touch. The scent of his pheromones seems to seep from his fingertips into your mouth, and alarm bells immediately begin ringing in your head.

Even after years of repeatedly trying to brainwash yourself into denial, you can still detect the undertones of flirtation and provocation in his words. After a few seconds of thought, you give a self-deprecating smile, resigning yourself to the belief that this is merely a delusion, a mirage born of years of wishful thinking.

You are just about to retort, “That was only because of the pheromones,” when you suddenly realize just how intimate your current posture has become. Caleb has leaned in close—assuming the predatory stance of a hunter—pinning you between his body and the edge of the table, enclosing you in the sphere of his scent. The fragrance of apples begins to spread outward, then converges once more, coalescing into a massive claw that reaches out to seize you, threatening to drag you into its grasp. And somewhere along the way, you realize you no longer know exactly when you began to embrace the role of the prey willingly.

In that instant, a flurry of images flashes through your mind. From your childhood, holding his hands on spring field trips together, to your adolescence, when he stepped in to discipline the other kids who bullied you as a protective brother. From the day you suddenly developed a sense of gender awareness—blushing furiously as you refused to let him help you wash your underwear and socks—to the moment you realized that taking bites from the same apple was exactly what your desk-mate had described as an “indirect kiss.” 

You’ve long since lost track of when it began—the moment when the thought of “Caleb eventually falling in love with someone else” stopped being merely amusing to you and instead left a heavy, suffocating ache in your chest.

Caleb will never know about these feelings. You tell yourself that your affection will never be reciprocated in this lifetime; surely it is impossible for two “monsters” to exist in the same house at once. He is merely accustomed to playing the role of the doting, ever-accommodating older brother—unable to bear seeing his omega sister suffer, unwilling to let her rely too heavily on medication, and thus ready to offer up his alpha pheromones to her.

You need to make him realize just how wildly mistaken he is, and, ideally, convince him to back off while he still can. The scent of apples is already slowly prying at your loosening nerves from every direction; you urgently need to persuade Caleb to give you the combination to the safe.

“If you don’t give me back my suppressants, I’m going to do something really, really outrageous to you,” you warn, fixing him with a serious gaze before the apple scent can fully overwhelm your senses.

“How outrageous?” Caleb’s expression remains unperturbed, though he can’t resist taking a subtle sniff of the faint, wine-like aroma—one you haven’t even realized you’re emitting yourself.

“Like... not treating you as a brother anymore. Just treating you as a tool—using you like a vibrator or something,” you retort in a fierce tone, drawing out the word “vibrator” into a long, lingering tail.

Caleb hasn’t expected his little sister to be even cuter than he had imagined. Suppressing both his laughter and the sudden urge to pin you down and kiss you, he presses on with the questions that need asking.

“So... it’s not just about things like what happened yesterday, then? Even if it goes as far as using you like a vibrator— you’d actually like that, wouldn’t you?”

This time, your brain truly short-circuits. You blink, then stammer, “But... we…we are siblings...”

Taking in every nuance of your expressions and gestures, Caleb leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. As you stare up at him in stunned bewilderment, the scent of apples suddenly bursts forth with overwhelming intensity.

“I understand. Leave it to your brother.”

Caleb lowers his head and, without any hesitation, kisses you on the lips.

 

6

Enticing you alongside the sudden burst of apple fragrance is this moist, lingering kiss.

For the first time, you feel that an alpha’s pheromones are no longer something you have to endure. Even in the past, when you secretly sneaked into Caleb’s room to gather his scent, you restrained yourself out of deference to your sibling relationship and consciously regulated your breathing. Yet now, even you—so accustomed to self-denial—begin to waver, compelled to re-evaluate the true meaning behind Caleb’s actions. Your head begins to spin, as if you teeter once again on the brink of losing control; yet your mind remains remarkably lucid, every ounce of your perception focused entirely on savoring this kiss.

The scent of apples feels even stronger than it was yesterday. Perhaps because you only just endured a violent loss of control last night, your own pheromones do not surge again. You feel your body and soul completely enveloped by his scent, leaving you suspended in midair, almost weightless. All you can do is respond instinctively to his lips and tongue, which demand you so feverishly. Every nerve ending in your body slowly awakens alongside the kiss, stirred by the alpha’s pheromones into craving even more of him.

Today, unhindered by a blanket, your hands naturally find their way around his neck. As if emboldened by this gesture, Caleb gradually deepens the kiss, finally drawing you into his arms as his tongue tangles inextricably with yours. The pheromones carried on the tip of his tongue flood into your throat; the scent of sun-warmed apples permeates you inside and out.

This time, however, the scent of his pheromones feels different—distinct from his usual aura, and different even from the kiss you shared last night. Its base notes carry a faint hint of tartness, accompanied by a bitterness so subtle it is almost imperceptible.

Just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of losing control, Caleb pulls away.

Your noses brush against each other, your ragged breaths and racing heartbeats mingle in the narrow space between you. For the first time, you see a faint, telltale blush creep across Caleb’s face—a face usually defined by unwavering confidence and composure. The moment you realize that this kiss is happening while you are both fully conscious and lucid, a flush of heat spreads across your own face as well.

But that love letter… No, does it truly matter?

In the end, it is you who has been using it all along, turning it into an excuse to evade the truth of your own heart. You refuse to acknowledge your twisted affection, repeatedly telling yourself that you merely crave your brother’s pheromones. In the end, you almost succeed in deceiving yourself.

If it were not for the sheer coincidence that the two of you happened to be traveling alone together this time, how much longer would you keep burying your head in the sand? The truth is, what you fear is that once these feelings are spoken aloud, you might not even be able to maintain the sibling bond you share. Right?

“…I like you.” Caleb cups your face in his hands, gazing directly into your eyes.

Your mind goes completely blank, and a single tear falls without warning. A faint scent of wine—your pheromones—wafts from the glands at the back of your neck, instantly mingling with the apple scent that hangs in the air, now so thick it turns bitter and acrid.

Caleb remains perfectly composed, as if he has known all along the source of that tear. He gently wipes away the moisture from your cheek and murmurs: “Last night, I went to a night clinic to get a suppressant shot; it should be wearing off right about now. While I was there, I also got a contraceptive injection—that’s already taken effect…”

Meeting your wide, shocked gaze, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the corners of his lips curl upward slightly. 

“Because of what happened last night… my pheromones surged to a level nearly comparable to being in a rut… If you don’t want this, I can go get another suppressant shot right now…”

In an instant, you tighten your arms—which had previously rested only lightly around Caleb’s neck—and press your lips against his as he continues to murmur. The moment your bodies press tightly together, you feel a distinct hardness against your lower body—a presence too prominent to ignore, even through clothes.

Having received such an unequivocal response from you, Caleb’s movements take on a more aggressive edge. His hands slide beneath your shirt from behind, tracing upward along your skin; with practiced ease, he unfastens your bra clasp, his fingers continuing their ascent until they nearly brush the glands. As his arms move, your clothes bunch upward, leaving your smooth, bare breasts almost fully exposed. With your pheromones continuing to seep out, your glands begin to throb with a dull ache, and your body goes soft with weakness.

The muscular physique you have fantasized about countless times is now within arm’s reach, and the deep, buried yearning inside you finally erupts. With a soft sigh, you reach out and caress his perfectly sculpted arm muscles; unable to hold back, you pull him even closer until his hard, firm pectorals press tightly against your breasts.

“Gege… touch my gland. It hurts so much.”

Your soft, pleading voice shatters the last of the alpha’s control and plunges him fully into primal instinct. In one swift motion, he sweeps your top and bra aside; his fingers move recklessly to press against the hard, swollen lump on your neck. A pure, pleasure-soaked moan slips from your lips as your wine-like pheromones erupt uncontrollably, flooding the room like an explosive burst of fragrance.

His fingers, now slick with your pheromones from touching your gland, trace a slow path down your back. Then he lifts them to his mouth, cranes his neck, and licks them clean, savoring every last drop.

Your head rests against his shoulder, nose hovering directly over the alpha’s own scent gland at the nape of his neck. The sight of that swollen, crimson lump—and the apple-scented fluid slowly beading from it—sends unbearable heat pooling low in your belly. Mimicking him, you reach up and stroke the raised bump. The touch instantly sends tremors through the alpha’s body, eliciting a ragged gasp that sounds like a bestial growl.

His large hand slides downward, gliding over your bare back. Amid your startled cry, he deftly strips your pants away, then—still through the thin fabric of your underwear— gives your buttocks a firm squeeze. The firm, voluptuous flesh fills his palm perfectly, pleasing his alpha instinct. Driven by pure desire, he delivers a sharp, heavy slap to your full, rounded curves.

Your soft breasts are now crushed and distorted against his powerfully developed chest. At first, the intense contact sets your upper body ablaze; then the realization hits—if you loosen your grip on his shoulders, the sensitive, reddened tips of your breasts will be completely exposed. Caught in that delicious dilemma, you flinch as that sharp slap lands on your backside, causing your pheromones to surge again, thickening the air. The hard length pressing insistently against your lower body swells thicker, hotter.

Completely seduced by you, the alpha forcefully parts your legs, pins you down onto the bed, and—under your gaze that burns with both desperate want and shy embarrassment—swiftly strips off the last of his own clothes.

Your eyes widen in alarm the moment you register the sheer size of the thick, column-like length between his legs. You press your palms flat against the alpha’s broad chest as he looms over you. 

“No… Gege, it can’t get in… It absolutely won’t fit…”

But the alpha has already lost—utterly consumed by the heady cloud of your pheromones and the soft, inviting curves of your body. He shows no trace of mercy. Instead, he dips his head, lips grazing your earlobe with a gentle nip before trailing a slow kiss across your flushed cheek. Watching your face deepen to a vivid crimson, he begins to tease your nipples—sucking lightly, then harder—while his free hand slips your panties off.

Fingers trace the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, then glide over your already parted petals. After a few lazy, teasing circles, two fingers sink deep into your untouched flower. You cry out at the sudden stretch, but there’s no pain—only a slick, molten rush that mirrors the dripping wetness of your scent gland. The gentle in-and-out motion feels exquisitely pleasurable; you clench tighter around him without meaning to. As your inner passage grows hotter and slicker, he withdraws his playful fingers slowly. A warm trickle of your arousal spills from your entrance, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Caleb scatters heavy, possessive kisses across your face and neck—like a predator staking an unmistakable claim. Your mingled breaths fill the air with the humid sweetness of apples, intoxicating you both until you are dizzy with it, craving more. Just as the fever inside you peaks, his thick, scorching length presses firmly against your drenched entrance. Amid your sharp, stuttering gasps, the blunt head nudges past your narrow passage and begins slowly forcing its way against the resistant clasp of your walls until it’s buried about halfway.

You grit your teeth against the initial pain of your first penetration, sweat beads across your forehead. The alpha above you catches the pheromones in your sweat and leans down to lick every glistening drop from your skin with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. He gazes at your pale but clearly aroused face, and suppresses the urge to thrust deeper and stops, asking in a rough and low voice as he rasps, “Say it again… Can it get in?”

Biting your lip, cheeks burning, you reach back to pinch his back in protest. He catches your mischievous hands easily, pinning them above your head with one hand. Soft, coaxing kisses brush your cheek until your squirming resistance melts away. Only then does Caleb test a shallow, careful rock of his hips. The last threads of pain have already dissolved; a fresh surge of hormones floods you, turning restlessness into raw, swelling need that crashes through your whole body. Your brows knit together, lips part on a shaky breath, and your eyes lock with his—those deep violet irises now swallowed entirely by desire.

“Gege… move a little more… please?”

Caleb’s expression darkens with raw want. He gives your thigh a gentle, commanding pat, voice becomes even hoarser: “Open a little wider.”

You obediently spread your legs as wide as they would go, and the alpha finally releases your hands, kissing your forehead again. Then, he thrusts in, beginning a series of large, sweeping thrusts, his enormous penis fully withdrawing and then plunging back in. His engorged member moves rapidly in and out of your intimate petals, soon leaving your tender flower red and swollen amidst your moans.

Your consciousness begins to fade, the sweet scent of apple cider in the air making you feel lightheaded. Your hands rub haphazardly against his back, your body unconsciously twisting, even subtly shifting your already weakened buttocks, trying to meet the tireless alpha's thrusts. Seeing you gradually lost in desire, the man's movement becomes even more intense, making you roll your eyes back in pleasure, unable to utter a single complete syllable. Large, bony hands caress your breasts, kneading them into various shapes, stimulating your nipples until they harden and ache, the tingling sensation spreading from deep within your vagina to every corner of your body.

Until the depths of your vagina begin to ache and tingle, you regain a sliver of consciousness, clearly realizing you are making love with your elder brother. The words "blood ties" flash repeatedly through your mind, a powerful sense of transgression filling you with both shame and excitement. Scenes of Caleb, your brother, disciplining you meticulously or caring for you tenderly, flash rapidly before your eyes. The gentle figure from countless scenes in your memory begins to overlap with the man violently penetrating you in front of your eyes, while his penis repeatedly thrusts into your sensitive clitoris, a pleasurable fullness spreading from deep within your vagina.

The fire deep within you burns ever brighter. The person you have longed for for so many years, the person you called Gege, would one day truly possess your body so passionately. Amidst the intertwined pleasure of psychological and physiological ecstasy, a continuous surge of heat wells up from deep in your body, pouring directly onto the head of his penis, which is still teasing its sensitive spots.

Caleb is clearly stunned, his thrusting ceasing. Your ears flush red, and you shyly close your eyes, covering your face with your hand, but he gently pulls your hand down.

"Baby, you're amazing," he whispers comfortingly in your ear, then lightly kisses your neck. "What's wrong with that? You just said you wanted to use me as a vibrator, why are you so shy... Don't cover yourself, you're beautiful now..."

The embarrassing words make your face turn even redder. Caleb sees you biting your lip until it turns white, chuckles softly, and gently strokes your face before resuming his thrusts. Your body, still extremely sensitive from the recent orgasm, unconsciously tightens the penis inside, the almost-erupted pleasure causing him to grit his teeth and slow his movements.

“You used to sneak into my room almost every day to smell my pheromones,” he whispers in your ear, mischievously blowing a breath that sends a shiver down your spine. “You couldn’t smell it yourself, but that fake alpha scent was so obvious.”

He thrusts harder, almost forcing his way into your cervix. He silences your gasp with a kiss, continuing softly, “I’ve long…not wanted to just be brother and sister with you. Don’t you feel the same way? You like more than my pheromones…you like me too, right?”

Seeing you turn your head away without responding, Caleb pinches your chin, turning your head back to look into your evasive eyes. He wipes the sweat from your temples and plants a kiss on your cheek.

“Say something. Tell Gege, tell me…you like me.”

You meet his gaze, your face flushes, the burning desire in his eyes almost consuming you. Years of pent-up emotions nearly choke you. Swallowing the tingling apple flavor in your throat, you finally speak, with a trembling voice.

"...I like ...I like Caleb the most..."

In the sudden, deep kiss and almost uncontrollable thrusting, the scent of cider in the air becomes exceptionally rich. Warm, thick semen surges into your deepest recesses, the potent pheromones greedily absorbed by your body, your deepest desires finally completely satisfied at this moment. A dense barrage of kisses lands on your face and shoulders, but you have no strength left to respond.

Only as the alpha slowly withdraws from your body do your scattered consciousness gradually returns to normal. You gently grasp his arm and ask, "Why didn't you mark me?"

Caleb pulls you down to lie on his back, tucking the blanket around you. "A permanent mark isn't a small matter, let's talk about it again..."

A surge of bitterness and anxiety wells up inside you. You bite your lip and turn away. You hear Caleb sigh behind you, then gently hug you from behind.

"Wait until your heat, okay? Biting your glands hurts a lot, at least with hormones, it won't hurt as much. If you just frown, I won't have the heart to bite. Besides... this decision has to be made when you're completely conscious."

You turn back, looking at his serious expression, and mumble, "I'm perfectly conscious right now..."

Caleb leans closer, burying his head in your shoulder, like a docile, tamed beast.

"My sister confessed she likes me when she's sober..." His voice is muffled. "I don't believe it. What you said today doesn't count. We have to see your doctor to get your hormone levels checked, and say it again then I believe you."

You chuckle and reach back to ruffle his fluffy head. Caleb looks up and precisely pecks your lips. You nestle together, lingering for a long time, until your stomachs rumble, before you reluctantly let go to eat.

It turns out there really are two monsters in one house.

On the way home, you finally asked about the love letter. And so, on this day, Caleb receives an important lesson: when writing letters, especially love letters, the most important information must be put at the beginning.

“The doctor said next month is the typical heat cycle for omegas…” As you leave the hospital, you look at Caleb waiting for you at the entrance, smile slightly, “She said our pheromones are highly compatible, and it’s very likely that we won’t need suppressants after permanent marking.”

Then, blushing, you open the bag in your hand to show him: “The last medication they prescribed was all omega specific contraceptive pills, saying I might lose control… and they prescribed yours too.”

Caleb smiles and takes the bag from your hand, his tall frame pulling you into a protective embrace, giving you a reassuring hug: “Give it all to your brother, to your alpha, okay?”

“Yes, we’ll never be apart,” you whisper in his arms.

 

— The End —

 

(Behind the Scenes) Grandma: What do you mean by my house smells like apple cider?

Notes:

First time creating an A/B/O story—and translating it— so fun.

At some point I realized I can’t beat AI, so I let it handle a big part of the draft first, then edited it myself. This ended up turning into a bit of an experiment. When sentences felt too neat or polished, I messed them up a little to keep my style. And when the wording sounded too fancy (to me), I rewrote it in my own tone.

Since Chinese doesn’t really have verb conjugations, I tried to fix those in the retrospective parts… I believe there are still mistakes here and there.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the story :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of 星尘低语/Stardust Whispers [AU]