Chapter 2 – The Hierarchy Lesson
The lecture hall for "Secondary Gender Sociology & Etiquette" was a cathedral of black marble and gold veins, built to seat three hundred but never filled by more than sixty. The rest of the seats belonged to ghosts (students who paid tuition just to keep their family names on the roster, never bothering to show up).
I sat in the exact center of the third row, knees together, blazer sleeves pulled over my hands, looking like I had wandered in by accident.
Every pair of eyes kept sliding toward me and then away, as if staring too long might shatter me.
Professor Voss (Prime Alpha, late forties, voice like expensive whiskey) tapped the holographic podium once. The lights dimmed. A three-dimensional model of Saint Caelum's ranking pyramid bloomed above us, rotating slowly.
"Repeat after me," he began, the way he always did on the first day. "There are six secondary genders. Five are common. One is myth."
The class answered in bored unison:
"Alpha. Prime Alpha. Apex Alpha. Beta. Omega. And Enigma."
"Correct. And in this academy," Voss continued, "your choker is your passport, your prison, and your crown. Let us review what each color truly means."
He flicked a finger. The pyramid zoomed.
**Layer 1 – Apex Alpha (Blood Red)**
"Less than thirty students in the entire school. Hereditary 99% of the time. Pheromones strong enough to force a Prime Alpha into submission with eye contact alone. They do not ask. They take. They do not bend. They break."
The hologram showed a silhouette wearing Kael's exact build. A ripple of nervous laughter passed through the room. Everyone knew who sat at the very top.
Voss didn't smile. "Apexes have private floors, private laws, and private graveyards if they choose. Get in their way and your family name becomes a cautionary tale."
**Layer 2 – Prime Alpha (Crimson)**
"Still hereditary, still lethal. Most of you in this room. You may challenge upward once per year during the Tournament. You may never challenge downward. That is considered cruelty."
**Layer 3 – Alpha (Steel Gray)**
"Common muscle. Useful. Disposable if they forget their place."
**Layer 4 – Beta (Silver)**
"No pheromonal influence. No heats, no ruts. The only rank allowed to work for Apex families without a blood oath. Trusted neutrals."
**Layer 5 – Omega (Rose Gold)**
The hologram zoomed to a delicate silhouette curled in on itself, glowing soft pink.
Every head in the room turned to me at once.
I let my shoulders shrink smaller.
Voss's voice softened (not kindness, just the tone people use for glass ornaments).
"Omegas are national treasures. Fertility rate: 0.7%. Presentation age: usually 17–21. Late presentation is almost unheard of." His gaze lingered on my choker. "They are exempt from the Tournament, exempt from curfew if escorted, exempt from every rule that might bruise them. In return, they surrender autonomy. An Omega alone after 8 p.m. is legally considered 'in distress.' Any Alpha may claim temporary guardianship."
Someone in the back whistled low. A Prime Alpha named Cassian (second circle, ambitious) leaned forward, elbows on his desk, grinning like a wolf who'd spotted a lamb with a broken leg.
"Professor," he drawled, "does that mean if a certain late-presenting Omega misses curfew tonight… any of us can carry him home?"
Titters. Phones angled toward me.
I widened my eyes, let my lower lip tremble exactly 2 millimeters (the perfect amount). Inside, I catalogued Cassian's face, his scent, the location of every camera in the hall. He had three days to live if he tried it. Maybe four. I was feeling generous.
Voss's voice cut like a blade. "Mr. Valerius. Omegas under direct Valdemar protection are off-limits. Permanently. I suggest you reread the revised charter posted at 3:04 a.m."
Cassian's grin faltered.
Because at 3:04 a.m., someone (me) had donated another anonymous 180 million dollars to the academy, earmarked for "Omega welfare and security." The charter now included a single new line:
Any aggression toward Rui Lestrange-Valéry will be considered aggression toward Kael Valdemar himself.
The room went very quiet.
Voss moved on quickly.
**Layer 6 – Enigma (Color: None. Choker: Black void)**
The hologram glitched. Where the top of the pyramid should have been, there was only static.
"Declared extinct 312 years ago," Voss said, voice dropping. "Stronger than Apex. Immune to all pheromonal command. Capable of rewriting another person's instincts with a single breath. If one ever appeared again, the Global Council has standing orders: capture or kill."
A girl in the front row whispered, "They say Enigmas don't have human hearts. Just black holes that swallow everything."
I traced the edge of my rose-gold choker with one finger and thought about how easy it would be to swallow this entire room.
Voss killed the hologram. Lights came up.
"Questions?"
Cassian recovered first. "So the little prince in row three," he said, smirking at me, "gets to hide behind Valdemar money and never prove his rank? Some of us had to bleed for our chokers."
I tilted my head, soft, curious. "I'm sorry," I said, voice barely above a whisper yet carrying perfectly (I had the acoustics mapped). "Did I… take something from you?"
The room inhaled.
Cassian opened his mouth (rage scent spiking).
The doors at the back of the hall opened without a sound.
Kael Valdemar walked in, coat unbuttoned, red choker blazing like a fresh wound. He didn't look at Voss. Didn't look at anyone.
He looked only at me.
Every student dropped their gaze on instinct. Even Cassian.
Kael moved down the aisle like the air itself parted for him. When he reached my row, he stopped.
"Class is over for you," he said to me. Not a request.
I blinked up at him, gathering my notebook slowly. "But Professor Voss was—"
"Now."
His hand closed around my wrist (warm, unyielding). The contact sent electricity up my spine so violently I almost let the patches slip.
I let him pull me to my feet. My books slid from my lap and scattered again.
This time no one laughed.
Kael bent, scooped them up with one hand, and tucked them under his arm like they weighed nothing. Then he started walking. I followed because my legs decided for me, pulse singing where his fingers touched my skin.
Behind us, Voss cleared his throat. "Mr. Valdemar, this is highly—"
Kael didn't break stride. "Send the attendance report to my office."
We left the hall. The doors closed on three hundred stunned faces and one very pale Cassian Valerius who had just realized he'd pointed at the wrong prey.
In the empty corridor, Kael let go of my wrist but didn't step away.
"You shouldn't be in open lectures yet," he said, voice low. "Not until the new protocols are in place."
I hugged my arms to my chest, looking up at him through my lashes. "I wanted to learn the rules properly. So I don't… bother anyone."
His eyes narrowed. "You're not bothering me."
My heart did something complicated.
I let my voice waver. "People keep staring. It's scary."
Something dark flickered across his face (protective, possessive, perfect).
"No one will touch you," he said. It sounded like a vow and a death sentence at the same time.
I lowered my gaze to hide the smile.
"Thank you, Kael-senpai."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, like the honorific physically hurt him.
Then he did something that rewrote my entire timeline.
He reached out, gloved fingers brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear with a gentleness no one in that hall would believe him capable of.
The corridor cameras caught it in 8K. By lunch it would be the top trending clip on campus, titled "His Highness personally escorts the ghost prince."
I leaned, just barely, into his touch.
His pupils blew wide.
For one single heartbeat, the strongest Apex in the world looked like he was the one in danger.
And I thought:
Yes.
Exactly like that.
Fall.