I Marked My Arch-Nemesis Omega - Chapter 44

Sheng Yu chuckled: “If you have nothing to say, then don’t. Just stay quiet.”

Song Qing: “…”

Three minutes later, Song Qing couldn’t hold back any longer and spoke up.

“I truly can’t understand what they’re trying to do now.”

“Do they really not value human lives at all? So many of these wars are completely unnecessary.”

…

Sheng Yu watched Song Qing without saying a word. Song Qing spoke at length—she had known her for several months now but had never seen her talk so much or express her emotions so clearly. By the end, her voice even choked up slightly.

“What should I do?” Song Qing hated this feeling. The overwhelming sense of helplessness was suffocating, making her feel insignificant.

“Moving against the current has always been like this. If you want an easier life, just go with the flow. After all, the longest a person can live these days is about 220 years. Endure it, and it’ll pass,” Sheng Yu said, her gaze carrying a hint of pity as she looked at Song Qing.

Song Qing stared wide-eyed at Sheng Yu before finally letting her hands drop weakly. She couldn’t blame Sheng Yu for thinking this way, nor could she say it was wrong. Self-preservation was the choice many people made.

She fell silent again, her eyes clouded with confusion.

Sheng Yu turned off the dryer and ran a hand through her hair before sitting down beside Song Qing. She wasn’t comfortable with the situation either, but changing the current state of affairs was incredibly difficult.

This society was rotten from top to bottom, permeated with decay at every level. Opening your eyes to the world only meant subjecting yourself to disgust and torment. Expecting those in power to change was impossible—power was too alluring, and few would willingly give it up. Meanwhile, those at the bottom who wanted change were too insignificant, their voices too faint.

“What do you want to do?” Sheng Yu asked Song Qing.

“My mother hopes I can enter the center of power and change the current state of Omegas,” Song Qing replied. “But I want more than just that. Yet now I feel like I’m being naive. Today’s events only reinforced how unrealistic my ideas are.”

Sheng Yu leaned back on the sofa, studying Song Qing before reaching out somewhat awkwardly to pat her head.

“Keep going. Anything is possible.”

Song Qing let out a bitter laugh and slumped against the sofa. “This time, the higher-ups demanded 500 quotas—they want the student council to persuade 500 students to enlist. It’s insane. The Alphas backed by powerful families won’t participate, and aside from them, hardly anyone else can even pilot a mech.”

“Even if I resist the pressure and our school doesn’t provide 500 people, other schools will. And they specifically want 10 Omegas—preferably those without influential backgrounds. They’ll send people to ‘talk’ to those Omegas.” Song Qing’s voice trembled. “What exactly are they trying to do?”

Sheng Yu remained silent. Song Qing took a deep breath, her eyes reddening as she clenched her fists. “I contacted my family, and they told me not to interfere. My father said… these are ‘necessary sacrifices.'”

“Necessary sacrifices.” Song Qing let out another cold laugh.

“I’m not very good at comforting people. What do you think I could do right now to make you feel better? Should I go beat up the person who delivered the bad news?” Sheng Yu asked earnestly. “Or maybe you should just cry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Or, we could go out, and I’ll take you to pet something fluffy?” Sheng Yu leaned in close to Song Qing, cupping her face. “President, being this sad only hurts yourself.”

Song Qing didn’t respond, simply leaning weakly against Sheng Yu as silent tears fell.

Sheng Yu took a deep breath. Honestly, she really wanted to go punch the messenger right now—or maybe make some explosives and blow all those annoying people to smithereens… But she also knew her thoughts were childish and unrealistic.

——

After hearing the broadcast, Wen Nian grew increasingly agitated listening to the chatter around her. Eventually, she left her seat. Noticing the rain had stopped, she decided to go to the rooftop for some fresh air. But as she reached the entrance, she overheard a conversation—quiet, but clear enough to make out the words.

“What kind of job could an Omega like me even get?”

“This is a confidential position. I can’t disclose details yet, but I can assure you the benefits are excellent. Once you sign the contract, you’ll receive 500,000 imperial credits upfront, with an annual salary of 200,000. Our dormitories are also incredibly luxurious—here, take a look.”

“But I’m just a high school student. I doubt I’m qualified for whatever job you’re offering.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a difficult role. Don’t you trust the Empire? Here’s my work ID.”

Wen Nian frowned slightly as she listened from the doorway. The Omega seemed convinced and signed the contract on the spot. Seeing the Omega about to leave, Wen Nian stepped back behind the door, waiting until they were gone before emerging.

“If this job is so great, why not announce it to all Omegas?” Wen Nian crossed her arms.

The man on the rooftop, who had been reviewing the signed contract, startled at her voice and scowled. “It’s class time. Why are you wandering around?”

“I asked you a question,” Wen Nian retorted, tilting her chin up, unfazed by his tone.

“We’ve already reviewed all the Omega profiles and identified those who meet our criteria. This is a confidential imperial operation. I suggest you keep quiet about it—unless you want trouble.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, just giving you a friendly reminder.”

Wen Nian smiled, feigning nonchalance. “I was just curious about the job. No need to be so hostile. A single bag of mine costs over a million—I couldn’t care less about your shoddy offer.”

With that, she left, leisurely descending the stairs, her hand gliding along the railing. The man watched her go, unconcerned, before tucking the contract away with a satisfied smile. He didn’t notice Wen Nian’s cracked fingernail, split from how tightly she had clenched her fist.

——

In a foul mood, Song Qing skipped an entire class, staying in the dorm the whole time. Sheng Yu’s shoulder had long gone numb from supporting her.

“Let’s go to class. I’ll wash my face first.”

“Okay,” Sheng Yu nodded.

Song Qing said she was going to wash her face, but she stayed in the bathroom for a long time. When she finally emerged, no trace of her earlier distress remained.

The two of them left the dormitory together. When Sheng Yu returned to the classroom, she noticed many people staring at her.

“Whose uniform is that?” Bai Ying leaned in, squinting her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Sheng Yu glanced down at her uniform. Honestly, she didn’t see any difference from what she usually wore.

“That’s an Alpha’s uniform—the buttons are threaded with gold.”

“Huh?” Sheng Yu looked at the buttons. “Wow, your eyesight is really sharp.”

Bai Ying wore the expression of a gossip enthusiast. “I heard Song Qing skipped class earlier too.”

“Yeah, it’s Song Qing’s clothes. Mine got soaked in the rain.”

“Wow!” Bai Ying grinned.

Sheng Yu gave her a puzzled look. Her mind was a mess, and she didn’t have the energy to entertain Bai Ying’s nonsense. She returned to her seat, but Bai Ying had already started chatting with others, and soon, even more people were glancing at Sheng Yu.

Those strange looks made her want to snap, “Is this really necessary?”

She fiddled with the buttons, feeling increasingly irritated, then stood up and headed to the homeroom teacher’s office. After retrieving her tablet, she went up to the rooftop. Making sure no one was around, she called her new “Imperial Handler.”

The new handler was a recently appointed female Alpha. Rumor had it that to deal with troublesome individuals like Sheng Yu, the Empire had created a new position—”Sheng Yu’s Dedicated Liaison”—available 24/7 to defuse potential “bombs.”

“Hello.”

Sheng Yu was speechless at the slight tremor in the woman’s voice. She didn’t think she was that intimidating.

“I want to ask—what’s the meaning behind setting recruitment quotas in schools?” Her tone was icy.

“Ah?”

“And the Omega situation.”

“Uh… let me check on that. I’m not very familiar with this area. Just give me a minute—a few minutes at most.”

Leaning against the railing, Sheng Yu waited. The handler returned quickly.

“May I ask what your specific request is?”

“Our school shouldn’t have recruitment quotas.”

“Ah… well… my authority isn’t that extensive.”

“I can offer another one of my father’s encrypted codes,” Sheng Yu said.

Last time, she had found matching symbols in an ancient book at Song Qing’s house. The cipher script closely resembled the Empire’s ancient writing, but it wasn’t the same. After reading the book, she had even tampered with it slightly.

Using indecipherable material to decode something equally indecipherable and encrypted was an almost impossible task. She doubted they’d crack it.

She also couldn’t help but criticize her father—why was he so confident she could solve it?

The person on the other end hesitated. “Alright, I’ll consult my superiors.”

“Good. It’s a fair trade. Without quotas, even with all your grand promises, you’d probably only get a couple hundred volunteers. Three hundred people in exchange for a code? Not a bad deal.”

Soon, the response came.

“Agreed. However, the military can only promise to remove recruitment quotas. The Omega issue falls under another department… We currently can’t reach them.”

Sheng Yu fell silent for a moment, having already guessed the situation: “Fine. I have another request. Song Qing will most likely try to stop your operation this time. Put up some resistance against her, then agree to her demands—just don’t reveal my involvement.”

Song Qing had said so much, almost as if she had given up on herself, but in the end, she would still go back to stop them. If she succeeded, it might lift her spirits a little.

“Huh?” The other party was momentarily taken aback. What kind of strange request was this?

“It’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“Not at all. Don’t worry about it.”