I’m Allergic to Pheromones - Chapter 32

The clean, bright room with its soft, fluffy bedding felt like something out of a fairy tale.

Bai Cha sat on the floor, hugging a long pillow, lost in thought. She had drawn the curtains slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of lush greenery, blooming flowers, and elegant pavilions outside. Tiny birds hopped along the branches, their light silhouettes flashing by as they took flight. Bai Cha didn’t know their names, but she found their movements mesmerizing.

This was a private garden villa—spacious, luxurious, and so far beyond her usual world that just looking around made her feel out of place. She couldn’t bring herself to lie back on that plush bed again.

Since waking up, she hadn’t seen anyone else, though traces of life were everywhere. This clearly wasn’t a guest room. Her gaze lingered on a painting of a sleeping crabapple blossom hanging on the wall, reminding her of that beautiful Beta woman.

Was this her room?

Bai Cha hugged the pillow tighter, catching a faint, lingering scent—not from soap, but from Nan Ju, who had stayed with her last night. It was sweet, pleasant.

A few seconds later, realizing how inappropriate her thoughts were, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. She mentally scolded herself.

Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door. Startled, Bai Cha scrambled up, dragging the long pillow with her like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

“Miss Bai Cha, are you awake? I’m a maid from the villa. May I come in?”

Bai Cha nervously bit her lip, quickly tossed the pillow back onto the bed, and hurried to open the door.

“Hello.”

The petite girl hid most of herself behind the door, her voice small and timid, yet her eyes were clear, untainted by any hidden thoughts.

Xia Duo quickly assessed the villa’s little guest, maintaining a polite smile. “Did you sleep well last night? The bathroom has toiletries prepared for you, and breakfast is ready in the kitchen.”

The well-mannered maid’s friendly demeanor made Bai Cha instinctively respond obediently, “I slept fine.”

Noticing her stiffness and the way her eyes kept darting past her, Xia Duo’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “The young mistress seems to be awake too. Would you like to freshen up and come with me to see her?”

Bai Cha answered instantly, “Yes!”

The maid’s growing smile made her realize she’d given herself away too eagerly. Mortified, Bai Cha wished she could bury herself in the pillow and never come out.

Xia Duo coughed lightly, offering an out. “I’ll tidy up the room. You can find the toiletries yourself, right?”

Bai Cha nodded and, under the maid’s warm gaze, awkwardly shuffled into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Xia Duo led her to a guest room door. It was shut, a small brown dog toy hanging from it, and not a sound came from inside.

Too nervous to knock, Bai Cha looked up at the maid pleadingly. “You do it?”

Xia Duo shook her head, stepping back with an encouraging smile. “Just knock. The young mistress always wakes up for breakfast—she’s definitely awake.”

Bai Cha watched her retreating figure, pressing her lips together without a word. After a moment, she raised her hand to knock, but the door suddenly swung open from inside, revealing a tall, slender silhouette that cast a shadow over her.

Tilting her head up, Bai Cha saw Nan Ju standing there with her long black hair cascading freely, dressed in pajamas as she looked down to meet her gaze.

“Good morning, kitten,” Nan Ju greeted first, her long hair swaying gently with the movement as it tumbled down, floating lightly in the air.

Bai Cha stared at that soft curve, her fingers twitching slightly.

She remembered how it had felt in her grasp last night—soft, smooth, like the finest silk.

The consequence of her distracted mind was that she could only reply like a dumb robotic cat, muttering a simple, “Good morning.”

With a height difference of over 20 centimeters, Nan Ju only needed to bend slightly to take in Bai Cha’s current attire.

Her pajamas were a soft cream color, the pants slightly too long, covering the kitten’s feet entirely. The oversized clothes on her petite frame made her face appear even more youthful.

The kitten stood obediently, her feet close together, her shoulder-length hair—trimmed but uneven—tucked behind her ears, revealing a clean, delicate face that was utterly endearing.

Nan Ju couldn’t help but glance a few more times at the little yellow duck slippers on Bai Cha’s feet before reaching out to ruffle her head. “Come on, let’s go down for breakfast.”

Bai Cha nodded obediently, but then her brows suddenly furrowed as she looked up and asked, “What happened to your face?”

The lighting had been poor last night, and she had been too dazed to see clearly, but now it was unmistakable.

Nan Ju’s face was marred—a bandage at the corner of her eye, her lips chapped and scabbed over. Yet, her lips were naturally red, making them look like tattered petals that might bleed crimson if pressed too hard.

“It’s nothing, just bumped into a door,” Nan Ju replied instinctively, licking her lips before taking Bai Cha’s hand to steer her away from further questions. “It’ll heal in a couple of days, don’t worry.”

This was the second time Nan Ju had held Bai Cha’s hand, and her first thought was: So small.

The girl was tiny all over, her fingers slender and delicate, yet not particularly soft—Nan Ju could easily feel the knuckles and faint scars beneath her touch. There was no solid reassurance in holding it, so she tightened her grip slightly, unwilling to let this restless kitten slip away.

Bai Cha trailed behind like a little cream-colored duckling, feeling the warm, firm grasp around her hand. She couldn’t help but wiggle her fingers slightly.

She didn’t understand what was happening to her—why she suddenly wanted to hook her fingers around Nan Ju’s.

“I didn’t know what you’d like to eat, so the kitchen prepared things to my taste. If it doesn’t suit you, just let me know. Do you eat eggs?”

At the dining table, Nan Ju peeled a boiled egg and handed it over. “It’s soft-boiled—do you like it that way?”

The egg was perfectly round, but Bai Cha only had eyes for the bandage wrapped around Nan Ju’s hand. “Did you get this in the alley last night too?”

“Uh, no, this one really wasn’t,” Nan Ju admitted awkwardly, too embarrassed to explain her impulsive blunder. “Can I just put it on your plate?”

Bai Cha wrinkled her nose, hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

She couldn’t eat eggs, but didn’t want to reject Nan Ju’s kindness. Slowly lifting her plate to accept it, Nan Ju suddenly withdrew the offering, her tone turning cold: “Don’t force yourself.”

Bai Cha looked helplessly at Nan Ju’s suddenly distant expression, then at the breakfast spread whose names she couldn’t even recognize, when an unbelievable thought popped into her mind.

“I want some century egg and lean pork congee.”

Having deliberately maintained a cold expression while waiting, Nan Ju finally heard Bai Cha’s request and suppressed a smile, passing over the congee placed before her: “Want some pickled radish?”

“Yes.”

Nan Ju absentmindedly picked at her breakfast, watching until Bai Cha had nearly finished before setting down her chopsticks. “After breakfast,” she said, voicing the words she’d rehearsed repeatedly, “you’ll need another dose of suppressants.”

“Suppressants?”

Nan Ju nodded: “The research institute says you’re still unstable. You’ll need three consecutive days of injections before a follow-up examination.”

“Do Betas need suppressants after differentiation?” Bai Cha sipped her warm milk, thoroughly confused.

Her physiology classes had only mentioned that underage Alphas or Omegas without immediate family required regular suppressant injections—but Betas too?

Nan Ju hesitated, unsure how to explain. “Let’s talk in your room after breakfast,” she finally said.

Remembering Bai Cha’s words from last night, revealing the truth now seemed ill-advised.

–

“An Omega? There must be some mistake!” Bai Cha stood frozen in her room, Nan Ju’s words ringing in her ears like white noise.

Each word made sense individually, but together they formed an incomprehensible message.

What did “she’s differentiated into an Omega” even mean?

“How could I be an Omega?” Bai Cha shook her head, instinctively retreating to a corner, her voice rising in hysterical denial. “Impossible! I’m not an Omega! There must be a mistake—I don’t even smell like pheromones!”

Flailing her arms in refusal, Bai Cha suddenly grew agitated under Nan Ju’s concerned gaze. She twisted around, clawing desperately at the gland on her neck as if she could tear it out by force.

Alarmed, Nan Ju rushed to stop her, only to meet fierce resistance.

“I won’t be an Omega!” Restrained in Nan Ju’s arms, Bai Cha struggled violently before collapsing into heart-wrenching sobs. “Never! I’d rather die! I’m a Beta!”

Nan Ju said nothing more, simply lowering them both to the floor where she cradled Bai Cha in her lap, gently stroking her spine in comfort.

Bai Cha wept against her shoulder—great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body like a vibrant flower unexpectedly withering.

Patiently patting her back, Nan Ju finally murmured, “Do you think being Omega is so terrible?”

“Disgusting! The worst!”

The venom in Bai Cha’s voice startled Nan Ju into silence. Changing tactics, she offered: “I agree Omegas aren’t great. Alphas are just as bad. You want to stay a Beta, is that it?”

Bai Cha suppressed her grief and indignation, holding back tears as she raised her flushed face. “I want to be like you,” she said hoarsely.

“But I’m also an Omega.” Nan Ju released her restraining arms and gently wiped the girl’s tears away before continuing to the stunned Bai Cha, “Do you still find it disgusting now?”

Bai Cha stood frozen in place, speechless.

How could this be?

Weren’t they both supposed to be Betas?