"My Top-Tier Omega Wife Flirts With Me Every Day" - Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Are You Trying to Throw an Orgy? No Way—Let Me Do It!

He actually called that candy?

Did this fox even know what it meant to give an Alpha condoms?!

Could it be… when he said before that he wanted to sleep with me, he wasn’t joking? That he really meant it? Is that why he’s been flashing his tail at me so often?

If he did it on purpose, then it would make sense why I had those kinds of dreams during his heat, influenced by his pheromones…

Wait—no, that can’t be right. He’s always hidden his pheromones well. I never smelled anything…

Mota felt more mentally exhausted than when chasing down aberrant organizations. He stood frozen, lost in thought, and his gaze subconsciously dropped to Ling Zhuo’s pale, slender neck.

What would his pheromones smell like?

As soon as the thought appeared, an overly enthusiastic voice echoed in his mind:
[It’s obviously an invitation! If you’re not up for it, let me take over!]

Mota: “……”

The conference room remained dead silent, with only Ling Zhuo still pulling more of those cup-packaged condoms from his pockets and stuffing them into Mota’s hands.

“When I bought these, the store clerk said they were all new flavors. Said they’re really popular with young people—especially this one.” He picked out one labeled “with beads” and handed it over.

“The clerk said this sells the best. Try them and tell me which one you like. I’ll buy more for you next time~”

His eyes were clear and sincere, not a single trace of the indecent thoughts Mota had just been imagining. It wasn’t some flirtatious move like his inner voice insisted—Ling Zhuo genuinely thought these were candy.

For a moment, the top-tier captain felt an inexplicable twinge of disappointment. He forced himself to clear his mind and nodded calmly: “Alright. Go to your dorms now.”

With lightning speed, he shoved all the “candy” into his pockets like he was destroying evidence—he even picked up the ones that had rolled onto the table.

Anli, who had just arrived and witnessed this: …Are we sure this is the Execution Division? This place plays harder than I thought…

Summer Man, trying his best not to laugh: Pfft—hahaha, nope, can’t hold it in!

The watching rookies: Bro, you’re built different.

Mei Jiuhe, facepalming from secondhand embarrassment: I told him not to…

Meanwhile, in the adjacent office—

Team One members erupted in cheers. Team Two, devastated, slammed the table:

“Captain Summer, how can you still be grinning like that?! Mota just received condoms, for god’s sake!!”

Milla, adjusting his glasses like an emotionless machine, recorded flatly:
“Summer vs. Mota one-sided record: 78 losses, 1 win. For context, the only victory was a wealth comparison.”

In the noisy office, the Association President Mu Jiqiu sprayed coffee across Milla’s computer as he watched the surveillance feed.

“No, seriously—does he think this is a host club?! What the hell are they doing in broad daylight?! You can’t just whip that kind of thing out in the meeting room!!”

The refined older man pointed at the screen, firing off a barrage of questions. He wasn’t exactly a prude, nor did he care who these punks slept with in private. But in broad daylight?! In the conference room?!

Pulling out that many condoms like it was nothing—what, were they trying to throw an orgy?!

And the most absurd thing?

Mota—the most reliable person in the entire Association—accepted them.

The president was shook. The president was in disbelief. The president stared into the void and saw no future for the Association.

Meanwhile, poor Milla, watching his fried laptop: “AAAAHHHH MY COMPUTER!! PRESIDENT, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!”

The office descended into complete chaos.

…

Thirty minutes later, the five new recruits of the Execution Division received their standard-issue training uniforms in their dorms.

The uniform came in two pieces. The inner top was a black sleeveless turtleneck with tight fit, paired with elbow-length half-finger gloves. The outer layer was a matching suede high-collar jacket. The pants were black tactical cargo style, worn with combat boots.

On the left chest of the jacket was the Association’s emblem: a simple “A” encircled by olive branches—symbolizing peacekeeping.

For Execution Division members, a silver blade icon was added behind the emblem.

Ling Zhuo had seen Mota wear this uniform back when he was still just a little fox.

At that time, Mota was only seventeen. His broadening shoulders and growing frame filled out the uniform strikingly well. His developing muscle lines were smooth and defined, carrying the clean, youthful energy of a teenager.

Ling Zhuo had never forgotten it.

Back then, every afternoon, he’d wait by the door for Mota to return from missions or training, eager to pounce into his arms for a cuddle.

But Mota always seemed preoccupied, even back then—just like now. Ling Zhuo could tell his human wasn’t happy.

The difference now, though, was that he could finally speak to Mota using his language—and he was finally wearing the same uniform as him~

Fully dressed, Ling Zhuo heard the assembly whistle blow outside.

Everyone had changed and was now following the two captains. They walked through a garden and across a training field before entering a square, factory-like building.

Although it was late autumn in Zone C and already quite cold, the temperature rose noticeably once inside—very comfortable.

The interior looked nothing like the outside. It had a sleek, high-tech aesthetic, divided into various zones by curved corridors: equipment rooms, shooting ranges, rest areas, and simulation rooms mimicking different terrains and extreme environments.

Naturally, everyone was full of curiosity. That mop-haired guy Bright had known someone who’d gone through initial selection before—though he’d been eliminated and transferred to the Patrol Division, he had spent seven days here and had plenty to say about it.

“Did you guys know,” Bright said, lowering his voice in excitement, “most of this facility’s equipment comes from Captain Summer’s family. And this training center? What we’re seeing now is just the top layer.”

He tapped his foot on the floor. “Underneath this level, I heard they keep low-level aberrants for combat practice!”

“No way! They wouldn’t escape, right?” asked Noah, a young man who looked uneasy.

He was quickly mocked by Jiang Yizhi, who laughed and said, “What’re you so scared of? We’re supposed to kill those things. Besides…”

He suddenly raised his voice and sweetened his tone dramatically: “Besides, we’ve got Mota-ge and Captain Summer with us! I’m not scared at all~”

He’d said it loud on purpose, clearly aiming it at the captains ahead. Neither looked back, so Jiang jogged up a bit and quietly asked the more approachable Summer:

“Captain Summer, is it true? Do we really have aberrants in the base? I wanna see~”

Noah: Damn, what a flirt.
Bright: Damn, what a flirt.

Summer Man only smiled and didn’t answer.

…

“Today, we’ll start with an introduction to the training modules,” said Mota, stopping in front of the shooting range door.

Before he could knock, a tall, dark-skinned Alpha opened it with a grin.

“Captain Mota, Captain Summer! I’ve been bored outta my mind—been waiting for you guys~”

Mota gave a small nod and motioned toward the rookies. “Newcomers. Give them something to do.”

“Haha, got it. I’ll make sure they have a blast~ Come on in, kids!”

The shooting instructor’s voice was slick, like a guy recruiting for a shady gig, and he ushered everyone inside.

Mota and Summer, now off-duty from missions, had a rare quiet day. They sat in the rest area on the side, lighting up cigarettes.

Neither was particularly into smoking—normally they avoided it during missions to stay stealthy. But during breaks, a cigarette or two helped ease the mental strain caused by long-term lack of Omega pheromone exposure.

Standard suppressants dulled reflexes and caused drowsiness for 24 hours after use—no Alpha liked that.

Through a thin layer of smoke, the instructor was explaining the rules:

“In the shooting range, there are three things you must remember. One: Never point your muzzle at anything but your target. Two: Always assess your surroundings before firing. Three: After using a weapon, switch on the safety immediately.”

He pulled out a bullet to show them. “We use mercury-tipped rounds to kill aberrants. This stuff is toxic, so don’t wander into the target zones. That said, don’t panic—we’ve got plenty of antidotes stocked in the med bay.”

“Alright, take a few shots to get a feel for it. Let’s see which guns suit you best.”

He passed out safety goggles and pointed at a display screen hanging above the green safety nets.

“See that? It updates your shooting scores in real time and analyzes the best ballistic paths. Don’t underestimate this—your results here count toward your final assessment. Focus!”

The instructor had an easygoing personality, quickly getting the rookies to relax—except for Ling Zhuo and Mei Jiuhe, who were silent the entire time like mute gourds.

Ling Zhuo didn’t warm up to strangers. Anyone who wasn’t Mota didn’t get much of a reaction. Also, he didn’t understand when Mota had picked up smoking. Sure, it looked hot, but it smelled bad—definitely not a good thing.

He kept sneaking glances in that direction, totally distracted.

Mei Jiuhe didn’t talk because of social anxiety. He found talking exhausting. No one had talked to him much since childhood. Back then, he couldn’t control his powers, and people thought he was unlucky—his own father had called him a jinx.

Naturally, the instructor took notice of the two quiet ones.

“Hey there, you two handsome boys. Not gonna come pick out a gun?”

He waved them over. “Don’t be shy! Everyone’s nervous their first time. Doesn’t matter if you’re accurate—just shoot first and ask questions later~ Come, feel these guns—this finish, this grip! Don’t they feel silky smooth~?”

He was all enthusiasm and spice, but the two of them only replied blandly: “Oh.”

Ling Zhuo didn’t understand a word he said. It was just a chunk of metal to him.

Mei Jiuhe understood, but didn’t feel anything different.

The instructor’s enthusiasm: …like throwing seductive glances at two blind men.

Not far off, Mota flicked ash off his cigarette and tossed one to the instructor: “Finlio, cut the dirty talk.”

“We said show them around—not play with them,” Summer added with a smoke ring and a wink at the rookies. “Don’t mind him. Finlio used to work the red-light district before joining the Association~”

“Haha, sorry about that! Old habits die hard. If I don’t crack a few raunchy jokes, I get itchy all over. Don’t be scared, I’ll keep it PG~”

The instructor tucked the cigarette behind his ear and led the recruits to the firing line.

They lined up and began testing weapons. After a few rounds, their average scores for the first round were displayed.