[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega Chapter 35: Hidden information

Christian had not planned to et him that night.

Not yet. Not like that.

He’d intended to wait—asured, calculated, patient as ever—until the party had softened the boy’s defenses, until the wine had dulled the shine of vigilance in his eyes, until the crowd had drained enough of him that anything familiar, anything steady, might feel like gravity.

It was ant to be later.

After the speeches. After the toasts. After Lucas had smiled himself raw and nodded through the last well-placed insult disguised as praise.

That was when Christian wanted to step in. When his voice could feel like a reprieve, not a threat. When he could feel like an answer.

But fate, or whatever it was that passed for it in these halls, had always had a penchant for drama. For shadows slipping through open doors, for glances caught too early, for corners turned before nas could be rehearsed.

And so—there he was.

Lucas.

He had expected beauty. He had prepared for it.

Misty had always hinted, always guarded him like a locked box no one could touch without paynt, always spoke of him with that breathless blend of annoyance and pride that only ant one thing: irreplaceable asset.

Still, he hadn’t expected this.

Not the sharpness in the boy’s posture. Not the way he moved like soone already anticipating pain, already cataloguing exits, already tired of pretending that silk and diamonds could ever an safety. Lucas hadn’t just grown up in shadows—he’d morized them.

Christian hadn’t planned for that.

He’d prepared for a softer version—clever, yes, but green. Timid, maybe. Passive at worst. Soone who would look up at him with a trace of awe, the way unclaid ogas so often did when finally noticed by soone powerful.

Lucas had been striking.

Not like a court-trained ornant, not like a pampered heir—no, he looked like soone who had learned to breathe in fire and silence and decided to make both look beautiful.

And in that mont, Christian understood.

Why Misty had kept him hidden.

Why she delayed every introduction. Why the paperwork stalled, why the contract danced between nas and clauses and conditional clauses, why she spoke of him only in half-ford phrases, always enough to tempt but never enough to deliver.

She hadn’t been protecting Lucas.

She’d been protecting herself.

Because even Misty Kilr, with all her ambition and calculation, had known what she was holding—and how easily it might slip from her hands the mont it was seen.

And now Christian had seen him.

And nothing else mattered.

He knew power when he felt it. Even veiled. Even broken.

Lucas walked like soone who had been betrayed so thoroughly that trust had beco sothing private, almost holy—and that kind of silence, that earned wariness, couldn’t be faked.

Christian had spent his whole life surrounded by flatterers and heirs and carefully trained courtiers who all tried to charm with surface and shadows.

Lucas wasn’t charming.

Misty knew. She knew that Lucas wouldn’t break the way most ogas did.

Wouldn’t bend. Wouldn’t blush. Wouldn’t fall into his arms with gratitude for being chosen.

He wasn’t grateful. He was dangerous.

But Christian had always liked danger—when it was quiet. When it was pretty. When it hadn’t yet realized it was a weapon.

He’d smiled, of course. Polite. Smooth. Just enough warmth to slip past suspicion.

And Lucas had looked at him like the ground might open up.

A flicker. A tremor. Nothing more. But it was there.

Enough to make Christian’s pulse sharpen behind his stillness.

Later, in his study, he would sit with that image—the wide green eyes, the stiffness in the shoulders, the sheer presence of a boy who had no right to make him feel anything at all—and he would make a note to change the tiline.

So he picked up his phone.

Pressed a single key.

"Have our dical contact retrieve the full file on Lucas Oz Kilr," he said calmly, already swirling the glass in his hand. "Everything. Puberty onset, test results, family line screening, and suppressants—if any were administered unofficially."

He sipped. Smiled faintly to himself.

"It’s not possible for an oga like that to have gone this long without awakening. Soone’s tampered with it."

And when the secretary confird, quiet and quick, Christian leaned back in his chair and tapped the side of the glass.

—

The file arrived less than an hour later.

Encrypted, stripped of identifiers, but complete. And damning.

Christian opened it on the sleek screen of his tablet, fingertips moving with the sa controlled ease he used to slice through contracts and negotiations. The interface was minimal—just rows of data, drop-down summaries, and expandable clinical notes. No distractions. No embellishnts.

Just the truth.

And the lies that ca before it.

He scrolled slowly at first, then faster as the shape of the deception began to take form.

Primary identifier: Lucas Oz Kilr.

Secondary: Removed from central dical registry at age thirteen.

Guardian override authorization: Misty Kilr.

Christian’s jaw tensed.

He tapped twice.

The suppressed dical entries unfolded in a digital list that ran far too long for soone barely eighteen.

Christian scrolled, slowly at first, then faster, his thumb flicking through lines of clinical detachnt that cut sharper than any accusation.

Monthly stabilizer injections — undocunted lot number.

No scent evolution recorded in standard developntal period.

Testosterone and oga hormone panels — deliberately muted.

Awakening suppressed through pharmacological intervention.

And then—worse.

Patient self-administered black market suppressants during early adolescence — dosage adjusted accordingly to avoid hormonal destabilization.

He stared.

Long enough for the words to blur for half a second.

Self-administered.

It wasn’t just done to him.

Lucas had done it to himself.

At thirteen. Maybe younger.

Because soone had taught him that awakening was dangerous. That if he wanted to survive, he had to stay small. Stay scentless. Stay invisible.

And beneath it all, buried like a footnote not ant to be read:

General Examiner Note:

Strongly recomnded for the patient to interrupt the administration of both doses of suppressants. Continued use at the current frequency may result in partial or complete infertility beginning in the early-to-mid twenties.

She had sold him a future she had already made biologically impossible.

She had built a contract on a child’s fading ability to bear children and never once disclosed the risk. Never once slowed down. Just pushed the doses higher. Kept the papers clean. And watched the clock tick down like it was her own countdown to relevance.

Christian leaned back in his chair, the silence settling around him like ash—and then, sharp and final, ca the crack, subtle but unmistakable, as the bourbon glass in his hand gave way, splintering beneath the pressure of a grip held too long, too tight, until the crystal shattered in his palm with a sound that did not belong to glass so much as it belonged to intent.