Chapter Text
five years ago
“Hmm…”
Long, manicured nails rapped against a clipboard as a pair of harsh eyes scanned him up and down. The orange haired woman scribbled something on her sheet, and Chuuya couldn't even guess what it could have been.
“Name?” She finally asked.
Chuuya groaned and rolled his eyes. “Nakahara Chuuya. My dumbass brother said—”
“Language,” she scolded, her tone surprisingly sharp. It actually made Chuuya jump in his skin, and forced his lips shut. “Your brother's name?”
Chuuya clenched his jaw, glaring at the woman in front of him. “Paul Verlaine.”
The lady's gaze softened at the mention of his brother and it made Chuuya sick. It shouldn't have—Because that's how things had always been. It never mattered how tough or capable Chuuya thought himself to be, no one in their right mind would take an omega's word for something.
“Oh, yes, I do remember speaking to Mr. Verlaine on the phone. He said that when you turned eighteen he had seven potential mates for you, and every single one of them turned you down,” she said, pensively.
Chuuya forces a smile, even though what he really wanted was to reach across the space that separated them and strangle her—
Instead he just gripped the edge of the exam table even tighter.
“I have high standards, there's nothing wrong with that.”
“Mhmm. I suppose…If you have the numbers to back it up. Please remove your gown.” Ane-san’s voice was cold, even back then, before she knew the kind of headaches Chuuya would be willing to cause her.
“You want me to strip?” he scoffed. “Pervert.”
“There's nothing perverted about verifying the information in your files. We’ll need accurate measurements and we’ll need to do a blood test.”
“A blood test?! What the hell for?” he snapped back. “Isn’t this place a damn whore house? Who cares what my blood type is?!”
“Language, Chuuya,” she scolded again. “And no, absolutely not. This is a reputable establishment, with high-end clientele. Many families opt to send their omegas here in lieu of matchmaking on their own because only the omegas of the highest caliber are accepted.”
“Oh, so you only whore out fancy omegas. Well I ain’t fancy. I don’t know what the hell my brother told you, it was probably all bullshit.”
He swore all the veins in her forehead bulged as she tried not to react to his attitude. “And that’s precisely why we need to verify. Now strip.”
“If I don’t?”
“Then we’ll have no choice but to reject your application, and you can hope to whatever deity you please that your dear brother returns to collect you.”
Chuuya’s smile faded at that one.
Sure, if Verlaine came back for him, he could send him somewhere else. There was still time. But the reality was that Chuuya knew for a fact that Verlaine wouldn’t be coming back for him. And if no one came to pick him up, he’d be left to his own devices on the streets, which would be problematic for a number of reasons.
For one, if the police found an unmated, unclaimed omega of age roaming the streets unattended, they’d throw his ass in jail so fucking fast. No one really knew what happened when omegas were arrested. It was rare to ever hear from them again after that.
The real danger, Chuuya thought, would be the fact that he’d likely get picked up by someone else before the cops for him. There were lots of shady people in the city who’d do disturbing things to an omega if they got their hands on one.
He locked eyes with Ane-San as he stood up and pulled at the strings of the hospital gown he wore, letting it drop to his feet. She let out a breathy huff of air as she peered closer and made a couple of notes on her chart.
“Well?” Chuuya scoffed after a while, wondering what the hell the verdict was.
“Your physique is desirable. Slim build, wide hips…Sit on the table and spread your legs.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes but sat back anyway, leaning back on his hands and spreading his knees wide as she moved onto inspecting his genitals. Her pen flew against the page once more, apparently having a lot to say about his cunt.
“Well, everything seems to check out so far,” Ane-San sighed, like she was disappointed that Chuuya’s body wasn’t nearly as low-brow as his attitude. “Our physician will be in shortly to collect samples. You may put the gown back on.”
The next hour or so involved a lot of poking and prodding. The doctors took blood, swabbed his vagina, checked his vitals… By the time Ane-San came back to speak with him, he’d been put through the ringer and was in an even worse mood than he was before.
“So, it appears, much to my chagrin, that you not only meet our house’s requirements for admission, but you far exceed almost all of them,” she explained in a tired voice. “You’re perfectly healthy, your fertility numbers are impressive, and if we can work on your manners, an alpha will pick you out in no time.”
“Perfect,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Welcome to The Golden House.”
Present Day
“And what do you like to do for fun?”
The man that sits next to Chuuya can’t be younger than fifty, and he smells like mothballs. Still, he pours tea from a kettle and flashes a smile that feels more deranged than it looks. He stiffens as the man’s hand finds his knee and he has to hold back the urge to switch to pouring the hot tea right over his damn crotch.
“I enjoy hunting small animals and preserving them in resin. I’m hoping my future alpha will take me to the market so I can sell them off as paper weights.” He says it with a perfectly straight face, and then smiles sweetly as the alpha draws his hand back. “Would you like to see one? Just the other day, I found a rat in my closet and—”
“No, no, no, that’s okay, really,” the man chuckles nervously.
“Oh, okay,” Chuuya shrugs, doing his best to sound perfectly innocent. Like he isn’t secretly enjoying saying the most horrifying things with a straight face just to watch another rich, scumbag alpha squirm. “Are you going to drink your tea? I prepared it specially for you.”
The man gulps and stares at the teacup on the coffee table in front of him, cautiously eyeing Chuuya as he tries to muster up a response.
“No that’s—Oh, look, it appears we’re out of time,” the man lies, looking at his watch for only a split second before he springs to his feet and hurries out of the meeting room. Chuuya waits until the door slams shut behind him to lean back onto the couch and chuckle to himself.
“Fucking idiot,” he mutters. He reaches over and takes the unclaimed teacup and sips it himself. Too bad that guy won’t ever get to know that Chuuya’s fucking great at making tea. He’s also a good cook, and good at cleaning, and his fertility numbers are so high, he’d probably get pregnant just from sucking a dick.
Oh well.
His loss.
Not a moment later, the door swings open and Ane-san bursts into the room, nostrils flaring. “Chuuya! What the hell is wrong with you?!”
He shrugs. “Nothing. He didn’t even want to try my tea.”
“He just ran out of here complaining that we have rats! What did you tell him?!”
“That’s what he was pissed about? The fuck is wrong with him?” Chuuya replies, exasperated. “I basically told him I liked to kill animals—And he’s gonna focus on rats? Sounds like I dodged a bullet, what a nutcase.”
“Dammit, Chuuya,” Ane-san groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know why I bother with you anymore.”
“Because you love me,” he teases.
It’s been five years since Chuuya first came to the Golden House. In that time, he's managed to dodge every single potential mate that's come his way. And despite the way she reams him out, he knows that Ane-san secretly cares about him. There was that one time when a creep had tried to put his hands down Chuuya's pants a couple of years ago and she lost her shit when she found out. Had the guy banned for life and didn't let anyone see Chuuya for almost three months.
Though, if anyone asked her outright, she'd call Chuuya a pain in the ass and lament about how he's been here longer than any omega ever has and she is sick of him. (She's not. She'd miss him.)
“Be weird with the clients all you want but please don't tell people we have rats. Some people here actually want to attract good mates.”
Chuuya lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Fine, no more rat stories…How many more of these do I have today?”
“You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you’d actually try for once,” she says, which only elicits a loud groan from Chuuya.
She’s given him this spiel only a hundred times before and she doesn’t get it.
As a beta, she never will.
In fact, all of the house staff are betas. It’s safer that way.
Still, none of them will ever actually understand what it’s like to be treated like a specimen. To have to meet people day in and day out and smile while they ask him about his pussy. This has been his life for the past five years, and yet it isn’t even the worst he’s had to experience. Like most omegas, his childhood was relatively bleak. And not that it’s a competition, Chuuya’s was probably bleaker than most because his parents were scientists.
Ones who studied secondary genders for a living and used their research to artificially inseminate his mother with the genetic code for the “perfect” omega.
Most of the time, Chuuya pretends he doesn’t know about it—It’s easier that way. Easier to play dumb and go along with everyone’s dumb games, all while knowing he secretly has everyone wrapped around his little finger. There’s a reason Paul Veraline dropped him off here, and there’s a reason Ane-san hasn’t kicked him out and left him to the wolves.
“Most of your friends don’t get a choice in a mate, but you…you could literally have an entire pool of mates to choose from who want you and yet you won’t let anyone get near you without scaring them off on purpose.”
“Maybe I don’t want a mate,” Chuuya sighs. “Besides, I know you give me all the trash alphas anyway because you know none of them are going to say yes.”
That part isn’t an exaggeration, either, and he’s not sure how or why things ended up that way. They just sort of… did. The House would get these sleaze ball alphas who somehow managed to round up enough money to pay a dowry—low class fuckers who just wanted pick up someone to fuck. Ane-san despised those types and could always pick them from a crowd. Most of the other omegas in the house were too meek or traditional to oppose anything an alpha said to them, and Ane-san worried about them. (Chuuya did too, but he’d never admit that out loud.)
“Maybe I give you what you deserve.”
“Nah, you’re a softie,” Chuuya says, a mischievous grin stretching between his cheeks. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“Lucky for you, you’re off the hook for today,” she finally sighs after referencing her list.
“Hell yeah—”
“And don’t be late for dinner today, we have a new guest joining us,” she says.
That’s what they call the omegas who live at The Golden House— Guests. The idea being that their stay is only temporary, and before they know it they’ll be moving on and moving in with their capable alpha mate. At this point, they should be calling Chuuya resident, because he’s definitely far exceeded his stay and fully plans on keeping it that way.
Hell, he has his own damn room and a collection of his own things. He gets warm meals every single day and all he has to do is play mind games with alphas. Why would anyone want to leave a place like this when the outside world is…Well.
The outside world could be anything.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he smiles, and she narrows her eyes.
“Like that’s reassuring.”
“Later, Ane-san!”
With that he takes off, out of the Meeting room and down the long hallway until he gets to the courtyard—a small, grassy area with lots of sun and the closest Chuuya’s been to outside in a long ass time.
“Yeah, told you—I win again,” is the first thing Chuuya hears from Albatross, another guest that Chuuya secretly considers to be a friend. He’s sitting on the steps, toes in the warm grass, as he talks to Lippman. After Chuuya, Albatross has been here the second-longest, which is only six months. Lippman’s only been here for one.
“One day, I’m gonna be right,” Lippman argues.
“And you’ll already be long gone, I guarantee it.”
“What are you babbling about now?” Chuuya scoffs, plopping himself down in between them and rolling his neck. He lets out a tired sigh, as if he’s been hard at work for hours.
“Lippman bet me his dessert that you’d get selected today,” Albatross snickers.
“If you’re gonna make dumb ass bets like that, you might as well give up dessert forever,” Chuuya scoffs. “Also gross. This guy was a weirdo.”
“They’re all weirdos to you,” Lippman points out. “What did you say to this one?”
“It was the small animals in resin bit,” he sighs. “It works every time, feel free to use it if you ever get stuck in a Meeting Room with a gross ass alpha.”
“Damn, I don’t know how you do it,” Albatross says. “I just wanna get the hell out of here, how have you managed five years in this place? It’s basically an institution.”
“Yeah, and?” Chuuya retorts.
“And…I don’t know. Don’t you wanna be mated and start a family? Aren’t you twenty-five now? That’s…”
“That’s what?” he challenges, narrowing his eyes and silently daring Lippman to call him old. What neither of them know is that it doesn’t fucking matter how old he is—he’s always going to be of perfect childbearing age. He can afford to be picky—and who knows?
Maybe there’s no one in this stupid world that deserves to take him as a mate.
Dazai Osamu stares out at the city, marveling at all the twinkling lights as his fingers press against solid glass. The cars on the street below look like blobs of red and white streaking from where he stands. He’s always been a fan of city streets—The noise, the lights, the vivacity. Not that he enjoyed partaking in it—He just found it fascinating to see people from the outside looking in, wondering what they’re thinking and doing, curious about the mundane details of their lives.
His eyes follow the glass up to the ceiling and then down to the ground.
“Something wrong?” A voice interrupts him from his thoughts and he turns to see Sakaguchi—He’s met him somewhere before. He was his father’s…uh…he was something. Dazai just doesn't know what. Nor did he ever really care to know.
“Just thinking about the absurdity of floor-to-ceiling windows,” he says, knocking his fist lightly against the glass. “If this were to shatter, I’d fall to my death.”
“It’s bulletproof glass,” Sakaguchi says.
“From this height, do you think I would die instantly? Or do you think all the bones in my body would shatter and I’d suffer a slow, painful death?” He glances back at Sakaguchi with an inquisitive look, pretending not to notice the way the beta’s eyelids twitch. Clearly whatever Dazai’s father instilled in him has left a good enough impression that he’s carried over his respect for the man to Dazai as well.
Fuck, what’s his job again?
Dazai still doesn’t remember.
“I think that it’s not something you should worry about,” Sakaguchi grimaces.
“Well, then, what should I worry about?”
“Maybe the investor meeting from this afternoon?”
Dazai blinks, remembering the blur of faces that sat around that conference table, talking to him in words he was supposed to understand, about a company he was supposed to give a shit about. Remembering all the empty condolences he’d received for a man that they barely knew.
If they really knew his father, they might have been congratulating Dazai instead.
“Did I say something wrong?” Dazai asks.
“Not necessarily, but their confidence in you as CEO is already waning. They need to know you aren’t going to run this company into the ground,” Sakaguchi explains, which makes sense.
Mostly because he fully intends on running it into the ground.
Just not yet.
“Well that’s no good,” Dazai hums. “What should I do?”
“Do you remember what their primary concern was?”
Dazai shrugs and Sakaguchi twitches again.
“They’re not comfortable with an unmated alpha as their CEO.” He says it point-blank, without sugar coating it, and Dazai appreciates that. “They find unmated alphas, especially at your age, to be unstable and off putting. They’d like to see that you’re interested in raising a family, carrying on the legacy your father created.”
“Oh?” he asks. “Well, then I suppose I should find a mate.”
“Er, I mean, it’s not like you can just go to the store and pick one up, there’s a process and waiting lists and–”
“Don’t they have those—oh, what are they called? Breeding Houses?”
“ Mating Houses,” Sakaguchi corrects, as if there’s a difference.
“Whatever, I’ll just go to one of those, how hard can it be?” Dazai says. And on paper it sounds simple enough. Find an omega, mate them and then magically, the investors will trust him again. It’s stupid, but in Dazai’s mind, it’s a relatively easy fix.
“You have to apply in-person, submit a dowry, meet potential mates to see if you actually like them—”
“All I'm hearing is easy, easy, easy. Find me the mating house with the best reviews and make an appointment.”
Sakaguchi scowls at the suggestion.
Okay, so that rules out Sakaguchi being his personal assistant. Whoops.
“Or at least tell me who will do that for me,” Dazai amends with an apologetic shrug.
“Call them yourself.”
“Man, you're telling me Dad didn't even have a personal assistant? What kind of lame-ass CEO was he?” Dazai groans. Sakaguchi looks at him as if he's the human embodiment of a migraine.
He's probably right.
“Your father was a good man, and was more successful than you'll ever realize,” Sakaguchi says. “And he did have a personal assistant. A young beta, her name is Higuchi.”
“And might you have this Higuchi's phone number?”
Sakaguchi sighs deeply.
And pulls out his own phone. “She's probably not in the office…But here's her number.”
Dazai grins, victorious as he records the assistant’s number in his own phone.
Truth be told, Dazai couldn't care less about pleasing his deceased father's investor's. That man made Dazai's life a living hell while he was alive, and now he fully intends to make a fool of the man for thinking it would be a good idea to leave him in charge of his pharmaceutical corporation.
Dazai never had any interest in the family business, if one could even call it that anymore. What did his family even do aside from attend galas and collect exorbitant paychecks without ever actually lifting a finger.
No matter what anyone tells him, Dazai is nothing like his father. Their only similarities are a secondary gender he never asked for and the blood that he wishes he could drain from his own veins.
Higuchi is a timid woman, even for a beta, Dazai thinks. She's professional, yet eager to please, and he imagines his father probably liked that in some sick, twisted way of his. He had been the kind of man who got off on making others quiver in his wake.
And Higuchi clearly thinks that Dazai will be the same way, if the way she white-knuckles the steering wheel as she drives the two of them to a mating house.
The Golden House.
It's a reputable place, respectable even.
Apparently his own mother had once been a house guest. That's what Higuchi told him, anyway.
“Th-this is the place,” Higuchi stammers, her hands still tight around the wheel as she slows to a stop in front of the tall gates. Even from way out here, it's clear that The Golden House is far more than just a house.
It's an estate. A traditional-style estate with gates that are clearly more modern in style, reinforced with a stronger metal. Not that it affects him one way or the other, but it's mildly refreshing to see that this place actually might have protections in place for their omegas.
Dazai hangs out the side of the car and presses the call button. Moments later a staticky voice pierces the silence.
“Please state your full name and the purpose of your visit.”
“Dazai Osamu, I have an appointment at noon,” He declares proudly. The voice doesn't respond, but soon after, there's a blaring buzz! and the gates slowly open.
“Looks like the main building is right over here,” Higuchi says, swallowing. “I'll park and wait for you?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Higuchi,” he hums, emerging from the vehicle and slowly making his way towards the front entrance. Before he even gets to the steps, a woman wearing colorful, yet elegant, robes steps out, politely greeting him.
He can tell right away that she isn't a potential suitor. She's not an omega, and she seems far past the prime age for mating.
“Welcome, Mr. Dazai,” she says. “We've been excited for your visit.”
“Really? I'm flattered,” he grins, even though he wants to roll his eyes right out of his head. He is well aware that that’s just code for ‘We recognized your surname and your absurd net worth and can’t wait to get your money.’
“Of course,” she smiles politely. “My name is Kouyou and I’m the head mistress here.”
“Nice to meet you…so how does this work?” Dazai asks, removing his shoes and following her into the main house as she leads him to a space with large tatami mats and a sleek, black table adorned with several leather-bound portfolios.
Kouyou smiles and invites him to sit across from her.
“There are three different categories to choose from, based on dowry. What is your price range?” she inquires, and Dazai just shrugs because he honestly doesn’t know. His eyes sweep across the portfolios in front of him. The first stack is bound with a soft, green leather, the next with sleek black. The third one is brown and… Before he’s finished giving his attention to the third stack, his eyes fall to a fourth one. This stack is significantly smaller, bound in red.
“There are four, you mean,” he says, nodding to the red folder.
“Oh! Oh, this one wasn’t meant to still be out for you, I apologize,” she says, clearly flustered as she moves to remove it.
“No, no, now I’m curious,” he says, flashing her a charming smile. She frowns, her eyes surprisingly harsh even towards a supposedly high-end client.
“This is our most expensive dowry and, if I’m being honest, I’m not sure he’s worth your time, sir,” she says, apologetically.
He’s smart enough to not let it show, but he’s suddenly very interested in the red folder. In what universe would anyone in any business withhold valuable goods from a customer who’s more than willing to shell out the cash? There’s something interesting in that red folder, and Dazai is dying to know what it is all of a sudden.
“Well, no harm in looking, right? I’ll be the one to decide if he’s worth my time,” Dazai says, letting his words linger a bit before letting his features darken. “Or are you insinuating that I can’t afford the dowry?”
Kouyou’s breathing falters and Dazai can feel it. She swallows thickly and sets the red, leather-bound folder back onto the table. “Of course not.”
Up until this moment, he’s just been playing along with a stupid game that society created and forced him to play. He had no real interest in a mate, just a placeholder for what he ultimately wanted to gain from this situation. Honestly, he’d been prepared to just choose a few from the top of the list and flip a coin to see which one he’d take home.
As soon as he opens the folder, he’s met with a headshot that nearly knocks all the air from his lungs. The photograph is of an omega with hair like fire and eyes like the ocean. His features are unique and striking—he’s beautiful. But that’s not what takes his breath away. No, it’s the glint of something dangerous in his eyes, the way his lips curl into a self-assured smirk, his chin held high.
“This is Nakahara Chuuya, he’s our highest dowry, but keep in mind that he’s also our oldest guest,” she explains, almost apologetically, as he flips to the next page.
“Chuuya, huh?” he murmurs, scanning down the list of all of his attributes. His health record is absolutely pristine—not a single blip in his genetics. Dazai doesn’t know much about fertility, but he does know a perfect score when he sees one. Just from that one-sheeter, he also learns that Chuuya is 160 centimeters tall, attended a well-known finishing school where he graduated in the top of his class, and has a clitoris that’s five centimeters long when aroused. Based on stats alone, Dazai can see why Chuuya comes with a side of sticker shock.
Sure, he came to play the stupid game that his dead(literally)beat father signed him up for, but suddenly he finds himself genuinely intrigued to find out what this establishment happens to be hiding in regards to this… Nakahara Chuuya.
“How long has he been here? And what’s the average stay for a guest?”
“Based on our records, an average stay is six to eight months,” she explains, and he can already detect the hesitation in her voice. The way she beats around the bush.
“And how long has Chuuya been a guest?”
Kouyou swallows. “Five years.”
Dazai smirks and snaps the portfolio shut. “I’d like to meet with him, please. As soon as possible.”
“Are you sure? He’s—His attitude is deplorable for his price, I don’t want to offend you, Dazai—”
“Deplorable, huh? What is his price exactly?” Dazai asks. He’s well aware that omegas from a place like this one aren’t going to be cheap. Even the bottom of the stack probably starts at fifty million yen.
“Um, eight hundred,” she says, sheepishly.
Dazai blinks. “Eight hundred what?”
“E-eight hundred million yen,” she admits, her eyes downcast like she’s embarrassed. “I know it’s ridiculous and I really do advise you to look at some of our other guests with more reasonable dowries. A-Atsushi just arrived yesterday, his dowry is set at—”
“I’m sorry, Miss Kouyou, but I really want to meet Nakahara Chuuya. Today, preferably. I’m a very busy man and I’d hate to deny patronage to the place where my own mother’s dowry was paid for by my late father years and years ago,” he purposely sounds wistful and fond of his parents.
“Right, you’re absolutely right. And my condolences, sir. You’re an honored patron here. Let me show you to a meeting room and I’ll fetch Nakahara right away.”
Dazai smiles sweetly, silently victorious. “Thank you so much.”
Something isn’t adding up, and Dazai is intrigued by the mystery of it—the story that’s buried somewhere in there. How in the hell could a nearly perfect omega with a dowry of eight hundred million not already been snatched up as the shiny new trophy wife for some other scumbag CEO?
One way or another, he’s going to find out. And who knows?
Maybe this Nakahara Chuuya will end up being exactly what his plan needs.