Chapter Text

1: The Search Begins

“I’m so screwed!” the blue-eyed young man exclaimed, dragging both hands through his white hair.

Cyrene, seated beside him, pulled the lollipop from her lips and offered him a smile along with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a little early to be freaking out about that? The month’s not even over yet,” she reminded him. “Besides, I already told you, if you’re really in trouble, I can lend you some money. Come on, it’s not the end of the world.”

But for Phainon, it was the end of the world.

The University of The Grove of Epiphany was one of the most prestigious universities in all of Amphoreus, if not the most prestigious. Not just in Amphoreus, but arguably in the entire world. With one of the most rigorous admission filters imaginable, only the most outstanding candidates across the globe were accepted.

That… or the children of the elite who could afford the outrageous tuition fees.

The latter clearly did not apply to him.

In fact, just being there at all felt like a miracle he should spend the rest of his life kneeling in gratitude to the gods above for.

To be honest, sometimes he still couldn’t believe it himself.

Coming from a remote and humble village like Aedes Elysiae, being admitted (let alone with a scholarship) was something that, even a year later, still felt unreal.

When he was little, Phainon remembered his teacher Pythias, his parents, and other adults asking him, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

He never really knew what to answer.

At seven years old, it’s hard to know what you want to do with your life. Even so, he’d hear his friends declare things like, “I want to be a doctor!” or “I want to be a teacher!” Or, the more imaginative ones: “I want to be an intergalactic traveler and explore the entire universe!”

Phainon wasn’t that much of a dreamer. Being an intergalactic traveler sounded far too idealistic, even for someone at such a tender, innocent age, when dreaming wasn’t just normal, but healthy.

Still, whenever he saw how hard his parents worked, how much effort the adults around him put into providing everything their children needed, his answer eventually narrowed down to something simple:

“I want to be someone who helps everyone and makes them proud.”

Now that he thought about it, maybe that was even more idealistic and naïve than wanting to explore the universe. But it was sincere. That was truly what his heart wanted.

And that desire stayed with him into adolescence, only growing stronger with the years. Phainon pushed himself to excel in every aspect of his life. He wanted to be someone his loved ones could rely on. That’s why, while other kids played after school, he worked in the wheat fields to lighten his father’s burden. At night, his window was the only one still lit as he studied and finished his assignments.

Soon, the villagers began to see him as the model son.

“Why can’t you be more like Phainon?” became a recurring phrase parents used to scold their own children when they did something disappointing or stupid. 

But no one saw the pressure pressing down on him. No one saw how his goal of helping his family slowly turned into a weight almost impossible to bear.

And things only got worse when the results of his secondary gender test arrived.

When it became known that Phainon was an alpha, phrases like “As expected of an alpha!” or “No wonder he’s so reliable, it’s in his genes!” became part of daily life.

When had all his effort stopped being his own achievement and started belonging to his subgender?

And then came the acceptance letter from The Grove of Epiphany.

That morning, at his mother’s request, Phainon had gone to check the mailbox with sleep still clinging to his eyes after staying up late threshing wheat.

When he’d sent his application to the Grove, he hadn’t expected anything. Less than four percent of the global population was admitted each year. Hoping to be one of the chosen felt almost ridiculous. He’d even considered throwing the letter away without opening it. Reading a rejection first thing in the morning didn’t sound appealing.

But against all odds, he swallowed his pride and opened it.

And against all odds once again, he read the words “Congratulations” and “Admitted.”

Phainon blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. For a moment, he truly thought he was still asleep. But to everyone’s surprise (and joy) he had indeed been accepted into such a prestigious institution as a scholarship student.

Without a doubt, it was the greatest honor his entire lineage (past and future) could boast about with pride.

But not everything was sunshine and honey.

Because while he fought to stay afloat among the best of the best, things in Aedes weren’t going nearly as well.

The past year had been especially cruel to the wheat fields. First came a plague. Then an erratic rainy season that ruined more than half the harvest. The mill that usually bought their grain reduced its orders, and prices dropped as if the earth itself had decided to swallow any hope of stability whole.

Through all of it, his parents remained silent. They were never the type to complain, least of all to him. They knew he already carried enough weight on his shoulders. But Phainon wasn’t blind. The forced laughter. The “We’re fine, son, don’t worry,” delivered too quickly, repeated like a rehearsed mantra.

He wasn’t naïve. Of course he noticed that things weren’t fine. And of course it worried him.

At first, he started sending small amounts of money, whatever he could save from his monthly scholarship stipend. Then he stopped buying new books and began purchasing them secondhand. After that, he cut back on food expenses, and outings with friends slowly became a luxury he could no longer afford.

And even then, it wasn’t enough.

So he found a part-time job. In secret.

The university explicitly forbade scholarship students from taking outside employment without prior authorization, arguing that they should focus exclusively on academic performance. His parents, on the other hand, would have never allowed him to shoulder that responsibility if they had known.

Which was precisely why he told neither side.

He began working nights at a small café a few streets away from campus. He would return home past midnight, study until he collapsed over his desk, and the next day sit in the front row looking like a freshly risen corpse. For a while, it worked. But soon, that lifestyle began collecting its dues.

The dark circles under his eyes became impossible to hide. His concentration faltered during moments he once handled effortlessly. Once, he took an exam he would have aced under normal circumstances, but exhaustion, stress, and lack of sleep dragged his score below his usual standard. For anyone else, it would have been insignificant. Just a few points shy of perfect. Technically, it was still an outstanding grade.

But not for him.

Because his scholarship wasn’t just an award. It was a tightrope. And any drop in performance could mean a warning... or worse.

If he lost the scholarship, he lost everything. The university. The prestige. The opportunity to pull his family forward. The dream he’d carried since he was a child falling asleep in wheat fields under the sun.

He couldn’t afford to fail. But he also couldn’t keep going like this.

The apartment rent swallowed far too much of his income. Add food, transportation, academic materials... everything piled up without giving him room to breathe. And the money he sent home was untouchable.

Cutting expenses was no longer optional. It was necessary.

He’d briefly considered moving to a much cheaper place, but no matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find anything nearby that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. The few options he could afford were too far away, what he’d save in rent, he’d lose in transportation costs.

The only viable solution left was splitting the rent with a stranger.

The mere thought tightened his jaw.

As an alpha, Phainon wasn’t someone who enjoyed the idea of sharing his space, his territory. But comfort didn’t pay bills. And stubbornness didn’t fill refrigerators. So after several long minutes staring at the blank ad on his laptop screen, he took a deep breath and began typing:

“Roommate wanted...”

But it seemed the gods were turning a deaf ear to his prayers this time, because ever since posting the ad, he hadn’t received a response. Not a single one!

He had anticipated that finding someone as financially wrecked as he was while being surrounded by the children of the richest families in the world wouldn’t be easy. That’s why he and Cyrene had decided to print flyers and post them in areas farther from campus, places more likely to house people in similar economic situations.

They’d been at it for about an hour and were now sitting on a bench, taking a short break before hanging the remaining copies.

Phainon sighed.

“Thanks, Cyrene,” he said, straightening to massage the sharp ache in his neck. “But you know I can’t do that. You already helped me last month. I can’t afford to be even more in debt to you.”

The pink-haired girl smiled and shook her head.

“You know, when I said I’d ‘lend you money,’ that was just an excuse so you’d accept help without arguing. I’m not actually expecting you to pay me back.”

Phainon let out a soft snort.

“I know. But you know me. I’m a proud alpha. I can’t accept charity from my beta friend.”

Cyrene sighed. Deep down, she knew the “proud alpha” part was a joke, but the “proud” part definitely wasn’t.

Once she finished her lollipop, she pulled the stick from her mouth and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

“Well, this ‘beta’ is also proud and refuses to let her lil brother carry all that weight alone,” she said, standing up to stretch before flashing him a grin. “Now come on. We’ve still got flyers left. And I’ve got a feeling we’ll have better luck this time.”

Phainon smiled at the nickname.

Even though they weren’t related by blood, coming from the same village had always kept them close. There was even a time when some of the elders began pairing them up as childhood sweethearts.

Cyrene had shut that down with a simple:

“I’d consider it... if Phainon were a girl.”

It was never mentioned again.

Even if her orientation had been different, Phainon was certain it would have never turned into that. As long as he could remember, Cyrene had been like an older sister to him. How could she not be? The little rascal had filled his head with lines like, “As your older sister, it’s my duty to protect you,” or “Don’t worry, leave it to your big sis.”

And that never changed, not even when he outgrew her in height and size.

They say friends are the family you choose. For him, Cyrene wasn’t just a friend. She was the sister he had chosen. His affection for her was purely fraternal, and he was certain the feeling was mutual.

Following her lead, Phainon stood and stretched.

“Alright, alright. You’re right.” He glanced at the sky, now beginning to turn ochre. “We’d better finish before it gets dark.”

A while later, the remaining flyers disappeared faster than he’d expected. Between lampposts, bulletin boards, and walls already crowded with tutoring ads, secondhand sales, and private lessons, his notice finally found its place.

Looking at it among so many sheets of paper, it was obvious it didn’t stand out in the slightest. But hopefully, it would be enough.

Roommate Wanted

Quiet apartment located in central Okhema, Eternal Holy City district.

Financial details:

Rent: XXX Credits
Utilities split (negotiable)

Room:

Semi-furnished bedroom
Shared bathroom

Looking for:

Beta or alpha males
Preferably students

Interested?
Call: 9XXX-XXX

After putting up the last flyer, the two of them stood there for a few seconds, staring at it as if sheer luck might summon someone immediately to inquire about it.

It didn’t.

“Well,” Cyrene muttered, dusting off her hands. “Mission accomplished.”

Phainon let out a quiet chuckle.

“I guess now we just wait.”

She gave him an encouraging pat. “You’ll see. Someone will call.”

Without taking his eyes off the paper, he sighed.

“I hope so.”

After that, Phainon walked Cyrene to the bus stop so she could head home. The distance wasn’t long, but it was enough for the fatigue to begin weighing down his legs. The sky had fully shifted into deep ochres and oranges, and the air carried that faint chill that signaled the end of the day. Once they reached the stop, Phainon turned to her.

“By the way, how are things going for you? Are classes hard?”

Cyrene studied art and literature at Asteria University, in the neighboring city. It wasn’t as prestigious as the Grove, but it had a solid reputation in its field, and more importantly, it was a place where she could flourish without the suffocating pressure of competing against grandiose surnames.

Cyrene giggled softly.

“Wow. You finally remember to ask about me. You’ve been drowning in a glass of water all day. I thought you forgot the rest of the world existed.”

Even though he knew she was teasing, Phainon couldn’t stop the small stab of guilt that pierced his chest. It was true. He’d been so consumed by his own problems that he hadn’t even considered hers. He felt like a shitty friend.

He lowered his head. “Sorry.”

The moment she saw the kicked-puppy expression on his face, her smile faltered. Suddenly the joke felt poorly timed.

“Oh, come on! Don’t make that face. You know I’m just messing with you,” she said, pinching his cheek hard enough to make him wince. “I’m fine. My classes are as interesting and enriching as ever.”

Phainon rubbed his sore cheek and smiled faintly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Just then, the bus they were waiting for turned the corner.

Cyrene pivoted on her heel to face him.

“Hey,” she said, this time without a trace of humor in her voice. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your own.”

Phainon opened his mouth to fire back something witty, but she continued before he could.

“You’re not the only one responsible for the world, you know. Your parents are adults. I’m here. And even if things look bad right now, that doesn’t mean they’ll stay that way forever.”

He looked at her in silence.

“You’re going to get through this,” she added more softly, squeezing his shoulder. “You always do.”

For a moment, the weight in his chest seemed to lighten... just a little.

Phainon smiled. Not the tight, polished smile he used for professors and classmates, but a smaller, more honest one.

“Thanks, Cyrene.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully.

“And if you don’t get through this, you can always become my assistant when I’m a famous artist.”

He rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Oh, sure. And let you pay me in ‘artistic exposure’? I’ll pass.”

Cyrene burst into laughter.

The bus finally pulled up to the stop. Without another word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his broad frame. It was a firm hug, but unbelievably comforting. It took him only a second to return it.

“Take care,” she murmured.

“Mm. You too.”

She stepped back and boarded the bus. Phainon watched her make her way down the aisle and sit by the window. She slid it open and leaned out just enough to call out—

“Don’t forget to text me when you get home!”

Phainon rolled his eyes again, smiling.

“Yes, Mom.”

The bus pulled away, and he stood there a few seconds longer, waving until it disappeared into traffic.

Once she was out of sight, he exhaled and began the walk back to his apartment.

When he arrived, the silence greeted him like a reminder that, despite everything, he was still alone in this battle.

He kicked off his shoes clumsily, tossed his keys onto the table, and dragged himself to his room, collapsing onto his bed like a sack of grain. The moment his back hit the mattress, his body seemed to deflate with a long, heavy sigh.

His muscles ached. His head throbbed from accumulated exhaustion.

He closed his eyes.

He desperately wanted to sleep for an entire week, but that was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He still had a mountain of tasks to finish. Not to mention that his stomach, which had long since digested the lunch Cyrene treated him to, would soon begin growling again—with absolutely no regard for the pitiful state of his nearly empty fridge.

But... just five minutes, he thought. He’d keep his eyes closed for just five minutes.

Once again, life made sure to remind him that time waited for no one. Barely a minute after closing his eyes, the sharp sound of an alarm made him frown.

He opened one eye, then the other, turning his head toward the phone vibrating beside him.

“Work — 1 hour.”

Phainon released a long, heavy sigh.

Oh, right. He couldn’t afford to rest.

He slowly pushed himself up, rubbing his face with both hands. The reflection staring back at him from the wardrobe mirror wasn’t exactly encouraging.

He had never considered himself unattractive. Not to brag, but he had always been fairly popular. On Valentine’s Day, his locker and desk would overflow with cards and chocolates, and being called to the rooftop for a confession happened at least once a month.

He didn’t have to be a narcissist to know he's good-looking.

But the reflection before him now was anything but attractive. Dark circles carved beneath his eyes, hair disheveled, an expression that no longer fully concealed the wear and tear.

How much longer could he keep this up?

If his grades slipped, even slightly, the university might begin to look into him. And if they discovered the job... The sanction could be immediate.

The tightrope felt thinner than ever.

As he finished changing for his shift, his phone vibrated again on the sink. This time, it wasn’t an alarm tho. 

The name on the screen made his stomach tighten and soften all at once.

"Mom"

The exhaustion faded to the background. Phainon swallowed before answering.

“Hi, Mom...”

“Hello, my boy! I’m sorry, am I interrupting you?”

At the sound of her warm, familiar voice, something in his chest loosened. It's crazy how, despite the distance, just two words could bring back the scent of freshly cut wheat and the creak of old wooden floors with almost painful clarity.

“Not at all. I wasn’t doing anything important,” he replied calmly, careful not to let the fatigue weighing on his shoulders slip into his tone. “How are you and Dad?”

“We’re fine...” Mrs. Audata paused briefly. “Though a little worried about you. We haven’t heard from you much lately.”

Before Phainon could answer, his father’s deep voice filtered through between light coughs.

“Oh, woman, leave the boy alone. He’s probably been busy studying.”

Those coughs did not go unnoticed. Phainon frowned.

“Is that Dad? Is he okay?”

A small (suspicious) silence followed.

“Ah... yeah, your father’s fine,” his mother replied, trying to sound unconcerned. “It’s just that... he had a small mishap.”

Phainon’s body tensed instantly.

“Mishap? Mom, what do you mean by that?”

She hesitated, but Mr. Hieronymus cut in first.

“Occupational hazard. Nothing more. Don’t listen to your mother, she exaggerates.”

Phainon closed his eyes for a second. He knew that tone. He had seen that kind of minimization his entire life.

“Mom,” he insisted, firmer this time. “What happened?”

A resigned sigh came from the other end.

“Your father hurt his knee lifting some flour sacks. It’s nothing serious, but the doctor said he needs to stay in bed for a few days.”

Phainon pulled the phone away from his ear and took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The beginnings of a migraine pulsed behind his eyes.

“Lifting sacks? I thought you were going to hire someone to help with that. That’s why I sent you money.”

“Well, about that...”

“Bah, nonsense!” his father interrupted sharply. “I’m not so old that I need some brat doing my job for me. I can handle it just fine. And stop sending money for things like that, for the love of the Titans. I won’t accept it.”

The migraine threatened to fully settle in.

“Dad-”

“I don’t want to hear another word about it, Phainon. A father’s duty is to provide for his children, not the other way around. If you have extra money, use it for your studies. That’s your only responsibility right now.”

Phainon clenched his jaw.

He wanted to argue. To tell him he wasn’t a child anymore. That it was his duty to protect them, too. That he refused to stand by while they carried everything alone.

But arguing would be useless.

His father was stubborn. And so was he.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Mr. Hieronymus huffed, effectively ending his part of the conversation. A moment later, the sound of the speaker being turned off echoed faintly.

“You heard him,” his mother said with a softer sigh. “He’s too proud to accept help. You should know that.”

Phainon let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling.

“Mom, you have to convince him. We both know he’s not twenty anymore. If he keeps pushing himself like that, next time it won’t just be a knee.”

“Do you think I haven’t tried?” she replied, frustration slipping through. “I’ve told him countless times. But he never listens. And... if I’m being honest, I agree with him a little. You shouldn’t keep sending us money. You need it more than we do.”

That hurt more than he expected. Because it was true. But he had always been the type to put others’ needs before his own.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. His shift would start soon.

“I already told you, it’s money I have to spare,” he lied, with a naturalness he was getting far too good at. “It’s not a problem for me.”

He paused briefly.

“Hey, Mom, I’d love to keep talking, but I need to get ahead on some assignments.”

He couldn’t exactly say that in an hour he’d be tying on an apron and waiting tables.

“Oh, of course, of course. Sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you.”

Phainon smiled, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Stop saying that. How could you ever bother me?”

A softer silence followed.

“Work hard, but not too hard,” she said gently. “Remember to rest and eat properly, alright? And send us a message now and then. We love you, son.”

Those words settled heavily in his chest.

We love you.

He loved them too.

And precisely because of that, he couldn’t afford to fail.

“I love you too,” he replied quietly. “Keep me updated on Dad’s recovery.”

The call ended, and the room fell silent again.

Phainon set the phone aside and remained still for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling as if the solution to everything might be written there.

His father injured.
His mother trying to hold everything together.
The business faltering.
The scholarship hanging by a thread...

He couldn’t keep stretching his money as if it were infinite elastic. He couldn’t risk his academic performance. He couldn’t stop sending money home. He couldn’t... simply wait for things to get better.

Pride didn’t feed anyone.

He slowly sat up and stood.

The only variable left to adjust was the rent.

And for that, he needed to stop overthinking and start accepting the inevitable.

Phainon exhaled, long and resigned, before clasping his hands together.

“Oh gods above... if you’re out there, please hear my prayer and help me out of this.”