DTR - Chapter 0 (ENG)


PROLOGUE


The countdown has started.

The seemingly endless people of the parade keep pushing through Carlyle Frost. During New Year’s Eve, New York’s Times Square seems to have no empty space. Even the pitch-black sky is colored by the brilliant lights from the electronic billboards. Carlyle looks around. There's no actual reason that drives him to this place. He seems to have just been pushed around by the crowd.

The person who leads Carlyle to Times Square today is none other than orders. He is an omega. From the moment he sees Carlyle, the omega is already fond of him. Carlyle spent about three days with him because he needs to converse with him properly before he can finish the contract.




The omega chooses the New Year’s Eve as he wants to spend the eventful night with Carlyle. He seems to think that it is romantic. However, Carlyle Frost thinks that the word romantic is meaningless. There is no such thing.

But Carlyle’s personal thoughts don’t matter here. What matters is the result of the deal. In order to do that, Carlyle wouldn’t want to carry out his useless self-interest. Carlyle is a gentleman. Probably after the countdown finishes, he'll be lucky enough to go back to the hotel to get some rest.

Carlyle is now far from the center of Times Square. He takes a step back, avoiding those who push forward to see the crowd in the middle of Times Square. Trying to find and identify someone here is nothing short of plain stupid. He thinks that he should have stayed in the hotel in the first place.

10…

Shouts and cheers can be heard faintly in the now distant square. The shouts are combined in the wind with the smell of tobacco, weed, and beer. 

9, 8…

He feels someone bumped into his shoulder. The man who passed by him stops and says, “Sorry. You okay?”

7, 6…

His shoulders are gently tapped. Carlyle looks up in the direction of the concerned voice. Someone is watching him. All he sees at first are a straight nose and fine lips.

5, 4…

“I'm fine…” he says. Their eyes meet. At about the same time, the lights are out. From the lights of the shopping mall to the scarlet street lights, all disappears. “Good then,” the other replies.

3, 2…

It's pitch black. The other person’s face is not visible. Nevertheless, Carlyle is convinced that they are making eye contact.

1…

BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM!

The crowd bursts loudly. A Moment of silence rushes as someone lightly grabs Carlyle’s shoulder and whispers “Happy New Year” to his ears. It is said that in the US, couples kiss during the moment the year turns into a new one. Depending on where you are, it is also common to kiss your first significant other. He is reminded of the omega’s face. Yet now, he isn’t there. Though there is an unknown man in front of him. Carlyle doesn’t even try to run off as the man gradually gets closer and closer to him. There's a refreshing yet familiar scent. An Alpha, he thinks so. He doesn’t even remember touching an alpha.

Then, their lips touch.

The man lightly bites the soft lips. A sense of thrill comes down his spine. His mouth opens slightly as he moans softly. A tongue slips through the opening and the gentle kiss quickly turns into a real, sensual kiss. Their tongues intertwined, feeling amazingly good. Carlyle has no idea why he is kissing a stranger, an alpha, which he has never met in his life before. Their saliva exchanges, one swallowing the other. The grip on Carlyle’s hand becomes stronger by the minute. Shivers going down his spine as the kiss intensified. As his moan strikes, a small smile is drawn on the others’ mouth. The man had the time of his life.

Saliva flows down Carlyle’s lips. He rubs it clean with his finger. The man then grabs Carlyle’s finger. At about the same time, lights begin to turn on again. As it spreads from Times Square, the halo of light gradually grows in size as the lights near them start to turn on in their direction, its movement similar to that of a wave.

“Can you tell me your name?”

As he looks down at his hand which is now being held by the man, Carlyle thinks over and over. The light grows nearer and nearer as it approaches them. Hell, why am I even thinking about it? Just say your name, it’s not like he can see you anyway. With that in mind, Carlyle opens his mouth and says, "Lyle."

Well, technically, this is not the truth, nor is it a lie. Carlyle just blurts out a nickname that no one uses to call him with.

"Lyle, I’m Ash."

Under the light that slowly turns back on, the man’s face is now completely revealed. His hair is dark, in a different hue than that of Carlyle’s. He had a straight forehead and gently curved eyebrows. Carlyle pauses slightly as he sees the man’s eyes. They are in different colors.

“If you don’t mind…”

Before he even finishes his words, someone grabs Carlyle’s collar.

“Finally, I found you. You were here all this time?”

It's his companion. The scent that comes from behind, the omega, makes him feel uneasy. Carlyle doesn't turn his head. Instead, he just stares at the lips that are present in front of his eyes as it curved into a friendly smile, wet and red from the kiss.

“Later,” Carlyle says as he released his fingers from Ash’s.

“See you next time!” The man says as they parted.

Carlyle grins. Ash. Carlyle quietly familiarizes himself with the name he just heard. A moment later, Carlyle’s collar is pulled again. “You don’t want to go or what?”

Carlyle turns around. No trace of the man is seen. He shakes his head, hoping to shake off his foolishness. His steps are heavy. He wants to look back one last time, as he feels as if something is left behind. Yet Carlyle shakes off those thoughts, as he follows the omega with a grim look on his face.  There is no one and nothing to appease. With a displeased look on his face, Carlyle going back to the hotel, hoping it will somewhat fix his mood, assuming that better things will follow. The temporarily excited atmosphere returns to usual.

Calm, with no ups and downs.


…He had a futile dream.

5 a.m. Carlyle always wakes up exactly at this time; don’t even need to see the clock to make sure. Yet something is different than usual. His past is forgotten by the dreams? His eyes are covered with cool hands. He exhales softly and moves his upper body.

“…You already awake?”

Rupert whispers faintly, his voice hinting that he’s still half-asleep. He seems to be awakened by the subtle movements and noises.

Carlyle comes out of the bed and takes his glasses.

"You can sleep some more."

“You too, you haven’t slept that much, you know?”

Rupert is an omega that he met about once a year. His first time seeing him was about five years ago. Since then, they’ve met more or less about ten times.

On the other hand, Carlyle Frost is an Alpha. He lives a little different life than others. His blood of that of a commoner and aristocracy. Carlyle’s mother had a father-in-law. Marquis Frost, Carlyle’s grandfather, is extremely determined to maintain the bloodline. He believes that only aristocratic blood could produce a dominant alpha, which counts about no more than 1% of the population. For that reason, his grandfather forbids the family to see the same omega during the rut. Resolve the rut by whatever means, but DON’T ever fall in love with an omega the family hasn’t approved yet. As a result, Carlyle meets different omegas for each month’s rut. He spent his whole life that way.

Occasionally, when it is exhausting for him, he takes an inhibitor pill. However, as his brother suffers from serious side effects of an overdose of inhibitor pills, he doesn’t like using them that much. Carlyle’s life consists of just that; the minor things he can control and countless other matters that he can’t control. The usage of an inhibitor is the latter.

Carlyle doesn’t answer Rupert’s words of concern. Instead, he pours out a cup of water. Rupert thanks him. Carlyle nods his head as a reply.  Rupert then quietly drinks the water Carlyle gave him. Rupert’s eyes gaze upon Carlyle’s bed that is just a tad bit messy. He then opens his mouth and says, “Carlyle, I have something to say.”

“Tell me.”

Rupert’s dark brown eyes stare at Carlyle, with his face showing a hint of embarrassment. Silence falls upon the dark room. He doesn’t know what to say to Carlyle. After hours of having sex, it is impossible that one doesn’t realize what happened the night before.

“You didn’t do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never came… right?”

With a straight face, Carlyle sweeps his hair. His cold, expressionless face has no hints of embarrassment.

“If you’re mentioning about last night, that’s right,” Carlyle admits in a dry voice. He doesn’t ejaculate last night since the rut began.

“Is that... is that a problem? Did you feel uncomfortable doing it with me?”

“No, no. It was good. It was good… I think the rut is just a bit messed up,” Carlyle convinces him silently.

This situation only happened to him last night, but there has been a slow indication of this happening since the past few months. Over a few months, it took a long time for him to ejaculate. This is due to the death of an omega that he had sex with before. Carlyle, who did not enjoy sex previously, becomes even more disinterest. His body does exude pheromones, yet his mind and heart cannot keep up. When his body is excited, it almost seems as if he is forcibly drawn into mating. He feels as if his body and spirit have disconnected a long time ago. Carlyle is sick of his mechanical libido. This very situation is the result of all of this.

“Okay.”

There is a hint of irritation in his voice. Of course, this is as expected. He will act as he is instructed.

“The contract stated that if anything happened to you, I should contact Milan.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Carlyle picks up his phone that is on the nightstand. He checks the time, thinking he is late for about five or ten minutes, but surprisingly, the time has passed way beyond his expectations. It's already 6 o’clock. In short, he woke up late. He feels as if his whole life has shifted. Carlyle finally comes into realization. He is an alpha who can’t ejaculate. It doesn’t feel good.

Yet, from whatever happened lately, Carlyle doesn’t actually feel that bad. His emotions are always seemingly nonexistent. It's never bad, yet never good as well.  Unhappy, yet not happy as well. It's just that; expressionless, emotionless, almost as if he has no feelings.

“When the sun’s, just call Milan.”

He says as he walks toward the bathroom, still thinking about the dream he had previously. It's not a good sign.