Chapter 26

Sebastian’s belt wasn't resting around his own waist.

Sebastian’s belt had been tied securely around Asher’s left wrist.

The ascetic, cold predator wrapped in a gentleman’s clothing utilized a brownish-tan leather belt to bind the proud, unruly young master’s wrist, leaving a few faint red marks on that pale, delicate skin...

Cough.

Mason concluded that he had likely read a bit too much archaic, melodramatic online fiction recently.

In any case, Sebastian used the belt to bind Asher’s left hand tightly alongside his own right hand, wrapping it from the wrist bone all the way up near the elbow, before securing it with the buckle.

With this binding, it essentially equated to each individual losing a single hand while remaining anchored by the other, cutting their mobility and range of movement down by more than half.

Did they conclude that the game's hard mode was far too easy, resolving to self-inflict a wave of torment to upgrade it straight to a living hell mode?

Demons? Freaks? Absolute beasts?

Yet across the training field, the silhouettes of the two absolute beasts were in absolute synchronization—the amplitude of every single stride and the frequency of every single pace matching each other to an identical extent.

Clearing the straddle hurdles and the deep trench at lightning speed, they reached the low-wire crawl net, dropping into a prone position simultaneously. Each utilizing a single arm to power through, they executed a prone crawl with total synchronization, moving at a speed that refrained from lagging behind a single candidate in the slightest.

Reaching the single-log bridge, the two turned their bodies sideways to mount the log, executing a high-speed horizontal shuffle, clearing the obstacle without a single trace of wobbling.

Beneath the high wall, each utilizing a single hand to grip the rope, they powered their arms and kicked against the wall. Sebastian scaled the wall first to preserve an expanse of space for Asher, and tracking immediately behind, Asher executed a sideways lift of a long leg, stamping onto the crest of the wall before leaping cleanly over.

Finally, executing a synchronized morning jog forward onto the high-altitude platform, they decisively leaped down from a height of 2.5 meters.

The mechanical movements were clean, sharp, concise, and hot—stripped of a single error or a shred of redundant motion, their frames upright, fierce, and thoroughly sharp.

Total recorded time: 1 minute and 48 seconds.

The absolute shortest currently.

The crowd lifted their heads to look toward the heavens. Were these two absolute beasts some kind of system bug engineered by the Almighty?

In the past, Ash alone was exceptionally skilled at acting flashy, but once Boss Seb arrived and the two joined forces, their flashiness index and difficulty rating underwent a literal squaring command.

Two Alphas refraining from acting like upstanding Alphas, insisting on putting on a front instead.

And this damn synchronization—was it forged through an intense romantic cycle stretching across three lifetimes? Word was these two were locked in a battle to the bitter end; exactly what kind of situation was this supposed to be?

And principal of all, the two had never experienced a single failure when it came to putting on a flashy front, standing like two unyielding mountains that the flashiness industry could completely never cross.

When a thousand words converged into a single sentiment at the end, it was simply: pretty freaking fierce.

Yet they lacked the awareness that the reason the finish buzzer behind the high wall hadn't been pressed for a long while was because... the two had experienced an absolute crash during their flashy front.

A soft safety mat was layered beneath the high-altitude platform. As they leaped down, Asher’s foot caught against the perimeter of the mat, twisting his ankle slightly. It originally didn't present a massive issue and he could have stabilized his frame, but unfortunately, Sebastian remained bound alongside him, causing him to accidentally crash down onto the mat.

And Sebastian, bound securely to his frame, pressed straight down right over him.

Driven by the binding of their arms, zero gap remained between the two. Sebastian’s light chestnut bangs cascaded down, shallowly tangling alongside Asher's forehead hair.

They utilized the exact same body wash and shampoo, harboring an identical scent across their bodies, except one was a fraction warmer while the other was a fraction cooler. At this precise moment, with their breaths intermingling, a trace of intimate tenderness surfaced.

Asher shifted his head uncomfortably, averting his gaze. "Why the hell are you this heavy? Get the hell off me right now!"

If they had changed locations, Sebastian would have likely played a trace of a predator. But unfortunately, this was the training field; although the high wall partitioned off a secluded corner, a massive crowd of people remained right outside. He wasn't that shameless, nor did he lack that much respect.

Bracing his hand against the side of Asher's frame, he attempted to stand up. But with his other hand bound securely alongside Asher's, standing fully upright necessitated carrying the physical weight of two individuals. Furthermore, zero gap remained between Asher's long legs, leaving him completely unable to track down an upstanding support base. Attempting it multiple times yielded nothing but a wave of useless body friction.

Friction generates heat.

Following several attempts, Sebastian picked up on Asher's abnormal state. Taking a closer look.

A certain someone's face had flushed red.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he murmured, "Split your legs a bit wider."

"What for?" Asher looked both guilty and intensely vigilant.

Sebastian refrained from poking through his front. "You're lying right here unmoved; do you expect me to yank you up using a single hand? Or do you deem this posture rather decent, wanting to appreciate it for a bit longer? If you refrain from yielding an expanse of space, how on earth am I supposed to generate power?"

Asher uttered not a single syllable, merely executing the instruction.

Sebastian finally tracked down a solid support base, dropping a single knee right between his legs before bracing his frame upright, pulling upward with total force. Simultaneously powering through his core, Asher sat up, stamping his feet against the earth as they supported each other to stand fully upright.

Standing upright, Asher refrained from his usual habit of putting on a flashy front for sixty seconds to celebrate his success, merely burying his head to unfasten the belt, saying absolutely nothing.

Sebastian stared at him silently, the intensity of his gaze making Asher's skin crawl, to the point where he couldn't resist lifting his head to glare back. "What the hell are you staring at?!"

Sebastian spoke with total serenity: "Nothing, really. I was simply reflecting on why on earth we didn't unfasten the belt first before standing up—wouldn't that have turned out exceptionally effortless?"

"..."

Sebastian's logic held absolute truth.

Such a basic concept, yet an individual as intelligent as Asher completely failed to recall it, purely because the moment he was pressed beneath Sebastian's frame, his body's primal reaction had driven his mind completely blank.

But Asher possessed zero methodology to deliver this answer.

He felt he genuinely was a piece of trash.

In the past, teenage boys engaged in roughhousing all the time without a single thing feeling amiss. Now, purely because he had presented, he had actually developed a biological reaction toward his best friend and partner—and under such a solemn environment too.

Although the reaction could hardly be described as obvious and the sensation receded swiftly, he still held absolute conviction that he was a beast.

He literally lacked the face to look upon the elders of the Sebastian family.

Fortunately, Yellow Ming arrived just in time to dilute his embarrassment: "What exactly is wrong with you two? Why on earth did you increase the task difficulty and danger index without permission? Why didn't you press the finish buzzer after completing the task? And why the hell did you refrain from returning to the formation immediately? You treat strict discipline with absolute contempt!"

Asher nodded with total endorsement. "The instructor's logic holds absolute truth."

"?" Yellow Ming, who had grown accustomed to being countered with biting lines, was suddenly unaccustomed to this compliance.

Asher spoke with absolute righteousness, his aura thoroughly upstanding: "Therefore, for individuals like us who treat discipline with absolute contempt, the recorded score for this task should be completely nullified!"

Yellow Ming: "..."

The exemption slots for city-wide rank one and rank two were pushed down to Elliot and Sterling.

But absolutely no one cared.

Only the glorious achievements of the two flashiness kings traveled across the entire camp like a spring breeze, described with absolute legendary color, to the point where the crowd arriving to appreciate their glory basically kneeled as they looked upon them.

As for those subtle, intimate minutes behind the high wall, they were merely deemed a deliberate delay orchestrated by the two big shots to ensure they could form a team alongside Mason later.

And the hidden, volatile romantic stirrings of youth pulsing beneath the calm surface during those brief minutes remained a private secret shared exclusively between the two, completely unspoken.

Driven by this incident, Asher plunged into a deep state of self-condemnation and self-doubt.

Consequently, he was thoroughly distracted while offering target shooting pointers to Mason in the afternoon, leaving Sebastian to assume the heavy load, training Mason until he could securely strike a score of four to five rings.

By dinner time, Sebastian and Mason continued their training. Asher refrained from accompanying them, departing ahead alongside Elliot instead.

Sebastian slanted a flat glance toward their silhouettes, zero emotion visible within his narrow eyes.

Mason nudged his arm, asking in a cautious whisper, "Boss Seb, what's wrong? Thrown a tantrum alongside Ash?"

Sebastian withdrew his gaze. "No. Tuck your stomach in, press your frame flush against the earth, focus your absolute attention, do not let your mind drift."

"Oh."

Mason let out a sheepish response, refocusing his efforts to train with total seriousness once more.

Elliot was a person possessing exceptional emotional intelligence.

Back when everyone held absolute conviction that Asher and Sebastian were astronomically incompatible, he had already comprehended perfectly that they were far from being at odds—merely locking their minds in their own stubborn dead ends, throwing tantrums like a pair of spoiled children.

Furthermore, ever since Sebastian returned, Asher's three daily meals were sourced entirely from the Sebastian household. The original trio track was stripped down to just himself and Milo as a solitary Alpha and Omega pair, nearly caught by Mr. Peng as a classic example of puppy love.

Now, this unfaithful childhood partner had actually recalled his existence out of nowhere; it was bound to signify that another minor tantrum had erupted between him and Sebastian.

Elliot offered a tentative question: "Your collaboration with Sebastian today displayed absolute synchronization, didn't it? Trained specifically for it?"

"It wasn't trained specifically. Around seven or eight years old, for some unknown reason, the two of us started engaging in a constant cycle of bickering and fighting. My dad and Grandpa Sebastian found us exceptionally annoying. Every time they lectured us, we drove their blood pressure sky-high, so they simply bound the two of us together and tossed us onto the training field—out of sight, out of mind. Bored out of our minds, we started fumbling with various mechanical movements, eventually treating it like a game."

"You two genuinely possessed the potential of absolute beasts since childhood. But failing to see each other for several years yet maintaining this level of synchronization—what kind of earth-shattering, upstanding brotherly bond is this?" Elliot spoke half-jokingly, half-seriously.

Asher refrained from throwing a text line back at him, shifting the food resting on his tray. After shifting it for a long while, he suddenly dropped his chopsticks. "Elliot, get over here and give me a brief embrace."

Elliot: "? Did leaping down from that high-altitude platform scramble your brains today?"

"Drop the yapping, get over here and embrace me."

"Let me finish this chicken drumstick first, then can we change locations? Two massive grown men embracing each other in front of a giant public crowd—you might not fear the revulsion, but I certainly do. Don't let it disgust the innocent spectating crowd to the point where they can't swallow their food."

Asher utilized his chopsticks to poke at his drumstick.

Sebastian would completely never fear the revulsion.

Sebastian remained the one who displayed true loyalty, being an upstanding brother.

Reflecting along this line, he felt he was increasingly a piece of trash.

Chewing his chicken drumstick, Elliot suddenly tilted his chin behind Asher. "Why the hell is Yellow Ming sitting at the exact same table as Eugene? Failing to bully enough people inside the Alpha bracket, so heading over to the Beta bracket to track down a soft target?"

Asher slanted a glance backward, reaching a flash of clarity before turning back around. "Nothing, really. He won't look for trouble with Eugene. Finished eating? Once you're done, let's go execute our principal task."

The principal task was simply to have Elliot embrace Asher.

Two massive grown men executing an embrace turned out to be exceptionally awkward. Elliot had zero idea where to position his two arms properly. Summoning an aura of resigning himself to his absolute death, he finally encircled his arms past Asher's shoulders to hold him. Asher’s body turned as rigid as an absolute brick; he desperately wanted to launch a swift kick to shove Elliot away.

In the end, restraining himself to hold the embrace for a brief moment, he discovered his desire to launch a kick remained unchanged, finally putting the action into effect.

Elliot clutched his knee. "Asher, can you show a single shred of upstanding logic? One moment you demand an embrace, and once I deliver it, you launch a kick to shove me away. Do you assume I willingly wanted to hold you? You aren't Milo—holding Milo feels soft and compliant. What exactly am I gaining here?"

Asher ignored his words, merely letting out a silent, slow breath of relief internally.

Fortunately, his system hadn't turned warped. With Elliot holding him for this long without triggering a single fraction of a biological reaction, it demonstrated that he held zero romantic interest toward Alphas, let alone launching an attack against his own brothers.

That incident involving Sebastian was purely a normal response triggered by normal physical contact at an extreme proximity, after all—an individual touching themselves would occasionally trigger a similar response.

At this exact age, it was remarkably normal.

Fortunately, fortunately.

Asher felt a wave of relief as if escaping from an absolute catastrophe.

Finishing his wave of relief, he began to worry whether Sebastian had detected it at that moment. If Sebastian had detected it, would his thoughts drift off target?

Reflecting along this line relentlessly drove Asher thoroughly irritable.

Why on earth did he turn into an Omega anyway? If he were an Alpha, how could a massive horde of trash drama like this exist?

That mix of relief and irritability seeped out from between his brows. Elliot observed his expressions, and connecting it back to the sequence of events today, a bold, sweeping guess faintly surfaced within his heart.

Before that guess could break past the surface, Asher launched a preemptive strike, tilting his head to look at him with a face full of deep suspicion: "What did you just say? Holding Milo feels soft and compliant?"

Elliot: "..."

Asher squinted his narrow eyes to evaluate him for three solid seconds.

"Maintain your absolute distance from me from this day forth; do not touch me with your hands or feet."

Elliot: "...???"

What on earth? Why the hell would I touch an Alpha who looks even more Alpha than myself with my hands or feet?!

Disregarding Elliot's expression of absolute self-doubt, Asher turned his frame around, packing two portions of meals while purchasing a collection of snacks and beverages before pacing back toward the training field.

The military camp wrapped up at eight o'clock every single evening. The moment it concluded, a massive pack of individuals on the verge of death would crawl toward the dorms like a giant wave.

The training field turned vacant and empty, leaving only Asher, Sebastian, Caleb, and Mason.

They had to prioritize their time intensely to transform a charming fat boy into a agile fat boy.

At a juncture like this, many matters had completely severed ties with securing an 'Excellent' rating or taking an Exemplary Student title; it was purely tied to the pride, dignity, and unyielding temper typical of youth at this age.

Everyone was young; there was zero reason why it couldn't be achieved.

If a single individual's strength fell short, then our collective strength remains right here.

In any case, we completely cannot allow others to look down upon us.

Mason completed his warm-up movements, swearing an absolute oath to conquer this hurdle.

Just as he was preparing to initiate the training, Eugene ran over hurriedly while clutching a plastic bag, driving straight to the front of Mason's frame before opening it. "This box is band-aids, and these are gloves."

The four-hundred-meter obstacle race made it easy to suffer injuries, especially during Mason's absolute worst bottlenecks—the prone crawl beneath the low-wire net and utilizing the rope to scale the wall—which made it easy to tear the skin on his hands.

Eugene consistently turned out to be a fraction more meticulous compared against these young masters after all.

Yet Eugene was an individual who couldn't even bring himself to purchase milk and bread from the convenience store for breakfast. A box of band-aids and a pair of gloves likely necessitated a violent bite of his lip for his finances.

Mason comprehended, yet refrained from voicing it, accepting the items with a boisterous front before waving his hand. "I just purchased a massive horde of snacks and left them sitting over there, but Ash ordered me to lose weight, barring me from eating them. Take them away with you, otherwise looking at them triggers a psychological craving."

Eugene nodded his head with total seriousness. "Then I’ll take them away to store them meticulously for you. Whenever you want them, I’ll hand them over to you."

"..." How on earth was this child this honest? Mason pinched the flesh resting against his stomach to show him. "Before my physique turns out as hot as Ash's, I will completely never want them."

"Ah? By that time, they will definitively be long expired. Can they still be eaten?"

"..."

Being too honest could also inflict a wound. Mason choked for a brief second, following the line of logic: "Therefore, consume them yourself; do not waste food."

Scratching his head, Eugene thought for a brief moment before speaking up: "Fine, then. But why on earth is everyone racing to deliver food to me today?"

"Everyone?"

"Yeah. Tracing back to your class's instructor, Yellow Ming—during dinner time, he stated he had collected too many chicken drumsticks on his tray, semi-forcefully stuffing two into my hands, also claiming he couldn't finish them and couldn't waste food."

"..."

A brief silence fell across the training field.

Mason patted his shoulder. "Heh, food inherently cannot be wasted anyway, and you are far too thin—you are supposed to eat more from the start. Since you've collected the snacks, head back first. We need to prioritize our time to train intensely; staying here won't help clear the tasks anyway."

"Mm, mm." Eugene lifted the loops of the snack bag compliance-ly and departed.

Taking two steps, he froze his pace, turning his frame around to extend a thumb toward Asher and Sebastian. "Star Scholar, School Boss, you look remarkably matching wearing couple outfits!"

Finishing his line, he bolted instantly.

"..."

"..."

Holy sh—, doesn't every single one of the three to four hundred individuals across the entire grade wear the exact same camp uniform?

Asher was both thoroughly amused and irritated.

"This Eugene truly is oblivious and fearless, possessing an exceptionally fat dose of courage." Caleb smacked his lips twice. "But I couldn't see it from Yellow Ming—turned out to be a heartwarming guy after all. Why the hell is he this hostile toward us?"

Sebastian spoke flatly: "Normal. Every single individual possesses a side that attracts affection, and a side that attracts aversion. It’s simply that we happen to attract Yellow Ming's aversion, so he naturally attracts ours in return."

He was merely an individual who had endured far too much hardship; facing individuals whose lives proceeded with absolute smoothness, he was both insecure and intensely arrogant. Yet catching sight of a child who mirrored his own past self, he would also harbor a desire to look after him.

No one was as excellent as imagined, and no one was as wicked as imagined either.

These waves of upstanding logic were matters Sebastian had comprehended perfectly back at the age of fourteen.

Catching Sebastian's sentence, Asher turned his head abruptly, squinting his narrow eyes to look at him, his tone carrying a trace of danger: "Then outline for me—what exactly is the side of myself that attracts aversion?"

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle. "It appears I haven't tracked down a single trace of it temporarily."

"..."

"Then do you deem that I possess a side that attracts aversion?"

Asher withdrew his gaze, turning his head away to set his face in a cool, hard line, spitting out two words with total frostiness.

"Everything."

Sebastian felt those two words, "everything," turned out to be endearing to a level that violated the rules.

It sounded even more beautiful than "nothing."

The corners of his lips couldn't resist curving upward.

Withdrawing his gaze from Asher's face to look forward, he discovered Mason and Caleb staring at him with absolute shock and sallow daze.

Looking at him, then looking back at Asher.

"You guys... just now... were you executing a flirtation command?"

Asher's face turned pitch-black.

Sebastian offered a faint smile. "Mason, add an extra 5 kg sandbag to your training."

Mason: "?"

Why on earth am I the definitive victim of domestic abuse here again?

Forget it, bind them, run, train. Life is exactly like this—certain individuals possess looks, intelligence, combat power, prominent family backgrounds, and absolute pampering from others, while certain individuals possess nothing but fat, remaining loyal to them through thick and thin.

Within the night color, the endearing chubby mushroom executed a relentless cycle of rolling around, while the chubby mushroom's partners launched a barrage of verbal slander against him while accompanying him through the tasks.

When he finally managed to hit the 8-minute baseline established for him, the chubby mushroom buried his frame straight inside the sandpit, executing a silent, self-contained cellular division. To the side, Sebastian continued to discuss the most secure tactical arrangements for tomorrow alongside Caleb.

Asher possessed zero tasks, utilizing the rope to scale the high-altitude platform before dropping down. Resting both hands beneath the back of his head while bending his legs, he stared at the dark blue canopy of the sky.

Southaven sat inland; the metropolitan area was a plain encircled by deep mountains. The low terrain and dense cloud layers made it a rare feat to catch sight of a starry sky at night.

Now, reaching the mountains in the suburbs, the air turned crisp, the heavens felt closer, and the starry galaxy bloomed with absolute brilliance.

As the September night breeze brushed past, it carried the crisp, sweet fragrance of mountain osmanthus, the dead leaves rustling gently while the grass pests hummed.

There was a saying that birds announce the spring while pests announce the autumn; autumn had genuinely arrived after all.

Autumn was about to arrive.

The precise fraction of a second Asher recalled this sentence, he immediately pictured Sebastian within his mind.

In a few days, he must remember to purchase a bouquet of lisianthuses.

Sebastian’s Omega dad had been highly fond of them.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the rope beside him was yanked with a sharp tug, and a slender leg mounted the platform tracking immediately behind.

With a light, agile leap, Sebastian landed right next to Asher.

Asher braced his frame upright, intending to leap straight down from the platform.

Sebastian spoke in a low voice: "Dodge me?"

Asher froze his movements, before slowly lying back down to restore his original posture. "No."

It couldn't be described as dodging; it was simply that if he were to stay enclosed alongside Sebastian in this manner, it was inevitable for him to recall his biological reaction from this morning, turning thoroughly unsettled after all.

Sebastian dropped into an identical posture right next to him, speaking with absolute nonchalance: "That's for the best. In any case, dodging yields zero utility, after all—we're still destined to sleep inside the exact same room at night, seeing each other across every turn. You completely cannot behave like a married couple locked in a domestic dispute, throwing me into the restroom to sleep."

Asher felt Sebastian’s metaphor claimed a personal benefit off him, but he currently sat in an absolute state of guilt, failing to summon the courage to pick a fight.

Yet fearing Sebastian would let his thoughts drift off target, although he was thoroughly embarrassed, he suppressed the discomfort to open his mouth: "Refraining from waiting for you during dinner time was simply because I evaluated that your training alongside Mason wouldn't wrap up within a brief moment. I wanted to head over to collect hot food and beverages for you guys, delivering them back early."

In truth, the brotherly sentiment shared between teenage boys was habitually boisterous and casual, completely refraining from mimicking girls who would measure exactly who ate food with whom today, who paced to the restroom together, or who whispered secrets.

Consequently, an explanation of this nature turned out to be somewhat mismatched—clumsy and thoroughly unnatural.

In a location completely hidden from Asher's line of sight, Sebastian curved his lips into a smile, his voice dropping low and gentle: "I comprehend. I am far from being that petty."

"As long as you comprehend. But besides that, there's another matter..."

Asher's words faltered.

He was habitually an individual whose mouth refused to yield a single line, yet today, his tongue simply refused to comply. Certain syllables twirled multiple times at the tip of his tongue, yet consistently failed to be delivered out.

Sebastian remained far from anxious, asking in a slow, deliberate, and warm voice: "What else?"

"Besides that... in the future, the two of us must mind our boundaries a bit carefully."

Sebastian tilted his head sideways, looking at Asher.

The boy's exquisite, beautiful side profile lost a fraction of its usual aggressive, bright radiance within the night color, turning thoroughly soft. The starry galaxy streamed into his pupils—pristine and clear, a shallow wave of pink tracing his ear tips.

Staring at him in this manner, he unexpectedly appeared a fraction pure-hearted.

He had zero idea whether Asher delivered this sentence because he had detected a trace of something, executing a veiled rejection against him. His chest tightened abruptly, exactly as if a single strand had been sharply extracted from a bundle of cotton—anxious yet thoroughly soft.

He expanded his efforts to ensure his voice sounded increasingly gentle: "Why?"

Asher pressed his lips together, calculating for a brief moment before speaking in an exceptionally low, muffled whisper: "I comprehend that the two of us grew up alongside each other since childhood, mirroring biological brothers. Certain close movements have turned into deep habits, and a massive horde of habits are difficult to modify. But tracing the root, brothers are brothers, and I am currently an Omega after all, so... would you state that's correct?"

Finishing his line, he averted his head instantly, pretending to watch the two idiots currently executing a rolling command inside the sandpit in the near distance.

Sebastian froze for a fraction of a second, before tilting his head back to look toward the night sky, letting out a soft chuckle. "Correct. Everything you stated holds absolute truth."

On a certain early autumn night, beneath the brilliant starry galaxy, within the fragrance of mountain osmanthus, a charming paramecium managed to evolve a tiny fraction right before being sprayed to death by salt water.