"Alright! Fine! I’ll smile politely, take a look at the guy, and then I’m out," I concede.
Storm grins and claps.
"Excellent!"
I gape. "Seriously, your enthusiasm is weird. Don’t you see the problems here? I’ll spell it out for you: I’ve got no money, no home, and that’s usually a basic requirement for these kinds of contracts. Rich people buy them, right?"
He shrugs. "The program Salt is in… works a little differently. Don’t worry about that right now."
I press my lips together and slip the money into my pocket.
"Alright then. Let’s go." I flash a wide smile only superficially cheerful.
Storm tilts his head slightly before speaking again.
"What I told you is rock solid. That man is your fated mate, whether you want to believe it or not. I’m absolutely certain ofit. If you walk out of there carelessly, you’ll lose an enormous chance in life."
"Yeah, yeah, got it, man. Take me to the hall where he is." I don’t want to listen to his ‘passionate’ sales pitch anymore. "Let’s just get this over with."
I stand up, finishing the last spoonful of soup at the same time. The tray is now empty.
Storm stands as well, towering over me.
That vertical crease is still there on his forehead, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt with his money.
He watches me closely. But I’m not about to run. I plan to earn that hundred dollars honestly. Taking a look at some guy is no big deal, right?
We leave the cafeteria. On the left, there is a wide entrance leading to the section where omegas showcase their contracts, but we pass it by.
Next in line is a large area where alphas have come to look for buyers for their own contracts.
From what I’ve heard in the past, these places are full of young guys hoping for wealthy omegas in their forties, people who built their own fortunes and decided it was time to start a family later in life. They can offer them their youth and their bodies for ten or twenty years and then leave with a small fortune and… buy themselves a young omega’s contract instead. That’s how it works. Maybe everybody is happy about the cycle. Everybody gets a taste of a young body at a certain point in their life. Money rules everything, right?
At the very end is the smallest section. Only betas are here, and this is where we are headed.
Completely on instinct, without even thinking about it, I run my fingers through my hair, then remember it is neatly trimmed and does not really need much care right now. I admit thatwashing it with gas station soap probably did not give it any silky texture, but it does not look that bad either.
Luckily, my T-shirt is black, and my sweatpants are dark purple, so no stains should show. I just look like some young guy who went out for a jog and accidentally wandered into a marriage contract fair.
We enter the hall, and I have to admit, the place is impressive.
It is filled with long rows of glass booths, each occupied by betas of different ages. In the front section, closest to the entrance, are the betas whose contracts have never been purchased, according to the sign.
This section stretches across the entire length of the hall, forming a long, narrow strip, almost like a corridor, with booths lined up on both sides. I glance at the people sitting inside.
Many of them are staring at their phone screens, avoiding eye contact with those passing by.
Honestly, that does not surprise me. They are probably embarrassed, which is understandable. Events like this remind a lot of people of a livestock exhibition.
There is heavy social criticism surrounding these fairs, but also significant support, because contract marriages are highly successful in terms of durability.
They function strictly like business agreements, and breaking the terms comes with severe financial penalties and the possibility of being barred from entering future contracts. Because of that, people take them seriously, as if they were standard, legally binding business deals.
Personally, I have mixed feelings about it. I always naively believed that love would be the sole reason I would ever enter a relationship. Unfortunately, that is still ahead of me. I have never been in a relationship. Living in my uncle’s fortress, I hadno contact with omegas, except for those miserable ones Rocco and Anzo used, and I was supposed to stay far away from them.
For some reason, as I follow Storm, I begin to feel a certain tension, like something is about to happen. Once again, I run my fingers through my hair and straighten up a little. Even though I am a tall alpha at six foot seven, next to Storm’s seven foot two, I probably look like a dwarf.
From a distance, I spot the section marked with large green Second Chance banners.
