Chapter 189: Extra 4 – Guy and Alonso
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Guy was born on a desolate star at the edge of the Dionysus Sector. Many planets in this region were called wasteland stars. In reality, each had its own name carefully recorded in the Marion Empire’s star charts. But the impoverished people living on these barren worlds rarely left their planets in their entire lives, so there was no need to distinguish one wasteland star from another. They simply couldn’t afford to fly beyond their planet’s atmosphere or meet residents from other barren stars.
Guy’s home planet bore all the typical marks of a wasteland star: vast deserts, thin atmosphere, pitiful rainfall, struggling patches of green plants, and bizarre beasts that devoured any living thing.
Guy actually liked the strange beasts. They provided hides and meat, and their sharp teeth and venom could be fashioned into weapons. Besides, when Imperial tax officers landed on the wasteland, they frowned but allowed the poor, ignorant locals to pay their taxes in the form of beast products.
From the age of six, Guy’s father began training him to hunt these beasts. A child does not understand fear. Guy’s father stood nearby watching his small son, barely waist-high, grip a beast-tooth knife and fight a creature taller than an adult.
When the beast’s blood splattered the sand and the massive monster crashed heavily to the ground, lifeless, Guy excitedly ran to his father to show his prize.
His father’s hand gently stroked Guy’s sunburnt and cracked face. Then, holding his hand, he led him to the beast’s cooling corpse and taught him how to process it, cutting off useful parts.
Guy’s father was an omega. His alpha father had died before he was born. But living on a wasteland star, Guy never saw much difference between alpha and omega — everyone had to kill beasts to feed their families.
If Guy ever encountered danger while hunting, his father would step in. If that failed, his father would pull out a mechanical gun and shoot the beast, rescuing Guy from its gaping, blood-filled maw.
But Guy had never touched that gun. Bullets were unavailable on the wasteland, and leftover ammunition was scarce. His father forbade him from messing with it.
At night, temperatures dropped rapidly on the wasteland. Often, just after the star set, when the deep blue night sky still bore a faint orange glow along the horizon and the cold hadn’t become unbearable, Guy climbed onto the roof of their mud-brick home and lay back to watch the countless stars.
The stars shone brilliantly, and the night wind grew chilly. Guy began to imagine his future.
It was then that he thought maybe there were some differences between alpha and omega after all. Omegas could have children, alphas could not. Guy liked children and hoped he could become an omega someday and teach his own kids to hunt beasts.
Obviously, Guy had not yet received proper sex education. He did not know that a single human couldn’t have children alone — an omega needed a mate to bring new life into the world.
He never considered leaving the wasteland until he was ten. That year, at a playmate’s home, he saw a television receiving satellite signals for the first time. He watched images of the bustling Marion Empire capital, the Crescent District.
The towering skyscrapers and streaming flying vehicles caught his eye. When he got home, he grabbed his father’s sleeve and said, “Father, I like the Crescent District. I want to go there.”
His father’s face instantly darkened, then flared with anger. It was the first time Guy had seen such an expression from his father, and he was scared enough to back into the corner.
His father stepped closer, his shadow looming over Guy. From deep within his throat came a furious roar, “What do you know? That place is the source of all evil, buried in blood and filth! You must not be deceived, nor should you yearn for it!”
Guy was so frightened that he cried through the night, trapped in nightmares. The next morning, his father dragged him out again to practice hunting beasts.
But a disaster two years later left Guy no time to dream of the future. The Imperial fleet landed on the wasteland star, fully armed soldiers equipped with guns and mechas descending to purge the villages and towns. Guy heard them say, “Clean out this rebel nest!”
His father arranged for someone to help Guy escape the wasteland. As they fled, Guy glanced back just in time to see a flash energy shot fired from an Imperial soldier’s gun. His father’s head exploded into a mist of blood. Fear and hatred took root and grew in Guy’s young heart.
The Empire… the source of all evil, filthy and soaked in blood… The escape didn’t go smoothly. They were ambushed by a band of Star Pirates and sold off to another planet called White Mars.
Guy barely managed to break free from the pirates, but without ID, money, or anything else, all he had left was a beast-bone knife.
Fortunately, White Mars was somewhat more developed compared to a wasteland star, but the city was still riddled with unpoliced slums. Guy ran through those slums, occasionally doing odd jobs for food.
On the wasteland, with his father’s care, Guy never lacked food. Though his skin was tanned from the sun, he was strong and healthy. Now, he had become a thin, dark-skinned boy.
Here, he witnessed darkness never seen on the wasteland — omegas being assaulted, parents selling their children, theft, murder… Guy couldn’t understand why the Empire had to purge the rebels. They had done nothing, just lived quiet, peaceful lives. Soon, even surviving in the slums became impossible for Guy.
Guy could never forget the clean, beautiful Crescent District. A noble from the Dionysus Sector was coming to White Mars to inspect the situation. To improve the city’s appearance, the local governor where Guy lived ordered the slums to be razed to the ground.
Guy scrambled and hid everywhere, and by chance, when the noble’s starship landed on White Mars, he slipped into a nearby sewer. He carefully concealed himself, only his eyes visible as he watched the outside world. He heard the governor respectfully call the richly dressed noble Duke Norvey.
The two adults were too tall for Guy’s limited view to see their upper bodies, but he spotted a child walking alongside Duke Norvey. The duke called him Alonso.
The boy wore a blue little suit, with black hair and blue eyes. His fair, spotless face rarely smiled. He looked cold but remarkably elegant, reminding Guy of a delicate white flower growing among the rocks on the wasteland star. No, not really.
Guy shook his head. There was no way such a fragile, delicate child would survive on the wasteland. He stopped watching and slipped away through the sewer. What he didn’t expect was that hours later, he would run into Alonso again. This time, not on a cleaned-up, red-carpeted street, but in a dilapidated, drafty basement.
Guy saw a group of thugs dragging a child in light blue clothes into the basement and instinctively followed. He hid and confirmed it was Alonso. The boy seemed to have cried and shouted; his pure blue eyes were red and pitiful.
Guy overheard the thugs plotting to use Duke Norvey’s only son as leverage to extort money from the duke, then kill the child to erase all traces. Guy’s eyes widened. Kill him?! How could they murder Alonso?
Guy thought Alonso was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He couldn’t imagine death and cold descending on him. So, without hesitation, he charged out and managed to rescue Alonso.
The thugs chased after them while Duke Norvey’s men searched everywhere. Guy led Alonso through the chaotic, dark slums to hide. Alonso seemed terrified and barely spoke, following Guy blindly. The frightening squalor of the slums was unlike anything he had ever known.
All of Alonso’s dreams shattered at that moment. The world was never pure and flawless; he had only been protected by lies. Later, when Guy went to fetch water, the two briefly separated — and never made it back to their original spot.
Alonso was found and taken back by Duke Norvey’s men. He cried, begging his father to find Guy. His father searched but found no trace in the slums. Alonso was taken home, lost and grieving. Guy never meant to break their promise.
On his way to fetch water, Guy ran into some members of the Dawn Front. They knocked him out and took him away. When Guy woke up, he cried and begged to find Alonso. An elder among the Dawn Front showed him proof that Alonso had already returned with Duke Norvey to their home planet and was safe. Only then did Guy calm down and stop demanding to look for Alonso.
The elder then told Guy everything about the Dawn Front rebels. Both his alpha and omega fathers had been leaders of the Dawn Front. His alpha father died in a great battle against the Empire. Later, when the Empire discovered his omega father’s whereabouts, they took his life as well. The elder asked Guy if he wanted revenge. Guy looked confused. “Revenge on whom?”
The elder gave him a long, piercing look and began telling him the history of Dionysus — the genetic breeding experiments, the Empire’s plunder and neglect, and the oppression by the nobility. Guy lowered his head. “I understand.”
The elder smiled with relief. The Dawn Front raised orphans left behind by former leaders to become warriors and leaders. Generation upon generation of hatred weighed on Guy’s shoulders, driving him forward. Yet sometimes, he found himself wondering—did Alonso know all of this? Was Alonso an accomplice or an enemy?
The Dawn Front’s teachings placed blame on all nobles. Guy understood this, but he couldn’t help wondering if someone as beautiful and perfect as Alonso, knowing all this ugly history, would not stand for justice as well. But they had only been together for a few hours. Did he really know Alonso’s character and morals?
Guy realized his thoughts diverged from the Dawn Front’s ideology. He didn’t argue or speak out. Instead, during missions, he squeezed free moments to build his own strength. First, he formed a Star Pirates gang called Black Fang.
Black Fang started with just three or five members, but within three years, Guy had made the gang infamous across Dionysus. Both major legions had placed them at the very top of their wanted lists.
Meanwhile, when Guy turned twenty, the Dawn Front arranged for him to enlist in the Sixth Legion to try infiltrating the enemy. If he could rise through the ranks, it would be a great asset for the Dawn Front.
Guy knew the Sixth Legion was stationed on Apricot Mountain, a star system close to the planet owned by Duke Norvey. But on his very first day of service, he unexpectedly saw Alonso again.
He didn’t understand why Alonso was starting as an ordinary soldier. Guy assumed that, given the Norvey family’s status, Alonso would graduate from the Military Academy and be appointed directly as an important officer in the Sixth Legion.
Yet here Alonso stood among the crowd. The moon-white uniform fit him like a perfectly tailored gown, accentuating his slender waist and long legs. His icy, noble aura made him seem less like a mecha pilot and more like a prince entering a ball, radiating captivating elegance.
Alonso’s presence was so striking that few dared to approach him. But behind the scenes, the whispers never stopped. A fresh recruit sidled up to Guy. “You’re Guy, right?”
Guy narrowed his eyes. “You know me?”
The recruit grinned. “Of course. Two tied for first place in the enlistment tests. Everyone knows you two. One’s you, the other’s that Alonso. And you’re both rare A-Class alphas—tsk tsk.”
Indeed, Guy had differentiated as an alpha, A-Class—a rarity in Dionysus—so passing the entry exam was almost effortless. The recruit gave Guy a friendly nudge on the shoulder. “What do you think of Alonso?”
A flash of countless emotions flickered in Guy’s eyes as he stared at Alonso. His lips moved, but no words came out. The recruit waited expectantly. Guy blurted out instinctively, “Hah, just some noble brat.”
In that instant, Guy caught Alonso’s clear, sky-blue eyes. Alonso furrowed his perfectly shaped brows. He saw Guy. He heard what Guy said. The tone and words irked Alonso, but his good manners only prompted a faint frown. He didn’t confront Guy or throw a punch.
The front of the line began to move. Alonso stepped forward, no longer paying attention to the “co-first.” Alonso didn’t recognize him. Snapped out of his daze by a clap on the shoulder from the recruit, Guy smiled broadly. “Forget that little noble brat. Let’s talk—where are you from? I’m from White Mars.”
Of course Alonso didn’t recognize him. While playing polite, Guy told himself quietly: Ten years had passed. Alonso remained the elegant, handsome noble heir, his military uniform only adding a touch of sharpness and austere charm. But Guy was no longer the skinny, sorrowful, and broken homeless child he once was.
He had forged strong muscles through battle, his skin bronzed under the blazing stellar sun, tousled brown curls framing his face, and a short scruffy beard.
Though the Dawn Front preached daily hatred of the Empire, Guy had thought deeply and didn’t fully buy it. He wasn’t dark and bitter. His free-spirited nature earned him many friendships while drifting through the cosmos.
When he laughed, it was like a caramel-eyed lion basking in the sun. Though their first meeting hadn’t gone well, Alonso couldn’t dislike a lion soaked in warm sunshine. But the lion himself seemed to have little patience for Alonso. Alonso maintained noble decorum but wasn’t one to take insults lying down. For various reasons, whenever the two crossed paths, the tension never fully dissipated. Today, Alonso spat, “You brainless idiot.”
The next day, Guy shot back, “Spoiled little noble brat.”
Each took turns trading barbs daily, with an occasional brawl thrown in—just enough to fill an entire week. Life was busy and loud. During recruit training, there were frequent simulation matches, usually team-based. But whenever Guy and Alonso showed up, the exercises turned into their personal gladiator arena—cannon fire and chaos, neither giving an inch.
After the training phase, mecha pilots were expected to charge the front lines and become comrades-in-arms. Their commanders tried repeatedly to smooth things over between the two, but the moment they agreed verbally, the second they met it was all biting sarcasm and barbed remarks again.
Both were fierce solo fighters, excelling spectacularly on their own. If they could just be partners, their combined strength might be more than twice as effective. But as it stood, cooperation was impossible.
Guy himself didn’t fully understand why. Despite Alonso being a noble—and an enemy of the Dawn Front—Guy had no plans to treat the young lord as a real enemy yet. There was no need to push the conflict so far. Still, he instinctively behaved in ways that provoked Alonso, watching that cold, refined face twist in frustration brought an unexpected spark of light and enjoyment into his otherwise chaotic life.
He mulled it over and told the psychologist called in to help with their “issues” that maybe it was the natural antagonism of their A-Class alpha pheromones clashing. The psychologist nodded thoughtfully. On a combat mission, Guy and Alonso were assigned to the same squad.
A typical squad had five members, so throughout the entire operation, the three other soldiers wore blank expressions as they listened to Guy and Alonso trade snide remarks over the comms channel.
Meanwhile, both kept their hands flying over controls, driving the Star Pirates into full retreat. Their teammates barely had to lift a finger—just endure the verbal warfare and pocket the victory medals.
After the battle, during the debriefing, the commander first reviewed the comms recordings, his face falling, then checked the kill count and fell into deep thought and silence. After a long pause, he put Guy and Alonso back in the same squad. Despite the fights, their combat chemistry was off the charts.
The Guy-Alonso duo quickly became legendary in the Sixth Legion—both as unbeatable warriors and as a warning to new recruits: if you don’t want to get caught in their verbal crossfire, steer clear. Behind the glory and the lively bickering, countless scars lay hidden.
Passing by the mecha training room one day, Guy spotted Alonso carefully wrapping a bandage around his wrist—probably a sprain from hand-to-hand combat practice.
Such minor injuries didn’t usually warrant a medical pod visit; soldiers tended to treat themselves. But Alonso meticulously adjusted and wrapped the bandage himself, not just slapping on a generic medical strap—a rare level of care.
Guy smirked and jabbed, “Little noble brat hurt his hand? So delicate.”
Alonso looked up, glared at him, then called out the name of a beta teammate nearby.
“Help me wrap this bandage.”
The beta blinked, “Uh—?”
The beta glanced nervously between Guy and Alonso, clearly uncomfortable. Alonso looked at Guy and sneered coldly, “Yes, I’m very delicate. Can’t even take care of myself—I need someone to wrap my bandages for me.”
The beta realized he was about to be caught in the crossfire again and reluctantly took the bandages from Alonso’s hands, dutifully beginning to wrap them. But the beta was a rough sort who only knew how to use standard medical wraps, so the bandages ended up crooked and sloppy. He had to unwrap and redo several times.
Guy watched as Alonso’s pale, slender yet strong wrist got wrapped and unwrapped repeatedly, sometimes turning red where the beta wrapped too tight. Despite the messy bandaging, Alonso’s wrist remained exquisitely beautiful, with veins faintly visible beneath the skin, tinged a subtle purplish-red.
Guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his heart suddenly started pounding faster than his breath. Without another word, he spun and hurried away. Alonso watched the back of the retreating figure, his expression unreadable and dark.
—
The Hydra Resistance Campaign was the first large-scale war Alonso and Guy faced. Their enemies were no longer the small-time Star Pirates or minor rebel groups; terrifying Zerg forces surged like tides into the Dionysus District. Their squads were deployed to the front lines.
Amidst the thunder of artillery fire, a relentless A-Class Zerg broke through multiple defenses, closing in on Alonso, who was already engaged with another A-Class Zerg and unable to look elsewhere.
Just as the Zerg’s sharp fangs threatened to pierce Alonso’s mecha cockpit, a steel figure suddenly appeared. The mecha’s force shield had been activated early, but it still couldn’t withstand the Zerg’s full strike. Guy dodged the Zerg’s teeth but not its deadly forelimbs piercing the cockpit.
Alonso’s eyes locked on the damaged mecha as Guy’s agonized scream crackled over the comms: “Guy! Guy! Can you hear me? Your cockpit is breached—eject the escape pod immediately!”
“I… I hear you…” The next instant, the escape pod launched from the mecha’s back.
The mecha’s self-destruct system activated, sending a powerful shockwave that blew the A-Class Zerg to pieces—and propelled the escape pod far away. Alonso piloted his mecha in pursuit, aiming to catch the pod, but the heavy inertia slammed his mecha down.
Without resistance in the void, they crashed through small asteroids like meteors, hurtling deep into the Star Ocean. When Alonso finally dragged the escape pod inside his mecha, they collided with a rocky asteroid the size of a small hill, bringing the slide to a halt. The Zerg battlefield was now far behind.
Alonso ripped off his safety harness and rushed to the escape pod. He pried open the hatch with a hydraulic tool, the pungent scent of blood overwhelming. Inside, Guy was strapped into the seat, his right shoulder ripped open by the Zerg’s strike. The palm-sized wound bled profusely.
The violent motions of the crash and heavy blood loss left Guy dazed. Alonso scooped him up and carried him from the cold pod into the warmer cockpit. Their moon-white uniforms were soaked in blood.
Guy regained some clarity but his eyes remained blurred. With no spare seat in the cockpit, Alonso helped Guy sit on the floor, leaning against the wall. He went to the rear storage and grabbed an emergency medkit. Returning, he half-kneeling beside Guy, tore open his uniform and began tending the wound.
Facing the gaping injury on Guy’s shoulder, Alonso’s breath caught, and his hand trembled as he reached for the antiseptic swab.
“Ah—ouch! Ow, ow!” Guy’s sudden shout snapped him out of his focus, the swab falling from Alonso’s shaky hand.
“Alonso, are you trying to kill me?” Guy opened his eyes and looked up at Alonso, barely a foot away.
“Could you go easier?”
Alonso snapped out of his convulsion and realized that his back was soaked with cold sweat. His throat felt as if a huge stone were pressing down on it, burning and painful, leaving him unable to utter a single word. He took several deep breaths before barely loosening the muscles in his throat and weakly rasping, “You’re an alpha, and you’re still afraid of pain?”
The sharp pain in his right shoulder made sweat soak Guy’s forehead and hair. The terror of near death still swirled in his mind, clouding his thoughts, but he forced out a smirk that begged for a punch. “I am afraid. So what?”
Alonso didn’t reply immediately. He grabbed a clean cotton ball, soaked it in disinfectant, and pressed it onto Guy’s wound. Guy pretended to cry out. Alonso’s face turned pale, and he pressed again. Fresh blood stained his slender, pale fingers.
Guy howled in pain, making a pitiful face. “You’re my dad, you’re my grandpa, please, have mercy. If your hand’s heavy, so be it, just don’t torture me.”
Alonso exhaled in resignation. Guy was still alive and somewhat conscious. He wouldn’t suddenly slip into an endless sleep. He eased the pressure of his hand. “Just call me Dad. No need for Grandpa.”
“Dad, my good Dad…” Guy’s voice was weak, and he didn’t want to fall asleep from losing too much blood. The wound under Guy’s right shoulder moved with his breath. Blood trickled over his sun-baked, wheat-colored muscles. Alonso’s hand accidentally pressed down harder again.
“Dad, please let me go…” Guy muttered nonsense, leaning against the wall with half-closed eyes, not noticing Alonso’s cheeks and ears flush red.
After the Hydra resistance battle ended, Guy and Alonso returned safely to the Sixth Legion’s base. The war was over, but the Dionysus region never knew peace. Small and large skirmishes broke out constantly, and through countless battles, the two accumulated endless military merits and climbed steadily through the ranks.
In the third year after Alonso was promoted to General, the former commander of the Sixth Legion unexpectedly died. With the Norvay family pushing behind the scenes, Alonso smoothly succeeded as the Legion commander.
Guy was still a General, grinning as he ran up to Alonso teasingly, “Good Dad, you got promoted. Aren’t you going to give your good son a reward?”
Alonso glanced at him. Their relationship hadn’t improved over the years; quarrels and challenges were a regular thing. Alonso slapped Guy’s face with a glove in his hand. “Just wait.”
“Wait for what?” Guy grabbed Alonso’s glove, but Alonso didn’t answer and turned to walk away. Guy should have been promoted long ago. There was a vacancy for Chief of Staff in the Sixth Legion. The former commander had intended to transfer Guy to that position, but before the order was issued, the commander passed away, and the decision now rested with Alonso.
Alonso hesitated. Guy’s strength and achievements fully qualified him for the role, but… Alonso discovered some secrets. During occasional legion leaves, Guy sometimes disappeared alone to unknown places. Alonso had tried a few times to invite him to spar, but Guy always refused.
One time, Alonso couldn’t bear the uncertainty and secretly followed him to find out what he was up to, and then… He found Guy meeting with the Star Pirates and rebel forces. Alonso’s emotions were complicated. Was Guy a spy? But he didn’t look the part at all.
After taking command of the legion, Alonso wrestled with the decision for two weeks before finally signing Guy’s transfer order, promoting him to Chief of Staff of the Sixth Legion.
The Chief of Staff’s office was just a thin wall away from Alonso’s own. He told himself that keeping his enemy under his nose made it easier to monitor him.
Alonso had hinted at Guy a few times, but each time, Guy only smiled and dodged the question. Alonso felt he couldn’t let things continue like this.
He planned a pursuit operation against the rebels, arranged his soldiers’ flight paths, and in the final chase, only Alonso and Guy remained, facing one of the rebel elite leaders—already heavily wounded.
Guy spoke over the comm channel, “Alonso, I think we can capture him alive.”
Alonso’s heart sank. He replied coldly, “No need.”
Then, a high-energy particle beam struck the rebel leader’s mecha, burning through its armor. Suddenly, another mecha marked with the Sixth Legion’s insignia charged forward and blocked the shot. Guy’s mecha’s right arm shattered, sparks flying wildly as its sensors rolled back.
Alonso’s pupils dilated violently as he shouted through the comms, “Guy! Guy! What the hell are you blocking? Are you still alive?”
Only silence answered him. The rebel leader took advantage of the pause to flee. Alonso had no time to give chase; he immediately flew to Guy’s damaged mecha and scrambled to get him out of the severely damaged cockpit. This time, the injury was to the right arm again.
The difference was that last time, Guy had shielded Alonso from the attack. This time, he stood between Alonso and the rebel to save him—and was hit by Alonso’s suspicion and the blast.
Alonso was about to lose his mind. He carried the badly wounded and unconscious Guy, jumping at top speed back to the Sixth Legion’s base. Late at night, he dragged the legion’s best medic to the medical bay, shouting, “Fix him!”
The medic had never seen the usually gentle and courteous Commander Alonso lose his temper like this. Trembling, he began examining Guy. The medic found Guy’s injuries strange and asked Alonso who had wounded the Chief of Staff. He had only seen wounds like these on prisoners defeated by the legion—they were from Imperial particle beam weapons. Alonso’s body radiated a cold chill. “I did.”
The medic didn’t dare ask more and continued treating Chief of Staff, Guy. After the wounds were treated, Guy was placed in the legion’s most advanced medical pod, submerged in a bluish-green liquid covering his mouth and nose.
Entering the pod required stripping off all clothing except for protective underwear. Guy’s muscles were strong and powerful, marked with scars that told stories of courage and bloodshed. But now, he lay quietly in the healing fluid, as if he might slip into eternal sleep at any moment.
The instant the pod’s hatch sealed shut, Alonso felt as if he had killed Guy with his own hands and then closed the coffin lid himself. His chest tightened painfully, and his heart cramped.
Alonso stayed by the medical pod for three days and nights without changing the bloodstained clothes he wore. The medics who came to check on Guy tried to comfort him, but seeing Alonso’s reddened eyes, dark circles, and near-mad despair made them shudder and hold their tongues.
Yet, when the medic told Alonso that Chief of Staff Guy was about to wake, Alonso avoided him, seemingly afraid to face the man.
When Guy woke up, the medical room was empty except for the medic. His groggy mind slowly pieced together everything that had happened in space. He figured by now he must be the legion’s traitor, and Alonso, out of some sense of mercy, hadn’t left him to die in the void but had brought him back, waiting for a military tribunal to try the spy.
The medic looked at Guy’s weakened state and didn’t say much. He handed him a set of green hospital clothes, telling him he could walk around here but shouldn’t leave, as more checks would come later.
Guy nodded, then went to the medical room’s shower to wash off the healing fluid. He ran his fingers over the layer of fresh scars on his right shoulder, sighed, and changed into the hospital clothes.
Alonso just had his own standpoint, but he had saved him, so Alonso was still a good man. That’s what Guy told himself. He stepped out of the shower, picked up a cup of water on the table, and took a sip—just as the medical room door opened. Alonso walked in.
He wore a crisp, pristine moon-white uniform, but his face was a mess—like he’d been commanding a battle on the bridge for seven sleepless days straight.
“Alon…” Guy started to speak, still unsure what to say next, when Alonso suddenly lunged forward and grabbed his collar. Startled, Guy’s hand slipped, dropping the water cup. Water spilled across the floor.
Alonso’s military boots splashed through the puddle as he shoved Guy into a corner.
Guy thought Alonso was about to beat him to death for being a liar and a traitor. He didn’t struggle much, but Alonso’s steps faltered in chaos and ended with them crashing into the corner—Guy pinned on top of him.
Alonso’s voice trembled as he yelled, or maybe cried, “Guy… you, Guy, you’re the best. You win. I admit I can’t beat you…”
“What?” Guy was confused. But looking into Alonso’s reddened eyes, tears pooling like fire and grief, he reached out instinctively to wipe them away.
“Click—” the door suddenly opened. The medic came back holding some records and quickly said, “Sorry to interrupt! Please, carry on—I’ll come back later!”
The absurd scene pushed Alonso over the edge. “Guy, you win! Do whatever you want—spy or traitor—I’m with you! You win!”
“What the hell…” Guy was still bewildered, thinking about how to escape once his identity was out, wondering why Alonso was suddenly speaking nonsense about ‘being with him.’
Alonso stared at him, tears streaming down his face. Guy’s attitude stirred an unfamiliar fear in him. Shaking with short breaths, Alonso slid down the cold, hard metal wall, hugging his arms tightly. Guy knelt down beside him, still trying to understand how things had gotten this far so quickly after he’d just woken up. He remembered it was Alonso’s fire that hit him, not the other way around.
“Alonso, don’t cry.” Guy wiped Alonso’s tears as he pulled the shivering commander into a hug in the corner. “Winning or losing means nothing. You know who I am now. My biggest secret is in your hands. I’m the one who lost. Please, don’t do this. Don’t cry.”
Alonso looked into Guy’s amber eyes—so sincere, so worried—and for a fleeting moment, he wished time could freeze right here. That they could stay forever in this cramped medical room, a ticking bomb discovered but not yet exploded, still holding each other.
Alonso, you’re done for. You’ve fallen in love with him.
Alonso’s tears flowed uncontrollably, yet he refused to say a single word. Guy didn’t know how to comfort him, so he stretched out his arm and pulled Alonso close, resting his forehead against Guy’s chest.
He held Alonso tightly, suspecting Alonso could hear his heartbeat racing faster and faster. Just as Guy felt he might suffocate, Alonso looked up at him. Tears traced down from his temples into the strands of his hair. “Guy,” Alonso’s teeth trembled, “you win. No matter who you are, where you go, or what you do, I’ll follow you.”
“Alonso, you… you’re…” Guy suddenly stopped. He caught a faint scent of orchids. It was Alonso’s pheromone—strong, sweet but not unpleasant. In the past, Guy had found it irritating, making him restless and eager to fight because of the alpha pheromone clash.
Now he felt restless again, but this time it was a different feeling. Guy froze. His lashes fluttered, and then he looked deep into Alonso’s sky-blue eyes, silently asking if this was what he thought it meant. Alonso said nothing.
A tingling numbness spread through the back of Guy’s head, and the choking sensation returned—but this time, he wanted to act. Slowly, he lowered his head. His lips brushed Alonso’s temple, kissing away the tears.
Alonso didn’t resist. He blinked, lashes sweeping over Guy’s jaw, tickling oddly. Guy moved his lips along Alonso’s cheek. Alonso felt Guy’s stubble scrape gently, then finally land on his own lips. Tears glistened at the corner of Alonso’s mouth, bitter and salty. After kissing it all away, Guy pulled back and looked at Alonso’s face. For a moment, Alonso’s eyes were vacant, but then he slightly lifted himself and grabbed Guy’s neck. “Guy…”
“Yeah?” Guy leaned in to listen. Alonso whispered in his ear, “I think…”
The unfinished sentence made Guy stiffen. He turned to face Alonso. “This…”
Alonso met his gaze. His cool, noble face was streaked with tears, fear and sorrow still lingering in his eyes. He seemed afraid—if he couldn’t grasp what he wanted in this small room, then out in the vast world, he would never hold onto a lion. At that moment, Guy’s heart felt like spring grass, ready to bend with the gentlest breeze. “Whatever you want.”
With that permission, Alonso kissed the side of his neck.
After they confirmed their relationship, Guy told Alonso everything about the Star Pirates and the rebel faction. Although Alonso said he would follow Guy no matter who he was, Guy felt it necessary to clarify the truth.
Yes, he was a member of the Star Pirates and the Dawn Front rebels, but the Black Fang Star Pirates and the Dawn Front were not the merciless bandits and traitors Imperial propaganda made them out to be. Fate and ideals intertwined deeply with Guy.
Alonso accepted this wholeheartedly and even helped Guy secure leadership authority within the Dawn Front. Years later, after more than a decade together, one day Guy piloted the mecha Uriel back from the battlefield. Alonso, as legion commander, led the team to greet him.
But Guy was reluctant to disembark. Over the comms, he weakly called Alonso and insisted he bring a medic into the cockpit. Alonso assumed Guy was seriously injured and anxiously led a medic aboard. The cockpit was covered in blood, but there were no external wounds. Guy couldn’t speak.
After repeated diagnoses, the medic finally told them, “Chief of Staff Guy… is pregnant. The heavy bleeding is likely caused by intense exertion and requires immediate treatment.”
Both Alonso and Guy were stunned beyond belief—an alpha could get pregnant? Fortunately, Guy was healthy. The hemorrhaging didn’t endanger the father, but the medic warned the fetus might be weak and advised Guy to avoid strenuous activity. There were only about three months left until the due date.
At seven months, Guy still went out in his mecha combat suit for missions. By nine months, his abdominal muscles could no longer contain the child, and his belly had visibly rounded. Alonso loved to press his ear against Guy’s stomach to listen to the baby kicking.
Looking at his gradually swelling belly, Alonso thought back to how blinded by desire he had been, giving his beautiful partner whatever he wanted without realizing that an alpha could get pregnant. Though Guy had once thought about having a child when he was younger, the idea faded after he differentiated into an alpha. He never imagined he’d have the chance to carry life himself.
Guy gave birth at full term, but the baby was small and wrinkled, which always made both Guy and Alonso’s hearts ache. They named the child Adrian.
– –
Karlos had once been a dual mecha pilot—the best kind. He and his partner, Ryan, had broken the federation’s highest synchronization record. Some comrades asked him, “You and Ryan are always teasing and fighting each other. How do you have such a high sync rate?”
Karlos shrugged. “Uh… I don’t know.”
He didn’t understand how he and that grumpy Ryan managed such perfect harmony, nor why he’d somehow ended up in Ryan’s bed. After Ryan died in battle, Karlos took their child and left for a distant place, refusing to partner with anyone else.
Karlos thought he’d suffered enough because of Ryan. He never expected the world had worse in store.
Chasing a good school district for his daughter, he followed his superior back to the mecha base, where he was paired with a new partner who looked exactly like Ryan—Leo. Karlos couldn’t help but chase shadows of Ryan in Leo and often found himself lost in a daze.
Leo was even better than Ryan—obedient, gentle, always circling around Karlos, never talking back, like a little dog radiating sunshine. And, just like Ryan, he wanted to kiss Karlos. Karlos warned his dazzled self: no one should be a replacement for someone else. If you accept Leo’s love, it’s a crime. He felt pain, guilt, and regret.
Until one day, he learned the truth—Leo was Ryan, lost to amnesia. Karlos chuckled. He smiled at Leo. “Come here. I guess I still like you. Let that dead Ryan rot outside. From now on, you’re my daughter’s dad.” Leo was overwhelmed with affection and prayed to Ryan’s spirit, “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of your husband and child.”
—
Years later, learning the truth, Leo thought about how foolish he had been: “…damn, I cheated on myself.”
A story of a sunny, lively, loyal little dog of a top and a somewhat worn but very gentle, big-chested “mom” bottom.
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