Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Chapter 170: Chapter 170: Very few

Voss inclined his head. ”Students raised under a standard academic framework usually adapt more easily to collaborative work, institutional expectations, and long-form attendance. Students trained privately or through reduced-residency models often perform better under independent pressure and self-directed study but may find formal structures inefficient.”

Nero said, ”They are inefficient.”

Voss continued as though he had not spoken. ”In your case, my lord, it appears your family wanted both competence and social integration.”

Dean gave him a long look. ”You make that sound much nobler than it felt.”

Voss allowed himself the smallest pause. ”That is sometimes the job of institutional language.”

Sylvia made a helpless sound of delight. ”Oh, I like him.”

Dean pointed at Voss. ”Careful. You’re becoming likable.”

”I’ll try to correct it.”

”That’s the spirit.”

They turned another corner, passing a quieter alcove lined with glass-fronted notice boards and a recessed sitting area where two students abruptly remembered they had somewhere else to be the moment they recognized Nero. Or Dean. Or both. Dean chose to interpret that as respect and not alarm.

His fingers brushed once against the pearls at his throat again while thinking of Nero’s earlier words.

Normal.

The word sat poorly.

Not because he had never wanted it. He had, once. Or something adjacent to it. A life that was allowed to unfold without being arranged, softened, corrected, or publicly interpreted before he had even experienced it.

But Lucas and Trevor had never had the luxury of ordinary children, not really. Not with Sebastian carrying his terrible contained competence like a second spine. Not with Dean being... Dean. Not with the families around them, the titles, the politics, and the constant awareness that safety and visibility rarely liked each other.

So yes, they had tried to give them school. Structure. Peers. Corridors and assignments and schedules that said this part, at least, could be simple.

Even if simplicity never quite held.

Nero, watching him with that infuriating perceptiveness of his, said more quietly, ”I wasn’t mocking them.”

Dean’s eyes shifted to him.

”I know,” he said after a beat. ”That’s what makes it annoying.”

Something almost amused flickered across Nero’s face, but it stayed gentler than before.

Sylvia glanced between them and sighed. ”This is disgusting in a new way. Are you two having a sincere conversation in public?”

”No,” Dean said at once.

”Yes,” Nero said at the same time.

Dean glared at him. ”Traitor.”

”She asked.”

”I didn’t ask for honesty.”

”That sounds like a you problem.”

Dean drew in a breath, ready to continue this on moral grounds, but Voss stopped near a wide internal junction where a suspended directory map cast soft light over polished stone.

”This,” Voss said, mercifully dragging them back toward logistics, ”is the central split between the dominant omega academic wing, the mixed advanced halls, and the policy research annex.”

Dean stepped closer to the map. The layout bloomed across the glass in clean architectural lines - east wing, west wing, secured links, quiet study rooms, faculty offices, regulated access corridors, archive levels, and emergency field points discreetly marked in pale blue. From above, it looked almost elegant enough to conceal the reasons it had been built that way.

”And the alpha side?” Dean asked.

Voss indicated the western section. ”Separate lecture halls, separate advisory clusters, separate entry timings for some first- and second-year modules. Less overlap until later. The system eases once students have established academic standing and, more importantly, discipline.”

Dean hummed. ”So the university’s official position is that education becomes safer once people learn shame.”

”Control,” Voss corrected.

”Less fun word.”

”Safer one.”

Dean leaned slightly, studying the mixed-hall routes. ”And I can take classes there as well.”

”Yes,” Voss said. ”Particularly because you’re marked, your file permits flexible placement where the faculty deems it academically appropriate. You may also attend selected alpha-track lectures if you request them in advance and the timing does not create conflicts.”

Nero glanced at the display. ”He’ll request them out of spite.”

Dean didn’t look away from the map. ”Correct.”

Sylvia looked horrified. ”Why?”

”Because if anyone is going to spend years implying I should stay politely in one corridor, I reserve the right to become educationally inconvenient.”

”Yes, very nice of you,” Sylvia said, and then turned to Voss. ”What about the betas? I’m with them,” she gestured to Nero and Dean, ”but I’m just a normal beta.”

Voss turned to her at once, and for the first time since the tour had begun, some of the careful tension in his posture eased.

”Beta students follow the standard academic structure,” he said. ”Their schedules are built by faculty and specialization rather than dominant-track restrictions. They use the central lecture halls, general seminar rooms, shared libraries, standard labs, and the usual advisory network.”

Sylvia put a hand to her chest. ”Thank God. Someone in this institution believes in civilization.”

Dean glanced at her. ”That’s optimistic.”

”It’s comparative,” Sylvia corrected.

Voss inclined his head, then continued, ”Your case is somewhat different in administrative terms, however.”

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. ”That sounds ominous.”

”It isn’t meant to be,” Voss said quickly. ”You are registered both as a student in your own right and as attached support staff to Lord Dean’s academic file.”

There was a beat.

Then Sylvia stared at him. ”Attached support staff.”

Dean’s mouth curved instantly. ”That is so much worse than companion.”

”Oh, shut up.”

Voss, to his credit, did not smile. ”The Crown Prince of Alamina’s office submitted the arrangement personally. Your housing, campus access, and route permissions were all expanded so you could remain with Lord Dean as needed. The wording is formal, but the purpose is practical.”

Sylvia blinked. ”So Arion actually did file me into the system.”

”Yes, my lady.”

”Well, I will take it,” Sylvia said unbothered. ”How many dominants are in the classes?”

Voss inclined his head once. ”Very few.”

That answer alone changed the weight of the corridor by a degree.

Sylvia, who had been leaning toward the illuminated map with open interest, straightened slightly. ”Few as in uncommon, or few as in this place is functionally a museum exhibit for royal problems?”

Dean’s mouth curved.

Voss glanced at the tablet in his hand, more from habit than need. ”Uncommon enough that the university does not build dominant-track structures around volume. Only around risk.”

That was a very university sentence.

Dean approved of it immediately.

”How many?” Sylvia asked again.

Voss answered with the calm clarity of a man reciting institutional facts instead of the concentrated social instability of an empire’s young elite. ”Among the current student body, there are four dominant omegas enrolled in the university system. With Lord Dean’s arrival, that makes five on record.”

Dean lifted one brow.

Voss continued, ”However, the others have already completed the pheromone-adjacent course blocks and the more tightly regulated in-person requirements. They do not attend full-time in the ordinary sense. Most of their work is completed remotely now, and they generally return only for examinations, faculty reviews, and a limited number of final assessments.”

Nero glanced at Dean. ”So yes. Like me.”

Dean looked at him flatly. ”You say that as if it’s a respectable category instead of a loophole wearing a title.”

”It’s efficient.”

”It’s vulgar.”

”It gets degrees.”

”That,” Dean said, ”is not the point.”

Sylvia ignored them both, still looking at Voss. ”And dominant alphas?”