The Shadow Wolf's Second Life: They Bullied The Wrong Omega

”It’s all my fault, Father!” I sobbed, forcing my voice to break pitifully. ”They only came here to bully me, but you stood up for me and now... and now you’re hurt because of me!”

Manipulating a couple of tear ducts to bend them to my will was child’s play. It was literally just a piece of medicinal grass—why did they have to make a massive production out of every single thing?

”Alright, alright!” Valerie interjected, gently taking the silver grass from my hand and pressing it into Bradford’s chest. ”Honey, she bought it specifically for you. Don’t reject her kindness, okay? You’re breaking her heart!”

Bradford looked from the valuable herb to my tear-streaked face, his shoulders slumping in complete defeat. ”Alright, Brianna... thank you. I’ll use it.”

I sniffled once more for dramatic effect, wiped my cheeks with my sleeve, and turned toward the narrow staircase.

”I’ll be upstairs,” I murmured, my face instantly dropping the pathetic teary mask the second my back was turned.

I climbed the creaky wooden stairs to my cramped bedroom, quietly clicking the door shut behind me.

Pulling the glass vials of vitality tonics from my pocket, I sat cross-legged on the floor, ready to test just how much potential this fragile Omega body truly had

I uncorked the first glass vial and downed the bitter liquid in a single gulp, followed swiftly by the second. I closed my eyes, regulating my breathing as the warmth spread through my chest.

It didn’t do much.

The tonic worked its way through my bloodstream, washing away the stubborn, clogged streams, the dull fatigue lingering in my muscles and sharpening my focus, but that was the extent of it. It was incredible medicine for ordinary humans, something sustaining for wolves, but far from enough to force an awakening on an Omega.

Well, if it were that easy, if downing potions like this was enough to make an omega awaken, then they would be getting sold in millions, if not billions.

The high-grade recovery serums I had yet to claim with Edgar’s requisition token would push this frail shell further, but even those wouldn’t magically summon a wolf into this body.

If I wanted real strength, I needed to combine the serums with brutal, physical conditioning. Tomorrow, I would hit the private training facility in the lower district and tear this body down until it adapted.

I let out a cool, slow breath and opened my eyes. Uncrossing my legs, I stood up and collapsed back onto the narrow bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

Forty thousand dollars sounds like a fortune, I thought, stashing the empty vials under the frame. But between paying off the loan sharks in installments, buying proper food, and securing resources, it’s already drained fast.

I couldn’t take a standard job—not while I was still seen as a useless Omega. They would just toss scraps at me and expect me to be content with it. No, I can’t have that happening. I might just end up killing someone.

Besides, I don’t have the time to spare. In the next five days, I want to use most of my time trying to put this body on the toughside.

I needed a massive, quick return with minimal effort.

Another trip to Edgar’s casino it is.

I mentally calculated Jayden’s work schedule. Since today he went to work around noon and covered the evening shift as well, I couldn’t go in those times.

If I moved early—hitting the high-stakes tables the moment the morning floor opened—I could get in, rake in another massive haul, and slip out before he even clocked in.

I wasn’t about to waste precious energy dodging my fake brother through service corridors again.

Satisfied with the blueprint taking shape in my mind, I closed my eyes, letting the quiet atmosphere lull me into a light, vigilant sleep.

Later that evening, the front door creaked open, and Jayden and Jordan walked in. They both worked different jobs but for some reason, they always left and came back the same time.

Both of them dragged their feet into the entryway, their shoulders slumped under the weight of sheer exhaustion. Their faces wore that familiar, hollow look of utter defeat—the crushing disappointment of young men who had spent all afternoon scouring the lower district for odd jobs, only to return home without a single credit to show for it.

They looked like failures in their own eyes, carrying the burden of a starving family on their young shoulders.

Until Jayden stopped dead in his tracks.

His nose twitched. Jordan bumped into his back, opening his mouth to complain, but his words died in his throat as the rich, intoxicating scent of grilled, seasoned meat and thick, aromatic stew hit them like a physical force.

Both brothers slowly raised their heads, their gaze traveling from the worn floorboards to the small dining table in the center of the room.

The sight before them made their eyes widen.

The old wooden table, usually barren save for watered-down broth and stale crusts, was completely covered. Plates of perfectly seared meat, bowls of piping-hot vegetables, and fresh, fluffy bread lined the surface, steam rising in rich, fragrant spirals beneath the dim overhead light.

”What...” Jayden stammered, his jaw slackening as his tray-serving reflexes completely abandoned him. ”What is all this?!”

”Did... did we walk into the wrong house?” Jordan whispered, staring at the feast as if it were a high-tier illusion spell designed to mock their empty stomachs.

I decided to play the welcoming younger sister, stepping out of the kitchen with a soft smile, the silver necklace Jordan had given me flashing subtly against my collarbone.

”Welcome home, brothers,” I said smoothly. ”And no, you didn’t walk into the wrong house, obviously.”

Jayden blinked hard, his eyes darting between the feast on the table and my face. ”Then... Brianna, what is all this? Did Mom sell something?”

Do we even have anything worth selling?

”How did we even afford any of this?” he looked even more stunned.