Fractured Signals

Karl had learned that before he learned how to read.

Not just literal scent—but presence. Pressure. Something that settled into the air and told you what someone was before they even spoke.

Alphas burned.

Omegas pulled.

Betas… stayed steady.

It was structure. It was certainty.

It was the foundation of everything.

The labs of Adeline Research weren’t quiet.

They just pretended to be.

Machines hummed low, screens flickered, footsteps echoed against polished floors—but underneath all of it, there was something else. Something constant.

Scent.

It lingered in the air like an invisible map.

Alphas burned—sharp, metallic, impossible to ignore.

Omegas pulled—soft, quiet, but dangerous in their own way.

Betas… balanced everything in between.

Karl had grown up reading it like language.

He didn’t think about it anymore.

He just knew.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for ten minutes.”

Hera leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, her presence cutting through the room like heat.

Karl didn’t look away. “Eight.”

She scoffed. “That’s not better.”

Across the table, Miller adjusted a file, voice low and steady. “Let him work.”

Hera glanced at him. “You always take his side.”

“I don’t,” Miller replied calmly. “He just happens to be right.”

Karl ignored both of them, fingers moving once across the interface.

A file expanded.

Clean.

Organized.

Wrong.

“No classification?” Hera leaned in now, frowning. “That’s a glitch.”

Karl’s voice was flat. “It’s not a glitch.”

“No scent markers either?” Miller asked.

“None that stay consistent.”

Hera straightened. “That’s not possible.”

Karl finally looked at her.

“The system doesn’t make mistakes.”

A pause.

Then quieter—

“So if something is missing… it was never there to begin with.”

----

They were interrupted by the supervisor’s voice echoing down the hall.

“Intern assignments are posted. Move.”

Hera groaned. “Finally. I was getting bored.”

“You’re always bored,” Karl said.

“Because nothing here is interesting.”

Karl shut the screen.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on the file.

Unclassified.

Unreadable.

Incomplete.

The corridor outside felt heavier.

Busier.

Saturated with overlapping scents.

It should’ve been familiar.

Normal.

But something felt… off.

Karl slowed.

Just slightly.

His gaze shifted across the hall—

Alpha.

Omega.

Beta.

Clear. Defined.

And then—

Nothing.

His steps stopped.

There.

Near the far wall.

A figure stood slightly apart from the others.

Still. Quiet.

Forgettable.

And yet—

Why can’t I read you?

Karl’s chest tightened—just enough to notice.

Everyone had a scent.

Alpha burned.

Omegas pulled.

But him?

Nothing.

And somehow…

that was worse.

It wasn’t absence.

It was… erasure.

Like something had been taken out of the world where it should’ve existed.

Karl moved before he realized it.

Closer.

People shifted instinctively as he passed.

The figure didn’t.

Not even a flicker.

Karl stopped in front of him.

Too close.

Closer than he ever stood to strangers.

Still—

nothing.

And that—

that was wrong.

His instincts should’ve reacted.

Pulled. Pushed. Warned.

Something.

Anything.

Instead—

there was silence.

A void so complete it made his jaw tighten.

“Hey.”

Hera’s voice came from behind, sharp with curiosity. “You just gonna stand there or say something?”

Karl didn’t look at her.

His eyes stayed locked.

“Your classification,” he said, voice quieter now, edged in something unfamiliar, “what is it?”

The figure didn’t answer immediately.

Then slowly—

he looked up.

His eyes met Karl’s.

Still. Empty.

Not cold.

Not warm.

Just… there.

“…I don’t know.”

----

Hera let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t know what you are? That’s ridiculous.”

No reaction.

“I was never told,” he added.

Miller had stopped a few steps away.

Watching.

Silent.

Karl felt something shift under his skin.

Not attraction.

Not fear.

Something worse.

Frustration.

“What’s your name?” Hera asked.

A pause.

“…Vier.”

The name settled strangely.

Like it didn’t belong fully to him.

And then—

Karl felt it.

Not in the air.

Not in scent.

Somewhere deeper.

“…Ri—”

Vier stilled.

“…ven…”

The sound slipped out—faint, fractured.

Gone too fast.

Karl’s breath caught.

“…Say that again.”

Vier blinked, brows pulling slightly.

“…I didn’t say anything.”

Silence stretched.

Heavy now.

Not empty.

Hera tilted her head. “Okay, you’re officially strange.”

Still nothing.

Miller finally spoke, voice low.

“Leave him.”

Hera glanced back. “Why? You not curious?”

Miller’s gaze flicked toward Vier—quick, unreadable.

Then away.

“…No.”

Karl didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t break eye contact.

Because this—

this wasn’t just strange.

It was wrong.

It disrupted something fundamental.

And Karl hated things he couldn’t understand.

“Vier,” he repeated.

The name felt unstable.

Incomplete.

For the first time—

Karl wasn’t reading someone.

He was standing in front of something that refused to be read.

And instead of walking away—

he stepped even closer.

That’s when it happened.

Just for a second.

So faint it could’ve been imagined.

A shift.

Not a scent.

Not exactly.

But something—

something that almost existed.

And then it was gone.

Karl’s pulse didn’t change.

His expression didn’t shift.

But something had already locked into place.

This wasn’t over.

It had just begin.