Chosen (Omega Levi x Monarch Reader)

Chapter 2: Levi

The next morning, Hanji escorted them down to breakfast.

On the way there, Levi observed that most of the omegas in his group had already started to form cliques, unsurprisingly. It was obvious who was the most popular among them – the prettiest ones, the ones with fancy clothes and jewelry, the ones most knowledgeable about traditional omega skills like cooking, decorating, and sewing. There were one or two other loners like him, though they seemed to be keeping to themselves out of extreme shyness rather than a specific desire to be solitary.

Each of the ten groups had been assigned a long table in the cavernous, white-marble dining hall. Levi took a seat near one end of the table belonging to his group, removed from the social overlords holding court in the middle. Intentionally, he was also far from where Hanji prattled continuously at the other end.

Just as dinner had been last night, the meal laid out before them was a verifiable feast – especially when compared to what Levi was used to at home. Every kind of breakfast food imaginable had been arranged artfully in a line cutting through the middle of their long table. It all smelled divine, though Levi still missed his mother's cooking.

The omegas could eat whatever they wanted and as much as they wanted. If a tray became empty, the palace servants would simply replace it with a fresh one. Some omegas took full advantage of the opportunity to stuff their faces, but others only selected one or two items and picked at them. On the far side of the table, a debate erupted over the merits of a petite figure versus a curvy one.

Levi tried to ignore them as he filled his place with protein and carbs, foregoing sweets in favor of nutrients that would give him energy, strength, and stamina. He worked his way through enough food to sate the hunger in his belly – no more and no less. After experiencing as many food shortages as he had, he wasn't about to turn down a free meal, but he also knew better than to eat himself sick.

About halfway through breakfast, one of those at the top end of the social ladder deigned to speak to him. "Hey – you haven't said anything since we got here. What's your story?"

Levi noticed the others watching him – not out of a genuine desire to get to know him, but a thirst for gossip. He swallowed the bread he'd been chewing and shrugged. "Don't have a story."

"Well, what's your name, then?" the woman pressed. She was gorgeous – Levi would give her that – with vibrant red hair and a petite body that nonetheless possessed curves in all the right places. But he didn't like the slight uptilt to her chin, the subtle signal that she thought she was better than him.

"Levi," he replied, keeping his attention on his breakfast while he tore off another piece of bread.

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

"That's silly. Everyone's from somewhere."

"Yeah? Not me."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, wherever 'nowhere' is, it looks like their clothing stores could use an upgrade."

Levi simply shrugged and kept eating, acting as if she hadn't just insulted him. He knew her type well enough by now. As long as he didn't give her anything to work with, she'd eventually get bored and leave him alone.

However, he was acutely aware of the sorry state of his clothes. He did his best to keep them clean and ironed, and Kuchel had expertly patched the holes they'd gained throughout the years. In fact, when compared to the other street rats in Ore, Levi dressed well. But here, his dull, outdated garments stuck out like a sore thumb. Even so, he was glad Kuchel hadn't wasted her hard-earned savings on new clothes.