Sarah and Bryan simultaneously looked up at the sky as if they had just watched someone walk toward a cliff edge with a blindfold on.

Behind Neville, Grayson’s gaze could have bored holes through Neville’s head.

The temperature in this tropical place felt like it had dropped by several degrees.

Iris was the one who tried again.

"Dear Hope," she said, and the gentleness in her voice was the kind reserved for those delivering difficult news. "I know you want to make friends with other people. That’s perfectly natural. But that’s not the right place for it."

Neville furrowed his eyebrows. "Why not?"

Bryan leaned his head back. "Trust me. You don’t want to be at one of those events. It’s a mess."

Something about the weary certainty in Bryan’s tone pinged Neville’s curiosity.

He raised an eyebrow and asked, "You’ve been to one?"

Bryan’s poker face held, but just barely. "At my age, I had to."

Neville turned to face Grayson. The hand on his arm had loosened, but it hadn’t let go.

Neville asked, "What about you? Have you been to one?"

Grayson’s lips twitched slightly, but he still answered honestly, "My mother ordered me to."

It didn’t matter what Grayson’s expression was or what his circumstances were at that time. Neville absorbed this information and looked at each of them in turn—Bryan, Iris, Grayson—and something clicked into place.

His face lit up.

"You’ve all been there at least once!" He exclaimed it like a revelation. "So I should go too! It’s practically a rite of passage!"

"No!" Sarah’s voice came out sharp, edged with guilt. She thrust a finger in Neville’s direction. "Nope. Absolutely not. You are not going."

Neville stared at her, thoroughly bewildered. "But you just invited me—"

"I didn’t know what I was thinking when I invited you!" Sarah quickly said and retreated. "I must’ve lost my mind!"

Neville didn’t buy her hysterical act and asked, "Seriously, why can’t I go?"

Iris pinched the bridge of her nose and said, with the patience of a woman who had seen many things and survived them all, "Why don’t you ask the person next to you?"

Neville looked at Grayson innocently.

Grayson’s face was dark. Not angry, exactly—but more like the calm before a storm. His silver eyes had gone flat, exercising extreme restraint over something.

"Why are you in a bad mood?" Neville asked with genuine confusion, clearly unaffected by his gaze.

Grayson took a deep breath with eyes closed before looking back at Neville.

"Neville," he said, his voice was patient. "A singles party is more than a blind date event. At that kind of gathering, you’re there to test your compatibility with someone."

Neville tilted his head. "Compatibility? Meaning what?"

Like the favorability of Grayson or like their pheromone compatibility?

But pheromones can be tested in a hospital, you can also match gene compatibility there for fertility complications.

So, what compatibility are they talking about?

Grayson’s eyes flickered. Then he leaned in—close enough that Neville could feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of his ear—and whispered.

"You go there knowing that you’re ready to sleep with a stranger. It doesn’t matter who—any gender, or any kind of background, as long as you’re compatible—specifically, in bed. Because everyone there is that desperate looking for a partner."

Grayson pulled back, his expression sharp and watchful, clearly expecting some kind of dramatic reaction.

Shock, perhaps. Outrage. Or maybe a healthy blush.

But what he got was Neville staring at him with wide, clear, utterly unbothered ocean-blue eyes.

The thing was—and this was something Neville himself had never quite understood himself—his frame of reference was fundamentally different from everyone else’s.

In his previous life, on Earth, casual encounters weren’t like the apocalyptic social event they seemed to be in this world because of the dire birth rate situation.

But still, it was the same stranger meets stranger.

When attraction happens, things progress naturally—and that was just Tuesday in the modern dating scene back on earth. It was even more casual in the West if you really think about it.

The ABO version of it hadn’t really fully registered in Neville’s mental framework.

Yes, he did read a lot of ABO world BL media.

Yes, he understood that the sexual tension and interactions between genders were intense—like really intense.

But, he only understood it PLOT WISE. Not the reality of it.

If anything, Neville briefly tasted the cruelty of this ABO world when he encountered Mick and Killian.

However, it was a long time ago, and he also gained immunity to practically any alpha pheromones that weren’t as strong as Grayson’s because of that.

Not to mention, he had the system to aid him with omega supplies, and to potentially avoid making a mistake and getting into accidental heat in the office.

Neville got even more in control of his body due to the Heat Pill that would prevent the heat cycle, estrus period, and susceptible period, and the Calming Pill that could shield him from getting induced into heat by other alphas within 24 hours.

Even worse, due to his natural 100 percent compatibility with Grayson, he thought that those sexual interactions and attractions were just... normal. Or the bare minimum between willing and consenting adults.

In short, Neville never really had the full experience of why omega’s were at the bottom of society.

Therefore, he wouldn’t understand why unmarried and widowed omegas were being shunned, used, abused, and sometimes even outright discriminated against.

With such cheats, Neville wouldn’t understand the weight of pheromone compatibility, gender dynamics, or the social stigma attached to mixed-gender and same-gender encounters in this Interstellar ABO world.

In the end, he didn’t grasp that a singles party in this world was less "speed dating" and more "carnal scene of pheromone roulette with life-altering consequences."

So, he ended up with only one conclusion in the end.

"So you’re not a virgin?"

Everyone went silent.

Grayson’s hand fell away from Neville’s arm. His expression visibly cracked.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it. Opened it again.

No sound came out.