Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina-Chapter 119: Less than one

The sitting room they were led into was designed to appear comfortable while also functioning as a controlled environment.

Clean lines, low lighting, glass panels that probably turned opaque on command, discreet cameras disguised as decorative fixtures, and an air system that hummed softly in the walls as if the building was breathing through filters.

Dean sat on one end of a couch with the rigid posture of a man trying to remember how to exist normally.

Sylvia had claimed the armchair closest to the door on principle, civilian instincts overriding etiquette, with Boreas sprawled at her feet like a furry barricade. She rested one hand on his head as if anchoring herself to something that didn’t speak in titles.

Arion sat across from Dean, composed again, legs crossed, hands relaxed on his knee like none of this was a personal trap set by fate.

Sebastian took the chair near the window, back straight, black hair neat, and green eyes alert even while he looked calm.

Zion, on the other hand, had immediately made himself at home in the most offensive way possible: sitting sideways on a chair, one ankle propped over a knee, dark blonde hair slightly mussed from travel, and green eyes bright with restless curiosity. He was petting Boreas like he’d known him forever and was determined to reinforce the dog’s opinion that Zion was the best person alive.

It took exactly two minutes for Zion to say, "Okay. So. Where are the beasts?"

Dean’s head snapped slightly. "The what?"

Sebastian didn’t even look at Dean. He said to Arion, voice calm, "He didn’t tell you."

Dean stared at his brother. "Tell me what."

Arion’s mouth twitched, faintly amused. "It didn’t come up."

Zion leaned forward, delighted. "It’s coming up now."

Dean looked between them, feeling like he’d walked into a conversation that had been happening for years and was expected to catch up instantly.

Arion leaned back, his hand hovering at the back of Dean’s seat. "You will learn more after you go to the university." He moved his gaze to Zion daring him to misbehave. "Did you expect him to learn about this in two weeks?"

Zion’s grin widened, because being dared to misbehave was the closest thing he had to a love language.

"I expected him to learn," Zion said cheerfully, "by existing within a ten-meter radius of us."

Sebastian’s gaze remained on Arion, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Two weeks is generous."

Dean turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing at Arion. "University."

Arion didn’t look away from Zion. "Yes."

Dean blinked once. "There’s a university for this?"

Sylvia, from the armchair, murmured without lifting her head, "Of course there’s a university. There’s always a university. People can’t just have trauma anymore. They need a curriculum."

Boreas thumped his tail once in agreement, still pressed against Sylvia’s shins like he was her personal bodyguard.

Arion’s hand remained hovering at the back of Dean’s seat - close enough to be felt, not close enough to be called clinging. "It’s not a ’university for beasts,’" Arion said, calm. "It’s the Imperial University. They have an entire department for field security and ecological containment."

Dean stared. "Ecological containment."

Sebastian finally looked at Dean, green eyes steady. "That’s what it is."

Dean’s mouth opened, then closed again, because nothing about his life could just be simple. "So there are... classes. About monsters."

Zion beamed, delighted. "Yes. And exams. You’ll love it."

Dean’s expression went flat. "I won’t."

Zion leaned in, as if offering a secret. "The exams are the easiest part. It’s the field assignments that make you question your existence."

Dean’s gaze snapped to Arion. "Field assignments?"

Arion’s brow lifted faintly, like Dean was adorable. "Yes."

Dean’s voice tightened. "When were you planning to mention that?"

Arion’s expression didn’t change. "After you ate and slept."

Sylvia’s eyes lifted, amused. "He’s trying to keep you alive long enough to be educated about danger."

Dean exhaled through his nose, then turned back to the conversation he was clearly losing.

Arion angled his body slightly toward Sebastian now, shifting back into their usual rhythm - duty, patrol zones, season tracking - like this was normal conversation over coffee.

"For now," Arion said evenly, "there have been no movements."

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened. "No spikes at all?"

"Aside from the two I’ve dealt with last week, there are none yet," Arion confirmed.

Zion’s eyes lit with immediate interest, like someone had just offered him a live update. "Efficient as always. Well, good to know that your marriage gala is safe from interruptions."

Dean’s head snapped up so fast his neck clicked. "Engagement."

Zion smirked like a saint. "Your combined pheromones tell me something else."

Dean’s gaze narrowed. "If you continue, I will issue you hall interdictions before Nero even gets here."

Zion’s smirk didn’t even wobble.

"Hall interdictions," he repeated, pleased, like Dean had just handed him a trophy. "Listen to you. Threatening me with architecture."

Dean’s eyes stayed flat. "I will have your access revoked so fast you’ll be forced to socialize in the staff cafeteria."

Sylvia, from her armchair, murmured, "That’s cruel."

Boreas huffed in agreement, ears flicking like even he respected the severity of cafeteria exile.

Sebastian’s gaze slid to Zion - a quiet warning in green eyes. "Stop."

Zion spread his hands, innocent. "I’m not doing anything."

"You’re breathing like a man about to commit a crime," Sebastian replied.

Zion’s grin widened. "That’s just my face."

Arion’s voice cut in, calm but edged. "Zion."

The single word landed like a leash.

Zion leaned back, still smiling, but he did ease off. "Fine," he said with theatrical resignation. "I will refrain from announcing Dean’s impending domestic collapse to the entire palace."

Dean stared at him. "It’s not domestic collapse."

Zion’s eyes gleamed. "It’s domestic ascension."

Dean’s jaw ticked. "You’re going to be the first person I throw out a window in this building."

Sylvia sighed, fond and exhausted at once. "And there he is. The ’normal’ one."

Dean shot her a look. "Sylvia."

She lifted one brow. "What? You’re threatening a crown prince with defenestration. That’s not normal behavior."

"It’s corrective behavior," Dean snapped.

Sebastian’s mouth twitched again, the small betrayal of amusement he was trying very hard to swallow. It lasted half a heartbeat before he forced it back into neutrality.

But Dean saw it.

And Dean hated him for it.

Zion, sensing victory, turned his attention back to Arion like a man who enjoyed playing with knives. "Two beasts last week," he said, tone shifting into something more serious without fully losing the mischief. "Same type?"

Arion nodded. "Both near the outer ridge."

Sebastian’s posture tightened subtly. "Perimeter sensors caught them first?"

"Yes," Arion said. "No civilian contact."

Dean’s brows knit. "What do you mean by ’civilian contact’? Like... people get caught in this?"

Sylvia’s fingers slowed in Boreas’s fur.

Zion’s smile became less playful, still bright but sharper around the edges. "Sometimes."

Dean looked to Arion because Arion was the only one in the room who could say it without dramatizing it.

Arion didn’t soften the truth. "Civilians don’t always respect exclusion zones."

Dean stared. "Why would anyone cross into a zone with beasts?"

Zion lifted a hand. "Because they’re stupid."

Sebastian added dryly, "Because they think warnings are for other people."

Sylvia murmured, more quietly, "Because the economy exists."

Dean blinked and looked at her.

Sylvia shrugged, a civilian truth slipping into a room full of titles. "Smuggling routes. Salvage runs. People who don’t have money try to get it where they can."