Yuji hadn't slept.
He'd spent the entire night sprawled on his floor, the contract still sitting on the coffee table like a silent dare.
At first, he thought the exhaustion would take him out. But no. His brain decided it was the perfect time to run simulations.
What if he said yes?
What if he actually went through with it?
Would he even survive carrying a Dragunov baby?
Would he become some kind of tabloid freak?
Would he end up being murdered in his sleep because the Dragunov elders thought he was a threat?
He groaned and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm considering having a baby with a man who literally broke into my apartment. This is where I'm at in life."
But the thing was...
He couldn't ignore the offer.
Not entirely.
He was tired of scraping by. Tired of counting change at the convenience store. Tired of pretending his next freelance job wasn't his rent money.
And deep down, a darker thought lingered:
This might be the only chance he ever had to do something meaningful.
He didn't hate the idea of being a parent.
He just hated the idea of being forced.
But this wasn't quite force. It was more like... aggressive persuasion. With a very nice paycheck.
Yuji finally got up, made a cup of instant coffee, and stared out his window.
The city lights were fading into early morning gold.
He reached for his phone and, after a long pause, texted the number listed at the bottom of the contract.
[ I need to talk. In person. ]
The response came five minutes later.
[ A car will arrive in one hour. ]
___
Nikolai was waiting.
He stood beside a long glass table in a private conference room, dressed in another one of those sleek suits that made him look like a crime boss with a personal tailor.
Yuji walked in slowly, wearing a wrinkled hoodie and the same jeans from yesterday.
"You came," Nikolai said, voice unreadable.
"I need to make something clear."
"Go on."
Yuji pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down with a loud sigh.
"I'm not saying yes."
Nikolai tilted his head.
"But you're not saying no."
"Exactly."
Yuji leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"If I do this—if—I want guarantees. Legal ones. I want medical autonomy, my own doctor, my own schedule. I want regular check-ins with someone not from your creepy underground empire."
"Granted."
"And I want to keep the baby. If I want to."
"The contract already states that."
"I want it in my own words. Not yours. No weird clauses or legal traps. I'm not stupid."
Nikolai studied him for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Done."
Yuji stared at him.
"Just like that?"
"You're valuable, Yuji. I'm not interested in manipulating you. I need results, not resentment."
Yuji sat back in his chair, blowing out a slow breath.
"...You really don't care about love, huh?"
"No."
"Or bonding. Or partnership."
"Only success."
"You're like a walking lab report."
"I prefer 'efficient strategist.'"
Yuji chuckled under his breath. It surprised both of them.
Nikolai blinked.
"You're not what I expected."
"Yeah, people say that a lot."
There was a pause.
Then Nikolai pushed forward a new folder.
"This version includes the core terms," he said.
Yuji flipped through the first few pages, scanning the sharp gray text.
The updated contract laid everything out in black and white:
• He would reside in Dragunov-owned property with full security and medical care.
• Monthly compatibility testing and stress monitoring would be conducted.
• He was expected to attempt conception during his heat cycle, but only with his consent.
• If successful, he would retain parental rights and be granted full support for himself and the child.
• No intimacy or bonding was required beyond the agreed process.
• The agreement could be terminated by either party, with fair legal recourse.
It was disturbingly thorough.
Yuji squinted. "There's a clause for dietary allergens?"
"Some omegas have sensitivities during hormonal shifts," Nikolai replied casually.
Yuji took the file slowly, fingers brushing against the matte black cover.
It felt heavy.
Real.
He opened it. The pages were pristine, printed in soft charcoal font. Clinical and cold, but... well-written.
As he skimmed the details, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Detailed hormonal monitoring. Fertility compatibility charts. Custom housing. Special nutritional programs. Even stress-reduction protocols.
This is more detailed than any contract I've ever gotten in my life, he thought.
Yuji had signed contracts before, but those were for comic anthologies, short runs, and collaborations. Most of them paid late. Some ghosted him entirely. Once, he got paid in coupons.
He snorted quietly to himself.
This one comes with a butler and medical insurance.
If his past editors saw this, they'd probably cry.
He flipped to the last page.
"Alpha Donor: Nikolai Sergeyevich Dragunov."
Yuji blinked.
A small smirk pulled at his lips.
He tilted his head slightly, staring at the man across from him with amusement.
"Huh... so it really is your name, huh? Nikolai."
His voice was quiet, amused.
Nikolai didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Yuji looked back at the document, lips twitching as if holding in a private joke.
What are the odds? he thought. Didn't expect this guy's name to really be Nikolai. The same name as the villain in my comic... what a creepy coincidence. Hshshshs. Creepy.
Then, without another word, he reached for the pen resting beside the folder.
He signed.
___
As Yuji left the room, contract copy in hand and thoughts racing, he still wasn't sure if he was being pranked by the universe... or rewarded for surviving years of ramen and rejected art pitches.
But one thing was clear:
He was in it now.
And the scariest part?
A small part of him didn't hate it.