Yuji had officially reached maximum boredom.
As much as he hated to admit it, being a kept omega in a luxury penthouse wasn't nearly as exciting as it sounded. At first, it felt like a dream. Big open windows, automated everything, a voice-activated shower that played lo-fi jazz, and Fridge-chan humming every time he opened the door. But after a few days of lounging in oversized shirts and drawing comics he no longer had deadlines for, Yuji found himself dramatically flopped over the couch.
"I'm turning into a houseplant," he mumbled.
He glanced at the elegant black card sitting on the coffee table. It gleamed like a secret.
Flashback: a few days ago.
Nikolai had returned home (unannounced as usual), handed Yuji a small velvet envelope, and said flatly, "This is for personal use."
Yuji had opened it and nearly dropped the card. "This is a limitless platinum card. Do I look like someone who knows how to responsibly use this?!"
"No," Nikolai said.
Yuji stared. "...But you're still giving it to me?"
"Yes."
Yuji hesitated for about 0.3 seconds. Then took it.
"Cool, thanks."
Back to present.
The problem was, the condo—actually a penthouse suite on the 48th floor of one of the city's newest smart towers—already had everything. Food? Stocked. Clothes? A walk-in closet the size of his old apartment. Entertainment? A home cinema. A library he'd barely touched. And of course, he had Fridge-chan, who judged him silently. Even the couch had a massage setting.
Still, he hadn't used the card much. It felt like cheating somehow. Like he was... someone's mistress.
Which, honestly, wasn't entirely inaccurate.
Yuji didn't mind. It paid better than his last gig.
He hadn't met Nikolai's parents. Never even heard about them. The man lived like a shadow—showing up randomly, sipping tea like a Bond villain, and occasionally sniffing him like he was a rare truffle.
With a long groan, Yuji sat up. Enough was enough.
"Fridge-chan," he declared, pointing a spoon like a sword, "I need stimulation."
Fridge-chan did not respond.
___
An hour later, Yuji was dressed in black slacks, a hoodie with a sarcastic quote, and his old sneakers. He slipped the card into his wallet like it was a stolen treasure, put on a mask and cap, and headed out.
The mall was glorious.
Shiny, loud, full of people and overpriced drinks.
Yuji beelined to the cinema first. There was an action flick playing, something with explosions, laser swords, and definitely zero complex romance. Perfect.
He bought the largest popcorn combo available, extra butter. He settled into the soft red seat, put his feet up on the rail in front of him (earning a look from the cleaner nearby), and let the loud soundscape drown him.
Halfway through the movie, a dramatic scene exploded on screen—hero screaming, building collapsing, villain laughing in slow motion—and Yuji, who had been trying to balance his popcorn on his lap while slurping a jumbo soda, accidentally spilled the entire bucket onto the guy sitting next to him.
"OH MY GOD, I AM SO SORRY!" he cried out, eyes wide in horror.
The guy turned slowly, blinking in surprise. Buttered popcorn scattered over his lap.
Yuji fumbled for napkins, wiping the stranger's coat awkwardly. "It was an accident! I swear! I'm just very... uncoordinated. And dramatic. Mostly dramatic."
The guy blinked again, then gave a small smile. "It's okay. Happens."
Yuji blinked back. Then awkwardly nodded. "Thanks. You're very chill for someone just assaulted by snack food."
He sat through the rest of the movie stiffly, holding what remained of the popcorn bucket like a baby bird.
___
Next stop: shopping.
He wasn't going to go overboard, but one thing led to another and he ended up with three new hoodies, a limited-edition plushie from some old anime he used to love, a novelty mug that said 'Alpha Tears, My Favorite Tea', and a pair of slippers shaped like chonky cats.
At one store, the cashier raised an eyebrow at the card.
"This is a Dragunov Vaultline Card. You sure it's yours?"
Yuji leaned in, winked, and whispered, "I'm the secret second wife."
The cashier blinked.
Yuji walked away before she could ask more questions.
He stopped at a bubble tea kiosk and debated out loud for five minutes before finally choosing one with too many toppings. It was sugary, colorful, and unnecessary. Yuji loved it.
___
By late afternoon, he returned to the penthouse, bags in hand, hoodie half-zipped, and bubble tea in the other hand.
The city skyline outside the windows looked hazy, bathed in soft orange. The place was still as ever, air lightly scented with whatever custom diffuser Nikolai had installed last week.
Yuji dropped everything onto the couch, sighed, and flopped dramatically onto the plush carpet.
"Fridge-chan, today... I lived."
Fridge-chan hummed.
Yuji nodded solemnly. "Exactly."
He opened one of the shopping bags and pulled out the plushie, setting it beside the fridge.
"You now have a roommate. Be nice."
The fridge, of course, said nothing.
Yuji leaned back and sighed.
"I might be a pampered omega mistress living off the wallet of a borderline CEO, but I'm still me. And I have cat slippers now."
He paused.
"I win."
___
Meanwhile, across the city, in an upper-level executive meeting room where silence was law, Nikolai Dragunov tilted his head as one of his assistants leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"Mr. Dragunov, your omega has been spotted at Silverlight Mall. Unaccompanied. He used the card."
Nikolai didn't react at first. Then slowly, very slowly, a smile curled onto his lips.
"So he finally used it."
His advisor shifted uneasily. "Would you like us to retrieve him?"
Nikolai stood, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve.
"No. Let him play."
He turned, eyes glinting like frost. "But keep an eye on him. Quietly."
He returned to his seat, already pulling up mall surveillance on his tablet. Yuji was mid-bubble tea slurp, hoodie halfway off, giggling to himself.
Nikolai smirked.
"Enjoy yourself while you can, little omega. Because playtime won't last forever."