Kim Nami stepped onto the stage as the lighting warmed to gold.
DayBreak and LUNELLE had been greeted with deafening screams.
Nami received something different: sustained applause, affectionate and expectant. Even the trainees around me settled down.
She wore a silver-blue gown that caught the light whenever she moved. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, and her makeup was understated enough that I could read her expression on the monitor.
Kim Nami was openly Omega.
Not rumored to be. Not hiding behind a synthetic Beta scent patch and a prescription bottle.
Openly, publicly Omega.
Years ago, I'd watched an interview in which she'd explained why she refused roles portraying Omegas as helpless or permanently dependent on Alphas. Her career had flourished regardless. She'd built a name powerful enough to make producers listen.
That didn't mean she'd never faced consequences. It meant she'd found a way to stand in front of the world without pretending to be someone else.
