ODKO | Chapter 7

When Jack mentioned he might have hurt his head, Rick Wyatt observed him closely, wondering if he was seriously injured.

Jack’s eyes widened in shock as he looked past Rick Wyatt toward the lavishly decorated podium of the inauguration ceremony. Rick, who had worked alongside Jack Carlson for quite some time, had never seen such a dumbfounded expression on his face.

Curious about what had startled Jack, Rick turned his head. And there, standing on the podium, was the very topic he had intended to discuss with Jack Carlson.

Greetings, brave Red Repelz. I am Cayenne Madison, assuming the position of the 38th Commander.

A young man—almost too young to be sitting in the position of Knight Commander—stood at the podium. His jet-black hair gleamed blue under the sunlight, his skin was white and flawless, as if he had never faced hardship, and his features toed the delicate line between handsome and beautiful.

“Huh, uh, ugh, huh…?”

Jack made incoherent sounds, oblivious to Rick Wyatt’s piercing gaze. The delayed shock struck him like a blow to the back of the head, momentarily robbing him of his ability to speak. His hands trembled, and his mind felt as if it were aboard a storm-tossed ship, making his vision blur.

Rick Wyatt stifled a laugh at Jack Carlson’s foolish reaction.

“Hey, isn’t it ridiculous? I was wondering what kind of strange guy they’d bring in from the prestigious Madison family, and—it’s hilarious, right? He looks like he’s only ever used a paper knife, and yet he’s the Knight Commander.”

Rick Wyatt, unable to predict or understand Jack Carlson’s confusion, spoke to him as if they were close friends, casually throwing an arm around his shoulder. But Jack didn’t hear a word of it. He didn’t even realize Rick had touched him.

Why? How?

The person standing on the podium was the very Omega he had met in the secret warehouse not long ago. The disheveled figure from before had vanished, replaced by a perfectly composed man with not a hair out of place. The sash draped over his shoulder and the sword at his waist left no room for imperfection.

“Why, that, oh…”

Why is our Commander an Omega?

Jack, overwhelmed by confusion, almost blurted it out. Fortunately, his impaired language skills—and the fact that the Omega on the podium was looking directly at him—kept him from saying anything noticeable.

Cayenne Madison, standing on the podium, fixed his gaze on Jack Carlson. The moment those piercing blue eyes locked onto him, Jack involuntarily let out a loud hiccup.

Whether it was just his imagination or not, Cayenne’s stare felt unbearably sharp.

“What the—did he hear us…? It looks like he’s looking this way.”

Rick Wyatt withdrew his arm from Jack’s shoulder, muttering in a subdued voice. Even in this situation, his habit of talking to himself remained unchanged.

“As I assume the position of Commander of this knight order, the Red Repelz will embark on a new path.”

Cayenne spoke in a low but powerful voice from the podium, his words amplified by magic. Remembering how that same voice had sounded in the warehouse not long ago, Jack involuntarily swallowed.

The chilling sensation spreading from his throat—was it fear, embarrassment, or excitement? Even Jack himself couldn’t tell.

As Cayenne continued speaking, he subtly moved his hand.

“A sound and noble knight order—one without scandals among its members. A solid, moderate, and strong knight order.”

Was it just his imagination, or had the word “sound” been deliberately emphasized?

Jack, still in a daze, focused on Cayenne’s hand. From an angle where others couldn’t see, he was using hand signals—conveying a message that was impossible to ignore.

The subtle gestures were, in fact, a wartime code. While trained individuals could decipher it, everyone else was too absorbed in the new Knight Commander’s speech to notice. No one paid attention to the small hand movements—except for Jack Carlson, who had been singled out.

The hand signals conveyed a clear message:

Today. Reveal. Death.

When combined, the meaning was unmistakable.

“If you reveal today’s events, you’ll die by my hand.”

Hearing those words spoken in the sweet voice of the Omega, Jack suddenly felt as if he had been thrown into a winter training ground, stripped bare and left to shiver in the cold.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did you really hit your head that hard?”

Rick Wyatt looked at Jack Carlson, who was trembling as if struck by lightning, his eyes wide with concern. There was genuine worry in Rick’s gaze, but Jack was too overwhelmed to feel grateful. He was frozen in extreme confusion—unsure whether to cry or laugh, to consider desertion, or resign himself to a lifetime as the Commander’s lackey.

“I conclude my inauguration speech, hoping and wishing that our proud knights of the Repels will serve the glorious empire with a sound and solid mindset and body.”

Cayenne finished his speech without taking his sharp gaze off Jack, as if issuing a warning. His white cheeks and delicate features, gleaming in the sunlight, were just as breathtaking on the podium as they had been in the warehouse.

Without realizing it, Jack smiled fondly at that pretty face. But his mind was consumed by a single thought.

‘…I’m screwed…’