The air was thick with the cloying sweetness of pheromones — floral, honeyed, nauseating. Everywhere you looked: bonded Alphas hauling ridiculous quantities of furs, Omegas gliding around with rounded bellies and smug expressions, and hatchlings darting between legs like tiny scaled menaces.

And then there was Dabi.

His turquoise eyes snagged on a figure moving through the crowd, arms laden with bundles of dried moss and soft wool, clearly preparing a nest. Alone. No courting ribbons. No hovering Alpha. Just Y/n, carrying their own weight, not once glancing in his direction.

But he also didn't look away.