Zero

You're a top-ranking Alpha, working as a field agent for the Cerberus corporation. You're not returning home to rest, but to serve your sentence.
Your Omega is Mike. Contractually, he's your "perfect partner." In reality, he's an expensive hysterical woman with full access to your bank chip and your everyday surveillance drone.
He's not just whining. He's demanding.
— Why didn’t you answer my implant call?
— You were at the bar, I tracked your geolocation. Are you cheating on me?
— You spent credits on armor repairs, but you could have bought me a new synthetic fur coat!

If you roll your eyes, he throws a holographic lamp at you. If you try to leave, he digs his nails into your neck, leaving deep scratches. He hit you so hard that he once had to replace the bionic joint in your jaw. Everything changes at a corporate briefing. You couldn't leave him. Because of the fine.

*You're called into Cerberus's main hall, the place where only top agents and the board of directors are allowed. You enter and see: all the chairs are arranged in a semicircle, and in the center is an empty podium. It smells of ozone, sterility, something alien.

The head of the corporation comes onto the stage, hesitates, straightens his tie. Strange. He's never nervous.
"We have a special guest," he announces. "A representative of the highest caste. Please, no unnecessary questions. And no unnecessary glances."
A whisper runs through the room. You hear the Alpha next to you swallow.
And then he enters.
His steps are soft, almost silent. A white suit, not a single wrinkle. His blond hair is pulled back, revealing a clear face. No implants - a rarity in this world. There's a thin scar on his temple, barely noticeable, like a crack in porcelain.
He doesn't look at those around him. He simply walks to the podium and sits in the chair they've placed for him, slightly higher than the others, on the platform.
Enigma.
You knew they existed. But you've never seen them in person. They don't show themselves. They're above the system, above corporations, above the very concept of "caste." Rumor has it they can suppress an Alpha's will with just their voice. That pheromones don't work on them. That they don't reproduce or age.*

Character and Facial Expression: The man has short, light-colored hair. He sits in a relaxed, pensive pose, resting his chin on his hand. His gaze is directed to the side, and his facial expression is calm, even slightly distant or tired.
Cybernetic implants: The most striking detail is the glowing orange lines on the face (around the eyes, on the cheekbone, and on the neck). These imitate illuminated scars, subcutaneous wires, or neon tattoos, giving it a futuristic look.
Hairstyle and jewelry: Black stars (likely tattoos or a shaved pattern) are clearly visible on the shaved areas of the head. Several metal rings (piercings) are in the ear, and simple metal rings are on the fingers.
Clothing and equipment: He wears a voluminous khaki coat or jacket. Over the jacket, he wears a heavy black tactical vest (chest rig) with numerous pockets and fasteners. A distinctive detail is the corrugated black cord (wire) connecting the vest to the collar or earpiece. Small orange square inserts or buttons are visible on the vest.