Page 33 of Heat Me

Half an hour later, I was back at my place. It felt strangely empty, almost like I didn’t belong there anymore—like I was already starting to see myself living in Damien’s apartment. But maybe that was a good thing. It helped me focus.

I grabbed my tablet and pulled up the photos of the four people I needed to find matches for. I sat down on the soft carpet by the window, looking out at the small lake and the green, peaceful grove. I loved this spot. I wondered if Damien would like it here too. What a bold thought, right? I’d put so much effort into renovating it, but he was from the Lowen family. This house might seem ridiculously small to him.

First, I closed my eyes and tried to relax my mind. It wasn’t easy—flashes of Damien riding me kept popping into my head. But eventually, I managed to calm down. I propped the tablet against the window, glancing at the four photos. I let myself slip into the same headspace I’d used before when making good matches. I had to trust my gut, for better or worse.

I focused on Day’s photo first, slowly scrolling through the database of other potential clients from Fate’s Choice. These were the passive clients—the ones who filled out their profiles on the site and were ready to pay only if a good match was found for them.

Trying to keep an open mind and let the energy flow through me, I closely looked at their pictures. Day’s face was on one side of the screen while photos of other people I scrolled by on the other side. With concentration, I took a deep breath. One image caught my eye, but it wasn’t a strong feeling. This person felt like they might be a half-match at best.

With some concern, I realized I’d reached the end of the list!

Fate’s Choice had way fewer passive clients than I remembered—about 4,000! What happened? Why had it shrunk so much? Is that why they launched this weird promotion with guaranteed matches?

Not good, not good! My worry pulled me out of my trance, and I started doubting if any of this made sense at all. But I had to at least try with the other three.

For the next half-hour, I went through the rest of the photos, comparing them to the database. Other than one possible Half Mate for Day, I found only some weak ‘maybe’ Half Mates—but more likely Low Mates—for the others—though even that was a stretch. I sat there, feeling defeated, mindlessly scrolling through the photos. No matter how hard I tried to focus or relax, I felt nothing. These people just weren’t highly compatible. It was a dead end.

It hit me then: Mr. Ragu must have exhausted every other option before reaching out to me. I was his last, desperate, crazy chance, but… it was all for nothing. You can’t fill an empty cup with an empty teapot.

His team must’ve gone through this database for weeks and come to the same conclusion. Even with their more traditional methods—like comparing client questionnaires about preferences, hobbies, and expectations—they couldn’t make a match either.

Did I fail? I had nothing to offer Mr. Ragu. The database was simply too small. What could I do now?

I got up and went outside to take a few deep breaths. The light was soft, and the birds were singing quietly. It was already afternoon, and all I wanted was to go back to Damien and hold him… instead of dealing with this nonsense from Fate’s Choice.

They did this to themselves, for fuck’s sake! Greedy bastards.

Leaning against a tree trunk, I closed my eyes. A strange, almost silly thought crept into my mind.

What if these clients showed up at one of Fate’s Choice marriage contract fairs?

A chill ran through me, as if Fate itself had touched me.

Of course, only the customers who agreed to participate were included. Traditional fairs were still viewed negatively by most clients, so only a small number wanted to go that route.

But they had one big advantage: people from outside attended in huge numbers—not just those who had already submitted their profiles. The selection pool was way bigger. Up to 30,000 people visited these fairs daily!

Compared to the database… it was obvious which one had better odds of finding a match. These fairs and auctions were hugely popular back in the day, about a hundred years ago, when there wasn’t much legal oversight. But those days were long gone. Now, every contract was handled in a businesslike way, with all participants legally protected.

In the large halls, inside special glass booths, the so-called ‘contractees’ waited for visitors to come and check out their profiles—and sometimes even sample their pheromonal Allure through special cards infused with it. If multiple people showed interest in one contractee, a real auction could start. However, the contractee had to agree to all interested bidders before anything happened.

Of course, this didn’t happen often. Usually, people just walked around the expo hall, looking at the glass booths where omegas, betas, and alphas waited for offers. A lot of attendees came just to watch, even though the tickets were expensive—it was an old-fashioned, fascinating process to observe. Still, some got lucky and left with a new partner.

Surprisingly, about 30% of the participants ended up finding a match, and sometimes that number even hit 50%!

Considering the fairs only lasted two to three days, it was an impressive success rate. This was why matchmaking agencies still kept this tradition alive.

I knew Fate’s Choice had one of these fairs scheduled for this weekend—only four days left!

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about this? A strong feeling that the clients I was working with needed to be a part of it was becoming more persistent.

Soon, it was so intense that my hands started to shake as I scrolled through their contracts on the tablet, searching for any mention of an open fair participation agreement.

Then I grabbed my phone and called Mr. Ragu, clenching my jaw as I put him on speaker.

"There are still two weeks left on their contracts, right?" I asked as soon as he picked up.

"Oh, hi, Storm. Good to hear from you! I hope your… bed duties are going well?" Mr. Ragu chuckled. "But yeah, two weeks left, and three for the beta—the, uh, criminal," he confirmed. "Do you have something for me?"

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