Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 103: Walking On Clouds

I stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of my office, a solitary figure against a backdrop of night and silent, falling snow.

I stare out, unblinking, but I don’t see the city lights.

I’m seeing Angel’s face. His reaction—or lack of it—after my confession. The quiet "I feel a little weird. I want to go back."

No judgnt. No smile. Just a gentle, bewildered retreat that left a hollow, sad little ache under my ribs.

Why did he behave like that?

The question is a cold stone in my chest. I’m so lost in the chill of it that I don’t hear the first knock.

The second one pulls back. I blink, the snowy night coming into focus.

"Co in."

The door opens. I don’t need to turn.

I see his reflection in the dark glass—a familiar, steady silhouette that always seems to appear when I’m feeling most adrift.

A soft, helpless smile touches my lips even before I face him.

"Sir," Deniz says, his voice respectful.

"It’s getting late."

I slowly turn, eting his gaze directly across the wide room. "Deniz," I say, the idea forming and flying from my lips in the sa instant.

"Can I stay at your place tonight?"

He blinks, caught off guard.

"Sir... but I..."

I look down, letting my shoulders slump just a fraction. My voice softens, adopting the tone of a gently rejected child.

"You don’t want to stay..."

I look back up, widening my eyes, pouring every ounce of innocent, sad longing into my gaze.

"Please? Let stay?"

I blink, waiting.

He stares at , utterly confused, wrestling with propriety and the undeniable, puppy-dog plea in my expression.

"I’m sorry," he finally says, and my heart dips for a second.

"Tonight, I’m going to stay at the hospital. With my dad."

Every trace of manufactured innocence vanishes from my face. It’s replaced by a brilliant, beaming smile that feels like sunshine breaking through clouds.

"That’s perfect!"

I declare, already moving. I stride to the coat stand, snatch my coat, and shrug into it.

"I want to et Mr. David, too. Let’s go quickly—he must be waiting!"

"But, sir—!" Deniz tries, but I’m already crossing the room.

I take his hand, lacing our fingers together with a soft, triumphant smile.

"Let’s go."

I don’t ask. I lead. I pull him gently toward the door, and after a mont’s stunned hesitation, he follows.

We step into the hallway, his hand warm and secure in mine. I march us toward the elevators, a bright, irrepressible smile lighting up my face.

Every sad, confused thought about Angel is pushed aside, blown away by the simple, giddy joy of his presence.

The hollow ache is gone, replaced by a feeling so light and sweet it’s dizzying.

Whenever I’m with him, I feel like I’m walking on clouds.

The elevator descends in a hushed glide. The silence between us isn’t awkward; it’s peaceful, filled with the shared warmth of our joined hands.

A smile still tugs at my lips, a private, giddy thing. Deniz stands beside , eyes downcast, his cheeks flushed a constant, endearing shade of pink.

The numbers tick down slowly. Finally, a soft clink.

The doors slide open.

We step out into the grand lobby, walking side-by-side without needing to look back.

The world outside is a snowy blur.

"Deniz," I say, my voice light with the new plan forming.

"We should take dinner with us for Mr. David. Can you tell what he likes?"

Deniz glances at . "Dad likes fish soup most. Especially in winter."

I nod, already making a ntal note.

"Then fish soup it is."

We take a few more steps across the polished marble.

And then I see him.

My smile freezes, then shatters.

Moon Arden strides through the main entrance, a force of nature in a tailored coat, surrounded by that invisible, arrogant aura that seems to part crowds before him.

He hasn’t seen .

Not yet.

I spin on my heel, my movent so abrupt it yanks Deniz’s arm.

I start walking quickly back the way we ca, my pace hurried, my heart beginning to drum a frantic beat against my ribs.

"Sir?" Deniz’s voice is laced with confusion, pulled along beside .

"Where are we going?"

I don’t answer. I can’t.

I just need to be not here, not seen. I push through a set of heavy glass doors marked ’Conference Room B,’ pulling him in after .

The room is dark, empty, lit only by the ergency exit sign and the ghostly blue light from the digital projector.

I lean back against the cold wall, closing my eyes, trying to catch the breath that fear has stolen.

Thank God. Thank God.

"Sir..." Deniz’s voice is closer now, soft with worry.

"Is everything alright?"

I open my eyes. He’s standing right in front of , our hands still linked in the dark.

My breathing is uneven from the sudden sprint.

"Sir?" he prompts again, his face a pale oval of concern in the gloom.

I don’t answer with words. My free hand moves. It finds the smooth silk of his tie.

I give it a gentle, decisive tug, pulling him forward until he stumbles a step closer.

His eyes fly wide with shock. Our bodies are almost touching.

His temple brushes against mine. I can feel the rapid, startled flutter of his pulse where our skin ets.

My own heart is still racing, a wild drum of evasion and sudden, shocking proximity.

"Shh..." I whisper, the sound a soft breath against his cheek.

His eyes are locked on mine, wide and unblinking. His cheeks are a furnace in the cool, dark room.

Our breaths mingle in the scant space between our lips—his warm and quick with surprise, mine still uneven from the adrenaline.

"Just be silent," I murmur, the words a fragile secret in the dark.

"For a little while."

We stand frozen, pressed against the wall in the deserted room. My hand is still fisted in his tie.

His hand is still warm in mine.

The only sounds are our mingled, shallow breaths and the distant, muffled hum of the building.

My entire world has narrowed to this hidden corner, to the warmth of him, to the shared, silent act of hiding.

The fear of Moon finding is still there, a cold thread in my blood.

But beneath it, thrumming louder with every second, is the terrifying, exhilarating awareness that I am not hiding alone.