Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 105: Teenagers Behind The Bleachers

"Are you two alright?" he asks, his glance darting between our identically flushed faces.

"Why are both your faces so red? And you’re sitting there like you’ve just had a terrible fight."

I stay silent, looking down at my twisting hands, completely out of my depth.

Deniz looks at his father, nerves written in every line of his body. He touches his own cheek, as if just noticing the heat.

"No, Dad, it’s not like that," he says, his voice soft, almost breaking.

"We didn’t have a fight. And..." His gaze flickers to , quick and shy.

"I think... it’s just the winter. Our faces get red."

Mr. David stays silent for a beat, then picks up his spoon again.

"Is that so?"

My cheeks burn hotter. I nod quickly, seizing the lifeline.

"Yes. We didn’t... do anything."

Mr. David’s smile returns, but it’s a knowing one.

"Boys, I was just asking why you both seem so nervous."

He waves a hand as if to dismiss the topic, but his eyes remain on us, sharp and observant, trying to decipher the awkward energy crackling in the space between our bodies on the couch.

"Tell , how was your day?"

I manage a soft smile.

"It was good."

Deniz nods slowly.

"Mine too."

Mr. David’s gaze settles on . "You must be tired, coming all this way with Deniz just to see ."

A nervous smile touches my lips.

"No, I really wanted to et you."

He smiles, looking at Deniz, who is still studying the floor. "I’m very happy," Mr. David says, his voice warm, "knowing my son’s boss is so kind-hearted."

His eyes narrow slightly, sensing the unspoken tension. He smiles again, a different, more deliberate smile.

"Deniz, my son, can you go down to the canteen and bring so coffee? I’d like a cup."

Deniz looks up, surprised.

"Dad, now?"

Mr. David nods calmly.

"Yes. I want it now."

Deniz nods, stands, and walks to the door without another word. It opens and closes with a soft, definitive click behind him.

Now, it’s just the two of us.

Mr. David and .

I can feel his eyes on , patient and assessing. I look down, my fingers knotting together, squeezing until the knuckles turn white.

Why did he send him out?

It feels... intentional.

"Mr. Kael."

I flinch, looking up.

He smiles and pats the empty space on the bed beside him.

"Co here."

I blink, confused, surprised.

Why...?

Then, slowly, I rise and walk over, sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress, maintaining a respectful distance.

Mr. David looks at , a polite but penetrating smile on his lips.

"You look like a scared little bunny," he observes, his voice gentle.

My eyes widen, genuinely confused and caught.

His hand reaches out slowly. He pats my head, his fingers brushing lightly through my silver hair.

"I know sothing is going on between you two."

My eyes fly wide. I quickly look down.

"No, Mr. Dav—"

Before I can finish, he asks, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur, "Did you two kiss?"

My face erupts in a fresh inferno of shy, panicked heat.

How does he know?

Mr. David’s smile widens. "You don’t need to be shy."

I risk a slow glance at him, my voice a tiny whisper.

"How... how do you know we kis—?"

He laughs, a soft, warm sound.

"So my guess was right."

I blink at him, utterly exposed.

"Mr. Kael," he says, leaning in a little.

"I just noticed. Both your lips... the way they’re red. A little swollen. And your faces look like soone set them on fire. You’re both acting as shy as teenagers caught behind the bleachers."

He sighs, the amusent softening. "I’ve been young, too, you know."

I look down again. I have nothing to say.

No defense.

Mr. David’s smile fades into sothing more serious, more paternal. He studies for a long mont. "Mr. Kael," he says, his voice quiet but clear.

"Do you like my son?"

I don’t look at him. I have no courage to face him with this truth laid so bare.

Slowly, I give a single, shy nod.

He stares at for a while.

Is he angry?

The fear is cold in my stomach. I risk a glance up at him again, my expression surely that of a child awaiting a scolding.

My voice a small, scared whisper.

"Mr. David... are you angry with ?"

He stays silent for a beat, then... he laughs. Not a mocking laugh, but a warm, surprised chuckle.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

He reaches out and gently squeezes my flaming cheek.

"You’re so adorable."

I look at him, the fear lting into bewildered hope.

"I’m just surprised," he continues, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.

"You two kiss each other, and now you’re avoiding each other? It’s so childish. You should talk. Make sure about your feelings."

My voice is small. "Maybe... maybe Deniz didn’t want to. Maybe he’s angry with . I’m afraid."

Mr. David pats my shoulder.

"Son, Deniz... he’s a shy boy. He’s been like that since he was a child. So shy, even making friends was difficult for him. He always ended up alone, and..."

Mr. David stops suddenly. I look at him and see his eyes are glistening, wet. He looks away, composing himself.

"And... the other reason... he’s a Beta. I’ve always worried for him. In a world so focused on Alphas and Ogas..."

The unfinished sentence hangs in the air, full of a father’s quiet, lifelong anxiety. I stare, understanding dawning.

Of course. A parent’s worry.

Not about rank or status, but about happiness, about loneliness.

I reach out and take Mr. David’s hand in mine. He looks at , a little surprised.

I offer him a small, but genuine and honest smile. "Mr. David," I say, my voice firm with a promise I feel in my bones.

"I promise you. I will take the best care of both of you. And I will always, always make Deniz happy. No matter what happens, I will be with him."

I give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"You can trust ."

Mr. David looks at our joined hands, then back up at my face, his own eyes still shimring.

Slowly, a real, relieved smile begins to spread across his lips again.

...It’s a smile of surrender—of hope, of a burden finally shared.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t need to.

The trust is there, warm and solid in the quiet room.