Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 13: I Want A Future With Him

I sit silently in the office, leaning back in my chair, eyes fixed on the vast glass wall ahead. Beyond it, the city glows under the night sky—millions of lights shimring like stars fallen to the ground. It’s late. Too late to pretend this day hasn’t carved itself into my bones.

I don’t dare go back to the mansion.

Zyke’s words echo in my mind, sharp and rciless.

Be ready.

I release a slow, shaky breath.

He’s planning sothing.

I know it. Sothing bigger. Sothing crueler.

Just the mory makes my skin flinch.

That pressure—his S-class pheromones crashing over , crushing my lungs, dragging to the edge of death as if my life weighs nothing at all.

In the novel, Zyke returns to the country for two reasons: to snatch the main business from Zyren... and to take revenge.

I thought politeness might soften him.

I thought kindness could lt that frozen arrogance.

How naïve.

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t warn. He simply attacks—using pheromones like a weapon, like punishnt.

I let out a dramatic, exhausted groan, rubbing my face.

"Ahh... fine. I admit it. In this world, pheromones really are everything."

No wonder people obsess over rankings. No wonder power decides worth.

I loosen my tie, fingers trembling slightly, and stand. My steps carry to the glass wall, where the city’s glow reflects faintly against my tired face. I stop there, palm resting against the cold surface.

I need a way out of this.

No—

I need a way through this.

I need Zyke’s trust. His understanding. His love—the kind of love an elder brother is supposed to give, not the kind that looks down from above and crushes what’s beneath it.

I want him to realize the truth.

That he started this war first.

He was the one who looked down on his own little brother.

The one who let pride and rankings poison blood ties.

The one who chose superiority over protection.

My fingers press lightly against the cold glass.

So what if Zyren is a D-class alpha?

What’s so unforgivable about that?

He’s still human.

He still feels pain.

He still wants love, wants warmth, wants to be chosen.

Yes—Zyren chose the wrong path. He let bitterness turn him into a villain, made people suffer just to make them regret what they did to him.

But I’m not going to choose that path.

I won’t beco a villain again.

Instead, I’ll make everyone regret what they did to this villain in the past—

not through cruelty,

not through revenge,

but by becoming sothing they never expected.

A good boy.

There’s a soft knock at the door before it opens. Deniz steps inside—perfect posture, calm obedience woven into every movent.

"Sir... it’s late."

I don’t turn imdiately. Instead, I watch his reflection in the glass wall—clear, neat, unwavering. After a mont, I ask quietly,

"Did you eat dinner?"

He looks startled, clearly not expecting that question. After a brief pause, he answers honestly,

"Not yet, sir."

I turn to face him.

"I didn’t eat either," I say calmly. "Let’s have dinner together."

His eyes widen—just a little—but it’s enough to betray his shock. He lowers his gaze quickly.

"Sir—"

I cut him off gently.

"Our lunch plan was cancelled," I say. "So let’s eat dinner instead."

He hesitates, fingers curling slightly at his sides.

"Sir... I’m your secretary. How can I—"

I look at him then, really look at him.

"You’re right I’m your boss..."

His dark eyes lift, round and startled when they et mine. God—he looks unbearably cute like this.

I glance at my watch.

"It’s already ten," I say with a small smile. "Let’s go outside."

"Sir—?"

His voice follows , confused, almost panicked.

I’m already walking toward the door. He trails after in silence, clearly trying to understand what’s happening inside my head.

The mont we step outside, cold night air hits my skin. Deniz moves ahead instinctively, opening the car door for . I stop.

I don’t get in.

He waits, head lowered, posture perfect. When I don’t move, he finally looks up.

"Sir, please sit. The night air is freezing."

I stay where I am, studying him calmly.

Then I step closer.

He freezes.

I raise my hand—not commanding, not sharp—just open.

"Hi," I say softly. "I’m Zyren. And you are...?"

The wind stirs his black hair, brushing it across his forehead. He stares at like I’ve broken reality itself.

I smile.

"In the company, we’re boss and employee," I say gently. "But we’re outside now. I’m not your boss. And you’re no longer my secretary."

My hand remains raised.

"Let’s be friends."

His gaze flickers down to my hand. His lips part slightly.

"Sir..."

"We’re outside," I remind him quietly. "I’m not your boss."

After a long pause, he slowly lifts his hand. I feel the faint tremor when our hands et.

Why is he shaking?

I’m only a D-class alpha—weak, controlled. My pheromones can’t overpower anyone. I won’t hurt him... so why is he trembling?

I tighten my fingers just enough to reassure, not trap.

I smile.

"So... your na?"

He blinks, then realization dawns.

"I—I’m Deniz."

"Deniz," I repeat warmly. "Let’s be friends."

He nods, still stunned, and gently pulls his hand back.

"Deniz," I say again, "let’s eat dinner together tonight."

"Yes, si—" He stops himself, cheeks faintly tense. "...Yes."

"My na is Zyren," I add.

He looks at again, softer this ti.

"Zy... Zyren."

"Yes." I smile. "Now let’s sit."

I take the backseat. Deniz automatically opens the passenger door, then hesitates when I speak again.

"Deniz," I say quietly, "we’re friends. Sit with ."

He looks at like a deer caught in a lion’s gaze—frozen, uncertain, heart racing. In the end, he nods and slips into the backseat beside .

I glance at him, careful, restrained.

I don’t want to trap him.

I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

I just want to be close—

because I want a future with him.