He holds my gaze. The silence stretches between us, thin and dangerous.
Then he speaks.
"You’re the reason."
I freeze.
The words hang in the air, heavy and incomprehensible.
You’re the reason.
I blink, my mind scrambling to make sense of sothing that makes no sense.
My voice cos out cold, guarded. A shield.
"What do you an?"
Moon’s expression is calm, unreadable. He stays silent for a long mont, and in that silence I can hear my own heartbeat, feel the pulse throbbing at my temples.
Then his gaze shifts to the flowers on the table—the centerpiece I ignored, the roses I didn’t notice until now.
His hand reaches out, selecting a single red rose from the arrangent. He holds it delicately, his blue eyes fixed on its petals as if they hold answers to questions I haven’t asked.
The flower trembles slightly in his grip—or maybe that’s my vision blurring.
I watch him, waiting. The questions bubble inside , rising like steam from a pot about to boil over.
What does he an? What connection do I have to his rut?
Why would I be the reason for sothing so self-destructive?
A smirk touches Moon’s lips.
It’s not playful. Not warm.
It’s sothing dangerous, sothing that makes my stomach tighten and my hands clench beneath the table.
"Zyren."
His voice is soft, almost gentle, but there’s an edge beneath it—a blade wrapped in silk.
"Are you really that dumb?"
His gaze shifts back to , away from the flower. Those blue eyes, always so intense, now hold sothing I can’t na.
Sothing that makes want to look away and forces to hold still at the sa ti.
"Or are you just pretending?"
My mouth opens, but nothing cos out.
What can I say?
How can I explain sothing I don’t understand—sothing I don’t rember, sothing that belongs to the past of a person I replaced?
The silence stretches between us, heavy and accusing.
"Moon."
I force the words out, my voice steadier than I feel.
"Stop dancing around it. Just tell straight. What’s my connection to your rut?"
He studies for a long mont, his blue eyes searching my face like he’s looking for sothing hidden, sothing I’m not showing him.
I feel exposed under that gaze, stripped of all my defenses.
"I didn’t think you were this good of an actor," he says quietly.
His face is different now. No teasing. No playing. Just sothing raw underneath that I can’t quite na—sothing that looks almost like pain.
My gaze drops to my hands, resting on my lap. They’re trembling slightly, just barely. I clench them into fists, nails biting into palms.
He’s serious. He’s actually serious.
Did I miss sothing? Sothing important?
The thoughts race through my mind, frantic and scattered like leaves in a storm.
Sothing is wrong.
This is different from the novel I read.
Moon is still arrogant. Still dismissive. But his attention—his obsession—is on .
And now he’s saying I’m the reason he nearly destroyed himself during his rut.
In the book, Moon was always focused on Angel. Zyren was nothing more than an enemy to him, soone he clashed with again and again, their relationship built on mutual hatred.
But here—here he reacts to like I’m... like I’m his.
My eyes widen.
The thought stops mid-way, frozen in my mind like a deer in headlights.
I look up at him.
"You... like ?"
He goes still. Completely, utterly still. Like I’ve just asked the most absurd question in the universe—or the most devastating.
Neon, what are you doing? What are you asking?
He’s supposed to hate Zyren. They’re enemies. That’s how the story goes. That’s how it’s supposed to be.
After a long, agonizing pause, Moon bursts into laughter.
But it’s different from before. Not warm. Not playful. This laugh is sothing else entirely—sad, dangerous, maybe even broken.
It echoes off the walls, filling the space between us, and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s the sound of sothing cracking.
"Moon." My voice is tight, confused.
"I’m serious. Why are you laughing?"
He wipes the corner of his eye, still chuckling, but the sound is hollow. Empty.
"From the first mont you said you got in an accident and half your mories were gone, I thought you were lying. Just trying to protect yourself, to have an excuse."
He shakes his head slowly, staring at the rose in his hand.
"But now? You deserve an award for this performance."
"Moon, just answer . Straight."
The laughter fades.
His face becos serious, and when he speaks, the words are clear and loud and devastating.
"I love you."
My heart stops.
The room falls silent. The words hang between us, heavy and undeniable, filling every corner of this too-bright space.
His hand is clenched around the rose, crushing it without seeming to notice. The stem bends, the petals bruise, and red petals fall to the floor, to his lap, scattering like drops of blood across the white tablecloth.
His blue eyes are fixed on , burning with sothing I’ve never seen before—sothing raw and old and endless.
"I’ve loved you since we were children."
His voice cracks, just slightly, a hairline fracture in his carefully constructed armor.
"Everyone knew it. The whole family." A pause.
"Especially you. You’ve always known about my feelings."
He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving mine.
"And now you’re asking if I like you?"
I’m speechless. Completely, utterly speechless. My mind is a blank wall, and behind it, everything is crumbling.
Moon and Zyren are both Alphas. They’re enemies. How could they possibly love each other? It doesn’t make sense.
The male lead isn’t supposed to love the villain.
But here he is, looking at like I’m the only thing that matters.
The petals continue to fall, one by one, drifting down to join the small pile on the floor.
And I have no idea what to do now.
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