Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 163: Let’s Be Stupid And Young And In Love

After a warm conversation with Mr. David—filled with laughter and teasing—Deniz and I walk through the hospital corridor, our footsteps echoing softly against the sterile white walls.

His steps are calm, asured, but sothing has shifted between us. Our hands are still joined, fingers laced together like before, but the warmth that was there monts ago—that easy warmth from his father’s laughter and blessings—has faded.

Cooled. Withdrawn.

The smile that lit up his face is gone.

Completely gone.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye, stealing glances the way you might check a wound when you’re afraid of what you’ll find. His face is blank.

Not angry. Not sad. Just... empty.

Like soone turned off the light behind his eyes, and all that’s left is a body going through the motions.

His teacher. Mr. Bryan.

The na echoes in my mind, a stone dropped into still water, ripples spreading outward.

Why does it affect him like this? What happened between them that a single na can drain the light from his eyes?

Does he not like his teacher?

No—that’s not right. If he didn’t like him, he wouldn’t keep his picture displayed in his apartnt.

A mory preserved. A mont worth rembering.

So what is it? What makes him look like this? What mory lives in that na that steals my Deniz away?

The questions burn on my tongue, desperate to be asked.

Deniz, what’s wrong? Who is he to you? Why does his na make you disappear like this?

But what if asking makes it worse? What if he’s not ready to tell ? What if I push and he pulls away, and the distance between us becos sothing I can’t cross?

No, Neon. You’re not going to ask. You’re going to wait until he feels comfortable enough to tell you himself.

That’s what love does—it waits. It trusts. It gives space without abandoning.

But waiting is hard. So hard. Every step we take in silence adds another small weight to my chest.

I hate seeing him like this—this blank, distant version of my Deniz. It feels like he’s lost sowhere far away, sowhere I can’t reach, and I’m left holding only the shell of him.

I sigh softly, looking down at our feet moving in unison.

Left, right, left, right.

The rhythm of our steps is the only thing that feels normal—the only proof that we’re still connected, still moving forward together even when he’s sowhere I can’t follow.

The automatic doors sense our approach and slide open with a soft whoosh, releasing us into the night.

We step out together.

The air wraps around us imdiately—not cold, not warm, but sowhere in between. Sothing that feels almost alive, like the night itself is breathing.

The hospital’s fluorescent glow fades behind us, and the open sky stretches above—endless and deep.

Stars scatter across the black velvet sky like careless promises, thousands of tiny lights burning in the vast distance.

A half-moon hangs low and bright, casting soft silver light over everything—the parking lot, the trees, our faces. It paints the world in shades of blue and shadow.

The driver appears instantly, moving with practiced efficiency to open the door.

I hold up a hand. "No need. You may go."

Deniz blinks. The sound of my voice seems to pull him back from wherever he was wandering. He looks at , and I see the effort it takes for him to focus, to be present in this mont with .

I smile—gentle, encouraging, full of everything I can’t say. "The night is beautiful. Let’s walk for a while. I’d like that."

He doesn’t answer at first. Just looks at with those dark eyes that hold so much I can’t see—so much he hasn’t told . Then he nods. A small movent, but it’s enough.

The driver bows lightly. "Please call when you need , Young Master."

I nod, and he slides back into the car. The engine hums to life, the sound fading as the vehicle pulls away, leaving us alone on the quiet hospital steps.

Deniz’s eyes are still on , waiting. Patient. Empty.

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool night air. It tastes like freedom, like possibility. Then I look up at the sky—at the stars scattered like dreams, at the moon hanging heavy and bright and silver.

"Deniz." My voice is soft, almost shy. The word feels fragile in the stillness.

He watches , silent.

"Do you know what I dream about?" I keep my gaze on the sky, feeling my cheeks warm despite the cool air.

"With my eyes open?"

He doesn’t answer, but I feel his attention sharpen. A small shift, but I notice.

"A beautiful night."

The words co slowly, drawn straight from my heart.

"A quiet street, all lit up with warm lights from the shops and the streetlamps. And we’re walking together, holding hands like this."

I squeeze his fingers gently, a small reassurance. "And you buy ice cream. Two cones—one for each of us. And we walk slowly, sharing bites, laughing at nothing, smiling at everything. Like teenagers on their first date."

I turn to look at him then, eting his eyes. I want him to see the truth there—that this isn’t a joke, not so passing whim I’ll forget tomorrow.

This is real. This is what my heart wants.

Simple. Ordinary. Him.

"I know it sounds silly." A small, self-deprecating smile touches my lips.

"The famous businessman Zyren Kael, heir to an empire, dreaming about childish things like ice cream and hand-holding on quiet streets."

I shrug slightly. "But I really want it. I really want that with you."

Deniz stares at .

His eyes widen in shock—of course they do.

Who wouldn’t be?

The cold, untouchable heir to the Kael fortune, the man people call a monster in human skin, confessing a fantasy straight out of a teenage romance novel. It doesn’t fit. It shouldn’t fit.

But it’s true.

It’s all true.

"Deniz?" His na is a question, soft and uncertain. The silence stretches, and I start to worry I’ve said too much—revealed too much, made myself too vulnerable.

He doesn’t answer with words.

Instead, he pulls into his arms.

The hug is sudden, tight, desperate. His arms wrap around like he’s afraid I might disappear, like I’m sothing precious he’s just realized he could lose. His face presses against my shoulder, his breath warm through my shirt.

My hands rise slowly, hesitantly, then settle on his back. I hold him just as tightly, matching his desperation with my own.

For a long mont, we stand like that—two figures wrapped around each other beneath a sky full of stars.

The world fades away. The hospital, the questions about Bryan, the weight of the day—all of it slips quietly into the dark.

Then he whispers against my ear. His voice is rough, thick with sothing I can’t quite na—maybe emotion, maybe relief.

"Zyren."

A pause. I feel him gather himself.

"Let’s do it."

Another pause.

"Let’s do all those silly teenager things. Let’s walk on quiet streets and eat ice cream and hold hands and laugh at nothing."

His arms tighten around .

"Let’s be stupid and young and in love. Together."

I close my eyes and hold him tighter.