Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 18: Why Am I Paying for Zyren?

Zyke’s hand is still wrapped tightly around my wrist, his grip unyielding, almost crushing. His eyes lock onto mine—dangerously sharp, piercing through without blinking. The morning air is cold, but the chill no longer matters. What suffocates instead is his pheromone—strong, oppressive, heavy with anger.

He’s furious.

But why?

I didn’t do anything.

I try to step back, instinctively pulling at my wrist, but his fingers tighten instead. Pain shoots through my arm. I force a smile, shallow and strained, though fear curls deep inside my chest. I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel that pain again—the pain he gave last ti. It felt like standing at the gates of death, begging the god of rcy to look away.

His stare never wavers.

"Big... big brother," I say, my voice cautious, almost trembling. "What’s wrong?"

He doesn’t loosen his hold. Instead, he steps closer, invading my space, his shadow falling over .

"What are you trying to do?" he asks coldly.

I blink, completely confused.

"What... what did I do?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light, to ease the tension that’s choking the air between us.

His grip tightens again.

"You’re trying to pursue my wife."

The words hit like ice water.

I stare at him in disbelief.

This man really believes whatever he wants.

I’ve read countless novels—S-class Alphas are supposed to be sharp-minded, perceptive. But looking at him now, I seriously doubt it.

I try to step back again, my wrist still trapped in his hand, the pressure painful enough to make my fingers numb.

"Big brother, you’re misunderstanding," I say carefully. "Sister-in-law and I were just walking and chatting."

His pheromone thickens, flooding the space around us. My throat tightens, dry and uncomfortable.

"Really?" he says. "Just walking and talking?"

His fingers squeeze harder.

"Ah—!" I flinch, pain tearing from my wrist. "Big brother, it hurts!"

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t even blink.

Enough.

I wrench my hand free with force, ignoring the sharp sting, and look down at my wrist.

Red fingerprints bloom against my skin, angry and undeniable. My chest rises and falls as frustration finally spills over.

I’m trying to be good.

I’m trying to stay quiet.

And he’s hurting without reason.

I look up at him, my voice no longer polite. "Big brother, can’t you just talk normally?"

Sothing shifts—just slightly—in his expression. Not much. But enough to notice.

"Why are you so angry?" I continue, forcing myself to stay calm. "Sister-in-law and I were just enjoying the morning air. He likes flowers, so I kept him company and talked about them. That’s all. I don’t have any bad intentions."

His eyes narrow.

I sigh, exhausted. "Why would I even pursue my sister-in-law? If I wanted to pursue soone, I’d definitely choose a rare Oga, or—"

I don’t get to finish.

A sudden, brutal punch slams into my face.

Pain explodes.

The world spins.

I fall onto the grass with a strangled sound. "Ah—!"

Oh god...

Why did he hit ?

Zyke stands over , looking down without a trace of regret.

"How dare you say my Oga isn’t rare and beautiful," he says coldly.

I clutch my face, lying helplessly on the grass. My head spins violently, my ears ringing. Sothing warm touches my lips.

Blood.

I try to speak, to argue, to explain that I didn’t an it like that—but my mouth hurts too much. Every movent sends sharp pain through my jaw.

He steps back.

Then he turns away.

"Don’t ever co close to my Oga again," he says without looking at .

"Especially—don’t give him flowers," His voice hardens, final and rciless.

"If you ever do it again, I’ll kill you."

I still lie on the grass, one hand pressed to my aching face, staring blankly at the sky above . The blue feels too wide, too distant.

I try my best to be good... and yet I still get punched.

Wow, Neon.

In your first life, you were poor and lonely.

In this second life, you’re rich—but still drowning in problems.

And the loneliness? It never changed.

I wish... just once... soone would care about .

My eyes slowly close as the cold morning air brushes against my skin. Silence wraps around . Zyren did countless wrong things—so why am I the one being punished now? Why am I the one struggling so hard just to be a good person?

I’m not Zyren.

So why is it who has to suffer for his sins?

I lie there without moving, my body heavy against the grass, almost like a corpse abandoned under the sky.

Then—

A soft touch.

I flinch and quickly open my eyes.

Golden hair sways gently in the breeze, glowing under the morning light. I blink in disbelief.

Angel is sitting beside .

His hands cup my face carefully, so gently it almost hurts more than the punch. His eyes are filled with worry, trembling with fear.

"Young master... are you alright?" he asks, his voice shaking.

His gaze drops to my mouth. "Your lips... they’re bleeding, young master..."

I stare at him without blinking.

He’s worried about .

His touch is warm, careful, like I might shatter if he presses too hard. His pheromones reach —sweet, soft, strawberries—and stronger than usual. I rember reading about this... when an oga is scared or distressed, their pheromones spill out without them realizing.

"Young master..." he whispers again, almost pleading.

I finally blink.

He looks unreal in the sunlight—soft, golden, painfully beautiful. Slowly, I push myself up, my body still aching. His hands never leave my face.

"Young master, are you alright?" he asks again.

I try to smile. The movent pulls at my injured lip.

"Ah—"

He tenses imdiately.

"I’m fine," I manage to say softly. "Don’t worry."

Angel softly asks, " Young Master what are you doing here... lying on the grass like a dead body?"

I blink up at him, feeling the softness of the grass beneath . Slowly, I turn my head and answer lightly, "Just... enjoying the fresh air."

His gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips—still stained with blood.

"...Like this?" he asks quietly.

I smile at him, soft and careless, as if nothing hurts at all.

He helps to my feet, steadying carefully, as if afraid I might fall again. Together, we walk back into the mansion—his presence quiet beside , warm and real.