Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 182: I Don’t Want To Lose My Pheromones

I sit on the hospital bed, my hands folded in my lap, my gaze fixed on the pale wall in front of . The nurse works beside with practiced gentleness, her fingers cool against my skin as she removes the IV tape, pulling it away in one slow, careful motion.

The needle slips out, and I feel nothing—not the small sting, not the pressure. Just a hollow emptiness where sensation should be.

She presses a cotton pad against the tiny wound, holding it there for a mont before securing it with a strip of dical tape. Her movents are rhythmic, soothing, the kind of routine she’s perford a thousand tis before. But nothing about this feels routine to .

My face is blank.

You’re turning into a Beta.

The doctor’s words circle in my mind like restless birds, never landing, their shadows passing over again and again.

Is it true?

Will I really lose my peach blossom scent—the one thing that marks , that connects to Deniz in a way words never could?

The nurse glances at , a soft, professional smile on her lips. "Mr. Kael, would you like sothing to eat?"

I blink, and the world rushes back in a sudden flood of light and color. I look at her, at her kind face, at the way she holds herself like soone who has seen too much to be surprised by anything anymore.

"No. I’m fine."

My gaze drops to my lap. My hands lie there, still and pale, the bandage white against my skin.

I’m not hungry. I’m not anything.

Not sad, not angry, not relieved.

Just hollow.

A strange, naless weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to draw a full breath.

She nods, but she doesn’t move to leave. She hesitates, her fingers lingering on the edge of the tray.

"Mr. Kael..."

I look up.

"I know it’s not professional," she says quietly, her voice dropping to sothing almost private.

"But I wanted to ask... are you alright?"

I stare at her. Her eyes are kind, untouched by power or expectation. She isn’t asking as a nurse—just as soone who sees I’m in pain and wants to help.

I try to smile. It feels thin, fragile, a mask that doesn’t quite fit the face beneath it.

"I’m fine. Thank you for asking."

Her smile widens, and for a mont, it’s real. She sets down the tray she’s been holding, her movents unhurried now.

"Please don’t stress yourself too much. It can make your condition worse." A pause, and her voice softens further.

"But trait changing isn’t bad at all."

I watch her, waiting.

"I’ve seen patients who were devastated when they learned their traits were changing."

She picks up an empty vial, turning it over in her hands, not really seeing it. "They thought it was the end of everything. Who they were, who they could be. But after so ti..."

She looks at . "They were happy. Happier than before, so of them."

I stay silent, letting her words settle in the quiet space between us.

She’s right, in her own way. Turning into a Beta isn’t the end of the world.

Maybe it’s better than living as a D-Class Alpha, the lowest rank, the one everyone looks down on, the one that made Zyren Kael a disappointnt to everyone who claid to love him.

Maybe being nothing is easier than being sothing not good enough.

But sothing inside is afraid— of losing sothing I can’t even na.

"What are you thinking?" she asks gently.

I turn my gaze to the glass wall. Night has already fallen.

The city stretches below, lights scattered across the dark.

I didn’t even notice when the day ended.

"I’m not sad about my trait changing," I say quietly.

She blinks. "Then why are you sad?"

I stay silent for a long mont, watching the lights flicker in the distance, watching the cars trace their slow paths through the city’s veins. When I speak, my voice is barely a whisper, as if saying it aloud might make it too real.

"I don’t want to lose my pheromones." A pause. "They make my partner feel good."

I stop, my eyes widening as the words settle between us. I just told her too much.

The nurse’s smile doesn’t waver. If anything, it softens, becos sothing warr, sothing that holds more understanding than I expected.

"So that’s why you’re sad." She sets the tray aside, her movents slow, deliberate.

"I can understand that."

She leans back slightly, her voice taking on a quality that reminds of soone sharing a secret.

"Don’t worry, Mr. Kael. I won’t tell anyone. You can trust ."

I look at her, and this ti my smile is real. Small, fragile, but real. "Thank you."

She gathers the empty vials, arranging them on the tray with careful hands. "Mr. Kael." She pauses, looking up at .

"Pheromones are part of our bodies. Not our souls."

I hold her gaze.

"And love is connected to our souls, not our bodies." Her voice is steady, certain. "We don’t need scents or pheromones for love. It exists beneath all of that, underneath everything that changes. It’s the one thing that stays."

She picks up the tray, preparing to leave.

"So please don’t stress yourself over this. I’ll pray you get well soon, and your trait doesn’t change. That you keep your pheromones. But if you don’t..." She ets my eyes one last ti.

"The people who love you will still love you. That’s not sothing you can lose."

I stare at her, the words settling in my chest, warm and quiet.

She moves toward the door, then pauses. "Please rest well. Your next IV will be in two hours. Until then, you can walk, stretch—whatever you need." A soft smile. "Call if you need anything."

I nod, smiling, a little lighter than before. "Thank you."

She slips out, and the door closes with a soft click.

I let out a slow breath, the tension in my shoulders easing for the first ti since the doctor spoke.

She’s right. I don’t need to worry about losing sothing that was never the foundation of what Deniz and I share.

My gaze drifts to the couch.

Moon is there, leaning back against the cushions, his head tilted at an angle that can’t be comfortable, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in the slow, even rhythm of deep sleep.

His face is slack, peaceful, the sharp edges that define him when he’s awake softened into sothing almost gentle. His blue hair is tousled, spilling across his forehead, strands tangled in a way he’d never allow if he were conscious.

I stare at him. I hadn’t even noticed when he drifted off—too lost in my own thoughts, wandering sowhere hollow.

When the doctor told about my condition, Moon’s face changed. He went still. Silent. As if the diagnosis was his to carry too. As if my body was betraying us both.

He stayed with all day. Watched over . Kept grounded when the world felt like it was shifting beneath my feet.

He must be exhausted.

The room is cool, the air conditioning humming softly in the walls. He’s wearing only a thin shirt, and the chill will wake him soon.

I rise from the bed and take the blanket, moving toward the couch on silent feet. I drape it over him, tucking the edges around his shoulders, careful not to disturb him.

He stirs, a small movent, and a strand of blue hair falls across his closed eyes. Without thinking, I reach out and brush it back, my fingers grazing his temple, his skin warm beneath my touch.

He’s arrogant. Stubborn. Prideful. Infuriating. He’s done things I can’t forgive, said things I can’t forget, pushed to the edge of my patience more tis than I can count.

But he’s not a bad person.

I watch him sleep, my hand resting lightly at his temple, and for the first ti... I notice.

All the ways he’s been there. All the monts I chose not to see.

The door opens. No knock.

I blink, turning.

Deniz stands in the doorway. His tie is loose, hanging undone around his neck. His hair is disheveled, dark strands falling across his forehead.

His breath cos in uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling like he ran here, like he couldn’t wait another second.

His eyes find first—scanning, checking, making sure I’m whole, that I’m here, that I’m real. Then they move to the couch. To Moon. To my fingers still resting against his temple, tangled in his soft blue hair.