Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 206: Love Has No Rules

—One week earlier—

The makeup room is steeped in silence, broken only by the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant murmur of the set beyond the door.

It’s the kind of silence that settles into the bones—making a person feel more alone than they already are.

Angel sits in front of the mirror, but he isn’t looking at himself.

His reflection stares back—golden hair falling across his forehead, dark circles shadowing his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line—but he doesn’t see any of it.

His gaze is fixed on the phone in his hands, the screen glowing with ssages he’s sent into an endless, indifferent void.

Unseen.

Unanswered.

Unreturned.

He scrolls up slowly, rereading his own words— each one like a stone dropped into a bottomless well. Falling. And never making a sound.

Zyren, how was your day?

Six days ago.

No reply.

I tried that new café you ntioned. The coffee was good. You should co with soti.

Five days ago.

No reply.

Are you busy? I know you are. I just wanted to say I miss you.

Three days ago.

No reply.

I miss you.

Yesterday.

Today.

Always.

He scrolls again, hoping for sothing new—a single word, a reaction, anything to prove soone on the other end is still there. But the screen doesn’t change. The ssages remain frozen in ti.

Unread.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

"Maybe he’s busy," Angel murmurs—to himself, to the empty room, to the silence that has beco his only companion.

His voice is soft, fragile—the voice of soone trying to believe sothing that no longer feels true.

"Otherwise... he wouldn’t just..."

He stops. He can’t finish it. The words would hurt too much.

The door opens.

The makeup artist steps inside, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Her movents are brisk, practiced—the movents of soone who has done this a thousand tis and will do it a thousand more.

"Mr. Angel," she says, already reaching for her brushes, "let’s finish your touch-up. Your manager said we only have fifteen minutes before the next shoot."

Angel turns off his phone and sets it face-down on the table. The screen disappears from view— like a closed eye.

She steps closer, her hand hovering over her kit—then stops. Her eyes catch his reflection in the mirror.

The sadness is unmistakable—etched into every line of his face, in the slight downturn of his mouth, in the heaviness beneath his eyes that suggests he hasn’t truly rested in days. Her expression softens. The professional mask slips—just for a mont.

"Mr. Angel," she says quietly, pulling a chair closer and sitting across from him. "Are you okay?"

He stays still for a long mont, his gaze fixed sowhere far away—sowhere she can’t see. Then he nods. Just once. A small movent. Not convincing at all.

She doesn’t push. She simply waits, her hands resting in her lap, her eyes on him.

"From your expression," she says gently, "I can tell... you’re missing soone."

Angel looks at her, his eyes too bright—shining with tears he’s been holding back for days, maybe weeks. His lips tremble, just enough to betray him. He nods.

She tilts her head, sympathy softening her features.

"How sad. Is he your lover?"

"No."

The word cos too quickly—sharp, defensive. "He’s not."

A pause.

His voice drops to a whisper.

"But I..."

He stops.

His gaze falls to his lap, to his hands twisting in the fabric of his trousers—restless, unable to be still. The words press against his throat. Heavy. Burning. But he can’t force them out.

She reaches across and takes his hand. Her touch is warm—grounding, an anchor in the storm of his silence.

"I know why you stopped," she says softly. "I understand. You like him, don’t you?"

Angel says nothing. The room seems to hold its breath. The lights hum softly overhead.

Sowhere beyond the door, soone laughs— the sound distant, unfamiliar, like it belongs to another world. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely there.

"I don’t like him."

He swallows, his throat tightening against the words. "I love him. " A pause. Softer— "I love him so much."

The words hang between them— fragile, exposed, like nerves stripped bare.

She smiles—not a professional smile, not a rehearsed one, but sothing softer. Sothing almost kind.

"Then take my advice," she says, squeezing his hand lightly. "Go confess. Sitting alone, hiding, crying... that’s not a solution. That’s just suffering in silence."

She leans closer.

"And I’m certain he won’t refuse you. An Oga like you confessing to an Alpha?" A soft laugh escapes her. "It would be hard for anyone to say no."

Angel’s gaze lowers. His hand rests in hers—motionless now, no more twisting, no more restless movent. Just... heavy.

"I can’t."

Her brow furrows slightly.

"Why not?"

"Because..." The word catches in his throat—sharp, like sothing lodged too deep to pull free. "He’s already in love with soone else."

She leans closer, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Who? Another Oga? Soone more beautiful?"

Angel shakes his head slowly.

"No. He’s a Beta."

She blinks.

The words settle between them—unexpected, almost absurd. Then she laughs. A short, surprised sound.

Angel looks up, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh, my pretty Angel..."

She shakes her head, still smiling—still gentle. "I’ve never t anyone quite as innocent as you."

He stares at her, confusion pulling his brows together.

She leans in again, closer this ti—her voice lowering, soft and conspiratorial. "You can still win his heart."

A pause. "With a little... effort."

"Effort?" Angel echoes, the word unfamiliar on his tongue.

She nods slowly, as if the answer is obvious. "Alphas and Betas..." She exhales softly. "That kind of thing rarely lasts."

She tilts her head, studying him. "But Alphas and Ogas?" A faint smile touches her lips.

"That’s different."

"Alphas only play with Betas when they’re bored. When there’s no Oga around to catch their attention. But Ogas and Alphas? They’re ant for each other. It’s nature’s rule."

Angel listens, his eyes fixed on her face. She continues, her voice calm—almost gentle.

"It’s instinct. Biology."

A pause.

"There are things a Beta simply can’t give... and things an Alpha won’t be able to ignore forever."

Her gaze lingers on him.

"Not when it cos to rut... not when it cos to heat. Not when it cos to... sothing deeper."

She lets that sit.

"A Beta can stay," she adds softly, "but they can’t fulfill everything." Another pause. "And eventually... that matters."

Angel’s breath catches, barely noticeable.

She leans back slightly, as if the conclusion is inevitable.

"So if you confess—if you let him see what he’s been missing..." A small, knowing smile curves her lips.

"He’ll choose you."

"You don’t have to force anything," she adds lightly. "Just let him feel it." Her voice softens. "Once he does..."

She ets his eyes. "He won’t look anywhere else."

Angel’s eyes widen. "Is that... true?"

She nods—slow, certain. "If you want," she says gently, "I can help you."

"Help ?" His voice is barely a breath. "How?"

She holds up a single finger. "Ten thousand dollars. That’s all it costs."

"I’ll give you more." The words tumble out before he can stop them. "Whatever you want. Just tell —"

She smiles—slow, satisfied, like she’s been waiting for this. "I’ll give you sothing... special."

"A dicine. Just mix it into his drink—juice, tea, anything. But liquor works best."

She pauses, her eyes sharp. "Make sure you’re alone with him. After he drinks it, just release your pheromones. And then..."

Her lips curve faintly. "You won’t have to do much."

She spreads her hands, palms up, like she’s offering him the world. "The Alpha will beg you to let him touch you. He’ll co to you. He won’t be able to help himself."

Angel stares at her, his pulse loud in his ears. "What is it?" he asks, uneasy now. "What kind of thing?"

She waves her hand dismissively. "We call it magic love. People use it to... enhance the experience. Makes everything feel better. More intense."

A pause.

"Nothing dangerous."

A soft smile.

"Just sothing that... lowers resistance."

"Enhances what’s already there."

Angel shakes his head slowly, unease creeping in. "No... I can’t do that."

His voice tightens. "What if sothing happens? What if he gets hurt?"

"Nothing will happen, dear." Her voice is smooth, soothing. "It’s just a love dicine."

A pause.

"Once you’re with him, he’ll forget the Beta."

Her gaze softens, almost tender. "He’ll be yours. Completely." She tilts her head slightly. "You could have everything you want."

A quiet breath.

"A family. Children. A ho."

"Think about it."

Angel looks down at his hands. His vision blurs.

A family.

Children.

A ho.

The words echo in his mind—warm, golden, like sunlight slipping through a window.

His voice is barely a whisper. "A child..."

She stands, smoothing her dress, gathering her brushes.

"Think about it," she says again, already turning toward the door. "There’s nothing wrong with it." A pause. "You’re not hurting anyone."

Her hand rests against the doorfra. "You’re just... helping love along." Another pause—soft, deliberate. "And love has no rules."

She leaves.

The door closes behind her with a quiet click. Angel sits alone in the silence.His gaze drifts to the phone lying face-down on the table.

Unanswered ssages.

Unread.

Unreturned.

The life he wants—just out of reach.

His hands curl slowly in his lap. And her voice lingers, threading through his thoughts— love has no rules.