Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 21: It Would Be Someone Like You

My footsteps echo softly against the cold marble as I walk ahead. Deniz follows a step behind, silent as ever.

We enter the elevator—he steps in after , presses the button, and the doors slide shut with a quiet clink.

I stand straight, hands relaxed at my sides, then steal a quick glance at him.

He’s standing a little apart, eyes lowered, posture stiff.

...Why is he like this?

Did I make him uncomfortable earlier?

My gaze drifts away. I didn’t an to. I really didn’t.

Should I say sothing? The silence feels heavier than it should.

The elevator stops.

We step out into the brightly lit hallway, then pass through the doors where guards open the way. The mont we step outside, the night air crashes against my face—sharp, freezing, unforgiving.

Winter really doesn’t show rcy.

Deniz keeps following quietly. I glance back over my shoulder.

His eyes are still lowered, his steps slow, as if his mind is sowhere far away.

I suddenly stop.

He doesn’t—

and bumps straight into my back.

He flinches, imdiately stepping away, bowing slightly.

"I’m sorry, sir."

I turn around and look at him. Really look at him.

For a mont, I say nothing.

Then I speak softly, "We’re outside the office."

He straightens slowly, blinking—as if the words finally register. His gaze lifts to the building, to the night around us, realization dawning. The cold breeze stirs his black hair, brushing it across his forehead.

He looks at again, hesitant, unsure what he’s allowed to say.

I smile gently.

"What are you thinking about?"

He opens his mouth. "Nothing. I’m just—"

"Aah—choo!"

The sneeze escapes him before he can stop it.

I blink—then my lips curve upward.

His cheeks flush instantly, red blooming across them.

...Adorable.

I step closer without thinking. With an easy motion, I slip my long coat off my shoulders and drape it over his.

He looks up at , eyes widening in shock.

"S-sir—"

I smile. "Don’t forget—we’re outside."

He nods, a little stiff, a little flustered.

I adjust the coat properly, making sure it covers him well. Watching him blush like this...

It’s dangerous. And strangely fun.

"You should take care of yourself," I say softly.

"Yes," he replies, voice quiet.

I take a step back, then turn away.

"If you don’t... it’s okay," I add calmly. "I’m here to take care of you."

I don’t turn around to see his face.

I don’t need to.

I can already feel the warmth of his shy silence behind .

The car cuts through the night smoothly, the city lights sliding past the windows like distant stars.

Inside, it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Deniz sits beside , posture straight, hands resting neatly on his lap. His presence is controlled, disciplined—silent again.

I hate silence.

It presses against my ears, crawls under my skin. I turn my head toward him and pout slightly, irritation creeping onto my face like a sulking child.

"Why are you so quiet today?"

The question breaks the stillness.

He flinches—just a little, but I catch it. His eyes shift toward , caught off guard, as if he’d been pulled out of his own thoughts.

For a second, he doesn’t answer. Then, carefully, as if choosing the safest path, he asks,

"What... should we talk about?"

I study him, really look at him.

"We’re friends," I say, my tone serious now. "What do friends usually talk about?"

He thinks for a second. "Friends talk about things like... how their day was."

A small smile curves onto my lips. "Then tell . How was your day?"

He blinks, then looks at as if the answer is obvious.

"We were together the entire day," he says honestly. "So there’s no point in talking about it."

I blink.

Then again.

...Unbelievable.

Is he bad at talking?

Or does he just not want to talk to ?

Is he serious?

I turn my face away, staring out the window. He just doesn’t want to talk to .

"It’s fine," I say quietly. "If you don’t want to talk, I won’t force you."

"It’s not like that," he says imdiately, his voice tighter now.

I don’t look back at him.

Maybe I always make things uncomfortable. Maybe I don’t know how to make people feel at ease. The thought settles uncomfortably in my chest.

I take a slow breath.

Then—

"Zyren..."

My heart pauses.

I turn my head.

Finally —

He said my na.

His gaze drops—not to my eyes, but lower. To my lips. His jaw tightens, and he hesitates before finally speaking.

"Who did this to you?"

I blink.

So that’s what he wants to ask.

"If I answer your question," I say calmly, "you answer mine. Properly. Honestly."

He blinks once, then nods. "Okay."

"Zyke did this."

His eyes widen instantly. "Why?"

I lean back against the seat, exhaustion seeping into my bones.

"I don’t know. I didn’t do anything. I was just walking with my sister-in-law. We were talking about flowers. I even gave him one."

A bitter chuckle escapes .

"And that crazy, pathetic S-class alpha decided I was flirting with his wife."

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair.

"Seriously. He’s lost his mind. I told him clearly—I respect him like family. I had no bad intentions at all."

My fingers brush my lip again, the soreness still there.

"But he punched anyway."

Deniz doesn’t blink.

He just stares.

I glance at him. "Did you freeze? You look like you’re in shock."

I lean closer instinctively, curiosity winning over caution.

He imdiately leans back.

I tilt my head. "What? Are you trying not to laugh?"

"No," he says quickly. "I’m just thinking... why Mr. Zyke would think you were flirting with his wife."

I nod slowly, eyes wide, genuinely puzzled.

"Exactly. That’s what I don’t understand either."

Then, softer—almost casual:

"Or maybe he just wanted a new excuse to hit ."

I continue, voice thoughtful.

"I even told him—if I were to flirt with soone, I wouldn’t choose my sister-in-law."

I lean closer again.

This ti, closer than before.

Deniz’s breath stutters. His cheeks flush red instantly. The space between us shrinks until I can feel his warmth.

"If I flirted with soone," I murmur, voice low, unhurried,

"it would be soone like you."

His eyes widen.

Red spreads across his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. Our gazes lock, tension tightening the air between us—sharp, fragile, electric.

Then I straighten back, the mont snapping like a thread.

Then I straighten back with a satisfied smile.

"Kidding."

Deniz imdiately looks away, fingers reaching for his tie as if it might anchor him back to reality. He adjusts it unnecessarily, jaw tight, refusing to et my eyes.

.....Cute