Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 27: Give Me A Bright Smile Instead Of A Thank You

His eyes widen, confusion flickering through them.

"And now," I continue with a soft smile, "you’re acting like we’re strangers again."

He stares at , clearly unsure how to respond.

I lean back slightly, lowering my voice.

"Relax," I say. "Take a deep breath."

Then, smiling at him warmly, I add,

"And give a bright smile."

Angel looks at , confusion clouding his eyes.

He repeats softly, uncertain, "A... smile?"

I nod. "Yes."

My voice is light, almost teasing. "If you want to give sothing in return, then give a bright smile instead of a thank you."

He freezes, clearly unsure how to respond. His lashes flutter, his lips part slightly—caught between obedience and bewildernt.

I smile wider. "You don’t have to give it right now. Whenever you feel like it."

Angel lowers his gaze, eyes still wide, as if my words have unsettled sothing inside him.

I turn toward the car window. The weather outside is calm, streets sliding past in a quiet blur. For a mont, everything feels peaceful—

Then it hits .

A sudden, overwhelming sweetness floods the air.

Too sweet...

Strawberry.

Too strong. Far too strong.

My head snaps toward Angel.

His face is flushed, a sheen of sweat on his temples. His breathing is uneven, shallow. My eyes widen as realization crashes into .

"Angel," I say quickly, voice sharpening with concern. "Are you alright?"

He nods, but it’s slow. Weak. Unconvincing.

The scent thickens, wraps around my senses, seeps straight into my blood. My pulse stutters. My chest feels hot—too hot. I lift a hand to my face, startled by the heat there.

No.

Realization crashes down hard.

He’s in heat.

Angel’s fists clench in his lap, knuckles white. His pheromones spill unchecked now—sweet, intoxicating, dangerous. He’s a rare Oga. No alpha could stay unaffected by this.

Even .

His voice trembles when he speaks, barely audible.

"Y-young master... I... I’m sorry..."

"It’s okay," I cut in imdiately, forcing steadiness into my voice. "We’re going back. Right now."

I turn sharply to the driver. "Stop the car. Quickly."

"Yes, young master."

The car pulls over. I don’t hesitate—I step out into the cold air. It crashes against my overheated skin, grounding just enough.

Distance. I need distance.

The driver follows out, concern written all over his face.

"Young master, are you alright?"

"I’m fine," I say, breath still a little uneven. "But Angel isn’t. Take him back to the mansion. Imdiately."

The driver nods. "Should I send another car for you, young master?"

"No." I shake my head. "I’ll manage."

He bows and turns toward the car.

"Wait," I say.

He stops imdiately and turns back. "Yes, young master?"

I hesitate for a brief second, then ask quietly, "Are you an alpha?"

He shakes his head at once. "No, young master. I’m a beta."

I nod. "Alright. Go now."

"Yes, young master."

He bows again, slips back into the driver’s seat, and the car pulls away smoothly.

And soon the vehicle disappears down the road, carrying Angel away.

I remain standing there, alone.

My heart is still racing. His scent lingers in the air, faint but persistent. I take out my phone and call Deniz.

He answers after one ring. "Sir?"

"Deniz, can you pick up?"

His voice sharpens with concern. "Sir? Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," I say. "Don’t worry."

"Of course. Where are you?"

I glance around. My gaze lands on a familiar sign glowing softly.

"I’m in front of Diamond Shine Hotel."

"I’ll be there in ten minutes."

"Okay."

I end the call and slip my phone back into my pocket. Slowly, I press a hand to my chest, forcing my breathing to steady.

I wanted to take Angel out today.

I wanted him to see the world.

Instead, fate reminded just how dangerous he is— in his heat.

Angel’s pheromones are far too powerful, to effective intense —now I understand why Zyren Kael beca obsessed with him.

After so ti, Deniz arrives.

He steps out of the car, his eyes scanning the quiet road—no guards, no driver, no familiar black sedan. Just , standing alone on the road like so broke man who got ditched halfway.

Worry settles clearly on his face.

"Sir... are you alright?" he asks again, his gaze moving around instinctively. "What happened? Where is your car?"

I smile lightly, brushing it off as if nothing happened. "I’m fine. Let’s go."

He doesn’t argue. Deniz opens the car door for , careful and gentle as always. I slip into the passenger seat. He closes the door softly, then moves to the driver’s side, starts the engine, and pulls onto the road.

The car fills with a quiet hum.

I glance at him—really look at him this ti.

He isn’t wearing his usual perfectly tailored suit. Casual clothes suit him unexpectedly well. He looks... softer. Younger. Beautiful in a way the office never allows him to be.

His eyes stay on the road, focused. Then he glances sideways—and catches staring shalessly.

He hesitates. "Sir... is everything alright?"

I nod without looking away. "Yes."

Then the word sir finally reaches .

I frown slightly and straighten. "Why are you calling sir? We’re outside. And it’s the weekend."

He adjusts his glasses, embarrassed. "I’m sorry. I just... forgot."

I lean back against the seat. "Don’t forget again."

He nods and continues driving. After a mont, his voice cos again, slower this ti.

"Sir... are you sure you still want to go to the fun fair?"

I blink and turn to him, innocent on purpose. "Yes. Why?"

He doesn’t look at . His fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. "I just... we’re adults. Mature. Fun fairs are for children. Teenagers."

I stare at him in silence.

He’s right.

Zyren Kael is an adult—cold, composed, feared. A man who belongs in boardrooms, not ferris wheels.

But I’m not just Zyren Kael.

I’m Neon.

Nineteen years old. Soone who has never seen a fun fair in his life.

"I still want to go," I say simply.

Deniz glances at , then looks back at the road.

I speak again, honestly this ti. "I’ve never seen one. I want to know what it’s like."

His expression shifts—surprise flickering briefly across his face before he nods. "Alright."

Of course Zyren never went to a fun fair. The novel never ntioned anything like that. His life was written as a straight line of cruelty, power, and destruction—no laughter, no lights, no wasted ti on happiness.

I turn to Deniz. "Have you ever been to one?"

His eyes stay on the road, but his voice softens. "Yes. When I was little. My father used to take every weekend."

Sothing tightens in my chest.

How lucky.

An Oga father who did everything he could to give his son warmth, mories, a childhood worth rembering.