Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 6: Things Begin To Change

I take a deep breath of the cool night air, letting the city sounds wash over .

For the first ti today... I feel a spark of freedom.

I step forward, crossing the road.

Right in front of , an expensive bakery glows under the night lights, its glass windows filled with delicate cakes and soft colors that look almost unreal.

Deniz follows imdiately, his footsteps quick.

"Sir... are you okay?" he asks again.

I turn back to him and say, honestly, almost innocently, "I want to buy a cake."

His eyes widen in visible shock. He stares at for a second, silent, as if his mind is struggling to process my words. Then he recovers, lowering his gaze politely.

"Sir, if you want anything, I can have it delivered. Please get back inside the car. The night air is cold—you might catch a cold."

I shake my head softly. "I want to buy it myself."

Confusion is written clearly on his face. After a brief pause, he nods. "Please wait for ."

He walks back to the car, retrieves my coat, then returns quickly. Without hesitation, he drapes it over my shoulders, adjusting it carefully.

"Sir, the night is cold. You should wear this."

I smile. A real smile.

"Thank you, Deniz. You really care about ."

He bows lightly. "It’s my duty, sir."

I step into the bakery, warm air and sweet scents wrapping around instantly. Deniz follows silently, like a shadow that never leaves.

Cakes.

So many of them. Different shapes, colors, flavors—each one more beautiful than the last.

My chest tightens.

I freeze.

The past crashes into my mind without warning.

"Neon, be a good boy."

Her voice echoes softly, painfully clear.

"Sit here and wait for . I’ll co back in half an hour."

I was fourteen.

That day, fourteen-year-old Neon sat quietly in the corner of the house, knees hugged to his chest, eyes fixed on the door. I believed her. I waited patiently, telling myself she would return—with a cake in her hands and a smile on her face.

Hours passed.

The sky darkened. Evening turned into night.

She never ca back.

I stayed there, sitting alone in the corner, whispering softly into the empty house,

"Mama... when will you co back?"

Fear slowly crept into my chest, wrapping around my heart. The house felt too big. Too quiet.

Late that night, the door finally opened—but it wasn’t her.

Dad stumbled inside, drunk, eyes red, voice sharp and broken. He shouted at , anger spilling from him like poison. He told everything.

That Mom loved soone else.

A rich man.

That she abandoned both of us.

I cried. I clung to his shirt, shaking my head again and again.

"She went to buy a cake," I said through sobs. "She’ll co back. She promised."

But she didn’t.

Not that night.

Not the next day.

Not ever.

I waited anyway.

Every day, I sat in the sa corner, staring at the door, believing she would return. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

Still... nothing.

Still... no cake. No mother.

Not even once.

Even now, I don’t understand.

If she wanted to leave, why couldn’t she tell the truth?

Why lie to ?

Why make wait... hoping... believing?

Why promise a cake—

and leave waiting forever?

"Sir..."

Deniz’s voice pulls out of the past.

I blink, the mories dissolving like mist. I straighten and smile softly. "Let’s choose the best cake."

He nods.

I lean closer to the glass display, studying every flavor carefully. I don’t have a favorite.

In my entire life... I could never afford one.

But Zyren Kael can.

He can afford everything.

I glance at Deniz. "Which one is delicious?"

He blinks, surprised by the question, then answers calmly, "Sir, every flavor has its own taste. They’re all delicious."

I repeat his words quietly, tasting them in my mind.

Every flavor has its own taste...

A small smile curves my lips—soft, childlike.

"Then," I say gently, "I’ll choose dark chocolate."

Deniz smiles—just a little—and says, "Dark chocolate is a good choice."

I nod, the way a child nods after making a brave decision. Then I blink and look at him.

"Which one is your favorite?"

He blinks back at , clearly caught off guard. "Sir...?"

I glance toward the glass display again, pretending to study the cakes. "Hmm. Which one do you like?"

He hesitates. I can almost see the internal struggle—whether he’s allowed to answer honestly. After a mont, he speaks softly, "Strawberry... with white cream, sir."

I turn to the shopkeeper.

"One strawberry cream cake," I say.

The shopkeeper nods imdiately.

Deniz freezes, staring at in disbelief.

I look back at him, amused. Of course he’s shocked. Zyren Kael—the cold, ruthless villain—doesn’t like sweets. He doesn’t care about preferences. He certainly doesn’t buy cakes for others.

But I do.

I like sweets.

And maybe... I like seeing him surprised.

The shopkeeper packs the cakes carefully, wrapping them neatly before handing them over. Deniz quickly takes the bags, still silent, still processing.

I step out of the bakery. Deniz follows behind , quiet as ever

The car rolls into the Kael mansion grounds.

The iron gates slide open smoothly, and the headlights wash over the wide driveway. Guards straighten instantly. As the car stops, the door is opened for .

I step out.

Maidservants stand in a neat row, perfectly aligned.

"Good evening, sir," they greet in unison.

I look at them, montarily stunned.

This really feels like a drama.

Like a scene from a series.

For a brief second, I feel like a prince—soone who belongs in a place like this.

Deniz hands the bakery bags to a maid and turns to . "Sir, my duty for today is over. Please allow to take my leave."

He bows lightly.

I glance at the maid, then reach out and take the bag with the strawberry cake. I turn back to Deniz and hold it out to him.

His eyes flick to the bag—just for a mont—before dropping again.

"Sir...?"

"It’s for you," I say gently.

He hesitates, clearly unsure. "Sir, I—"

"Take it," I repeat, calm but firm.

Slowly, respectfully, he raises his hands and accepts the bag.

"Thank you very much, sir," he says softly.

I smile.

Around us, the staff freeze.

Eyes widen. Breath stills.

Zyren Kael... smiling?

Giving a cake away?

They quickly lower their gazes, pretending not to notice—but the shock lingers in the air.

I ignore it. I look at Deniz instead.

"Go get a good sleep," I say. "You worked hard all day."

He nods, eyes warm but controlled.

"Thank you again, sir."

He turns to leave, holding the cake carefully, as if it’s sothing precious.

I stand there for a mont longer, watching his retreating back.

Maybe...

This is how things begin to change.