Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 35: I Don’t Want To Leave You…
My eyelids flutter, heavy and uncooperative.
They refuse to open fully, as if the weight of the world presses down on them.
Everything is blurred—washed in white. Too bright. Too empty.
White. Too white.
A sound reaches me first.
Beep... beep...
It’s rhythmic. Mechanical. Cold.
A hospital room...?
My chest tightens, breath catching halfway. I can’t see clearly, but voices drift toward me—urgent, tense.
"Doctor, the patient is opening his eyes."
Urgent. Trembling.
Again....
"Doctor—he’s opening his eyes."
Footsteps rush closer. My body aches—deep, bone-level pain, like I’ve been torn apart and stitched back together without care.
Then—
A voice cuts through the haze.
"Neon... Neon, are you listening to me?"
My heart stutters.
That voice—
"...Alina?"
The name forms in my mind before my lips can move. Panic blooms sharp and sudden. I try to open my eyes, forcing them, desperate.
I want to see her.
I need to see her.
I need to see myself.
Am I back?
Is this my life again?
But my eyes won’t obey.
They’re too heavy. Too far gone.
I don’t want....to close them.
No—don’t close. Don’t—
"Neon... don’t close your eyes!"
Her voice cracks, echoing, stretching unnaturally—
And then—
Black.
Complete. Crushing.
Darkness swallows everything.
My heartbeat slams wildly in my ears. Too loud. Too fast. I hate this—I hate the dark—
"Someone help me!"
My own voice sounds distant, hollow, as if I’m screaming from the bottom of a well.
"I can’t see—why is it so dark—"
Air refuses to reach my lungs.
"I can’t breathe—please—someone—"
—
My eyes snap open.
I gasp sharply, dragging air into my burning lungs. My heart races violently, sweat clinging to my skin, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
The ceiling above me is familiar.
Too familiar.
I’m—
I look around.
Zyren’s office.
I’m lying on the couch.
I jerk upright, chest heaving, throat painfully dry. My hands tremble as I stare down at them.
These hands.
Not mine.
"I’m... still here."
The words slip out hoarse and broken. I clutch my head, fingers digging into my hair.
"What the hell was that... a dream? Or—"
The door opens.
"Sir... are you awake?"
Deniz steps inside, setting a bag gently on the table.
I stare at him, breathing still uneven, pulse racing. His calm expression shifts the moment his eyes meet mine.
Concern sharpens his gaze as he scans me quickly.
"Sir, what happened?"
My lips part, but no sound comes at first. My voice finally escapes, weak and rough.
"Deniz... I need water."
He moves immediately.
Quick steps. A glass filled. His hand steady as he brings it to me.
I grab it too fast, water splashing over my shirt, soaking the fabric. I don’t care. I drink greedily, swallowing too quickly, water spilling down my chin.
Deniz doesn’t hesitate.
He sits beside me, pulls out handkerchief, and gently wipes my face—my cheek, my neck—slow, careful movements.
"Sir, are you alright?" His voice is low, worried. "Should I call the doctors again?"
I look at him.
Really look at him.
And without thinking—
I reach up and touch his face.
Deniz freezes.
His eyes widen slightly. His hand stills against my damp shirt. The air between us tightens as our gazes lock.
My fingers trace his cheek lightly, almost reverently.
Is this real... or am I still trapped in another illusion?
His skin is warm. Solid.
If I die here... do I go back?
My fingers hesitate.
My heart pounds.
But in my real world—
He doesn’t exist.
My hand stops.
A whisper slips from my lips before I can catch it.
"I don’t want to leave you..."
Color rushes to Deniz’s cheeks.
"Sir..." His voice is soft, startled. "What are you saying—"
I pull my hand back quickly, turning away.
"Nothing."
He doesn’t press. Instead, he reaches for the bag and opens it.
"What’s that?" I ask quietly.
Deniz looks down as he carefully lifts out a box.
"It’s a pheromone stabilizer shot."
My eyes narrow slightly.
"When you fainted, your nose wouldn’t stop bleeding," he explains. "I called the doctors. They treated you immediately."
He looks at me again.
Deniz hesitates before speaking, jaw tightening.
"The doctor says you were subjected to a direct S-class pheromone assault. Not restraint. Not warning. A full release."
His eyes lift to mine.
"Your body reacted the only way it could. Your pheromones fractured under the pressure—and the damage surfaced as bleeding."
"That kind of attack isn’t meant to kill," Deniz adds softly. "It’s meant to remind you who holds power."
My fists curl slowly on my lap.
Zyke.
Of course.
Deniz continues, unaware of the storm tightening in my chest.
"Your pheromones reacted badly. You’ll need one stabilizer shot daily—for a week."
I lean back against the couch, exhaustion crashing over me in heavy waves.
So it wasn’t just anger.
It was an attack.
A silent one.
I close my eyes briefly, breathing in, grounding myself.
I’m still here.
Still Zyren.
Still alive.
And this time—
I won’t fade quietly into the dark again.
Deniz says, "Sir."
I open my eyes fully and look at him.
He’s wearing gloves now. In his hand is a syringe—clear liquid, sharp needle catching the light. My breath stutters.
"Wait," I say immediately, my voice tightening. "I’m not going to—"
He doesn’t let me finish.
His hand closes around my wrist, firm but careful. "It’s important," he says quietly. "You need this."
The blood drains from my face.
Ever since childhood, I’ve hated injections. The cold smell of antiseptic, the sting, the helplessness—it all crawls back up my spine.
Deniz studies my expression. "Are you afraid?"
I let out a short laugh—forced, awkward, brave in the wrong way.
"Afraid? Of course not," I say too fast. "I just don’t want it."
I try to pull my hand free. "I’m fine. Look at me—I’m strong."
He doesn’t loosen his grip.
"No matter how much you resist," Deniz says, voice steady, unyielding, "you still need it."
His fingers tighten slightly around my wrist—not painful, just impossible to ignore.
"Deniz, wait—"
He leans closer. His presence fills my space, calm and absolute.
"Don’t move."
Before I can react, the needle pierces my neck vein.
"A—ahh!"
