Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 147: Monster In Human Skin..?

I walk through the lobby, Angel beside me like always—a quiet presence, warm and familiar. The morning light streams through the tall windows, catching the gold in his hair, making him glow.

Staff members pass us with their usual greetings, bows, murmured

"Good morning, President" and "Good morning, Mr. Angel."

I return them with a soft smile, but my mind isn’t here.

It’s elsewhere. Searching.

My eyes scan the crowd, moving from face to face, hoping to catch a glimpse of dark hair, dark eyes, a quiet smile meant only for me.

Where is he? Where’s Deniz?

The morning with Moon still clings to my skin like a second layer—the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch, the cold emptiness in his voice when he saw the ring on my chest.

I need Deniz. Need to see him. Need to hold him. Need to breathe him in until the chaos in my head finally settles.

Then I see Ziya.

He’s running—of course he’s running—weaving through the crowd with that bright, eager smile that never seems to fade. His arms pump at his sides, his feet pound against the marble floor, and despite everything churning inside me, a small laugh escapes my lips.

Angel leans closer, his voice warm with amusement.

"Zyren, look. If Ziya ever entered a running race, he’d definitely come in first."

I nod, still smiling.

"I completely agree."

Ziya skids to a stop in front of us, slightly breathless, his chest rising and falling. He bows lightly, his smile never wavering.

"Good morning, President! Good morning, Mr. Angel!"

Angel’s smile softens, warm and genuine.

"Ziya, you should be careful. What if you slip?"

Ziya rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink.

"I’m sorry. I’m just... excited, I guess."

Angel laughs gently, the sound light and kind.

"It’s okay. Let’s go."

They exchange smiles—easy, comfortable, the kind of warmth that comes from genuine connection.

Angel turns to me, his golden eyes bright and happy. I match his smile, though mine feels thinner, more fragile.

"Good luck today," I tell him softly.

"Give it your best."

He nods and walks away with Ziya, their voices fading into the gentle hum of the lobby, swallowed by the morning bustle.

I take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.

Now. Time to find my wifey.

I walk to the elevator, my steps quick and impatient. The polished marble catches my reflection—a blur of silver and shadow.

The doors slide open almost immediately. I step inside, my finger hovering over the button for executive floor.

The doors begin to close.

A hand slips through.

The doors slide back open.

Someone rushes in, breathless, pulling a cap from her head and shaking out a cascade of dark hair.

A girl.

She’s wearing a slightly oversized shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, a narrow tie hanging loose against her chest. Tailored trousers instead of a skirt.

She doesn’t look like staff. A visitor. An interviewee, maybe.

But she looks less like someone here to be judged—and more like someone who walked in ready to take over.

She smooths her shirt with nervous hands, adjusts her collar, runs fingers through her hair—quick, anxious gestures, preparing for something big. Then she turns and looks at me.

We both freeze.

I recognize her instantly.

The Alpha girl from the elevator at Deniz’s building. The one who smelled my neck. The one who asked if I was single.

Her eyes widen. Then she smiles—bright, warm, completely unbothered by the awkwardness of our first meeting.

"Cutie!"

She grins, delight coloring her voice.

"You’re here!"

My cheeks flush. The memory of that day floods back, vivid and mortifying—me, desperate and embarrassed, asking a stranger to smell me.

God. Why did that have to happen?

"What a coincidence," she continues, clearly delighted by the encounter.

"I thought I’d never see that beautiful face again. But here we are."

I manage a small nod, my voice hesitant, barely above a murmur.

"Yes... here we are."

Her smile brightens impossibly further.

"Do you work here?"

I hesitate. The truth sits on my tongue, heavy and complicated. Finally, I just nod.

"Yes."

"Great!"

She practically glows with excitement.

"If I pass my interview today, we’ll be working under the same roof."

She winks—playful, bold, completely confident. "And who knows what might happen next?"

I blink at her, completely at a loss for how to respond.

She doesn’t notice my discomfort. She’s too caught up in her own nervous energy, her own hopes for the day ahead.

"I’ve heard so much about this place," she continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"About the president. Zyren Kael."

My body goes still.

"They say he’s strict. Cold. Heartless." She pauses for effect, leaning slightly closer.

"Some people call him a monster in human skin."

I stare at her.

Monster in human skin.

The words land in my chest and stay there, heavy and cold, settling into the spaces between my ribs.

She continues, oblivious to the effect her words are having.

"Have you met him? Tell me—what’s he really like? I’m so nervous for my interview."

She presses a hand to her chest, taking a shaky breath.

"This is the biggest, best company in the country. I really, really want this job."

My voice comes out slow, hesitant, caught between truth and the instinct to hide.

"I... no. I mean—"

She raises her hand, cutting me off with a warm, friendly smile. She’s not rude about it—just eager, just human.

"Anyway, I’m Kiea."

She extends her hand toward me, waiting.

I look at her hand. Then at her face. Then back at her hand.

Slowly, I take it. Her grip is firm, confident, the handshake of someone who knows what she wants.

"And your name is—"

The elevator dings.

The doors slide open.

A group of staff stands outside, waiting to enter. Their eyes land on me, and they immediately freeze.

Then, in perfect synchronization, they bow deeply.

"Good morning, President Kael."

Kiea’s head whips toward them, confusion written across her face. Then back to me. Her eyes widen.

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. The color drains from her cheeks, then floods back twice as bright.

I offer her a small, soft smile.

"My name is Zyren Kael."

She stares at me. Her throat moves as she swallows, once, twice.

"You’re... you’re Zyren Kael?"

I nod gently. "Good luck with your interview."

I step out of the elevator and start walking, leaving her frozen behind me, still processing, still stunned.

A strange smile touches my lips—uncertain, sad, complicated. It doesn’t reach my eyes.

Monster in human skin..?

Zyren was cruel. I know that. I read it, hated it, cursed his name from the safety of my small apartment in another life.

I devoured stories of his villainy, his cruelty, his obsession with making Angel’s life miserable.

It makes sense that people hate him.

But who would have thought that I—a broke student who once cursed his name—would become him?