Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 30: We Look… Perfect

The night is cold, but the fun fair glows—soft lights spilling over laughter and music, wrapping everything in warmth that doesn’t quite reach me.

I sit at the table, waiting for Deniz, my gaze fixed on my lap. My face still burns.

I shouldn’t have ridden that roller coaster.

I screamed like a lunatic.

My fingers curl into my lap as I scold myself. Neon, you ruined everything. What must he think of you now? I swallow, my chest tight. You always embarrass yourself.

"Here," Deniz’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

I flinch slightly as he sets a box of hot, spicy dumplings in front of me. I look up, a little startled. He’s watching me—carefully, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he blinks.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I lift my lips into a smile that feels thin. "Yeah. I’m fine."

He sits beside me. Close enough that I can feel his warmth, but he doesn’t crowd me.

"Let’s eat."

I nod, pick up my chopsticks, and take a bite—

—and instantly regret it.

—burns.

I gasp, shoulders tensing. "Ah—!"

"They’re hot,"

Deniz says quickly, already opening a bottle of water and handing it to me. I drink without stopping, barely breathing.

He grabs some tissues and, without thinking, gently wipes my lips.

I freeze.

His touch is careful. Soft. His eyes linger on my mouth before lifting to mine. Our gazes lock for a second that feels far too long.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the fair fades. It’s just us—too close, too aware.

Realizing what he’s doing, Deniz pulls his hand back, clearing his throat.

"You... you should be careful," he says, voice lower now. "You almost burned your tongue."

I nod, unable to speak. My heart beating a little too fast.

He picks up a dumpling, blows on it lightly, Then places it onto my plate.

"Eat this one."

I stare at the dumpling... then at him.

In my entire life, no one has ever treated me with this kind of quiet care.

I take a bite. It tastes unreal—like warmth, like something I don’t deserve but want anyway.

Deniz watches me. My usual bright expression doesn’t return, and after a while, he speaks again.

"Are you really okay?"

I flinch, then force another smile. "I said I’m fine."

He doesn’t look convinced. "Are you sure?"

My smile finally breaks. Fingers tightening around the chopsticks.

I look down, biting my lower lip.

"I’m just..." I hesitate. "...embarrassed."

"Why?" he asks gently.

"I screamed on the roller coaster," I mumble, not meeting his eyes.

Silence.....

Deniz is quiet for a moment.

Then he says, calmly, "Being an alpha doesn’t mean you have to be strong all the time."

I look up at him.

He smiles—small, sincere. "Everyone has weaknesses. You don’t need to be embarrassed."

I blink, his words sinking deep.

"Don’t worry," he adds. "I won’t tell anyone. I’ll keep it a secret."

He adds.

"In return, you keep my secret."

I look at him, confused. "What...?"

He leans a little closer, lowering his voice as if the night itself might overhear.

"I don’t know how to swim," he admits. "And I’m scared of water."

For a second, I just stare at him.

Then he smiles—small, genuine, a little embarrassed.

Something warm spreads through my chest, and before I realize it, I’m smiling too.

"Then," he says softly, "we’ll keep each other’s secrets."

I nod, my smile widening. "Deal."

He straightens slightly, the moment settling between us, light but precious.

"Now," he adds, reaching for his chopsticks, "let’s eat."

The lights glow brighter, the noise fades, and for once... I don’t feel alone.

After the dumplings, Deniz and I walk side by side through the glowing fair.

He glances at his watch, brows knitting slightly. "It’s late. We should head back."

I nod, then roll my eyes dramatically, dragging my feet. "I’m so exhausted."

Then I see it.

A tiny photo booth tucked between stalls, warm lights spilling out like an invitation.

My fatigue disappears instantly.

I point at it, eyes bright. "Let’s take photos."

Deniz follows my gaze, hesitation flickering across his face. "But—"

I don’t let him finish. I catch his hand and tug him forward, laughing as I pull him inside.

The booth is small and bright, the air faintly warm. Instructions are pasted on the side of the machine. I read them quickly—it’s my first time, but I pretend I know what I’m doing.

"Stand here," I say.

Deniz obeys, standing straight—too straight. Like a soldier awaiting inspection.

I glance at him. "...Why are you standing like that?"

He blinks. "How should I—"

I slide an arm around his waist and pull him closer. "Like this."

His breath stutters.

The flash goes off.

"Cheese," I say cheerfully, pretending I don’t notice his burning cheeks.

For the next pose, I turn to the rack of themed headbands. I scan them, then pick a bear one and gently set it on his hair.

"What—" he starts.

"It looks cute on you," I cut in softly,

adjusting it until it sits just right.

His ears turn red.

I adjusted it carefully, then stepped back and smiled. "Ohh, you look so cute."

He reaches for the rack too, fingers hesitating before choosing a rabbit headband. Carefully—almost reverently—he places it on my head.

I looked at him, a little startled by how gentle his hands were.

"It looks so cute on you," he said.

I frowned lightly and said, "Seriously? Can’t you choose this tiger one for me? I look handsome in this."

He fixed the band properly, a soft smile curving his lips. "Nope. Rabbit one suits you."

I rolled my eyes and muttered, "I’m not an omega."

He chuckles under his breath. "Wearing a rabbit headband doesn’t make you one."

Then, quieter—almost fond, "It just means you’re unbearably cute."

I open my mouth to argue, but the flash fires again.

He squeezed my cheeks gently. "Let’s cheese."

Click.

Without thinking, I reach up, hold his chin lightly, and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The camera clicks again.

The photos slide out with a soft whirr.

I pick them up casually, as if nothing happened.

Deniz doesn’t move.

He stares at me, frozen, one hand slowly lifting to touch the spot I kissed.

"Why did you... kiss me?" he asks, voice barely steady.

I wave the photo strip in front of him and wink.

"We needed proof," I say lightly. "What if the staff suspects we’re not a real couple?"

A smooth excuse. Too smooth.

"But that’s not—" he starts.

I’m already stepping out of the booth, pretending not to hear. A satisfied smile playing on my lips, the photo warm in my hand.

Outside, I look down at the photos.

We look... perfect.

Too perfect.