Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 33: The Reason Zyren Kael Became A Villain.

I step out of the car. Morning sunlight spills across the city, warm and sharp, catching the edges of Kael Holdings like liquid gold. I tilt my head up. The building gleams in the light, powerful, untouchable. A faint smile curls on my lips. A new day. From now on, Neon, no laziness. This empire... it’s yours to build. If you don’t want to fall into poverty, if you want to survive, you need to work—like Zyren Kael—and raise this empire perfectly.

The guard bows lightly, eyes down, voice polite but measured. I barely notice, walking past them, my gaze snapping immediately to Deniz. As always, he’s perfect—immaculate suit, crisp posture, tablet clutched in one hand, eyes sharp. He walks to me, the air around him calm but heavy with concern.

"Good morning, sir," he says, voice careful.

I smile, a soft, deliberate curve. "Good morning." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Deniz adjusts his glasses, brow creased. "Sir... Mr. Zyke—"

I catch the hesitation, the subtle shift of his weight. Something’s wrong. I don’t need to hear more.

I start walking. Deniz follows silently. The sound of my shoes clicks against the polished marble floor, each step a steady drum of purpose. Staff glance at me—tense, wary, bowing slightly. Respectful. Fearful. I don’t look at them. My face is serious. Calm happiness gone. My voice, when I speak, is colder than usual.

"Deniz... where is he?"

I don’t look back. My steps remain deliberate, unbroken.

"Mr. Zyke is in the meeting room," Deniz replies softly.

I inhale slowly, letting the tension coil in my chest. Enough. I’ve tried to make things right with him, to smooth the edges of our past, to bridge what he insists on breaking. But every effort seems to make things worse.

I stop in front of the meeting room door. "Deniz, wait for me in my office," I say, voice clipped.

He blinks, confusion and concern warring across his features. "Sir—"

I harden, expression cold. Sharp. I don’t allow softness here. "Do as I say."

He nods, hesitant, and steps away.

I inhale again. Steady. Slow. Then I push the door open.

The room hits me first. Cold. Heavy. Thick with tension. Zyke’s energy is everywhere—spreading like smoke through the air, curling around the managers and staff like a warning. They stand stiff, eyes down, bodies slightly trembling. The aura of control, cruelty, danger—it’s palpable.

Zyke sits at the head of the table. File in hand, scanning documents. Calm. Poised. Deadly. His eyes lift as they catch mine. The smile that spreads across his lips is slow, deliberate, cruel.

"My little brother finally came to the office," he says, voice smooth but sharp, like a blade sliding across glass.

I stare at him. Why does he insist on making everything worse? Why can’t he see I’m trying? Trying to fix things? Trying to be better?

I take a step forward. Calm. Composed. My movements deliberate. My pulse steady despite the coil of anger and disappointment in my chest.

I smile politely. A sharp, measured smile that hides a storm.

"Big brother... you care about me so much, you even came to the office to help me."

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are locked, dangerous, fiery.

I stop in front of him. I take the file from his hand slowly, deliberately. My fingers brush his briefly. A subtle, almost mocking motion. The smile on my lips softens slightly, but the edge remains.

"Big brother... why are you always so worried about me, hhh?" I tease lightly, voice soft but cutting through the tension.

His face twists in anger. His eyes flare.

I glance at the staff. They’re still standing, rigid, watching.

"Big brother... you don’t need to exhaust yourself handling Kael Holdings," I continue, softer this time, almost coaxing, a smile tugging at my lips. "Everyone..." I sweep my gaze across the room, letting my eyes linger on them just long enough to reassure. "You all can leave. This is a matter between me and my dear big brother."

One by one, they bow and leave. The doors click shut behind the last of them. Silence fills the room. Heavy, thick. Only the two of us remain.

The air between us vibrates with unspoken words. Danger. Challenge. Tension. History.

Zyke leans back slightly in his chair, eyes narrowing. I can feel his evaluation, weighing, measuring me.

I walk to the other head chair of the table. The room feels smaller somehow, heavier, every step echoing against the cold marble. I push the chair back and sit down, deliberately calm. My back straight, my hands resting lightly on the armrests, but my eyes... my eyes are on him. Zyke. Every inch of him radiates danger, his gaze sharp enough to cut through steel.

’"So... tell me. What’s the real reason you came here?’"

He stares at me, slow, deliberate, dangerous. That cruel smile spreads across his lips, predatory.

"Woah," he says, voice smooth but laced with venom. "Today, my little brother looks so... brave."

He leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes narrowing into slits. His words drop low, slow, like a blade sliding across my chest. "Zyren... are you really this kind of brave... or just acting?"

I stare at him. The air between us thickens, heavy, almost suffocating. His pheromones hit me first—sharp, commanding, like a predator claiming its territory. My throat tightens. Swallowing is a struggle. My fists clench until my nails dig into my palms.

Is he... attacking me again with his pheromones? Trying to bend me like he always does?

Heat coils in my chest, anger rising like wildfire, molten and unrestrained. I can feel it in my bones, my blood. This is me.

I’m Neon, yet the fury surging through me roars like the real Zyren Kael.

I feel it now—the weight, the darkness, the reason Zyren Kael became a villain. He didn’t choose this... not truly. The world forced him into it, shaped him, punished him, twisted him. Every cruel expectation, every shove, every betrayal—they didn’t just break him—they carved the edges of the monster he’s become.

I slam my hand on the table. The sound echoes, sharp and cutting.

"Enough!" I shout, my voice breaking through the tension, cold, sharp, dangerous—angrier than I thought I could be.