Chapter 16: My Favorite Book Character ♡

Angel is in my arms as I walk down the hallway.

His body trembles—light, fragile, too light—and every step I take makes my anger settle deeper into my bones. Servants line the corridor.

Their heads are bowed, eyes widened but quickly lowered, fear stitched into their posture. No one dares to look for long. They can feel it—the shift in the air, the crack in Zyren Kael’s usual calm.

My face is cold. Controlled. But inside, something burns.

Zyke has a problem with me. So why drag innocent people into it?

I wanted to fix things. I wanted peace. But he—

I stop that thought before it turns sharp.

Angel’s lips tremble as if he wants to speak, to stop me, to apologize for something he never did. But he doesn’t dare. Not here. Not like this.

“Bring warm water. And towels,” I say without looking at anyone.

One servant bows deeply and rushes away.

I enter my room. Warm. Quiet. Safe. I carefully sit Angel on the couch, as if he might shatter if I’m careless. Then I kneel in front of him.

His eyes widen in panic.

“Y–young master, please—”

“Be quiet,” I say softly.

Not harsh. Just tired. Heavy.

He falls silent immediately.

The maid returns, placing the basin and towels on the table. Her gaze lingers—just for a second—on the sight in front of her. Zyren Kael, the ruthless villain, kneeling before a servant. Shock flashes through her eyes before she hides it.

“You may go,” I say.

“Yes, young master.”

The door closes.

I dip the towel into the warm water and gently take Angel’s bare feet into my hands. He flinches, breath hitching.

“You don’t need to move,” I murmur.

I wipe slowly. Carefully. The cold fades under the warmth, little by little. His skin is icy. Too cold. My jaw tightens as I imagine Zyke’s expressionless punishment.

Again. And again. Until the trembling eases.

This shouldn’t hurt me this much—but it does.

He’s my favorite book character.

I can’t stand seeing him like this.

Angel doesn’t deserve this.

He deserves warmth. Care. Safety.

His eyes stay on me, wide and disbelieving, as if he’s waiting for the cruelty to show itself. When our gazes meet, he quickly looks away, confusion written all over his face.

“Y–young master…”

“Hm?”

He hesitates. Then finally asks, voice barely steady,

“Why… are you doing this?”

I pause.

I don’t answer right away.

I know what he’s thinking.

His expression tells me everything. He thinks this is another game. Another cruel trick. Another version of Zyren.

And he’s not wrong.

Zyren locked him in chains. Hurt him badly.

Who would believe a villain so easily?

If it were me, I wouldn’t believe either.

I stay silent for a long moment. Then I smile, the sharp edge leaving my expression.

“I’m doing this,” I say lightly, “because you’re my favorite book character.”

His eyes widen even more.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“…Book character?”

I laugh softly.

Idiot. Of course he wouldn’t understand.

I stand, set the towel aside, and sit on the edge of the table instead. My voice lowers—honest now.

“I’m doing this because you stayed beside me when no one else did.”

A pause.

“I just wanted to return the warmth you gave me.”

He stares at me, stunned.

I stretch, exhaustion finally settling into my limbs. “I’m tired. Go rest well.”

He stands immediately, nodding like it’s instinct.

At the door, I stop him. “Angel.”

He turns back.

“No work early in the morning,” I say. “That’s an order.”

He hesitates, searching my face—then nods.

“Good night.”

“…Good night, young master.”

The door closes softly behind him.

Morning light spills softly through the room.

I stretch lazily, burying half my face into the pillow.

“Good morning, Neon… and Zyren,” I mumble to myself.

Slowly, I sit up and rub my eyes, still heavy with sleep. Sunlight peeks through the thick curtains, painting warm lines across the soft bed. For a moment, I don’t want to move at all. I want to stay here—sleep, eat, read novels, do absolutely nothing.

I sigh dramatically.

I used to think rich people just relaxed all day, enjoying life without worries. Who knew they worked like machines—day and night, endlessly? Being rich is exhausting in its own way.

I stand, stretch again, and walk toward the balcony. The glass door slides open, and the morning chill brushes against my face.

“Oh… winter’s starting,” I murmur.

Winter always arrives with a biting chill.

The cold brings back memories I don’t want.

In my real life, winter was always the hardest season. A cheap rental apartment. A cruel landlord. Cracked windows, leaking ceilings. Every winter, I complained. Every winter, he promised to fix it. And every spring, nothing changed. The cold stayed. The cracks stayed. I learned to endure.

I inhale deeply, forcing the memories away.

My gaze drifts down to the garden.

Shine is there.

He walks carefully along the path, enjoying the morning sunlight, the fresh air. His soft blue hair moves gently with the breeze. The maids follow at a distance, alert and protective, making sure he doesn’t slip or strain himself.

I watch quietly.

He’s beautiful.

The novel described him so simply, yet so vividly. A normal omega. Nothing rare, nothing extraordinary. A photographer working for Kael Holdings. Someone who never imagined that the eldest son of the Kael family would fall in love with him.

Yet Zyke did.

The moment Zyke saw Shine for the first time, he fell—completely and without reason.

And somehow, in this cold, cruel world ruled by rankings and pheromones, that love became Shine’s shield.

I stay there a little longer, watching the .sunlight dance around him, wondering—

How many lives could have been gentle…

if love had arrived just a little earlier?

For a while, I stare at Shine without any real reason, lost in my own thoughts.

Then, suddenly, he looks up—his eyes meeting mine.

A soft smile curves on his lips as he lifts his hand and gives a small wave.

I shake my head, pushing my wandering thoughts aside, and return his smile, waving back.

Shine gestures for me to come down.

I nod in response.

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