Chapter 75: It Felt Like… Disappointment

An Alpha’s physiology should resist or ignore another Alpha’s seductive signals. At most, it should register as a mild, annoying stimulus. Not this… this overwhelming, nervous system hijacking.

How is that possible?

The question echoes in my head, terrifying and confusing.

Is it because the original Zyren’s body is weak? Is it because I, Neon, from a world without pheromones, have no natural defenses?

Or is it something about Moon Arden—his S-Class potency, his specific scent—that just… bypasses my Alpha biology entirely?

The implications are a dizzying, dangerous whirlpool. And standing in the center of it, Moon Arden is still smiling, watching my internal crisis with the fascination of a cat playing with a very flustered mouse.

I look back at him, all my patience and confusion crystallizing into a single, cold point. I’m done.

“If you’re finished,” I say, my voice as sharp and final as shattered glass, “get out.”

The smile vanishes. He goes silent, the amusement wiped from his face by the sheer, unvarnished hostility in my tone.

Good. I didn’t want to use this tone. He forced my hand.

But he doesn’t leave.

Instead, he steps closer again.

I stare, shocked. What more could he possibly want?

Moon’s voice drops, all traces of teasing gone, replaced by something low, serious, and dangerously intent. “Zyren,” he says, the name a weighted thing.

“What the hell do you think you are?”

I look at him calmly, even as a fresh wave of exhaustion crashes over me. I was already sad, already carrying the weight of Deniz’s silence and Angel’s tears.

And he just waltzed in to pour fuel on the fire.

“Moon—”

His hand slams against the glass wall beside my head. The impact is a sharp, startling thwack that echoes in the quiet room. I flinch, the rest of my words dying in my throat.

His eyes lock onto mine, a predator’s gaze. “Zyren,” he repeats, each word deliberate.

“What the hell are you thinking? You can’t just use me to please your precious Omega.”

I stare at him, my brain scrambling to parse the sheer, monumental idiocy of what he just said.

Your precious Omega.

Use him to please Angel?

What the actual hell is he thinking?

“Moon—” I try again, my voice strained.

He cuts me off smoothly, his gaze piercing. “Today, I saw it. How angry you got. How you protected him. Fired a man just for making him cry.”

He leans in a fraction, his scent—that damned amber wood—swirling with his conviction.

“I’m not blind.”

I stare, utterly speechless.

This foolish, self-obsessed male lead genuinely thinks I protected Angel because Angel is my Omega. That we’re a couple. That this whole contract is some grand, romantic gesture to fulfill my lover’s modeling dreams.

A sigh, heavy with disbelief, escapes me. I look away, shaking my head slightly. This novel is truly full of fools. First Zyke with his toxic pride, and now this one with his spectacularly misplaced romantic delusions.

“Zyren,” Moon says, his voice certain, “I know you’re blackmailing me for him. Because he wants to shoot with me.”

I look back at him. The sheer, unadulterated wrongness of it all hits me. I can’t bear it anymore.

A laugh bursts from my lips—hard, incredulous, almost hysterical.

His confident expression falters. He blinks, staring at me as I laugh, my earlier flush from his pheromones probably making my cheeks glow even brighter.

“Mr. Arden,” I manage between breaths, wiping an invisible tear from the corner of my eye.

“You are so… in love with yourself.”

He just stands there, still effectively pinning me against the glass with his presence, confusion now warring with his certainty.

“Zyren, I’m serious,” he insists, but the edge is gone.

Still smiling ruefully, I shake my head. “You think… I offered you this contract because I want to fulfill my Omega’s wish?” The words taste absurd.

He stares, then gives a slow, definitive nod. “Yes. Obviously. Why else would you come to me and force a couple’s modeling shoot for your company? With him as my partner?”

I wipe the last of the laugh from my lips. “Moon Arden,” I say, my voice finally steady and clear.

“I already told you. I hired you because you’re suitable. Not for any Omega.”

His face changes. The absolute certainty fractures, just a little.

I see my chance. In one smooth motion, I duck under his arm, slipping out of the trap between him and the glass. I walk across the office, the space feeling instantly less suffocating, and sink down onto the plush couch. I sit calmly, crossing one leg over the other.

“Angel,” I state, looking directly at him across the room, “is not my Omega.” I let the words hang for a beat.

“He’s… my best friend.”

Moon Arden is still standing by the wall, his hand now dropped to his side. He stares at me, his expression utterly blank, as if his brain is buffering, trying and failing to compute a reality where his dramatic, romantic narrative doesn’t apply.

He looks like a man who just realized the script he was handed is for a completely different play.

Moon walks over to the couch, his movements losing some of their predatory grace. He sits down opposite me, the low table between us like a neutral zone.

He lets out a low, disbelieving whistle. “Wow. That’s… surprising. Zyren Kael, loving his friends.” He leans back, his blue eyes sharp with a skepticism that feels personal, not professional.

“But I can’t buy it. Because the Zyren I know… wasn’t exactly good to his friends. Even the ones who were good to him.”

I look at him, honestly at a loss. This is uncharted territory. In the novel, the author only gave the barest sketch: Moon Arden and Zyren Kael were childhood friends. They had a fight. They stopped being friends. Later, they fought over the same Omega (Angel). The details—the why, the how, the specific betrayals—were left blank, mere backstory to fuel the main love triangle.

Now, those blanks are staring me in the face, full of accusation.

God, I feel so exhausted. I’m too tired, too heartsore, to argue with a ghost’s grievances.

Before I can even form a placating or defensive word, Moon stands up. The movement is sudden, filled with a fresh, cold energy.

“You’re so selfish,” he says, the words flat, devoid of his earlier teasing heat. They sound like a verdict.

“You’ve been that way since we were kids.”

He shakes his head, a flicker of something that looks like genuine pity in his eyes. “I actually feel bad for that Omega. The one you’re calling your friend.”

He stares at me, his gaze drilling into mine, waiting for a reaction—a denial, an explosion, anything.

I just look back, too weary to give him one.

After a long, heavy moment, he turns on his heel. He walks to the door, opens it, and leaves without another word. The door closes behind him with a soft, definitive thud.

Silence floods back in, thicker than before.

I stay on the couch, motionless. Not thinking about his words, at first.

But about his eyes.

In that last look, there was anger. Yes. A deep, old anger. But it wasn’t the clean, sharp blade of hatred. It was messier. Heavier.

It felt like… disappointment.

The fury of someone who expected better. Who knew you could be better, once.

And that… that is a revelation the novel never prepared me for.

What happened between you two?

The question echoes in the silent office, a ghost from a past I inherited but never lived. What did the original Zyren do to turn childhood friendship into this bitter, complicated residue of let-down hope?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep