Chapter 126: Brown Eyes Meet Mine....
The city sprawls beyond the glass wall like a living thing—veins of amber and gold threading through the darkness. I stand before the window, my gaze fixed on the world beyond the cold glass, watching the city move without me.
It’s been a week.
Seven days since that night. Since those hands found me in the darkness—sure, unyielding, as though they had every right to touch me.
I still feel the ghost of it. The phantom weight of his grip around my waist. The warmth of his breath against my ear.
My Alpha.
Two days.
It took my body two full days to recover. Even with the resilience, stamina, and recovery of an SS-Class Alpha, I was confined to bed, every muscle aching, my skin covered in bruises. Most of the marks have faded into faint shadows now, but the memory of them still burns whenever I close my eyes.
My hand rises almost unconsciously, my fingertips brushing against the cold glass. The chill seeps into my skin, sharp enough to make me pause, though I don’t pull away.
Heavy clouds have swallowed most of the stars. Rain still clings to the streets below, turning the city’s lights into ribbons of amber. Winter is settling in.
Snow will fall soon.
My gaze lingers on the skyline, but my thoughts have already drifted elsewhere.
Silas still hasn’t returned.
I wonder what the weather is like in X Country.
Is it warm there?
Has his health improved?
The questions come one after another, quiet and persistent, refusing to leave me alone.
Should I text him?
Just one message.
Ask when he’s coming back... ask if he’s taking care of himself.
My thumb brushes absently against the cool glass.
No.
He’s fine. He has to be.
He’s running an empire, for God’s sake. Being busy is nothing unusual for someone like him. Besides, even his secretary sounded completely at ease. He’ll be back soon, he said.
There shouldn’t be anything to worry about.
And yet...
The unease remains, lodged somewhere deep inside my chest, refusing to loosen its grip no matter how many times I reason with myself.
A soft knock at the door finally breaks the silence. The sound pulls me back to the present. I withdraw my hand from the glass, the lingering chill still clinging to my fingertips.
"Come in."
The door opens.
Iem steps inside, his posture precise, his expression carefully neutral. He’s been walking on eggshells around me all week. So has everyone else.
"Sir," he begins quietly. "I have something to report regarding the Heaven Lit Hotel."
I turn slowly, my movements unhurried, and meet his eyes. "Did you find something?"
A brief silence. His gaze lowers. A flicker of disappointment crosses his face before it’s carefully concealed beneath his usual professionalism.
"No, sir. We couldn’t locate the person you described. The hotel manager insists that the entire forty-ninth floor was closed that night due to technical maintenance. No reservations were accepted. No guests. No records of anyone entering that floor. According to their system... it remained completely sealed."
My jaw tightens.
"That’s impossible."
The words leave my mouth colder than I intend. "I was in that suite. There was someone there."
Iem hesitates, choosing his next words with obvious care. "Sir..."
I cut him off. "Did you check the CCTV again?"
"Yes, sir."
He nods once.
"I reviewed every camera feed personally. Multiple times. There were no key-card records, no staff movement, no one entering or leaving the forty-ninth floor. The VIP suite itself shows no activity for weeks."
He pauses.
"It’s as if... no one was ever there."
Silence settles between us.
I turn away, staring out at the city that offers no answers. The lights blur against the glass, my own reflection staring back at me—hollow, frustrated, restless.
How?
How could that bastard leave no trace?
Who the hell was he?
Iem clears his throat. "Sir, please don’t stress yourself. The team is still investigating. We’ll find something."
I don’t reply.
After a moment, he glances at his watch before looking back at me.
"It’s nearly midnight. You look exhausted. I don’t think you should drive yourself. Should I call the driver... or would you like me to drive you home?"
"No."
I walk to the coat stand and take my coat from its hook, slipping it over my shoulders without looking at him.
"You may leave."
Iem hesitates. I can feel his gaze lingering on my back, as though he wants to say something more. He doesn’t. Instead, he bows lightly.
"Good night, sir."
The door closes behind him with a soft click.
I adjust my coat and straighten my cuffs, grounding myself in familiar, practiced motions.
It doesn’t help.
The anger is already there, coiling in my chest—hot, restless, waiting.
Every time I think of that bastard, it rises again.
The need to find him.
To make him pay for laying a hand on me.
I grab my phone from the desk and stride toward the door.
The hallway stretches ahead, dim and silent. My footsteps echo across the polished marble, the only sound in the stillness.
I unlock my phone and send Sum a message.
Let’s meet at the club.
His reply comes almost instantly.
Sum: Seriously? You’re not planning to ditch me again, are you? You disappeared that night and never even came to the party.
The elevator doors slide open. I step inside, and the soft chime announces their closing. The mirrored walls reflect my own expression back at me—cold, unreadable.
My mood is already ruined. Don’t get on my nerves.
A moment later, another message appears.
Sum: Fine, fine, Mr. Charming. I’ll be there in twenty.
Without replying, I slip the phone back into my pocket. The elevator descends, the floor numbers ticking down one by one in steady silence.
The elevator doors part on the ground floor, revealing the polished lobby, the bowing guards, and the towering glass doors leading into the night.
Cold air greets me the moment I step outside, sharp with the scent of frost and rain. It cuts across my face, clearing the haze from my thoughts.
Better to drink. Let my mind go blank for a while.
I walk toward my car, my expression unreadable. The parking lot stretches wide and quiet beneath the pale glow of the lights, my footsteps the only sound against the asphalt.
Then I stop.
Someone is leaning against my car. A bouquet hides his face completely, its flowers catching the dim light in shades of crimson, ivory, and gold.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The anger coiling inside my chest falters. Slowly... The bouquet lowers.
Brown eyes meet mine.
The frustration draining through me is so sudden it almost catches me off guard.
Silas.