Chapter 9

I stood in front of the brown oak door that leads to the Alpha room, my heart pounding like it's about to jump out of my chest. I really can't find the courage to reach out to the door knob and turn it. Or to even knock at all. Alphas are unpredictable...at least judging from my experience with Alpha Bastian. For all know, he probably have changed his mind about keeping me alive. For all I know, he could be inside there, waiting for me to enter so he can kill me with his sharpened blade.

I had almost convinced myself to go back...to go tell Agatha I can't do this , when I heard the sound of water hitting the floor.

Alright, he's already taking his bath. Just like Agatha said. If I can just pop in and pot out in 30 minutes, I won't even encounter him at all.

With that in mind, my hands finally reached the knob, turning it as slow as I could without making any sound.

The door creaked open, just a little. I slipped inside—holding my breath as if even the sound of air might give me away. The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, but I could still see how large it was—larger than any space I'd ever been allowed to enter before back home.

I didn't really dwell on the decor of the room. I couldn't...not when my heart was thumping like crazy

I forced my legs to move, slowly edging toward the far end of the room where his desk stood. Papers were neatly stacked, a few leather-bound books resting on top, and a pen placed exactly at the center. I didn't dare touch anything. I only had thirty minutes, and wasting one second could mean seeing him. No, I wasn't going to take that risk.

I grabbed the duster from the cleaning bucket, my fingers trembling slightly as I began wiping down the surfaces, careful not to knock anything out of place. Every sound in that room felt amplified—the sweep of the cloth, my own breathing, the faint splash of water from the bathroom. And the whole time, I kept glancing at the door, praying he'd stay in there until I was long gone.

I moved fast, but not too fast. Agatha said thirty minutes, and I wasn't about to test my luck by finishing early and bumping into him at the door. I dusted the shelves, wiped the glass table, straightened the folded coat draped over the back of the chair—everything with the precision. The scent of his cologne lingered everywhere—im not one to notice ones smell but I can't just get his out of my senses

Finally, when I checked the time and realized I had only a few minutes left, I gathered the unclean cloths, carefully placed the duster back into the bucket, and tiptoed toward the door. My hand was on the knob, ready to turn, when I heard the water stop.

My heart jumped. No footsteps yet. That means he's probably still drying off.

This is my chance. Without thinking twice, I slipped out the door, pulling it shut as gently as I could until I heard the faintest click. I didn't breathe properly until I was halfway down the hall, the bucket still in hand, my knees weak but my mind racing with one thought—I survived. First round

_____

Breakfast came sooner than I thought it will. I still can't believe I have to face the man I tried so hard not to encounter earlier and serve him breakfast. As if sneaking into his room to clean while he was naked in the shower wasn't enough heart attack for one day.

I could feel my skin prickled as I entered the kitchen and trust me, it wasn't because of the heat from the kitchen. No, it's because my nerves are already overheating. I clutched the sides of the black apron I'm now wearing, trying to blend in with the movement around me, even though everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing while I...well, I am barely keeping it together.

I made my way to the far counter, the one lined with covered trays and food carriers that looked way too fancy for someone like me to be touching.

The boy with the blue eyes from yesterday approached me, sleeves rolled up, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, but still has that mischievous glint in his eyes.

He gave me a small, almost apologetic smile like he knew what was brewing in my head.

"Hey," he said gently, picking up a silver-lidded food courier from the counter. "Elyssa, right ?"

I nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat. My voice didn't trust me enough to answer.

He placed the courier in front of me, the metal still warm from the contents inside. "Here. Alpha's breakfast. He eats in his study on Tuesdays."

Tuesdays.

So he has routines for breakfast too?

Somehow, that single piece of information brought a strange wave of relief. Maybe—maybe—if I paid enough attention to his patterns, I could learn how to avoid him altogether.

"Thanks," I whispered, barely audible.

He hesitated, then added, "Just knock. He won't answer, but the door's usually open. Drop the courier on the side table near the bookshelf and leave. Quietly."

I nodded again, tighter this time. My fingers curled around the handle of the courier, heart pounding all over again.

The boy leaned in just slightly, voice low. "Don't look him in the eye, alright? And don't talk unless he requires a reply from you. The Alpha is always quite busy in the study so he won't even notice you"

Really? My head snapped up in relief and he smiled before returning back to the inner kitchen.

I stood there for a few more seconds, hands clenched around the food courier. He won't notice me...he won't notice me.

I'll just do it like earlier...zoom in...zoom out, right?