CHAPTER 9- Just because I'm a Beta³

Present Day – 8 P.M.

The apartment was eerily silent, save for the steady rhythm of water cascading down the tiles. Steam curled through the bathroom, thick and warm, as Presley stood beneath the showerhead, letting the heat soak into his skin. Droplets trickled down the sharp angles of his collarbones, pooling at his feet before spiraling into the drain.

He exhaled in satisfaction, running a hand through his damp red hair. For the first time all day, he could finally relax.

Until Von spoke.

VON: «Why didn’t you accept Zane’s job offer?»

Presley sighed, tilting his head back into the water. "Because I’m trying to provoke James, not piss him off."

VON: «And turning down his rival’s offer does that how?»

Presley chuckled, reaching for the soap. "Because now he’s wondering why. It’ll gnaw at him. Suspicion is a beautiful thing—it festers."

He smirked to himself, then paused as a thought struck him. "But hey... once I'm done here, does that mean Riley—?"

VON: «I don’t have an answer to that.»

The response was flat. Unfeeling.

VON: «The only connection we have to the host is the mission. Once it’s complete, we have no involvement in what happens next.»

A sharp pang twisted in Presley’s chest.

Right. The system didn’t care. It wasn’t real. Just a program, built to execute commands.

"Tch..." He rolled his eyes. "You’re no fun."

«Well, I guess you’ll have fun speaking to someone else.»

Presley furrowed his brows, pausing mid-motion. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Von didn’t respond.

"…?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. Wait… why isn’t it answering? Did it just get offended?

A scoff left his lips. Tch, like it can actually feel emotions.

Dismissing the odd moment, Presley resumed his bath. What he didn’t realize was that his phone—placed carelessly on the counter—was typing and scrolling through web pages by itself.

Then, suddenly…

RING!

Presley flinched, his head snapping toward the sound.

That’s odd. His brows furrowed.

He hadn’t given anyone his number here. Did his contacts even carry over in this world?

Suspicion pricked his nerves. his eyes narrowing at the screen.

The phone was making a call.

On its own.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Presley nearly slipped. "Von, who the hell are you calling?! Cancel that call right n—"

Too late.

The call connected.

A deep, cold voice came from the other end.

"…Who is this?"

Presley froze. "…!!!!"

Zane’s voice was sharp. Cold. A stark contrast to the personality Presley had encountered earlier that morning at the coffee shop. But when he thought about it, that reaction was normal from a person who was receiving a call from an unknown number.

He swallowed hard, his mind racing. ‘Shit, shit, shit. What is Von thinking?!’

"Hello..."

Zane's voice called again but Presley didn't utter a word.

If he stayed quiet, Zane would dismiss it as a prank call and hang up.

That was the plan—until a voice, his voice, spoke in response.

"Hello, Mr. Carper."

Presley’s blood ran cold.

That was his voice. But he hadn't said a word.

His stomach twisted as realization sank in. Von was speaking in a tone that matches Riley's voice.

ZANE: “That voice… no. That’s too far-fetched. There’s no chance that you’re—”

VON: «Yes, it’s me. Riley.»

Presley’s jaw clenched.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, VON?!’

Zane hesitated, then asked, "Wait… how did you get my number?"

And Von, being Von was very smooth with his reply.

VON: «I followed your business webpage and looked you up. Then, I dug deeper. Now I know where you live, the cafés and restaurants you frequent, the hotels you visit for your one-night stands… and the elderly home in the countryside you visit once a year. To see your late mother.»

ZANE: "..... ..... ....."

A long, heavy silence.

Presley smacked a hand over his face. “Great. Now you made me look like a creep."

"…Were you stalking me?" Zane's voice dropped dangerously.

Presley could already sense the suspicion creeping into his tone.

ZANE: “You know… we were together this morning. If you needed my number, you could’ve just asked. I would’ve been happy to give it to you, instead of you going through such lengths.”

Von replied effortlessly.

VON: «I wanted to. But I have a thing for surprises.»

Presley gawked. ‘Are you serious right now?!’

He could not believe how thick skinned this person or this thing is.

VON: «And… I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes. I was a little shy.»

VON: «I wasn’t sure if… you liked me.»

ZANE:"....... .... ......"

Presley’s brain short-circuited.

‘THAT’S IT. END CALL. NOW.’

He lunged for the phone—

ZANE: “I know this might sound rude, but… I won’t believe it’s really you unless I see it for myself. Would you mind a video call?”

Presley’s breath cut.

PRESLEY: “No—”

VON: «Of course. Why not?»

His stomach dropped.

The screen flickered, switching to the camera option.

Presley’s soul left his body.

Because as someone who was standing in the shower, he was completely n@ked.

"F**k!"

Presley sprinted out of the shower, barely managing to grab a towel.

...****************...

By the time the call connected, steam still curled through the air, casting a hazy glow around him.

Zane’s pupils dilated.

Presley raked a hand through his wet hair, water dripping from the strands. He knew exactly what Zane was seeing—the sharp curve of his jawline, the way his emerald-green eyes shimmered under the dim light. The towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

Zane swallowed hard.

His gaze dragged down Presley’s torso, lingering on his exposed collarbones, his toned stomach. He shut his eyes briefly, as if forcing himself to breathe.

ZANE: “I guess… you weren’t kidding when you said you liked surprises.”

His voice came out lower than intended.

ZANE: “…I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Presley—now somewhat composed—sighed. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’d understand if you’re upset."

ZANE: “No. Not at all. I’m glad you called. I just… never thought you’d reach out so soon.”

Zane hesitated.

Then, softly—

ZANE: “…To be honest, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

After a slight pause.

ZANE: “Would it be weird to say… I miss you?”

Presley blinked, bemused. Then, he chuckled.

‘Of course, it’d be weird. We just met.’

But he played along. "I miss you too."

Zane visibly stiffened. A light dusting of pink spread across his cheeks.

Presley huffed a laugh. ‘This guy… has had multiple one-night stands, and yet a simple compliment flusters him?’

He was cute.

He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. "Zane… do you have lube?"

Zane choked. "W-Why are you asking that—?"

Presley reached for the towel.

Zane's breath hitched.

The towel was the last thread of sanity keeping him together, and Presley was about to remove it.

His eyes darkened, his throat bobbing as if he were struggling to swallow.His mind raced—no, his entire being was glued to the screen, burning with a silent, unspoken hunger. He could almost imagine the heat, the feel of Riley beneath his touch—if only they were not separated by a screen.

Presley saw it. That flicker of hunger, It left a smirk on his face.

The tension in the air was thick.

Then—

BANG.

A loud crash shattered the moment.

Presley spun around, heart lurching.

The bathroom door slammed open and his eyes locked onto the intruder.

"James?"

'How on earth did he get here?' Presley thought as he stared at the figure standing at the threshold, his expression unreadable.

JAMES: "Looks like you have company."

Presley let out a slow, exaggerated sigh, his hand gripping the towel tighter around his waist.

‘Oh, right.’

‘I almost forgot Riley and James were basically love partners. Of course, he would have a spare key to Riley's apartment.’

Presley rolled his eyes. Love partners, huh? He had read enough of Riley’s past interactions to know that their relationship was anything but romantic. If anything, it was a slow-burning battlefield hidden under the guise of affection.

James’ gaze flickered between him and the phone. Presley caught the way his eyes darkened, sharp as a blade, when he noticed Zane on the screen.

Presley tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips. Oh, he’s jealous?.

Curious, Presley brought the phone back to his ear, his voice dripping with teasing.

ZANE: "What happened over there? who was that?"

“No one you need to worry about, I’ll call you back.” he drawled, ignoring the way James’ jaw tensed.

“You don’t seem too surprised to see me.”

Presley hummed. “Why would I be? It’s your bad habit, isn’t it? Walking into places uninvited.”

"What do you want?"

...----------------...

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