Seven Years’ Love, Defeated by Alpha's Preference for Her

While staying up late with Xavier to do experiments, his communication stone suddenly vibrated.

“Help me reply—it’s probably Eldridge Fang.”

His eyes never left the cultured cells under the microscope; his tone was careless.

Sleepy-eyed, I took his communication stone—and instantly woke up.

What came into view was a girl’s mirror selfie:

a slender figure, lips slightly curved, eyes full of flirtatious provocation.

It was Xavier’s junior, Lilian.

“honey～tell me, what should I wear tomorrow?”

The tone was openly intimate and suggestive.

I froze, my heart seized tight.

Xavier, still bent over observing the experimental cells, didn’t notice the undercurrent beside him.

Tomorrow was my Coming-of-Age Ritual.

It happened to be the weekend—we had agreed to go to the Moonlight Altar beneath the sea cliffs to celebrate.

I had dressed carefully, full of expectation for the birthday celebration.

Yet at that very moment came such a message.

I handed him the communication stone. He turned his head briefly, glanced, and gave a soft chuckle.

“Sent to the wrong person.”

I looked sideways at him and immediately opened the video-call function.

The other party picked up at once.

“honey~ what are you doing?”

Her tone was syrupy and teasing.

Her lip line was breathtakingly beautiful.

I pointed the communication stone at myself.

Lilian froze.

“Why… it’s you?”

The screen stalled for a second, as if on purpose,

then quickly recovered.

“Sorry, sorry! I really sent it to the wrong person, I didn’t mean to.”

She spoke fast, but there was no panic in her smile.

I said nothing. Xavier replied softly:

“Mm. Be careful next time.”

My heart sank instantly.

I had known him seven years—

I knew his nature too well.

Xavier was a perfectionist, always disdaining stupidity.

I was not clever, so after we got together I always treated him carefully, fearing he might someday despise me.

But he had once held me close and murmured, “You’re different.”

Someone else had used the same trick once; he saw through it immediately, eyes full of disgust.

He comforted me gently afterward, saying,

“That woman isn’t you. That trick doesn’t work on me.”

But today, he excused her softly.

It felt as if something unseen was changing—that misplaced gentleness pierced into my chest like a blade. A sense of suffocating pressure rose, choking me.

I looked at Xavier.

“She’s flirting with you.”

It was not a question but a statement.

The air froze for a moment.

On the other end, Lilian stared, unprepared for my directness.

Her face turned red.

“N-no, Nora, you misunderstand! It was really a mistake!”

Her voice trembled, eyes moist.

Her bare shoulder quivered on-screen—pitifully fragile.

Finishing the blood-sample test, Xavier glanced our way, realizing I was angry.

With a helpless, indulgent smile, he hung up the call and pinched my cheek.

“Mm, she’s flirting with me.”

The tone was lazy, as though indulging a willful child.

Before I could explode, the laboratory door swung open—and Lilian appeared.

Under her oversized shirt, two pale legs were exposed.

“I just wanted to explain to Nora in person.”