A Choice I Shouldn’t Have Made

The cold night air bit at my skin as I stood there, frozen. The man was still slumped against the wall, his chest rising and falling steadily, unaware of my presence. A voice in my head screamed at me to turn around, to leave him be and disappear into the night.

But I didn’t move.

I watched him for a few moments longer, debating with myself. If I left him here, someone else would find him eventually—security, housekeeping, or maybe just some other guest stumbling out late from the party. But I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that it might not end well. What if he fell and hurt himself? Or worse—what if someone less “kind” stumbled upon him first?

My grip on my bag tightened, my fingernails digging into the strap. This isn’t your problem, Haru. Walk away.

And yet, I sighed heavily and took a step closer.

“Hey,” I said softly, almost hoping he wouldn’t respond so I’d have an excuse to leave.

No reaction.

I crouched down hesitantly, careful to keep some distance as I studied him. His dark hair was tousled, falling over his forehead, and his shirt—a designer brand I recognized from years of working at the hotel—was crumpled and untucked. The loosened tie and faint smell of alcohol told me everything I needed to know. He’d overdone it.

What a waste. I frowned, irritation bubbling up inside me. This was exactly why I hated events like these. People who thought they were untouchable, drowning themselves in drinks until they couldn’t even stand. My opinion of him plummeted instantly.

Still, something about him gnawed at me. He didn’t look reckless or dangerous. He looked... vulnerable.

I shook my head. That wasn’t my concern.

I stood up again, prepared to just find security and tell them about him. That was the logical thing to do. But as I turned, the faint echo of footsteps in the distance made me freeze.

My co-workers.

I could recognize that chatter anywhere. It was only a matter of time before they’d pass through this side lot, either looking for someone to drag to their after-party or taking a smoke break. If they found him here, they’d assume I left him. They’d blame me. Even if they disliked me, they would bring this to management—it was just how things worked.

I ran a hand through my hair, groaning softly. I was stuck.

I glanced back down at him, still unconscious, and muttered, “You better not cause me any trouble.”

Carefully, I bent down and slipped my arm beneath his. My skin prickled at the contact, but I grit my teeth and hoisted him up, trying to balance his weight against me. He wasn’t overly heavy—lean and toned, probably athletic—but his deadweight made it awkward.

“Great,” I muttered, staggering slightly. “You couldn’t even sit upright, huh?”

I could smell the faint traces of cologne on him now, a sharp contrast to the alcohol lingering around him. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it only heightened my discomfort. Being this close to someone—especially a man—wasn’t something I was used to, and I didn’t want to be.

I adjusted my hold on him, looping his arm around my shoulder as I half-dragged, half-carried him toward the hotel’s back entrance. Every step felt like a test, and my pulse raced faster than it should have.

You don’t know him, I reminded myself. He could be dangerous. What if he wakes up and—

I cut off my own thoughts before they spiraled further. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t waking up. I just needed to get him somewhere safe where the hotel staff could take over, and then I’d be free of this whole mess.

As I reached the staff entrance, I propped him against the wall to catch my breath. My muscles ached, and my heart pounded in my chest. I wiped the sweat from my brow, stealing a glance at him again. His head lolled slightly, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of consciousness, but it passed as quickly as it came.

Who even is he? I wondered. I knew I’d seen him at the party earlier, surrounded by other guests. He hadn’t stood out much to me then—another wealthy man in a sea of arrogance and excess. If anything, I’d written him off as just another person I’d avoid.

But now, up close, there was something… different. I couldn’t place it, but I didn’t want to linger on that thought.

Grumbling under my breath, I pushed open the back entrance door with my hip and dragged him inside. The hallway was dim, with only a few emergency lights casting faint shadows across the walls. I glanced around nervously, relieved to find the area empty. I didn’t want questions or assumptions.

“Almost there,” I murmured to myself as though reassuring him instead of me.

I knew the staff lounge was just down the hall, and if I could at least get him there, someone else could deal with him. Maybe one of the security guards would recognize him and call his people. I didn’t need to be involved anymore.

By the time I got him through the lounge door, my back was screaming in protest, and I was panting like I’d just run a marathon. I eased him onto the old couch, letting him slump over the worn cushions.

“There,” I said, taking a step back and rolling my shoulder to shake off the strain. “Safe and sound. You’re someone else’s problem now.”

He didn’t respond, of course. His breathing was steady, and the exhaustion on his face was evident even in sleep. I caught myself staring for a second too long before shaking my head sharply.

“Don’t know why I even bothered,” I muttered.

I turned toward the door, ready to leave, but the faint sound of him shifting made me pause.

“…nnngh…”

The noise was quiet, barely audible, but enough to make me look back. His brow furrowed slightly, like he was caught in a bad dream. I frowned, hesitating again. I should leave. I needed to leave.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I let out a sharp exhale and crossed my arms. “You better not throw up on that couch,” I said softly, as though he could hear me. “I’m not cleaning it.”

He didn’t move again, and I turned away once more. This time, I forced myself to walk toward the door. My legs were heavy, weighed down with lingering unease, but I ignored it.

Helping him had been a mistake.

I didn’t even know him, and more importantly, I didn’t want to know him. People like him—men who drank themselves into oblivion at fancy parties—were trouble. They were people I avoided for good reason. They were often arrogant, careless, and above all else… alphas.

My chest tightened involuntarily at the thought, and I shook my head to clear it. He didn’t look like an alpha, not with how helpless he’d been. If I’d known—if I’d even suspected—I would’ve left him out there in the cold without a second thought.

I hated alphas. I feared them. And no amount of hotel rules or consequences could’ve made me carry one of them to safety.

But he couldn’t be an alpha. I was sure of that. There was no way I wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have felt the oppressive weight of their presence that always made my skin crawl.

No. He was just some drunk, careless man. That’s all.

Still, as I slipped out of the staff lounge and into the dark hallway beyond, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just made a terrible mistake.