All Chapters of This Time, I Choose The Alpha King Male Lead: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

57 Chapters

THIRTY-ONE: The Garden of the Past

MINTHEThe Garden of the Past* * *We go through the winding, twisting stone paths of the outer grounds, moving far away from the noisy main packhouse and toward the secluded eastern ridge of the estate.This is my place.A small, hidden garden sanctuary enclosed by towering, thick evergreen hedges that completely block out the rest of the world.Over the last three years, when the overwhelming loneliness of being a modern soul trapped in a medieval fantasy novel became too heavy to bear, I came here.With no internet, no smartphones, no electricity, and nothing but dry, boring historical texts about werewolf lineages to read, the boredom had been an actual, physical ache in my chest.So, I took up a hobby.I spent hundreds of lonely hours with a small iron carving knife and blocks of scrap oak wood, meticulously recreating the things I missed from home.It was stupid, pathetic even, but it was the only thing that kept me sane.I carved little wooden replicas of things I used to take

THIRTY-TWO: He Can Do That?

MINTHEHe Can Do That?* * *Thud.Thud.Thud.The sound is entirely merciless.I stand frozen at the entrance of the hedge row, my breath catching in my throat as the biting scent of fresh pine sap and damp earth fills my lungs.Every blow of the iron axes is a blade carving into my own ribs.They are destroying it.They are systematically smashing three years of my life into unrecognizable kindling.Right in the center of the clearing, Lyria stands with her wide, doe-like eyes swimming in a sudden, dramatic rush of tears.Her lower lip trembles with theatrical perfection, her small hands clutching at her chest as she takes a frantic, stumbling step backward into the crushed mud.She looks at me as if I am a monster that just crawled out of the dark to slaughter her where she stands.“Please . . . please, I didn’t know you were t-there . . . Pierre told me that I can put the flowers in this garden . . . I-I’m sorry about your little wooden . . . things.”I can’t breathe.I literally

THIRTY-THREE: Be Like Lyria

MINTHEBe Like Lyria* * * “What the fuck did you just do?!” The older Omega finally finds her voice, screaming in absolute horror as she lunges forward to shield Lyria.“Who the hell do you think you are to touch her?! Guards! Traitor! Someone kill this Omega!”The wood choppers lift their iron axes, their faces flushed with aggressive pack loyalty as they take a step toward Cassian.My survival instincts kick in before my brain can even process the danger.If Cassian gets hurt, if he fights back and kills these people, or if he decides to back out of our arrangement and leave this pack, my system contract is completely void.If the distance between me and the Royal Messenger exceeds thirty meters while my system is corrupted, my internal organs will liquefy.I cannot let them touch him.I step forward, aggressively raising my right hand, thrusting my fragile body directly in front of Cassian’s massive frame to shield him from the advancing warriors.“Stand the fuck down!” I snap, my

THIRTY-FOUR: The Contract

MINTHEThe Contract* * *The iron tang of my own blood tastes remarkably like defeat, coating the back of my throat that refuses to wash away.I stand rooted in the black mud of the ruined garden, my left cheek throbbing with a white-hot heat that radiates all the way down to my collarbone.The skin is already swelling where Pierre’s heavy palm had connected with brutal force.My right hand isn’t doing any better, dark, thick drops of blood drip steadily from my palm, staining the wet earth beneath my feet where the sharp wood splinters from my ruined carvings had sliced deep into my flesh.I don’t cry.I don’t even blink.Instead, I reach down with my uninjured hand, gripping the heavy fabric of my mud-caked woolen skirt.With a tug, I use my teeth to catch the hem, yanking hard until the fabric gives way with a loud, satisfying rip.The sound tears through the dead silence of the empty courtyard.Cassian stands a few feet away, his small shoulders trembling under his thin shirt, hi

THIRTY-FIVE: Jealous of Lyria

MINTHEJealous of Lyria* * *Pierre’s massive, scarred hand is wrapped firmly around her waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as if he’s terrified she might vanish into thin air if he loosens his grip.The moment Pierre’s dark eyes land on me, his entire body stiffens.His chest heaves beneath his heavy leather jacket, his stride faltering for a fraction of a second.His gaze shifts instantly to the left side of my face, his pupils dilating as he stares at the angry, swollen red imprint of his own hand marking my skin.“What exactly are you doing here, Minthe?” Pierre asks, his voice rough and deep, carrying a strange, unstable hesitation that he quickly tries to mask with his usual booming Alpha authority.I drop my arms to my sides, standing perfectly straight, my posture entirely unbothered.I don’t look at him with hatred. I don’t look at him with longing.I look at him the way a merchant looks at a broken piece of inventory.“I just have something private

THIRTY-SIX: Stepping Down

MINTHEStepping Down* * *There is a specific frequency to a man’s stupidity, and right now, Pierre Ashbourne is vibrating at a pitch that makes my teeth ache.The veins in his neck look like thick ropes ready to snap under the pressure.He is looking at me like I am a monster.My wrist is still throbbing where his fingers had brutally dug into my flesh only moments ago, the skin already darkening into an ugly, mottled purple beneath my sleeve.I open my mouth, the venom in my chest rising to the back of my tongue, ready to spill out and rip his generic, spineless protagonist persona to fucking shreds.I am done being the quiet, sacrificial lamb of the Ashbourne pack. I am so goddamn done.But before the first profane syllable can leave my lips, a soft, delicate hand brushes against Pierre.Lyria steps out from the shadows of the open corridor, her movements so fluid and graceful she might as well be floating.“Please, don’t be angry, Pierre,” Lyria murmurs, her voice a sweet,

THIRTY-SEVEN: His Arrival

MINTHEHis Arrival* * *The old priest freezes.The silence that follows is so absolute that the only sound in the room is the crackle of a lone candle burning on the desk.“What?” Father Thomas whispers, his voice cracking with utter shock.He blinks rapidly, his hands slipping off mine as if he’s just touched hot iron. “What did you just say, child? Step down? You . . . you cannot be serious.”“I am entirely serious,” I reply, completely devoid of the hesitation he’s looking for.“But why?!” The old man’s face turns pale, his chest heaving.He’s completely unaware of the drama that has been unfolding in the main packhouse. He hasn’t seen the grand return of the original heroine.“Minthe, you have given three years of your life to this territory! You are the backbone of Ashbourne! The people love you. Pierre . . . Pierre is nothing without your guidance! Why would you throw all of that away now, right before the ceremony?”A small, tired, deeply cynical smile twists the corner of my

THIRTY-EIGHT: Take My Place

MINTHETake My Place* * *Three years of playing the meek, submissive martyr for a generic werewolf Alpha didn’t just break my spirit; it completely rotted my goddamn brain.But waking up this morning with the metallic taste of absolute clarity in my mouth, I realize the pathetic, love-struck placeholder version of Minthe Vale is officially dead.“Let go of the fucking door, Cass.”“No. Absolutely not. Put a bullet in my skull instead.”Cassian is currently anchoring himself to the heavy oak doorframe of my quarters, his fingers clawing at the wood with white-knuckled desperation.He is an elite fifteen-year-old assassin bound to me by a blood contract, a kid who can slice a man’s carotid artery without blinking, but right now he is behaving like a bratty toddler being dragged to a dentist appointment.“We are going out,” I say, grabbing the back of his oversized denim jacket and pulling with everything I’ve got. “Move your ass.”“The last time you dragged me out for ‘fresh air

THIRTY-NINE: A Deal Struck

MINTHEA Deal Struck* * *The word seduce tastes like copper and reckless desperation on my tongue, but I say it anyway.Lyria’s jaw drops so fast I think it might unhinge.The expensive leather designer purse she was clutching like a lifeline slips right through her fingers, hitting the polished marble floor with a heavy, hollow thud.“You’re . . . what?” she stammers, cracking right through her perfect, fragile white-lotus act.I don’t shift an inch.I stay leaning back against the plush velvet cushions of the boutique couch, my ankles crossed casually on the marble coffee table.I look at her through completely bare eyes, having tossed my sunglasses aside.“You heard me,” I say, keeping my tone smooth, level, and entirely stripped of the pathetic, submissive softness I used to use whenever Pierre was around. “You take my place at the Mating Ceremony. You marry Pierre.”Lyria stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.She takes a shaky step back, her chest heaving underneat

FORTY: Not For Much Longer

MINTHENot For Much Longer* * *Ten minutes later, I am shoving a plastic basket of tokens into his hands inside the loudest, brightest, most chaotic arcade in the central district.At first, it is like pulling teeth.He stands by the air hockey table with his arms locked, staring at the neon lights like they might explode and kill him.But the second I challenge him and intentionally score a point by slamming the puck past his defense, his inner competitive assassin awakens.“You fucking cheated,” he growls, his dark eyes locking onto the plastic puck as it slides across the small holes of air. “Your wrist moved before the countdown finished.”“A win is a win, little man,” I taunt, sliding the mallet against the plastic. “Get good.”“I am literally trained to kill people in their sleep,” he snarls, slamming the puck back so fast it hits the edge of the table with a deafening clack and flies straight into my goal. “Don’t test me.”By the time we leave, our hands are sticky from

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