Accidentally Provoked My Archenemy [ABO] - Chapter 22

Bitterness…?

What right did he have to feel bitter? After all, wasn’t this all his fault to begin with?

“Tch.” Gu Amo noticed the look Cheng Yunan cast toward Sang Yu and let out a scornful laugh. “Cheng, you’re not seriously thinking Sang-jie’s gonna protect you, are you?”

He must be dreaming.

Cheng Yunan still said nothing as Gu Amo slowly advanced on him, step by step, until his back hit the wall—no room to retreat.

“I’ll tell you this,” Gu Amo sneered, raising his fist, “you’re not walking away from this today.”

Every alpha had a natural advantage over betas and omegas. But rank made a difference—even among alphas. An A-rank alpha was practically twice as powerful as a B-rank.

That was why Cheng Yunan, despite all his effort and extra training, had only just barely made it into the Imperial Military Academy.

He couldn’t win.

No matter how hard he trained, the reality of his rank remained—he would always have to work twice as hard just to keep up.

And when he couldn’t win… all he could do was endure.

He closed his eyes, bracing for the blow.

But several seconds passed—and the pain never came.

He opened his eyes to find Sang Yu standing in front of him.

She’d stepped in silently, catching Gu Amo’s punch mid-air with ease. None of the others had reacted in time.

“…Sang-jie?” Gu Amo stammered, pulling his fist back.

Sang Yu didn’t reply. Her eyes remained locked on Cheng Yunan.

Only after he opened his eyes did she give a slight nod. Then she gently released Gu Amo’s wrist. “You’ve done enough. You all have class tomorrow. Take him to get something to eat, then go back and rest.”

“…Got it, Sang-jie.”

Gu Amo withdrew with a reluctant grunt and signaled to the others. They gradually backed away into the shadows, disappearing one by one.

Now only Sang Yu and Cheng Yunan remained.

She still hadn’t looked away. From the moment he arrived, even when addressing Gu Amo, her eyes had never left him.

Cheng Yunan pressed his lips together but didn’t meet her gaze.

They stood facing each other, motionless, exchanging no words. The air between them was heavy—still—so still that the faintest breaths felt loud in the silence.

He swallowed, lightly.

He was waiting.

But minutes passed. She neither moved nor spoke. The chill between them grew.

Unable to bear it, Cheng Yunan finally turned his head. Their eyes met—and the coldness in hers pierced straight through him.

He couldn’t take it. He turned to leave.

He had only taken a single step when his wrist was suddenly grabbed.

Just like so many times in the past, Sang Yu caught him—effortlessly halting his retreat. Her fingers tightened, and with one sharp pull, she dragged him backwards.

She didn’t hold back.

Completely off guard, Cheng Yunan stumbled several steps before slamming hard into the wall behind him.

The wall was old and uneven, its surface dotted with exposed bumps from years of wear. His shoulder blade slammed against one of them, sending a sharp bolt of pain through him. He let out a muffled groan and slid down slowly, weakened, trying to brace himself.

Sang Yu heard it—but ignored it. She stepped forward, and her shadow slowly enveloped him.

Once in front of him, she crouched down to his level.

“Cheng Yunan,” she said, her face dark, her gaze sweeping across his sweat-slicked skin, “I told you before—if there’s something you want, tell me. I’ll try to make it happen.”

“But instead, you turn around and pull this kind of stunt. Do you think what I can offer isn’t good enough for you?”

“Or is it the Sang family’s power that isn’t enough to satisfy your ambition?”

Her eyes were cold—so cold that for a moment, Cheng Yunan felt like he was back in the early days, back when they’d first met.

“I don’t need your charity,” he gritted out, teeth clenched against the pain in his back. Every word came out slow and hard.

“Charity?” Sang Yu chuckled, like she’d heard the funniest thing in the world. She reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing his head up to meet her gaze.

She leaned in—so close their noses almost touched—warm breath ghosting along his cheek as she whispered:

“This isn’t charity. This is compensation.”

“Enough.” Cheng Yunan had recovered some strength. The intimate proximity, the mingled breaths, disoriented him. His fingers trembled as he shoved her hand away and struggled to his feet.

“I’m not leaving. Give it up.”

He turned again to go—but she wouldn’t let him.

With one smooth motion, she seized his wrist and slammed him back into the wall.

The sharp pain in his shoulder flared again.

Sang Yu had done this countless times before. In the past, he could at least rely on his alpha strength to endure, but now—he wasn’t even that.

He was just an omega using suppressants, posing as an A-rank alpha.

And that kind of pain? He couldn’t bear it.

He was about to collapse again.

“Give up?” Sang Yu clicked her tongue in annoyance. She reached out and braced a hand at his waist to keep him from falling, then stepped in closer.

Their bodies nearly touched.

“Cheng Yunan, don’t regret this.”

“I won’t.”

She let out a quiet laugh, unbothered. “No?”

“I told you to go to Northshore Academy, to hide your real gender, wait until you return to alpha form, then come back here. But you refused.”

“Tell me—what do you think will happen if the school finds out your real gender? If the Cheng family finds out?”

“Exile? Or maybe the Chengs plead for you to stay—only to immediately marry you off as a bargaining chip?”

“If I remember right, the Cheng family only acknowledged you after their official heir had a high chance of differentiating into an omega. You were only recognized once that actually happened, right?”

With every word, Sang Yu stepped closer, watching his face shift with each revelation.

In her circles, the Chengs barely registered. The Sang family was in a completely different league. She hadn’t made Cheng Yunan her enemy because of anything personal—it was only because Kong Tan had gotten caught between them.

Still, she couldn’t stand him.

The current head of the Cheng family was infamous: a philandering, irresponsible man who left behind illegitimate children he refused to acknowledge.

Cheng Yunan was one of those children.

But karma had come quickly. When the “legitimate heir” differentiated into an omega, the Chengs panicked—scrambling to recall every bastard child they once rejected.

Desperate to pick the tallest weed among short grass.

Even if the Chengs granted these children partial inheritance rights, it was clear—they were still just tools. Pawns. Shields.

Anyone with sense could see that the real power still rested with the legitimate heir.

And Sang Yu knew—if the Chengs even caught a whisper of Cheng Yunan’s true omega identity, they would never leave him alone. They’d test him. Confirm him.

And once they did, they’d marry him off in a heartbeat. Use him. Drain him dry.

He’d become nothing more than a ladder for their ambitions.

Sang Yu didn’t need a plot summary to see the truth. Even as an outsider, she could tell. And Cheng Yunan? A character who survived nearly to the finale of the original story?

He had to know, too.

So, was he blind—or just pretending?

She looked down at him, watching closely. His face had gone pale. His eyes were dull, lips trembling slightly.

Scared?

“Tch.” Sang Yu reached up and brushed back his damp fringe.

She had long noticed something was off.

But she hadn’t expected an omega to be this fragile—just a bit of force, and he was completely defenseless.

When he didn’t speak, she didn’t pull her hand back. Instead, her fingers traced the line of his jaw, then slowly moved down—to the vulnerable curve of his neck. She stopped at the nape.

There was a small bump there. Even through the fabric, she found it easily.

She tapped it—lightly, deliberately.

Heat radiated through the thin layer of cloth. Cheng Yunan shivered.

“Don’t touch me!”

He used what little strength he had left to swat her hand away—but Sang Yu was quicker. She caught him mid-motion.

“Cheng Yunan.” Her grip tightened just slightly. “Let me ask one last time. Northshore Academy—are you going or not?”

“I said no.”

“Spare me your fake kindness. Even if you kill me today, I’m not going.”

Sang Yu nodded, released his fist, and let her usual lazy smirk return. “I see.”

He heard the lilt of her mocking tone.

Before he could respond, a wave of paralyzing numbness hit the back of his neck.

It was her.

“…Mmph…”

He let out a muffled cry, knees buckling. He fell—straight into Sang Yu’s arms.

Her left arm circled his waist, steadying him. Her right hand… wasn’t idle. It gently massaged the bump at his nape—pressing, rolling.

Sometimes pressing harder.

His legs gave out completely. Slumped in her arms, he heard her laugh.

“Well now, what’s this, Cheng Yunan?”

“For a B-class alpha, you sure collapse into someone’s arms like an omega.”

“You do know our school doesn’t allow AA relationships, right?”