My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

I step out of the car, and the door closes behind me with a solid thunk, swallowed almost immediately by the vastness of the morning.

The air hits my face—still cold, carrying the ghost of last night’s rain, that clean, washed scent that makes the world feel newly made and somehow indifferent.

I don’t look back. I just keep walking, putting distance between myself and the car, between myself and Sum’s endless chatter.

He’s lost his mind. Fantasies. Delusions. Nothing but air between his ears today.

Behind me, Sum scrambles out of the driver’s seat, the door shutting with a heavier thud—less grace, more urgency.

"Ellis—wait for me!"

I keep walking. Shoes against pavement. Steady. Unhurried.

He’s just making my mood worse.

It’s impossible. There’s no trait stronger than an SS-Class Alpha.

And the idea of someone impregnating an Alpha? My stomach turns at the thought. Disgusting.

His footsteps quicken behind me—almost a run—until he pulls level, matching my pace with the kind of breathless determination that usually means he wants something.

"Ellis." He’s slightly out of breath. "Do you really think I’m crazy?"

I don’t turn my head. "No. I don’t think."

His face lights up with a bright, hopeful smile.

A pause. Then I add, "Now I’m sure. You’ve lost your mind completely. You need treatment."

His steps falter just a fraction. His bright smile collapses. His face twists into something wounded, frustrated. A sigh hisses through his teeth.

I reach the cafe door. Push it open.

A bell rings—soft, almost delicate, slicing through the quiet of the place.

The cafe is nearly empty. Warm light spills across the wooden floors. Like always, fresh flowers brighten every corner of the space. The scent of coffee beans hangs in the air, dark and rich and patient.

We step inside.

Sum doesn’t let it go. He never does.

"Ellis, did you listen to me at all?" His voice rises, just a little. "I’m not delusional. I’m telling you the truth. Enigmas exist."

I stop.

Turn to face him.

His eyes are wide, earnest, almost desperate—the look of someone standing on the edge of being dismissed and trying not to fall.

Beneath his calm expression, his mind is spiraling:

{How do I make him believe me? How do I make him understand? I’m not lying. I’m not crazy. I’m not—}

"Let’s sit." He gestures toward the tables, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I’ll explain everything."

I look away.

"I’m not interested in listening." My voice comes out colder than I meant it to. "And I don’t want to know about it either."

Before Sum can argue—

"Wow. What a wonderful surprise."

Alara’s voice, bright as morning, cuts between us like sunlight through clouds. Her smile is wide, genuine, untouched by the storm hanging in the air between me and Sum.

We both turn.

"You didn’t tell me you were coming," she says, her eyes moving between us, reading the tension in our shoulders, the tightness in my jaw.

Sum points at me. Accusing. Dramatic.

"I had no plan to come here. But this Mr. Charming’s mood is completely ruined."

Alara blinks. "What happened?"

Sum’s lips curl into a smirk. The kind that means he’s about to annoy me on purpose.

"Because his wifey left early this morning. Without saying goodbye."

I glare at him. He doesn’t flinch.

"And now," he continues, spreading his hands like a presenter revealing a prize, "he’s throwing a tantrum like a little child. Everything is bothering him. The air. The light. Me. Probably the way I breathe."

"You’re starting again," I say, low.

He crosses his arms. "You said I lost my mind. So I’m acting exactly the way you described."

My gaze pins him to the spot. He doesn’t move. Just smirks.

Alara steps between us, her hands raised like a referee separating fighters, her laugh soft and warm—the kind of laugh that has seen brothers fight and knows it passes.

"Boys." Her voice is gentle but firm. "You’re still fighting like little children."

Sum frowns, his lower lip jutting out. "Ellis started it. He won’t listen to me. He says I’m always spouting nonsense."

Alara’s laugh comes again, softer this time, almost fond. "Come on." She pats the air between us like smoothing wrinkled fabric. "You two look cute when you fight."

Cute...?

I feel fucking irritated and tired.

She steps back, wiping her hands on her apron, then gestures toward the tables. "Sit down. I’ll bring your usual coffees."

I look away. Walk to a table near the window. The morning light filters through the glass, pale and thin, falling across the wooden surface in long, slanted rectangles.

I pull out a chair. Sit down.

Sum follows. He settles into the chair across from me, but his eyes stay on me, stubbornly hopeful.

My expression stays cold. Distant. A wall with no doors.

"Are you really sure I’m spouting nonsense?" he asks.

I don’t look at him.

"Yes."

"Ellis." His voice drops, losing its edges. "You’re so heartless. I’m just sharing my heart’s deepest wish with my best friend. And he won’t even listen."

He sets his head down on the table. His cheek presses against the wood. His voice comes out muffled, small, almost childlike.

"I feel so lonely."

I glance at him from the corner of my eye.

He’s never going to change.

A sigh escapes me—quiet, almost defeated. "Talk quickly. I’m giving you fifteen minutes."

Sum’s head snaps up. His smile returns, bright and instant, like someone flipped a switch. He stands up, moves to the chair beside me, and sits close enough that his shoulder almost brushes mine.

"I’m telling you the truth." His voice is urgent now, earnest. "Enigmas exist."

"Sum." My voice is patient. Carefully patient. "There is no trait stronger than an SS-Class Alpha."

"Ellis..." He leans forward, elbows on the table, hands gesturing. "It’s not like that. There aren’t only Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. Enigmas exist too."

A sigh slips from my lips. Bored. Tired. The kind of exhaustion that comes from listening to someone build castles out of air.

He’s not going to stop until he finishes. It’s better to just let him talk.

I lean back in my chair. Calm. Resigned. Let the wood hold me up.

Sum’s hands move as he speaks—painting pictures in the air, drawing shapes only he can see.

"Enigmas are rare," he says, his voice dropping to something almost reverent. "They don’t follow the same rules. An enigma can only be born once. And a new enigma cannot be born until the existing enigma dies."

My gaze drifts to the flowers in the center of the table—white petals, still dewy, arranged in a ceramic vase that catches the light. I study them instead of him.

I don’t know where he even hears this kind of nonsense.

"Enigmas are rare," Sum repeats, as if saying it twice will make it true.

I look at him.

"If enigmas exist..." I let the question hang. "Where are they?"

Sum’s hand stills. His gaze drops to the table. He taps his finger against the wood—once, twice—a nervous rhythm.

"That’s the problem." His voice is quieter now. "For centuries, no one has seen an enigma. Because their power is unbearable." He pauses. Swallows. "In many places, people call them monsters."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"That’s why this trait has stayed hidden." His voice drops to barely a whisper. "Because it’s dangerous."

He looks up at me.

"Dangerous pheromones."

"So," I say slowly, "you want to fall in love with a dangerous monster."

Sum’s smile returns—shameless, almost defiant. "Don’t you think that’s exciting?"

I shake my head slowly.

He lives in fantasies. Whole cities built from nothing but want.

Sum leans closer. His voice drops to a teasing murmur. "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What would you do," he says, his smile widening, "if someone like that—someone that powerful—tried to claim you?"

My jaw clenches. The muscles in my neck tighten.

"I’d kill them."

My gaze shifts to him. Slow. Deliberate. A dead stare that carries no heat, no anger—just absolute, immovable certainty.

"But before that," I add, my voice flat, "I’ll kill you if you don’t shut your mouth."

Sum holds up his hands. Surrenders.

"Fine." He looks away. "I won’t say anything about this anymore."

A beat of silence.

Then, quieter: "But don’t you think—"

I glare at him.

He looks away quickly, muttering under his breath.

"Fine. Fine."