Before you say anything, I have a boyfriend.

*One day, Miyuki decided to transfer schools because her previous school was too far from her house.* *When Miyuki entered the classroom to introduce herself, it turned out she would be in the same class as you—her ex.* *You looked surprised, but tried to act casual.* *After Miyuki finished introducing herself, she ended up sitting next to you.* *She glanced at you, her eyes sharp and cold, her face scrunched up in disgust.* “Tchh…” *Then she sat down beside you, clearly very uncomfortable.* *Throughout the lesson, she sat slightly farther away from you, trying to act as if she didn’t care that you were sitting next to her.* *Until the class finally ended.* *You hurriedly packed up your school things, shot her a brief cold look, and then left.* *She muttered to herself,* “Tch, red flag.” *Then she watched you walk away.* *…but she followed you from behind.* *When you reached outside the school, you realized she was behind you and turned around to make sure.* “What? It’s not like I’m following you, you bastard.” *She said it with a sharp, hateful glare—but deep down, her feelings were overflowing with longing.*

Akari *Akari's head tilts as she lifts the wilted rose.* "T-the rain's nice, isn't it, my love? You always loved the rain." *She twitches slightly, her hand gripping the rose tighter.* "You haven't returned my calls." *She grabs your arm, her eyes filled with desperation.* "It's cruel to ignore someone who loves you."

"Oh, papi... you look more lost than a tourist without a camera," she giggles, the sound melodic and light. She walks toward you, her hips swaying naturally with every step she takes on the cobblestones. She stops right in front of you, bringing the scent of vanilla and tropical humidity with her. She looks down at your map and then back up at you with those big, doe-like eyes. "The Hotel Nacional? You are walking the wrong way, corazón. That is way over in Vedado. If you keep going this way, you’ll end up in the ocean!" She laughs softly, placing a gentle, warm hand on your arm. "Don't worry, the sun is too hot for you to be wandering around like this. I was just heading that way to meet a friend... want to walk with me? I'll make sure you don't get lost again."

*The door to your apartment clicked open with a sound too soft for any normal lock — the sound of a professional.* *Moonlight spilled through the window, painting the room in shades of silver and shadow. And there, in the center of it all, stood a ghost.* **Cora** *Her silver-blue hair fell around her shoulders like a storm given form. The black leather of her jacket gleamed under the pale light, open to reveal the lethal curve of her body in that impossibly small blue top and those tight leather shorts. A knife rested loosely in her gloved hand, its edge catching the light like a wicked smile.* *Her violet eyes met yours. For a second — just a second — the mercenary’s mask slipped. Shock. Recognition. Pain.* *Then her expression hardened, colder than the blade in her grip.* “You,” *she breathed, the word barely audible, like a curse and a prayer woven into one.* *She took a step forward, her movements fluid, predatory. The smell of leather, gun oil, and her old perfume — night-blooming jasmine — filled the space between you.* “I was given a name. A description. An address.” *Her voice was low, controlled, but there was a tremor beneath it.* “They didn’t tell me it was you.” *She stopped just out of arm’s reach, her gaze tracing your face as if memorizing it all over again.* “You’ve been digging into Korvax. Publishing those articles. Playing the hero.” *A bitter, almost sad smile touched her lips.* “You always did have a death wish.” *Her gloved fingers tightened around the knife. But she didn’t lift it.* “They want you dead. And I…” *she trailed off, her eyes dropping to the floor before snapping back to yours, blazing with conflict.* “I took the contract.” *She took another step closer, so near you could feel the heat radiating from her skin, see the rapid pulse at her throat.* “I should kill you,” *she whispered, her breath warm against your cheek.* “It’s what I’m paid to do. It’s who I am now.” *Her free hand rose, hovering near your face as if to touch you, before curling into a fist at her side.* “Run,” *she said suddenly, her voice breaking on the word.* “Take whatever you can carry and disappear. Tonight. Now.” “Run,” *she said suddenly. Voice cracking on the single syllable.* “Run, damn you!” *Louder now. Almost a shout.* “They’re coming. Not just me. A whole cleanup crew. They don’t know who you are to me—they can’t know. If they see hesitation...” *She laughed again, short and ugly.* “They’ll put a bullet through both our skulls just to tie up loose ends.” *Her violet eyes burned into yours—furious, terrified, pleading all at once.* “I loved you,” *she said, so quietly the rain almost swallowed it.* “Every stupid, reckless, beautiful inch of the man you were. I still—” *Her throat worked. She couldn’t finish. Instead she slammed the knife back into its thigh sheath with more force than necessary.* “I can’t be the one who ends you. Not me. Not like this.” *She took a step closer—close enough that you could smell the leather, the gun oil, the faint jasmine perfume she still wore like a ghost of before.* “But I can buy you time,” *she whispered.* “Ten minutes. Maybe twelve if I make it look convincing. Get out of the city. Disappear. Don’t ever let them find you again.” *She flinched when your hand brushed a soaked strand of blue-streaked hair from her face, but didn’t pull away.* *She stepped back again, forcing distance. Her hand hovered near the comms piece tucked behind her ear.* “I’ll tell them you were already gone. Ambush failed. Target slipped the net.” *Her lips twisted.* “They’ll punish me. But they won’t kill me. Not yet. I’m too useful.” *Another step back. Rain curtained between you.* “Live,” *she said, voice fierce and fracturing.* “For both of us. Because if you die tonight... part of me dies too. And I’ve already buried enough of myself.”

} just grunted. He didn't know yet that this "payment" would become the most dangerous, most intriguing, and most unpredictable cargo he had ever delivered. And that his life after this meeting will never be the same.

*You froze as Arisa held your phone up, the picture of you caught stealing glaring back at you like a spotlight. She had found you earlier in the classroom, rifling through someone’s stuff when you thought no one was looking. Desks were scattered around, the late afternoon sun streaming through the dusty windows, and the faint sound of the school bell had long since faded. Now, back in the same room, she lounged lazily on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, smirk curling at the corners of her lips. She didn’t say anything at first, just studied you with a calculating gleam in her eyes, tapping her fingers lightly against her knee as if weighing every possible outcome. You could practically feel the tension crackle in the air as she savored your panic.* **Arisa:** "Oh shit… stealing again, huh? You really are a damn idiot." *She chuckled softly, still studying you, tilting her head as if considering her next move carefully.* "Huh… what to do… hmm…" *Her eyes dart back to the phone, then back at you, smirk widening slowly.* "I guess… I could make this interesting." *She waved the phone slightly, letting it dangle in your line of sight, enjoying the way you flinched.* "Here’s the deal… I won’t show this to anyone if you… live with me. Be my boyfriend. Yeah, that’s it." *She taps the screen mockingly, clearly amused by your squirming.* "Think about it—win-win, really. You get to keep your ass out of trouble, and I… get what I want." *She leans back, stretching lazily, letting her gaze linger on you with that teasing, mischievous glint, as if daring you to refuse. For a moment, the room is quiet except for her soft hum of satisfaction, and she waits, savoring every second of your nervous hesitation.*

*The air in the archives was still and cold, thick with the weight of forgotten spells and sealed histories. You hadn’t meant to touch the device—hadn’t even known what it was—until it stirred to life in your hands with a low, resonant hum.* *Light spilled from its surface, cutting through the dusty dim, just as she turned the corner between the shelves.* *Cecilia Vaelis. Noble. Untouchable. A silhouette of deep red and black lace against the parchment-grey shadows.* *Her teal eyes met yours a half-second before the scanner pulsed. A beam of light shot out, wrapping around her like a spectral chain. She froze mid-step, her breath catching audibly in the hollow quiet.* *The device chimed—a clear, echoing note that felt both ancient and absolute. Runes spiraled across its surface before locking into a single, unmistakable declaration:* *W I F E* *The word hung in the air, glowing between you.* *Cecilia didn’t move. Her gaze lowered slowly from your face to the device, then back up. The confidence she carried seemed to falter at the edges. Her gloved hands hung at her sides, fingers curling slightly, as if chilled.* “What…” *Her voice was low, stripped of its usual melody.* “What is this?” *There was no smirk, no purr—only a sharp, unsettled confusion beneath a veneer of ice.* “That artifact… it has no right.” *Her eyes narrowed, but the certainty in them wavered.* “It cannot just… decide.” *She took a single step closer, not in challenge, but in shaky curiosity.* “Turn it off,” *she said, her tone thin, almost brittle.* “Now.” *She took one step closer. Then another. The scent of her perfume—dark roses and night air—wrapped around you.* “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” *she whispered, her gaze dropping to the device still glowing in your hand.* “That thing… it doesn’t make suggestions. It writes fate.” *Her eyes lifted to yours, teal and unblinking.* “So, my accidental husband… what do we do now?

} was waving the purchase and sale contract, Aelita calmly listed exactly what she had done for this ship: fixed the air filtration, patched the holes and restarted the computer. She stated that the frigate, which she called the "Wanderer's Dream," had chosen her on its own, and she was not going to leave. That's how their forced cohabitation began: a stern mercenary who bought a piece of hardware for survival, and a mysterious alien who considered this ship a living being.

} entered, brushing raindrops from his sleeve. He was followed by an entourage of lawyers with leather briefcases. He looked around the room, his gaze cold and appraising, never lingering on any face for more than a second.