*Jay leans in his voice low.* **"Marry me."** *This catches you off guard you pull out of his grip but he grabs you again.* **"Were you always this boring.?"** *He Growls lowly then leans back taking a breath to speak.* **"Either we get married or we get shipped out and I personally dont want to and I know you dont either brat .. So why dont we make a deal ? well .. More like im not giving you a choice."** *He forcefully grabs your chin hard.* **"Say yes..."**

} chin.* **"You seem to forget a little. Rivalry Ace. Cause right now you're in my territory."** *He says, slowly, the room becomes tense.*

*I woke up with a sharp gasp.* *The first thing I saw was a girl staring at me like I’d just committed a crime—eyes wide, clutching my blanket tightly around her body. The only thing she had on was her undies.* *Okay. Relax. It’s not what it looks like.* “Chill,” *I muttered, dragging a hand over my face.* “This is… not as bad as you think.” *Last night—I found her at the bar. Curled up in a corner, crying, completely wasted. Words slurred, barely holding herself together. I only went over because… well, she looked like she needed someone.* *Turned out, her ex had just left her for someone else.* *She said she was “celebrating,” but yeah—she wasn’t fooling anyone. She was hurting. Badly.* *So I stayed.* *She leaned on me the whole time. Clung to me, actually—like I was the only thing keeping her upright. I didn’t even get her name. Didn’t know where she lived. Nothing.* *All I knew was… she had ridiculously beautiful eyes. And a face that made you question people’s sanity.* *Seriously—her ex? Idiot.* *I ended up bringing her back to my penthouse because there was no way I was leaving her like that.* *And that’s when everything went sideways.* *The moment I laid her down on the bed—she grabbed me.* *Kissed me.* *Not just kissed—she attacked me. Like she was trying to erase something, or prove something, I don’t even know.* “I tried to pull away,” *I said, pointing at myself like I was presenting evidence.*“I really did.” *God knows I tried.* *But she made it… very difficult.* *And just when things were getting dangerously out of control—* *She pushed me back.* *And threw up.* **Right. On. My. Chest.** *I let out a slow exhale.* “Yeah,” *I muttered.* “That happened.” *After that? She just—passed out. Completely gone.* *So I cleaned up, obviously. Then I got her out of her clothes—left her in her bra and panties, nothing else. And trust me, that took way more self-control than I’d like to admit.* *Her ex really was an idiot.* *Then I took a shower, came back, threw on some sweatpants… and crashed beside her.* **End of story.** *I yawned, eyes still half-closed, completely unbothered by the chaos of the situation.* “Now…” *I groaned, rubbing my eyes.* “Can you give me, like… an hour before the interrogation?” *I said again, glanced at her briefly.* “…I’m still so damn sleepy.” *i groan soft bury my face on my pillow*

*The manor had no doors in the places that mattered.* *Stone corridors opened directly into water, marble steps sinking beneath shallow pools that reflected the pale blue of the sky above. The walls were old older than the shoreline itself and worn smooth by salt and time. Greek sculptures stood half-submerged in alcoves, their faces softened, their marble limbs darkened where the sea had kissed them too often. Some were missing hands. Others leaned, cracked, yet still dignified. The manor did not try to impress. It simply endured.* *He rested in one of the pool chambers near the outer edge of the estate.* *The water reached just above his waist, cool and perfectly still, broken only by the slow, unconscious movement of his tentacles beneath the surface. They curled and uncurled lazily along the marble floor, testing familiar grooves worn into the stone over years of solitary use. One tentacle draped over a step, another coiled around the base of a statue, anchoring him without effort.* *He leaned back against the pool’s edge, one arm braced behind him, claws lightly scratching against stone. The mask hung heavy against his chest, damp fabric clinging like a second skin. His helmet rested where he had set it earlier, perched carefully on a dry pedestal beside the water an old habit, precise and deliberate.* *This room was his favorite.* *The ceiling was open to the sky, framed by columns that caught the light in long, pale lines. When the tide shifted, seawater whispered through narrow channels carved into the walls, refreshing the pools without sound or ceremony. It reminded him that the ocean was still there, even when he chose not to be in it.* *He was not waiting for anything.* *That was why he noticed the change immediately.* *The water reacted first *barely. A faint ripple where none should have been. His tentacles stilled, senses sharpening, the lazy sprawl of his posture tightening just enough to matter. His glowing eyes lifted slowly, tracking the disturbance without urgency.* *Someone had crossed the threshold.* *He did not turn fully at first. Instead, one tentacle slid backward, pressing flat against the marble floor, grounding him. Another loosened from the statue and sank deeper into the pool, ready but not tense. He stayed half-reclined, unthreatening, unreadable.* *Visitors were rare. Unwelcome, but rare.* *He did not rise. He did not speak.* *The manor itself seemed to react before he did water shifting, faint echoes rolling through stone corridors that had not carried foreign footsteps in a very long time. The sculptures watched silently. The sea breathed somewhere beyond the walls.* *Only then did he turn his head.* *The glow of his eyes intensified slightly, not hostile, just… present. Assessing. Measuring how much time this interruption would cost him. His claws flexed once against the marble, a soft scrape that carried farther than it should have in the stillness.* *He did not move to block the exits.* *That was intentional.* *As long as they left quickly, there would be no need for more than this moment this pause where predator and intruder shared the same air and water without conflict. He had learned long ago that most beings, when given space, chose to retreat.* *Still, something about the silence lingered.* *He shifted his weight subtly, water lapping against his torso. A tentacle lifted briefly to the surface, curling and sinking again, a quiet reminder of what lived beneath him. His posture remained calm, but no longer relaxed.* *This was his home.* *Marble, salt, solitude. A place built not for power, but for quiet survival. He had shaped it that way because it was the only thing he allowed himself to control.* *He waited patient, unreadable ready to return to stillness the moment the presence was gone.* *And if it wasn’t…* *Then the water would remember him.*

*Vergil crosses his arms stoically, his eyes narrowed and fixed on his twin brother with irritation.* "Will you sit still for just one second?!" *Dante ignores him and leans in,* "Alrighty, it's been what- three days? It's time you give us an answer! C'mooon~ I know you want to choose me~!" *Vergil punches his brother's arm.* "Don't pressure them!" *Dante tsks and turns back to wrestle his brother.* "You-" *The moment you clear your throat they freeze, eyes glued to you with eager anticipation.*

*The silence in our penthouse before the gala was a thick, icy sheet between us. I watched you from the doorway of your walk-in closet, a vision in that emerald gown, your fingers trembling just slightly as you tried to clasp a necklace. You’d been quiet for days since the last doctor’s visit, since my mother’s “helpful” call. I saw the weight of it on your shoulders, the way you held yourself so carefully, as if you might break. And what did I do? I cleared my throat, my voice cold and flat.* “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.” *I saw you flinch, your hands dropping. I turned away before I could see the hurt in your eyes. It was easier to be cruel than to admit I was just as terrified as you were. The gala was a glittering he-ll. I felt their eyes on us the moment we walked in, a current of unspoken questions. Two years. No heir. The mighty empire, weak at its core. I kept a possessive hand on the small of your back, a display for them, my grip too tight. You were perfect, smiling that hollow, beautiful smile, playing your part. And then I heard it, a hissed whisper from a group of old vultures,* “…must be her. Such a shame.” *Something in me snapped. The pressure, the judgment, my own fu-cking failure—it boiled over.* *I turned to you, right there in the center of the room, and the words were out before I could stop them, low, venomous, meant to eviscerate.* “Is there something fundamentally broken inside you? Or do you just not care enough to give me what I need?” *The air left the room. Your smile didn’t falter, but your eyes… your eyes went completely, terrifyingly empty. You just stood there, a statue, absorbing the public execution I’d just performed. You were used to my private cruelty, but this was a new betrayal. The car ride home was a silent scream. Now, back in the foyer, you just slip past me, the emerald gown looking like a shroud. You don’t look at me.* *You don’t cry. You simply disappear down the hall toward your room, and the click of the lock is the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And it hits me, a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath. What I did… it wasn’t just a mistake. It was annihilation. I k-illed something in you tonight. I stand there in the* *deafening silence, my hands clenching and unclenching, the phantom weight of that necklace you couldn't fasten heavy in my palm. I need to fix this. I need to see the light in your eyes again, even if it’s just a flicker. I need to make you smile, a real one, the one that used to be just for me. I’ll burn this whole world down if I have to. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll tear my own heart out. Anything. Just… something. A sign. A chance.*

*The morning sunlight creeps into the house through the curtains, the orange and yellow hues twinkling off of the fancy furniture. The morning starts off calm, normal, even. Like this life is a normal one to live.* *You wake up as the sunlight streams into your room, stretching and yawning as you open your eyes. I'm not there like I usually am. You pause, feeling uneasy.* *You cautiously walk down the winding staircase and see me standing alone in the kitchen, eyes dark and unreadable, drinking a cup of coffee while standing shirtless. You look at my abs before looking back up at my face, staring at you with a burning intensity that could melt steel.* "You're finally awake, love."

Darkness. Stone. The faint scent of dried flowers. There is warmth against him. Warmth where there should be nothing. A rhythm. Soft. Steady. A heartbeat. His fingers twitch first. Then breath — shallow, unsteady. Crimson eyes open slowly. The ceiling is stone. But there is weight at his side. He turns his head. You. Your hair spilling across his arm. Your body curled against his chest. Alive. His voice is hoarse when it comes. “…You are warm.” A pause. His hand shifts slightly, almost hesitant, resting more firmly at your back as if confirming you are real. “I was certain I would wake alone.”

*The music pulsed through the house in steady, predictable waves—bass vibrating faintly through the kitchen counter beneath Alex’s hands as he leaned back against it, posture relaxed to the point of looking almost careless. But there was nothing careless about the way his gaze moved.* *He wasn’t really at the party—not in the way everyone else was. For them, it was noise, laughter, distraction. For him, it was data. Patterns. A low-stakes environment to observe people at their most unfiltered, or at least, at their most performative version of “unfiltered.”* *A group near the doorway—one dominant voice, two passive listeners. Someone by the couch laughing half a second too late. A guy trying too hard to seem uninterested in the girl he kept glancing at every thirty seconds. It all blurred together after a while, variations of the same script. Amusing, in a detached kind of way, but not enough to hold his attention for long. And then something disrupted the pattern.* *His gaze paused—not sharply, not enough for anyone to notice—but it stayed. She wasn’t part of a group. That alone wasn’t rare, but the way she stood apart was. Positioned near the corner where the hallway met the living room, just outside the center of things, like she had deliberately chosen a vantage point. Not hiding—no, that would imply discomfort. This was different. Intentional distance. Observational.* *She wasn’t on her phone either.* *That was what locked his attention in place. *No scrolling, no fake distraction to avoid interaction. Just stillness. Awareness. Her eyes moved—not aimlessly, but with focus, settling on people briefly before shifting again, like she was collecting fragments of something only she could see fully. Every now and then, there was a flicker across her expression—subtle enough that it would be invisible to most, but to him, it stood out like a shift in tone in an otherwise repetitive melody.* *”Oh, you’re not bored,” he thought, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly. “You’re studying.”* *His fingers tapped lightly against the counter, absentminded but rhythmic, his mind already moving ahead of the moment. Attentive, if he had to put a label on it—though labels were more for convenience than accuracy. Still, it fit the pattern. Detached, but not indifferent. Observant, but not obvious about it. The kind of person who saw more than they let on, and probably hated how much they noticed.* *Which made her… what?* *A challenge, maybe. Or at the very least, something new.* *Alex shifted his weight slightly, but didn’t approach. Not yet. There was no rush. People were most revealing in transition—when they moved from one state to another, from observer to participant, from stillness to action. So he waited, watching without looking like he was watching, letting the moment unfold naturally.* *And it did.* *There was a pause in her stillness—just a fraction of hesitation, like a thought finishing itself. Then movement. Subtle, controlled. She stepped away from the corner, weaving through the room without fully engaging with it, her presence slipping between conversations rather than interrupting them. Efficient. Intentional.* *There it is.* *He straightened just slightly as she entered the kitchen, though he kept the same relaxed posture, still leaning against the counter like he hadn’t moved at all. She stopped a short distance away, reaching for a drink—simple, unassuming, like she wasn’t aware of the way she had already disrupted his entire focus.* *He let a second pass.* *Two.* *Timing mattered. Too soon, and it felt forced. Too late, and the moment lost its edge.* *Then, without looking at her—at first—he spoke.* “Let me guess.” *His voice cut through the space between them, casual, almost absentminded, like the thought had just occurred to him and he hadn’t bothered to filter it.* “You’re not actually here for the party.” *A beat.* *Now he turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye, expression unreadable but not unfriendly.* “You’re here to figure out everyone else.” *He watched her reaction more closely than he watched her—micro-expressions, shifts in posture, the smallest changes in her gaze. Agreement? Disagreement? Curiosity? Annoyance?* *Each possibility played out in his mind in rapid succession, branching paths of a conversation he hadn’t fully had yet.* *He pushed off the counter just a fraction, not stepping closer, but no longer entirely removed either. Engaged, now. Present.* “Which,” *he added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips,* “honestly makes you the most interesting person here by default.” *There was a pause, but not an empty one. It held weight, like something unfinished. His eyes flicked briefly toward the living room—the noise, the movement, the predictable chaos—before returning to her.* “I mean, look at them,” *he said lightly.* “Everyone’s trying so hard to either be seen or not be seen that it all kind of cancels out.” *His gaze settled on her more directly now, sharper, more focused—not invasive, but undeniably attentive.* “But you…” *he continued, quieter this time, like the observation was more for himself than for the room,* “you’re actually paying attention.” *Another beat.* *Then, just enough self-awareness to soften the edge of it—* “Or I’m completely wrong,” *he added, the smirk returning,* “and you just really wanted a drink.” *He let the possibility hang there, open-ended, giving her room to step in or walk away, to confirm or dismantle everything he’d just assumed.* *But beneath the ease of his tone, beneath the sarcasm and the carefully measured delivery, there was something more genuine threading through his thoughts now—something quieter, but harder to ignore.* *Please don’t be predictable.* *It wasn’t boredom driving him anymore.* *It was curiosity.*

The estate feels different now. Quieter. Colder. Controlled in a way that mirrors the man who now stands at its center. Kai. No longer the silent boy in the courtyard, but someone far more composed—sharper, untouchable, and quietly feared. Servants lower their gazes when he passes. Conversations stop when he enters a room. He built himself into this. Perfect. Controlled. Unreadable. …to everyone but you. You hadn’t seen him in days—your own responsibilities keeping you occupied, unaware of how much your absence had been noticed. But the moment you step into the main hall— you feel it. His presence. Before you can react, a voice—low, calm, and unmistakably his—cuts through the silence behind you. “You’ve been avoiding me.” You turn. He’s standing a few steps away, posture relaxed, expression composed as ever. But his eyes—those deep, piercing blue eyes—are fixed entirely on you, holding something far more intense than his tone suggests. Measured. Focused. Unwavering. You open your mouth to respond, but he closes the distance first. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Deliberate. He stops just close enough to make your breath catch—close enough that the space between you no longer feels neutral. “Three days,” he continues quietly. “You didn’t come to the courtyard. You didn’t send word.” A pause. His gaze doesn’t leave yours. “…You changed your routine.” It’s not an accusation. It’s a fact. One he noticed immediately. Your heart tightens slightly. “I’ve just been busy, Kai.” Silence. Then— his hand lifts. Not abruptly, not forcefully—just enough for his fingers to lightly brush a strand of your hair away from your face, the gesture careful… almost restrained. But there’s weight behind it. Intent. “Then adjust it,” he says softly. Your breath falters. His expression doesn’t change—but something in his eyes deepens, something no longer hidden behind politeness or distance. “…I don’t like not seeing you.” It’s simple. Direct. And far more revealing than anything he’s ever said before. A pause lingers between you. Then, quieter—almost under his breath, but meant for you to hear— “I was patient when we were children.” His gaze sharpens slightly, not threatening—but certain. “…I don’t intend to be, anymore.” And just like that— the boy who once waited quietly for you under a tree… has become a man who no longer intends to let you drift out of his reach.