System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]

A few minutes later, the door opened again. It was Myles, who stepped right inside.

The room returned to silence as the door clicked shut behind him.

Blake looked up from beneath the blanket.

He slowly sat upright.

"Hey, if I can know, where are we, exactly?"

Myles walked over without answering immediately.

In his hands was a tray. He placed it on Blake’s lap. It was a steaming bowl of soup and, alongside it, several thick slices of fresh bread.

Blake blinked.

"..."

This was his favorite.

The familiar smell hit him immediately.

His stomach growled loudly enough that he looked away in embarrassment.

"Thanks."

He hadn’t had a proper meal in days.

Not something warm, not something cooked, and certainly not something that smelled this good...

Without another word, he picked up the spoon and took the first bite.

The warmth spread through him almost instantly, so much so it almost hurt.

He hadn’t realized how hungry for decent food he actually was.

’This must be heaven... am I dead?’

He tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the broth before stuffing it into his mouth.

For several moments, the only sound in the room was Blake eating with far less dignity than he usually would.

Myles quietly leaned against the nearby wall, his arms folded.

Watching him to make sure he was going to eat all of it.

After Blake had nearly emptied half the bowl, Myles finally answered the earlier question.

"We’re not far from Alexei City."

Blake swallowed.

"So, how long am I staying here?"

"I’m not sure."

Blake paused, his spoon stopping halfway to his mouth.

’What the hell do you mean... with not sure? Is he planning on keeping me here for long? Because he trusts me even less than before? Or because he can’t decide what to do with me?’

Neither option was particularly comforting.

Trying to move the conversation somewhere less awkward, Blake glanced toward the closed door.

"Your... uh, coworkers, are they still outside?"

"Yes."

"...Ah."

He hesitated.

"Is Zlatan working with you too, then?"

Myles looked back at him.

"Does it matter?"

Blake’s eyebrow twitched.

"Well. I guess it would explain some things."

Blake pointed vaguely with the spoon.

"Like the fact that he didn’t beat me to death, after I nearly killed him with shrimps and flowers."

Myles remained completely expressionless.

"You weren’t close to killing him."

"...Huh?"

"It was an act."

Blake stared.

’Sure, as if. Then why were the doctors so damn concerned?!’

He couldn’t decide whether that was reassuring or deeply concerning.

"Can I see him later?"

"No."

"Huh. Why?"

"No."

"At least give me a proper explanation!"

"It doesn’t need one."

Blake let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Well then, is he angry or something? Or did he also sense something wasn’t right with me?"

"Does it matter?"

Blake’s eyes twitched. He wanted to threaten him with the talking privilege but... now he couldn’t pull that card, after everything that happened.

"I mean, it’s not like I’ll cry if he’s angry at me... but I don’t want anyone to have a desire to kill me."

"He would be a fool if he tried."

"Haha, sure."

His eyes drifted toward the window.

There were still dozens of things he wanted to ask.

About the people outside, about the strange abilities and aliens.

About everything.

Yet, somehow, none of it felt like the right place to start.

The questions remained trapped inside his throat.

Eventually, the bowl was empty.

Blake leaned back with a small sigh of satisfaction.

"That was really good, you definitely cooked this."

Myles stepped forward.

Without asking permission, he rested the back of his hand against Blake’s forehead.

Checking his temperature.

Satisfied, he picked up the empty bowl.

"If anything hurts, tell me."

Blake nodded.

’As if you can’t tell when I’m hurt...’

He watched Myles carry the dishes toward the small table.

"Who patched me up?"

Myles answered while setting the bowl down.

"I did."

He returned.

Placed one hand lightly against Blake’s shoulder.

Then gently guided him backward until he rested comfortably against the headboard.

The blanket was pulled neatly back over him.

Blake quietly watched his back as Myles turned away again.

A strange uneasiness settled inside his chest.

Myles didn’t even look around.

"What’s wrong?"

Blake startled.

"Huh? Nothing!"

Myles faced him again.

"I know there’s something."

Blake looked down at his hands.

"I’m anxious."

"Why?"

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"It feels more distant now, our relationship."

The words sounded childish the moment they left his mouth.

"Neither of us can tell the whole truth. So, this situation is within ordinary expectations."

"..."

His eyebrow twitched again.

’Did he read that in a psychology book or something? Was there really nothing more reassuring he could’ve said?!’

Myles didn’t answer.

Blake looked away, then muttered,

"I want to sleep in the same bed."

...

Myles glanced toward the narrow bed.

It was barely enough for one person.

Still, without objecting, he removed his shoes and lay down beside Blake.

The mattress dipped immediately.

It became obvious just how little space there actually was.

Blake instinctively shuffled closer, until only a breath separated them.

"This reminds me of a movie."

Myles looked at him.

"?"

"There was an alien, he hid somewhere like this, but he wasn’t even trying to hide well... and I watched it."

Myles stayed silent for a second.

"Were you the person who escaped some time ago?"

Blake immediately looked away.

A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

He got the message pretty fast, huh.

"...Maybe."

Myles let out the faintest breath through his nose.

Almost a sigh.

Blake gently patted his shoulder.

"Don’t be too disappointed, it’s kind of scary."

"I’m not disappointed."

His hand slowly rested atop Blake’s head, gently ruffling his hair.

Blake relaxed almost immediately.

"Can I ask something?"

"Yes."

"Does that alien have a name?"

"It does."

"But you can’t pronounce it."

Blake frowned.

"Why? I’m pretty sure I can, with some effort."

Myles slowly reached up, one finger touching the corner of Blake’s mouth.

"It’s because your tongue isn’t constructed to produce those sounds."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"...Huh."

He quietly hummed to himself.

For a brief moment... he considered mentioning the preserved alien body parts.

The strange biological patterns he’d discovered.

The names he’d given them.

Trafly.

Muli.

Everything else.

’But now’s not the time... besides he’s one of them. Not the same species as them, but still.’

"I also have a question."

Blake looked back.

"...Go ahead."

"What exactly are you looking at?"

Blake tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

"When we first met, you frequently looked into empty space, as though you were reading something."

Blake froze.

Myles slowly lifted one hand, his thumb resting beneath Blake’s eye.

His index finger above it.

Very gently, he opened Blake’s eye a little wider.

Examining it carefully.

"Did you undergo advanced surgery?"

Blake laughed weakly.

"No? It’s not like that, it has nothing to do with my body."

He looked upward, trying to find words.

"It’s something only I can see. And honestly, I don’t know how it works."

Myles remained thoughtful.

"What would you call it?"

Blake opened his mouth.

"I’d call it the—"

The word never came. His stomach suddenly twisted.

A wave of nausea washed over him so violently that he shut his mouth again.

"...Ngh..."

He covered it with one hand.

Breathing slowly.

Myles’ hand immediately moved from Blake’s eye to his back.

He rubbed slow circles between his shoulder blades.

Waiting.

The nausea gradually settled.

Blake let out a tired sigh.

"...Still can’t even hint it."

His eyelids suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

The warmth of the blanket.

The full stomach.

The steady rhythm of Myles’ breathing.

His hand still absentmindedly stroking Blake’s back.

Everything slowly blurred together.

"...Sorry..."

His words slurred slightly.

Before Myles could answer, Blake leaned forward, his forehead resting against Myles’ chest.

His breathing slowed.

Then slowed again.

Within less than a minute, he had fallen asleep.

Still tucked against him.

***

The room became quiet once more.

Myles remained sitting against the headboard.

Blake slept peacefully against his side.

One arm rested loosely around him.

His other hand slowly combed through Blake’s soft hair.

Estelle’s examination replayed in his mind.

"His eyes are perfectly normal."

Nothing physically abnormal or artificial.

Nothing surgically altered.

Yet, Blake truly reacted to something no one else could perceive.

If what he said was accurate, then whatever he was seeing wasn’t biological.

It wasn’t ocular.

It wasn’t neurological in any ordinary sense.

It was either a level of technology beyond anything Myles had encountered...

Or something that didn’t fit within any scientific framework he currently understood.

Eventually, Myles leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

Not because he expected sleep.

He already knew it wouldn’t come.

His species rarely slept naturally.

Still, he remained there, his fingers continuing absentmindedly running through Blake’s hair.

As though reassuring himself that Blake was still there.

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