System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]

"Ungh..."

Blake slowly opened his eyes.

For a few seconds, he remained completely still, his mind refusing to catch up with the fact that he was awake.

He was warm. Comfortable, actually. His cheek was pressed against something solid, and there was a steady rhythm beneath it.

He was about to stretch but notice he couldn’t move like he wanted.

’Why is my damn pillow breathing? I must be dreaming...’

Blake squinted.

"What the hell...?"

His vision gradually cleared.

Black shirt, familiar hands on his back, slightly raising his head, he saw those pitch-black eyes looking directly at him.

He was lying on top of Myles.

His heart immediately started pounding.

’What?!’

He lifted his head slightly, only to finally realize that Myles was hugging him. One arm was wrapped around Blake’s back, keeping him securely against his chest.

’Um. Why are we on the same bed?’

It wasn’t exactly an issue or anything new, but he had absolutely no recollection of getting here.

The last thing he remembered was being tucked into his own bed. He had fallen asleep, hadn’t he?

So when exactly had he migrated over here?

"You’re awake."

Myles’ calm voice made Blake freeze.

"How did you sleep?"

Blake rubbed his eyes, still too drowsy to process anything properly. His cheek ended up resting against Myles’ chest again.

"Normal...?"

Myles’ hand moved slowly across his back.

"What did you dream about?"

Blake let out a sleepy little laugh.

"I don’t know. You?"

"Answer properly."

"Jesus, wait a second, I just woke up."

Blake yawned.

"I don’t always remember my dreams. This is just one of those cases."

Myles hummed.

Blake remained against him for another few seconds before lazily looking up.

"Then what did you dream about?"

Myles stared at the ceiling.

"I don’t sleep."

"What?"

"I don’t sleep."

Blake’s eyebrows slowly rose.

"Are you sick or something?"

"No."

Myles said it without hesitation.

"I never sleep."

That woke Blake up.

His eyes widened.

He immediately pushed himself upright.

Unfortunately, that meant he was now sitting directly on top of Myles, around his lower abdomen.

Myles looked up at him.

Blake didn’t notice.

"Wait, wait, wait."

He pointed at Myles.

"Your DNA can do that too?!"

Myles’ eyes traveled down Blake’s body for a moment.

Then he sighed.

His hands settled on Blake’s hips and carefully shifted him slightly upward, away from his lower abdomen.

"It isn’t about that."

"Then what is it?"

"My body can endure the lack of sleep."

Blake tilted his head.

"So... you can sleep?"

"I could."

"Then why don’t you?"

"After so many years, I can’t do it easily anymore, if at all."

Blake stared with his eyes wide open.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"When I was four."

Blake grabbed his own head.

"Crap. That’s pretty bad! That’s super bad!"

Myles simply watched him.

Blake immediately leaned closer, placing his fingers underneath Myles’ eyes.

"Do you have physical repercussions?! Like, why don’t you have dark circles? What about brain damage? Organ problems? Something?!"

"No."

Myles didn’t even flinch at Blake’s frantic examination.

"As of now, there aren’t any."

"And in the future?"

"It should remain the same."

Blake stared at him incredulously.

"How?!"

"My brain isn’t structured exactly like an ordinary human’s, you know that. Certain regions function more efficiently, particularly those related to sensory processing and recovery."

Myles spoke as though he were explaining something painfully obvious.

"I don’t experience sleep deprivation in the same way humans do."

Blake slowly covered his mouth.

"So every time I slept over, you just stayed awake? Like, I was rolling around and probably drooling and you were just putting up with it?"

"Not constantly."

"That doesn’t make it better!"

Myles raised an eyebrow.

Blake rubbed his face.

"Why don’t you sleep if you actually can?"

"My senses become less acute when I’m asleep."

Blake tilted his head.

"Okay... and?"

"Humans experience the same thing."

"I know that, but why does it matter to you?"

"I don’t want my senses dulled, even if temporarily."

"Why?"

"To avoid surprise attacks."

Blake froze.

"...Attacks?"

For the first time, he actually considered what that meant.

Myles hadn’t slept since he was four, and it wasn’t because he physically couldn’t... but because he had decided that being unconscious for some hours was too dangerous.

How many times had someone tried to kill him while he was younger?

How many nights had he stayed awake because sleeping meant becoming vulnerable?

Blake’s expression softened.

Myles, however, simply sat up.

He properly shifted Blake onto his lap before standing.

"That is enough."

Blake opened his mouth to say he wanted to ask more, but...

"You have to eat breakfast."

"...Okay."

Myles stood, picked up the cane with one hand, and lifted Blake with the other.

"Wait—"

Before Blake could protest, he was already being carried.

One arm held him securely while the other carried the cane.

Blake sighed.

He was honestly too sleepy to argue.

Besides, his legs still weren’t exactly reliable.

So he simply let his head rest against Myles.

’Fine, I’ll complain later.’

They reached the central room, nobody was there.

Blake looked around.

"Huh?"

Myles set him down carefully.

"I’ll be out for a while."

"Again?"

"Stay put."

Blake scoffed out a laugh.

"How exactly am I supposed to not stay put? Look at me!"

Myles looked down at him.

Blake gestured toward his legs.

"I can barely walk for more than some minutes without assistance!"

Myles handed him a glass of juice, followed by a plate containing bread and eggs.

"You can watch television. Or read."

Blake looked at the food.

"...Alright."

Myles walked toward one of the walls, then tapped it.

A section of the wall shifted.

Blake’s eyes widened.

Several shelves unfolded from inside it, revealing rows upon rows of books.

"What?!"

Blake immediately leaned forward.

"That’s so cool!"

"Those belong to Zlatan."

Blake’s excitement faded.

"...Oh."

"They may not be to your taste."

Blake stared at the shelves.

’If they’re Zlatan’s, they’re probably completely insane.’

Myles patted his head.

"I’ll be back."

"Have a nice day."

Myles stopped, looking back at Blake.

"You too."

Blake sighed.

He finished his breakfast before carefully standing with the cane.

His walking was getting better.

Much better, actually.

He could put weight on both legs now, although there was still weakness and occasional pain.

Practice was all he needed.

He’d been spoiled way too much these past few days.

And the medicine Myles had been giving him was helping tremendously. It wasn’t a painkiller; it seemed designed to encourage recovery itself, reducing inflammation and helping damaged tissue repair faster.

Blake didn’t know what was in it.

He also wasn’t about to complain.

He set the cane aside for a moment.

His legs trembled.

"Ugh. So annoying!!"

He needed to recover quickly, he still had a mission! He couldn’t spend forever sitting around.

Eventually, however, his legs became tired enough that he gave up and sat down.

His eyes wandered toward the shelves.

"Well..."

He reached for the nearest book.

The title alone made his eyebrow twitch.

"What the hell?"

He picked another.

Then another.

Every title seemed to be about something bizarre, morbid animal behavior, psychological abnormalities, extreme survival mechanisms, strange biological adaptations...

Blake flipped through a few pages.

"No way I’m reading this stuff!"

He put them aside.

"What kind of person reads this for fun?"

He glanced toward the door.

Then he spotted another section and pulled one out.

The cover was brightly illustrated.

Understanding Your Feelings!

Blake blinked.

"...What the?"

He opened it.

It was a children’s book.

The kind designed for four- or five-year-olds.

It explained emotions through simple stories.

Anger.

Fear.

Sadness.

Friendship.

Trust.

How to apologize.

How to recognize when someone was uncomfortable.

Blake stared at the pages.

"Huh."

He picked up another.

Learning to Share.

Why Do We Get Lonely?

What Does It Mean to Care About Someone?

Blake slowly looked at the collection.

’These are actually kind of wholesome, but huh, pretty sure they’ve got no children, or is Zlatan a single father? How old is he, anyway?’

He knew it was a ridiculous thought, so he kept flipping through a few pages, then looked around the room.

This was a base inhabited by five people who were, according to basically every law enforcement agency that mattered, dangerous criminals.

And one of them had a collection of children’s books about emotional development.

Blake scratched his cheek.

’If it’s actually his, that would be... pretty sad.’

He immediately shook his head.

’No. No, I’m not thinking that.’

He gathered the books he’d taken out.

Putting them back was more difficult than expected.

One of them was placed slightly too high.

Blake went onto his toes.

"Ow."

His ankle protested.

"Come on..."

He carefully put the book away and returned to his seat.

He turned on the television.

A romance drama was playing.

Blake stared at the screen.

"...Might as well watch and learn."

Ten minutes later, he was staring at it without really processing anything.

A dramatic confession happened.

Someone cried.

Someone ran away.

Someone dramatically grabbed someone’s wrist.

Blake blinked.

’What am I even learning? I have some small amount of self-respect.’

He continued watching anyway.

Eventually, the door opened, and Blake turned his head.

"Myles!"

He walked into the room.

Blake smiled.

"I didn’t expect you back so soon! Although I don’t actually know what time it is."

Myles was carrying a shopping bag.

Blake glanced at it, but he didn’t ask about it.

Myles walked toward him, then he stopped, his eyes going down toward Blake’s ankle.

He immediately crouched on one knee.

His hand gently took Blake’s ankle.

"Why did you strain yourself?"

Blake laughed awkwardly.

"I didn’t strain it."

Myles looked at him.

Blake scratched the back of his head.

"...Okay, maybe a little."

He gestured toward the shelves.

"I took out too many books. Putting them back was just a little difficult."

"You didn’t have to put them back."

Blake stared.

"Of course I did."

"Why?"

"They aren’t my books!"

Myles’ expression didn’t change.

"You could trash the entire room if you wanted."

Blake went completely silent. His face slowly became unimpressed.

"You punk, who do you take me for? Some rude bastard?"

Myles released his ankle, then he sat beside him, reaching into the shopping bag.

And pulled out a phone.

Blake stared, his eyes widening.

"For me?"

Myles handed it over.

Blake took it with both hands.

For several seconds, he simply stared at it.

Then his face brightened.

"Thanks!"

He leaned against Myles’ shoulder.

"But why did you buy it already?"

"You said you wanted one."

"Yeah, but you said you’d buy it after I was feeling better!"

"I changed my mind."

Blake looked up.

"Why?"

"I didn’t want you to be upset."

Blake blinked.

"...I wouldn’t be that upset at you over a phone."

Myles stroked his hair.

"I know."

Blake sighed.

He turned the phone on.

The screen lit up.

Blake immediately raised an eyebrow.

It was already configured.

His email accounts were there.

His phone number.

The applications he normally used.

Everything was organized.

Blake slowly turned his head toward Myles.

"How?"

"I configured it."

"I can see that."

Myles looked at him.

"I didn’t want you to waste energy setting it up."

Blake sighed.

’The better question is how he knows what applications I used, or what accounts I have, or what settings I preferred.’

He checked the notifications.

Thankfully, nothing had been opened.

At least Myles had left those alone.

Blake locked the phone.

"I’ll deal with it later."

Myles nodded.

Then he reached into the shopping bag again.

And pulled out other stuff.

Blake’s eyes slowly widened.

There was a small box containing a pair of wireless earbuds.

A soft scarf.

A little keychain shaped like a cat.

A notebook with a nice cover.

A set of pens.

A small plush toy.

And, inexplicably, a box of chocolates.

Blake stared at the growing pile.

"What is all of this?"

"All for you."

"Huh? What! Myles!"

"Yes?"

"I can’t accept this much stuff!"

Myles looked down at the gifts.

Then at Blake.

"Why?"

"Because!"

Blake pointed at the pile.

"This is way too much!"

"You need them."

"I don’t need a plushie!"

Myles picked up the plush cat.

"You looked at it when we went out to get ice cream."

"I..."

The plush cat had a tiny, cute embroidered expression, nobody would think Myles bought it.

Blake laughed.

"Thanks, it’s cute..."

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