琪溪

you nearly trip as you round the final corner that separates you. but when you finally reach the room where his meetings are held, the hulking figure looming outside gives you pause. 

“you need something?” 

he’s one of sylus’s men—bruce, if you remember right—but you haven’t spoken to him much. surely, though, he’s seen you around?

swallowing thickly, you wring your hands out in front of you. “i was looking for sylus. i was hoping i could talk to him.”

if he notices the tremor in your body, he doesn’t say anything. “boss is busy right now. you can come back when he’s done.” 

when he’s done? 

“um…are you sure?” you protest weakly. “he usually doesn’t care if—”

“i’m sure, alright?” for some reason, he sounds exasperated. “look, this deal is important to us, and he doesn’t need any distractions. just wait for him to finish.”  

the words bounce in your brain. they feel wrong. you feel wrong. but if your presence ever sabotaged his work, you’d blame yourself for weeks. 

biting your lip, you nod once and turn on your heel, dragging your feet back to your shared bedroom. 

you’ve been hugging your knees for what feels like hours when the door creaks open. almost immediately, the scent of home fills the room, wrapping around you like the hug you needed earlier. 

“sylus?” you croak, pushing yourself up on the mattress. “are…are you free now?”

he pauses for a moment, then flicks the nearest lamp on its lowest setting. in the warm, reddish light, you see his elevated eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“i know you were in a meeting. i almost went to see you, but the guard said i shouldn't disturb you. so i’ve been waiting here.” 

“disturb,” he repeats, like the word is foreign on his tongue. “you…disturb…me?” 

his head is angled to the side, like a puppy’s during its first encounter with the bathtub. you decide against telling him this, only nodding instead. 

as soon as you do, the shadows of snarl creep onto his face. “why were you coming to see me?”

“i was just anxious, i guess. it wasn’t that much worse than usual.” the back of your neck warms, and you scratch it nervously. “since you usually help me, i thought maybe you could this time, too. but it’s okay,” you rush. “i feel better now.”

he shuts his eyes, letting out a three-second sigh. then, he comes to the bed, sits down beside you, and tucks you into his side. “he’s fired.”

startled, you raise your head as much as his bear paw of a hand allows. “what?”

“the guard you ran into. he’ll be gone by morning,” he says simply. 

your heart hammers in your chest again—this time, out of guilt. “but—i’m sure it was a misunderstanding. he was only trying to make sure your meeting went well, and i could have come in at a bad time, and—”

the wry curve of his lips tells you he’s not convinced. “alright, sweetie. let’s say i keep him on. this first time, you’re upset, and he thinks it’s not worth telling me. what happens next, then? you’re hurt, and i don’t find out until it’s too late?”

he takes your silence as a sign to continue. 

“if you were in danger and someone kept you from coming to me,” he begins, voice dipping in with conviction, “i’d do much, much worse than fire them. consider this a blessing, sweetie. you’re doing the man a favor.”

you chew your lip and fiddle with your hands, unable to fully believe him. “i guess.” 

gently, he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head until your eyes meet. “i want you to see me anytime, no matter the reason. even if you don't have one. your problems are my problems, and my time is yours.”

you can’t hold his gaze for very long—you never can. but when you wrap your arms around his torso, he knows he’s gotten through to you. 

“good. now, why don’t you tell me what you were so anxious about?”

you stiffen against him, but only momentarily. “i don’t really want to.” 

he lets out a bewildered scoff. “hmm?”

“you’re here now, and i’m happy. i want to focus on that instead,” you say, shoving your face into his chest. 

he lets his body buckle slightly from the force, his rich chuckle setting your mind at ease. “alright, then. how was the rest of your day?”

a week later, a taller, bigger, much nicer guard knocks on the dark oak door. nodding your head in thanks, you enter after a moment’s preparation, and the mix of deep voices falls to a hush. 

the meeting is over. you know that as soon as sylus’s eyes find yours, softening from warmth and relief. “thank you, morgan,” he calls to the new guard. then, he cuts his eyes across the sleek round table. “i’ll have the room now. follow up in three days.” 

scraping their chairs against the hardwood floors, the other men nod their heads and clear out. once the door shuts behind them, sylus turns his chair toward you and pats his thigh. you rush into his open arms without a second thought. 

“hi, sweetie,” he murmurs into your hair. “what is it?”

heat rushes to your cheeks. you bite the inside of your left one. “i…”

humming inquisitively, he gives an encouraging squeeze to the side of your waist. “you…?”

“i…am bored.”

pulling back a bit, sylus examines you carefully, checking to see if you’re serious. when all you do is stare back at him, fighting the urge to cover your face, a snort builds to a wheeze, then to a bark of laughter. “and we can't have that, can we?” he teases, eyes twinkling like roses in starlight. 

sheepish, you shake your head and try to double down. “we can’t. my problems are your problems.” 

“they are. you’re a quick learner,” he rumbles, gently bringing your foreheads together. “how lucky is it that i’m bored, too? had that meeting gone any longer, i would’ve had to remove our honored guests from the base.” 

shifting on his lap, you squint down at him. “by kindly asking them to leave, right?” 

“something like that,” he replies, and you try to suppress the image of fifteen bodies being flown out the front door. “in any case, what should we do instead?”

“well, there’s this rainforest documentary i want to watch. or we could keep watching that vampire drama, or we could play that game i beat you at last time—”

“i have no memory of that.” 

“I do.” you steamroll over him. “or you could walk me through the armory again, or…”

as you spew out options, you’re almost oblivious to the way he maneuvers you in his hold. soon enough, though, you’re intensely aware of the kisses he scatters over your cheeks, stealing your focus until your lips tug into a frown. “you’re not listening, are you?”

“of course i am,” he whispers, hands roaming over your skin. “your ideas are great, kitten. it’s just…there’s no need to rush. why don't we start going down the list, say, an hour from now?”

you can barely nod before he pulls you into a searing kiss, any and all boredom going up in smoke. you don’t know how long you stay there with him, touching until your bodies blur together. an hour, two—you’re not sure, you don’t care. 

That was how your year of grueling work began.

You declared one of the rooms in his mansion completely off-limits to everyone, especially Sylus. The twins had tried to peek in exactly once and very quickly learned that curiosity could, in fact, be a dangerous habit. And that you can be scarier than Sylus.

Sylus, to his credit, kept his promise. He only watched the charges roll in on his bank account with a faintly amused expression and let you do your thing.

You knew N109 was no place for plants. The environment was too harsh, the sunlight was nonexistent. But you wanted to give him something soft anyway. Something alive. Something that could grow in the middle of all that steel and darkness.

You spent an absurd amount of his money, argued with suppliers, ordered special equipment, canceled it, reordered it, then spent days testing conditions and making adjustments. Slowly, painfully, you transformed the room into a technological marvel – greenhouse, packed with advanced systems to regulate temperature, humidity, light, and airflow. It still wasn’t exactly what you had first imagined. Your original idea had been much bigger. But one year simply had not been enough time to make your dream as grand as you wanted it to be. Still, you kept going after every failed attempt. Every wilted sprout. Every adjustment that made things worse before they got better.

And now, a week before his birthday, you stood in front of the door with your hand gripping the handle, heart thudding painfully against your ribs.

You took a deep breath and looked up at him with an embarrassed little smile.

“It… was supposed to be bigger,” you admitted. “But I ran out of time.”

Sylus’s expression softened almost immediately, though the corner of his mouth still hinted at amusement.

Then, remembering something, you stepped back and pulled a strip of black fabric from behind your back.

“Here. Cover your eyes.”

With an amused smirk, Sylus lowered his head so you could tie the fabric around his eyes.

“Do you trust me?” you asked quietly, trying to sound casual despite how hard your heart was beating.

“I always trust you.”

That alone made your chest ache.

Once you were sure he couldn’t see a thing, you opened the door and carefully guided him inside.

The room smelled different immediately. Not like the rest of the mansion. Not like polished metal, expensive cologne, gunpowder. And certainly not like N109. This room smelled faintly of damp earth, fresh leaves, and something floral. You led him forward, one careful step at a time, until you reached the corner of the room. Then you stopped.

Your fingers tightened around his sleeve. You exhaled slowly.

“It’s not exactly what I planned,” you admitted, suddenly painfully aware of how small your voice sounded. “But… it’s something.”

You hesitated, then added, “You can take the cloth off now.”

Sylus did so slowly.

For a moment, he said nothing.

You watched his expression carefully, dread and hope twisting together in your chest as you waited for his reaction.

The corner of the room had been turned into a tiny flower field. Not a literal field, of course, but enough to give the illusion of one. A carefully arranged patch of rich dark soil and layered planters, all stretching out in rows of deep red daturas. Their blooms opened toward the artificial light above them like small, dangerous stars.

You watched Sylus’s face carefully as he stared at it.

At first, there was only silence. Then his red eyes moved slowly across the room, taking in every detail: the flowers, the lighting, the care with which everything had been arranged, the fact that you had clearly spent months making sure this would work. His expression changed little by little. The amusement faded first. then the surprise. Then something quieter, softer, almost reverent flashed on his face. His gaze returned to the flowers, and for a moment he looked completely still.

You swallowed.

“I know it’s not huge,” you said quickly, suddenly afraid he would think it was too small, too much work for too little result, too humble for his birthday. “And I know it’s not like the original idea. I wanted more space, more color, more…well, everything, really. But the environment here made everything harder than I thought, and some of the plants didn’t survive the first few tries, and…”

Sylus turned to you. You stopped talking.

He stepped closer, slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might break the moment.

“You did this for me?” he asked quietly.

There was no teasing in his voice now. No smugness. No faint grin.

You nodded, suddenly shy.

“I wanted you to have something that belonged to you. Something alive.” Your voice wavered a little. “N109 can be so cold sometimes. I thought… maybe this would make it feel a little less cold and lonely.”

He looked at you for a long moment. Then his eyes drifted back to the flowers. Something unreadable flickered across his face.

“You spent a year on this.”

You tried to shrug, though your throat felt tight.

“Yeah. More or less.”

Sylus’s hand lifted, hovering near one of the blooms.

“These are daturas,” he said softly, as if remembering a long forgotten dream.

You nodded, a little relieved that he recognized them.

“Red ones. I thought they suited you.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“They do.”

The words were so quiet you almost missed them. Then he looked back at you, and this time there was no hiding the emotion in his gaze. It was warmer than usual.

“You made a garden in my house,” he said, almost as if he still could not believe it.

“A tiny one.”

“Still a garden.”

You gave a small, helpless laugh.

“I know it’s not perfect.”

Sylus stepped closer until there was barely any space left between you.

His hand came up to your face, knuckles brushing your cheek with devastating gentleness.

“It is perfect,” he said.

Your breath caught.

“It’s mine,” he continued, voice low and full of something that made your heart skip a beat. “Because you made it for me.”

He pressed his forehead briefly to yours, hand still cradling your cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For this… for all of it.”

And suddenly, all the exhaustion, all the failed attempts, all the long nights and stubborn frustration felt worth it. Because the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

The twins met you at the entrance and tried to stop you, but you brushed past them without listening. Your brain only registered one thing: Sylus was in the conference room. So that’s where you went, storming through the halls.

Only when you pushed the doors open and saw a table full of men did it finally register.

He was in a meeting.

Too late to back out now.

“The meeting is adjourned,” you said sharply, glaring at everyone.

Sylus raised a brow, lips twitching into an amused smirk. He leaned back in his chair, saying nothing, just watching.

A few of his men exchanged glances, unsure how to react. Sylus, who normally didn’t tolerate interruptions, was… letting this happen. And that was the only answer they needed. Most of them started to leave. Of course, one of the younger ones decided to speak up.

“I don’t think you have the right to order us around, missy,” he said smugly, ignoring the warning looks from the others. He also didn’t notice the way Sylus straightened slightly in his chair, eyes sharp with interest of a man ready to dissect a frog.

Unlucky for the poor bastard, you were too far gone to back down. You crossed the room in a few strides, gripping the back of his chair with one hand while the other shot forward to grab his chin, your nails digging into his skin.

“What? No one told you the truth?” you said coldly and leaned in closer. “The entire N109 exists for me. You’re all here to serve me.” Your nails pressed deeper, enough to draw blood. “So when I say the meeting is over, it’s over. And all of you need to get the fuck out.” Your voice rang with fury.

By now, most of the men had already slipped out. The poor idiot in front of you looked like his brain had completely shut down.

“Do I make myself clear?” you hissed.

He nodded quickly. Only then did you let him go.

He scrambled away, dragged out by the last remaining men. You caught a glimpse of the bloody crescent marks your nails had left behind and felt a dark flicker of satisfaction. The door clicked shut.

And just like that, all the anger drained out of you. You turned and made a beeline for Sylus, collapsing into his lap. Your arms wrapped around him as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, spice and whiskey, warm and grounding. The tight knot in your chest finally began to loosen.

“Well, well,” Sylus murmured, clearly amused. “That was quite a performance.”

You only whined and pressed closer. He let out a low laugh.

“Don’t get shy now. You were so fierce a moment ago.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, clinging to him tighter. You took a breath, bracing yourself. “Had a bad day. Needed you. They were in the way,” you muttered quickly. Then added softer, “M’sorry.”

His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t apologize,” he said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His fingers slid into your hair, gently threading through the strands.

“You’re not angry?” you asked, voice small.

“Why would I be?” he hummed. “You’re finally using your authority. I built this place for you. You’re the one in charge.”

He paused, then added lightly,

“I’ll adjust.”

Your chest tightened, overwhelmed, and you pressed closer, blinking back tears.

“Now,” he murmured against your hair, “how about a hot bath and a massage?”

His hand traced slow, soothing patterns along your back.