The bathroom was drowned in a dim yellow light,

like a candle hesitating before it dies.

Lythia stood before the sink, her breaths uneven,

her hands under the running water for an immeasurable time…

And the blood would not come off.

She scrubbed harder.

Roughly. Cruelly—enough to ache down to the bone,

as if she were punishing herself.

She flinched when Kyle Noir’s hands reached hers from behind.

He said nothing.

That was what made it gentler…

and far more cruel.

He calmly turned the faucet, pressed soap into his palms,

and began to scrub—instead of her.

His movements were slow. Focused.

As if time itself had collapsed into her fingers alone.

His black hair fell forward, damp strands brushing his cheek.

And his blue eyes…

they were fixed on her slender fingers,

tracking every tremor, every red line dissolving bit by bit.

She whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Kyle…”

He didn’t look up.

He only rubbed his thumb with deliberate care,

as if that exact spot deserved special attention.

That was when she noticed him.

His black shirt slightly open, sleeves rolled up,

water glistening on his skin—

dangerously close.

Her face flushed all at once.

She spoke in flustered embarrassment, forcing a laugh.

“Is there… some kind of occasion for this?”

He smiled.

A small, knowing smile—

one she knew all too well.

“There’s always an occasion,” he said softly,

“when you’re tired.”

He stopped suddenly.

Lifted her hand, slowly—one after the other—

and kissed each finger.

A light, warm kiss

against wet skin.

She gasped, pulling her hand back slightly,

eyes narrowing with playful disbelief.

“Huh?! Don’t tell me—”

She stepped closer, her gaze challenging him.

“You planned all this just to touch me, didn’t you?”

He laughed.

Low. Genuine.

Unhidden.

“Wow…” he said, raising a brow.

“Exposed that easily?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping.

“But… who said I regret it?”

She shook her head—half annoyed, half smiling—

and lightly hit his chest.

“You wicked devil.”

He took her hand again.

This time—no soap, no water.

Just the warmth of his palm around hers.

“Your devil,” he replied.

Kyle enclosed her hands between his palms,

as if he were afraid the idea might slip away…

or her.

His thumbs traced small circles over her knuckles—

an unconscious, reassuring motion.

He spoke with deliberate calm,

answering her earlier question.

“Yes… there is an occasion.”

She looked up at him, slightly surprised.

He slowly lowered her hands, then opened one palm

and began counting on his fingers, one by one,

with strange precision—

as if tallying something sacred.

“Today…”

One finger.

“It’s been a full year since you joined the organization.”

A second finger.

“And it’s the first small celebration we haven’t lost

to war or chaos.”

Third.

“It’s the only day this month

when none of our colleagues were killed.”

He paused, then smiled faintly to the side

and raised the fourth finger.

“And it’s also…

the day my favorite team won.”

She stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or protest.

“That doesn’t count,” she said quickly.

“I make the rules,” he replied without hesitation.

Then his tone softened—became more honest.

“And most importantly… everyone will be there.

Even those who rarely show up.

They wanted to see you.”

Her hands stiffened instantly.

She pulled them back slightly, her gaze drifting away.

“Kyle… you know I hate crowds.”

Then she whispered, as if confessing something shameful.

“The noise… the eyes…”

He stepped closer.

He didn’t force her.

Didn’t pull her in.

He only said—

“I know.”

Then he tilted his head so he was level with her eyes.

“That’s why I’ll stay with you the entire time.”

He paused, then added with unwavering certainty,

“I won’t leave you alone for even a moment.”

 She shook her head in protest.

“Kyle—”

He cut her off gently.

“And if you get tired…”

He lifted her hand and brushed his thumb over the back of it.

“We leave immediately. No questions. No arguments.”

She fell silent.

She knew him well…

but he continued, as if aware that it still wasn’t enough.

“And I promise you something else.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

He smiled.

The smile of a devil who knew exactly where to strike.

“If you endure it…”

“I’ll give you the entire night. Just the two of us.”

Her face flushed instantly.

“Kyle!”

He laughed lightly.

“I mean—your favorite tea,

the quiet place you love,

and no one else.”

She hesitated.

Two seconds… three.

Then she exhaled in surrender and said with shy irritation,

“You’re taking advantage of me.”

He grabbed her hand at once,

a small victory gleaming in his eyes.

“And you’re agreeing.”

He led her toward the door.

She followed with soft grumbling—

but her fingers never let go of his hand.

Just before opening it, he turned to her

and said in a very low voice,

“Trust me today… just today.”

A small smile curved her lips.

“…What an irresistible devil.”

---

Kyle opened the door, and the yellow light slipped away behind them…

only to be swallowed by another light entirely.

The celebration hall was vast, high-ceilinged,

dark lamps hanging above like burning moons.

Banners of the Black Twilight Organization covered the walls—

black with silver edges,

their emblem repeating like a watchful eye that never slept.

The noise was… strange.

Laughter. Sharp debates. Discordant music.

And people—stranger than one another.

Lythia’s grip tightened around Kyle’s hand without her realizing it.

“I told you…” he whispered near her ear,

“I’m here.”

She barely took two steps when—

“Ooooh! You’re Lythia, right?!”

A girl suddenly popped up in front of her.

She was short, with messy short pink hair,

as if she’d cut it in a bad mood and immediately regretted it.

Her pupils were… cross-shaped,

bright pink, shining with unsettling excitement.

She wore an overly cute smile,

and on her head—

fake entrails, dangling like festive accessories.

Lythia froze.

The girl grabbed her hand instantly, without asking.

“I’m Wendy Cruz! Finally, a pleasure to meet you!”

Before Lythia could respond, Wendy started talking—

and did not stop.

“Wow, you’re way prettier than the descriptions! They said you’re dangerous, but you’re adorable! I love that contrast!”

Then she pointed enthusiastically at the decoration on her head.

“Do you like it? I made it myself! Inspired by last week’s incident—”

“Wendy,” Kyle said calmly. A warning.

She turned to him at once, her smile widening.

“Oh! Kyle Noir himself!”

She waved cheerfully.

“Nice to meet you! Don’t worry, I haven’t mentioned the bloody details yet.”

Lythia took a deep breath, trying to keep up with the verbal flood.

Wendy began dragging her along, step by step, introducing her to everyone.

“This one’s from the Second Shadow Squad! And this guy’s from Surveillance—oh, don’t say the word *explosion* around him!”

Then she leaned in and whispered happily,

“He lost his arm because of one. It was an amazing sight.”

Lythia shivered slightly.

But the strange thing was—

The looks around her weren’t hostile.

Quite the opposite.

Everyone who passed stared at her with open admiration:

some smiling,

some bowing lightly,

others whispering—

“That’s her…”

“She’s the one Kyle saved…”

“She looks calmer than I expected…”

Someone said out loud,

“It’s hard to believe someone this quiet can kill.”

Wendy clapped her hands in delight.

“Right?! That’s the best kind!”

Lythia stopped and looked at Kyle, confused.

He stood slightly behind her, his eyes scanning the room—

yet every time she looked back,

he met her gaze with a short, steady look of reassurance.

Wendy leaned in closer, whispering with childish excitement.

“By the way… how many people have you killed?”

Lythia gasped, about to protest—

But the hall burst into laughter before she could speak,

as if the question were a familiar joke.

Kyle finally intervened, his voice low but firm.

“Wendy.”

She raised her hands instantly.

“Okay! Okay! Later!”

Then she smiled at Lythia again.

“I’ll steal you later so we can talk about the fun stuff.”

She finally walked away, leaving Lythia standing in the middle of the hall—

In the middle of a dark, chaotic, terrifying world—

That was looking at her

as if she were the star of the night.

Kyle leaned slightly toward her.

“So?”

She swallowed, then said softly,

“They’re… scary.”

He smiled faintly, sideways.

“But they like you.”

She hesitated.

Then—for the first time—

she didn’t tighten her grip to pull away.

Lythia finally sat down—and Kyle never left her side.

He leaned in slightly, his arm settling firmly around her shoulder,

protective, possessive,

as if declaring to everyone—she is mine.

“All right,” he said calmly, his voice soft yet audible.

“As the leader, it’s time for proper introductions.”

He gestured, one by one.

“This is Daryn.”

A very thin man, his eyes uneven, smiling like someone who knew everyone’s secrets.

“Specialist in infiltration and theft… including ideas.”

Daryn waved casually.

“Pleasure to meet you. Don’t worry—I haven’t stolen you yet.”

“And this is Mora.”

A tall woman with white hair, wearing a half-broken mask.

“Poison expert… prefers plants to people.”

Mora nodded in respectful silence.

“And over there…”

A faint smile.

“No one knows his real name. Call him ‘Dot.’ Sniper. Doesn’t speak.”

The man raised a single finger in greeting.

Lythia looked at them with quiet astonishment.

Eccentric—yes.

But she felt something else, too.

Belonging.

Kyle leaned closer, his voice lowering, meant only for her.

“They’re chaotic… but loyal.”

Then suddenly—his tone changed.

It softened. Unexpectedly.

“Lythia…”

He laced her hands with his, openly, before everyone—without shame.

“Join my team.”

Silence fell.

“I’ll give you everything.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, one by one, slowly, deliberately.

“Freedom. Authority. Even command.”

The team froze.

“I’ll step down,” he said simply.

“And make you the leader.”

“What?!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Commander, have you lost your mind?!”

Some laughed in shock.

Others stared at him as if seeing a stranger.

Daryn muttered,

“Who’s this gentle guy—and where’s the Kyle we know?”

Kyle ignored them completely.

He was soft now. Almost pleading.

“Please.”

He smiled only at her.

“I’ll serve as a soldier under your command.”

He tightened his hold on her hands, his forehead touching hers.

“Say yes.”

Some of the team laughed, unable to believe the blatant affection.

Kyle? Cold. Detached. Terrifying?

—toggle off

Before she could answer—

“HAAH!”

A massive hand clapped down enthusiastically on Lythia’s shoulder.

“Lythia Grave!”

It was Jean.

A towering man, shoulders like a wall, laughter loud and sincere.

Leader of the Exploration Unit.

“You’re still standing straight as sugarcane!” he said proudly.

“Even while being executed!”

She laughed lightly, instantly respecting his presence.

“Jean…”

He patted her shoulder again.

“I’ve been saying it for years—you’ve got a big future.”

“Leader of a squad… no. Leader of the entire organization.”

Kyle’s smile vanished.

Something else took its place.

Something dark.

He stepped closer, pulled Lythia into him with one arm.

His eyes dropped to Jean’s hand on her shoulder—

then he slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Your hand…”

He smiled. A truly terrifying smile.

“Do you need it?”

A heavy silence fell.

“I’m considering adding it to my collection.”

He pulled Lythia closer abruptly, his arm wrapping around her with childish, obvious protectiveness—

like someone hiding a favorite toy.

He whispered to her, with unsettling gentleness,

“Don’t get too close to him.”

Jean blinked, then laughed awkwardly and stepped back.

“As you wish.”

Lythia took a deep breath, then turned to Kyle, raising an eyebrow with clear exhaustion.

“Kyle…”

“No,” he said immediately.

She sighed, then spoke with firm softness.

“I refuse your offer. And I remind you—this is the twentieth time this month.”

He smiled like a lover who didn’t understand surrender.

“And I’ll keep asking until you agree.”

She shook her head, a small smile defeating her sternness.

“Give up.”

The team burst into laughter as one.

And Kyle pulled her closer, smiling only at her—

as if he had won…

Even while losing.