Early evening settled softly over the Lunarium office wing, the kind of quiet that only arrived once the day’s urgency had finally bled out of the halls.

  Akiren stood by his desk, methodically straightening the scattered papers he’d accumulated over the course of the day. He slipped his Lunarium badge from his collar and tucked it carefully into his bag, as though removing the weight of his role along with it.

  The day had been long. Meetings layered atop meetings, oversight of D.L.N. systems, training new Illustrious officers… His social battery had been thoroughly drained. All he wanted now was to go home, somewhere quiet, and probably take a nap.

  He slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the corridor, offering polite nods to colleagues as he passed. The polished gradient stone hallways reflected the ambient lighting in soft bands as he made his way toward the main lobby. As expected, a familiar figure was already there.

  Adrian leaned against the wall in his usual spot, posture relaxed, crimson eyes alight with mischief as he chatted effortlessly with a small group of officers clocking out for the day. His laughter carried easily through the space. Akiren slowed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached and took his place just off to the side, content to observe rather than interrupt.

  Adrian spotted him almost immediately. His grin widened, and he pushed off the wall with an easy grace, clapping his hands together.

  “All right, lads! Great work today,” he announced brightly. “Catch you all tomorrow.”

  The others laughed, returning farewells before dispersing toward the exits. Once they were gone, Adrian turned back to Akiren, expression softening.

  “Ready to go home?”

  Akiren let out a fond, weary exhale. “I don’t understand how you still have so much energy after an entire day of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the now quiet lobby. “Talking to people just makes me feel… exhausted.”

  Adrian adjusted the strap of his bag, adopting an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “That’s because if no one talks to me for more than three minutes, I will physically perish from loneliness.”

  Akiren shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him as they started toward the exit together. They lived only a few blocks away, and leaving together had become second nature. As they stepped outside, the evening air greeted him with a gentle coolness, and Akiren felt some of the tension in his shoulders finally loosen.

  “So,” Adrian said casually as they walked, hands clasped behind his head. “How was your day, Ren?”

  “It was all right,” Akiren replied after a moment. “I dealt with a few minor interferences in the D.L.N. and onboarded some new officers. What about you?”

  “Nothing new on the Veiled side,” Adrian said lightly. “Handled some sensitive intel. Closed a few open cases.”

  He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh—and we met with the Solarium.”

  Akiren absorbed that without surprise. Of all the governing bodies, the Lunarium interacted with the Solarium most frequently. Their domains overlapped—national security, information control, threats that could not be handled openly. If the Solarium stood at the apex of authority, then the Lunarium existed directly beneath it: close enough to feel the pressure, yet never close enough to question it.

  “Did it go well?” Akiren asked, unease threading quietly through his voice.

  “Oh yeah. Totally fine.” Adrian replied. He shrugged easily, as if the topic barely warranted thought. “It’s just—eh. I don’t really like Callum.”

  Akiren glanced over at him, surprised enough that it showed. “Callum Morvane?”

  “Mhm.” Adrian nodded, irritation flickering briefly across his expression before settling back into its usual confidence. “Guy’s shady. Always says things in a way that’s technically correct but never fully honest. I call him out on it every time, so I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.”

  Akiren frowned slightly, mind drifting back through his own interactions with Callum. He was charming, a presence that had felt intimidating at first but pleasant once you knew him. Akiren had assumed the nervousness he felt was his own doing, that familiar anxiety that crept in whenever he dealt with someone he didn’t know well.

  “Huh,” he murmured. “Really? I always thought he seemed nice. At least to me.”

  Adrian shot him a sideways look, then grinned. “That’s because you have pretty privilege.”

  Akiren stopped short, unimpressed. “That’s not a real thing.”

  “Your Honor,” Adrian said smugly, lifting his hands in mock surrender, “I beg to differ.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Akiren let out a long suffering exhale, staring resolutely ahead as they continued walking.

  After a moment, Adrian’s tone softened, the teasing giving way to something more sincere. “All jokes aside, it’s probably because you’re just… less confrontational than I am.”

  “That, and you’ve always been better at reading people,” Akiren said quietly. “I’m not very good at noticing when someone’s lying. And I’m a terrible liar myself.”

  Adrian snorted, clearly fighting a laugh as a memory surfaced. “You don’t say. Celery, huh?”

  Akiren flushed immediately. “I couldn’t think of anything better! It was the first thing that came to mind.”

  “I know,” Adrian said, nudging him lightly, eyes warm with amusement. “That’s why it was cute.”

  Akiren grumbled under his breath but let it go. There was no point pushing back—Adrian would only enjoy it more. After a few steps, his expression turned thoughtful again.

  “I think our siblings are friends with Callum’s siblings,” he said.

  Adrian hummed. “Small world. Shame their older brother’s an ass.”

  Akiren smiled faintly but didn’t argue. Once Adrian made up his mind about someone, there was little point trying to sway him. Akiren didn’t know Callum well enough to judge either way, so Adrian’s insight mattered more than first impressions ever could.

  “Speaking of siblings,” Adrian said lightly, shifting the topic. “Those two have really had their hands full lately.”

  Akiren gave a quiet nod of agreement. He followed every report of the Twin Hounds that crossed the Lunarium’s channels. Officially, it was part of his job. Unofficially, it was impossible not to read each update through the lens of an older brother.

  He knew how capable Akio was and trusted him implicitly. Yet still, with the pace he’d been keeping recently, that trust sat uncomfortably alongside a persistent knot of worry.

  Akiren’s grip tightened on the strap of his bag.

  “He’s been using that new ability a lot,” he said quietly. “During the clash with the Hollow yesterday. Stopping one of Echo’s schemes this morning. And there was another M.A.W. rescue just a few hours before that.”

  He hesitated, then added, softer: “It can’t be good for his health.”

  Adrian nodded, his easy expression dimming just enough to reveal the worry beneath. “Yeah. I had some people run simulations on it. If he overuses it, the long term effects could be… pretty serious.”

  Akiren swallowed. He knew that better than most. Back when Lillianne still taught her course on Fractal abilities, he had absorbed every lecture with meticulous attention: costs, recoil, long term degradation. Power always demanded something in return, and the price was rarely immediate.

  He had already messaged Akio, voicing his concerns as carefully as he could. Akio had responded reassuring that he would be fine—which was entirely unsatisfying, but there wasn’t much else he could do.

  The worry threatened to spiral before Adrian’s voice cut through it, warm and steady.

  “Hey, it’ll be all right. Akio’s smart. He knows his limits, and Gabriel’s watching his back. I’m sure Gabriel would never let him get hurt.”

  Akiren let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Adrian’s words didn’t erase the concern, but they eased it just enough. He had faith in those two—in how capable they were, and how easily they seemed to accomplish things most would never dare attempt.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re right. I’m sure they’ll be okay.”

  They turned the corner and stepped onto a familiar street, one lined with warm shop windows and softly glowing signs. The glass storefronts caught the last colors of the sunset, scattering them across the pavement in muted golds and rose hues. Their conversation drifted naturally into lighter territory, and Akiren found himself smiling without quite realizing when it had happened.

  That was when he noticed the looks.

  A small group approached from the opposite direction, their gazes lingering just a moment too long.

  Akiren felt his chest tighten slightly, that instinctive awareness that always came with unwanted attention. He smoothed it over and offered a polite smile as they passed. The strangers returned the gesture before continuing on their way. Only once they were alone again did Akiren allow himself a quiet exhale, relief loosening his shoulders.

  From beside him, Adrian glanced over. “You’re a lot better at handling it now.”

  Akiren looked at him then smiled, small but sincere. “Thanks. I think I’m used to it.”

  There had been a time when he hadn’t handled it at all.

  Back then, he had worn a mask everywhere. Not for fashion or mystery, but simply because being really seen made his skin crawl. The attention had come uninvited, and it had left him perpetually on edge. He had worn it to school, to lectures, even to casual outings, never once intending to stop.

  Then one day, Adrian asked.

  The memory came back with surprising clarity: during their usual routine while waiting for their younger brothers, the hum of distant conversation, Adrian propped casually against the wall like he belonged there.

  “Hey,” Adrian had said then, curiosity bright and genuine in his eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while—why do you always wear a mask? After all this time, I still have no idea what you actually look like.”

  Akiren, arms full of books, had brushed a loose strand of hair from his face, heat creeping up his neck. “Oh. It’s… fashion, I guess.”

  Adrian had laughed softly. “That’s fair, but doesn’t it get stuffy? I swear I’ve never seen you take it off. Not even once.”

  Akiren remembered the way his pulse had spiked then. He hadn’t wanted to tell the truth, hadn’t wanted to invite more questions—or worse, let Adrian’s view of him change. So he had deflected, clinging to the safest answer he had.

  “It’s just a preference. I like wearing masks.”

  Adrian had studied him for a moment, thoughtful. Then his grin had turned teasing. “That’s fair. But, you know, there are rumors you’re actually really pretty and just hiding it. Like some kind of masked prince.”

  Akiren had flushed instantly. “N-no—that’s not true! I look normal. It’s nothing like that.”

  Adrian had raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Okay, so—” He’d leaned forward then, eyes wide and imploring in a way that was impossible to take seriously. “Can I see? Please? Just a tiny peek?”

  Akiren had glanced around, noting the other students lingering nearby, the curious looks already beginning to form. The thought of making a scene had been unbearable.

  “…No,” he had said quietly. “Sorry. I’d rather not.”

  Adrian had paused, then shrugged easily, leaning back with his hands behind his head before giving a playful wink. “Aw, all right then. I’ll just wait until you’re ready.”

  The relief Akiren had felt in that moment still lingered even now. Sometimes, Akiren wondered if he ever would have grown comfortable being seen at all if not for that quiet patience.

  In the present, he glanced over at Adrian, who was walking beside him in thoughtful silence. Then, without warning—

  “Say,” Adrian began, turning his head slightly, “if I turned into a worm one day, would you be able to tell it’s me?”

  Akiren laughed despite himself, the sound escaping before he could stop it. “What kind of question is that?”

  Adrian grinned, undeterred, and they continued on down the street together—the last light of day fading behind them as their conversation dissolved into easy, harmless nonsense. Akiren found himself thinking how strangely small the world could feel despite everything that loomed over it. And yet, moments like this existed anyway—simple, unguarded, quietly precious.

  He held onto that warmth as they walked, cherishing it with the careful awareness of someone who knew just how rare it truly was.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Yoru / Lyla