The light in Yu's room was soft, filtered through the pale curtains, warm against Adrian's tattooed shoulders as he stirred awake. A low hum of sound greeted him—gentle, coaxing words, Yu's hand brushing along his arm.
"Adrian, wake up. Come on."
Yu whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips as if the night before hadn't shattered him.
Adrian blinked, bleary, his muscles stiff and aching but not unbearable. The first thing he registered wasn't his soreness—it was Yu's smile, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. He sat up slowly, the sheets falling from his chest. Everything looked normal. Yu looked normal. But nothing felt normal.
His gaze flicked around. The room. Not his own. Yu's.
A thread of confusion tugged.
'Why am I here?'
He remembered going to Yu's door, after Callen had said something stupid enough to make Yu cry. He remembered stepping in, maybe holding him? A vague sense—like something important had passed between them. A question, a heartbeat suspended in air, but the memory blurred like ink run through water.
Adrian's brow furrowed. What had he asked? What had Yu answered? It felt heavy, vital, and yet it slipped away the more he tried to grasp it.
"Adrian…"
Yu's voice cut gently through his fog. Still smiling, but his eyes a little too bright, a little too controlled.
"Go wash up. I'll start breakfast."
The words were domestic, normal. Too normal.
Adrian nodded, because what else could he do? He pushed himself off the bed, his body dragging toward Yu's bathroom as if routine would anchor him. Behind him, Yu slipped out into the hall, the door closing softly on his way to the kitchen.
And Adrian was left staring at the tiled floor of Yu's bathroom, water running in the sink, the nagging weight of a question that refused to be remembered tightening in his chest.
For a long while, Adrian stood over the sink, cool water dripping from his jawline, gathering in rivulets along the sharp edges of his tattoos by his shoulders before slipping down into the porcelain basin. He patted his face dry, his reflection sharp and unsettled in the mirror.
'Why can't I remember?'
His gut twisted, instincts whispering that something had happened last night—something he should never have forgotten. The fuzziness wasn't natural. It wasn't him.
He lowered the towel, intending to toss it into the laundry bin, but his hand missed, and the cloth slid to the floor. With a muttered curse, he bent down, fingers brushing tile as his other hand steadied against the rim of the bin. That's when he saw it.
A glint of white, tucked beneath the sink. A thin stick. Plastic. Out of place.
Adrian frowned. He leaned lower, his body protesting the movement, his ribs aching, the dull pain in his thighs a stark reminder of Yu's touch. But curiosity burned hotter than the ache. He shifted forward—
—and the bin tipped.
Adrian crashed with a thud onto the cold floor, breath whooshing out of him. A jolt of pain snapped through his back and arms. He swore again under his breath, pushing himself up on his elbows.
That's when he saw them.
Not just one. Several. White sticks, scattered amidst the tangle of discarded clothes, their faint plastic edges jutting out like pale bones from the heap. The sight made his pulse stumble, his breath catch.
Pregnancy tests.
His hand hovered, frozen, as the world seemed to sharpen and blur at once.
Adrian's chest rose and fell, each breath heavier than the last. The little white sticks glared up at him from the floor, their pale plastic bodies lined in jagged disorder between dark clothes and the tiled ground.
For a long, suspended moment, he didn't move. He simply stared—frozen—like if he blinked, they would vanish, like they were some trick of light or a fever dream brought on by the ache still stitched through his muscles.
But they didn't vanish.
Adrian reached out, fingers trembling as he pinched one between his fingertips. It was cool against his skin, oddly intimate in a way he couldn't explain. He turned it, tilting it toward the light.
There—faint but undeniable—the mark. Two colored lines.
His stomach sank, ice cold spreading through his veins. He'd seen enough of these in movies, whispered enough rumors in college dorms, that he knew exactly what he was holding. A pregnancy test.
And the result was clear.
Positive.
Adrian's throat tightened. His first thought—his only thought—was Yu. The image of his small, delicate frame, his luminous eyes, the way he carried himself around the house. But Adrian knew—he knew—Yu was a man. He'd seen him, touched him, more than once.
So… then…
Adrian's pulse hammered in his ears, louder than reason.
'Did Yuvin get a girl pregnant?'
The thought burned and twisted, making his hand clench tighter around the plastic stick until it threatened to snap in his grip. His jaw locked, his breath quick and uneven, as puzzle pieces began to fall into place—shards, jagged and incomplete—but enough to tell him one thing:
Yu was hiding something. Something big.
And Adrian's world tilted sharply at the weight of that realization.
"Breakfast is ready!"
Yu's soft call carried through the door, muffled but warm. Domestic. Familiar.
Adrian froze, crouched on the bathroom floor, the little plastic stick clenched in his fist. His pulse thudded in his throat.
Panic jolted through him—sharp and wild—as he scrambled. His movements became quick, almost frantic. He swept the scattered clothes back into a messy heap, scooped the other tests and shoved them deep into the laundry bin, forcing the fabric down to cover their incriminating lines. His breath was heavy, ragged, until the mess looked—at least from a glance—untouched.
But then he stopped.
The one under the sink. The one that had first caught his eye.
Adrian forced his sore body down, muscles screaming as he reached, fingers scrabbling against tile until he hooked the edge of the stick and dragged it free. He turned it in the dim light, and his heart plummeted.
Another positive.
The fifth.
This one, though… he didn't bury. He didn't shove it into the bin and pretend it didn't exist. No, with deliberate precision, Adrian slipped the slim stick into the pocket of his sweats, feeling the weight of it like a burning brand against his thigh.
He straightened, wiped his hands across his face, and forced his breath to even out. The mask slid back into place—his calm, collected façade. But beneath it, something darker churned. His aura simmered low and deadly, the quiet threat of a storm not yet broken.
'If Yu had gotten some girl pregnant…'
'Well. The Yakuza had ways of handling "problems."'
Adrian lingered at the threshold of Yu's doorway long after he'd smoothed his expression and walked out. The house was quiet before him—the muffled clink of a spoon, the soft hum of the fridge, the ordinary domestic noises of a life he'd been watching from the inside for weeks—and yet his mind was loud with possibilities.
He imagined contacts he hadn't used in years:
A tracker who could follow a phone for a fee, an old associate who had a way of making someone vanish from inconvenient lives. He pictured scenarios the way a strategist sketches battle plans—dark, clean, effective—and felt the wariness at the back of his throat grow into something colder.
'Kill her.'
The thought flashed and was gone, as jagged and useless as a broken shard.
'Pay her off. Convince her to disappear. Make it someone else's problem.'
Each option unfolded and closed like a trap:
Moral cost, risk of exposure, the ripple that would reach Yu, the college, a rival clan. Even a man like him, accustomed to blunt solutions, knew the world did not afford easy erasures without consequences.
He tasted the old urge to reach for a cigar, a narrow relief ritual he'd abandoned long ago. The image of smoke curling into the air, a small private defiance—it felt almost comforting in its banality. He shoved the thought away.
'Strategy first. Information first. Act only when I knew the facts.'
So he compiled a plan that was less brutal and more precise:
Quietly confirm; follow the trail of Yu's comings and goings; learn whether there was an actual "girl" in the picture or whether the tests could mean something else entirely in a world where miracles and rules bent. He would not jump to judgment. Not yet. He would not threaten the one man he's come to want more than anything without cause. But he would not stand idle, either. He let the cool, dangerous part of him settle in—the part that could wait and strike with patience if provoked.
Pocketing the last test like a weight and a promise, Adrian breathed slow, controlled—smoothed his black hair back, rolled his shoulders, and stepped out of Yu's room. Then he walked toward the kitchen, sliding his mask back into place.
With that vow burning in his chest, Adrian's expression was easy, composed. His footsteps steady.
But inside, he carried the weight of the truth in his pocket, and the silent promise to uncover the rest.
---
At the table, Yu hummed, bright and deliberate in the way domesticity suited him. He'd set two plates out—porridge quietly steaming, a soft omelet folded like a small, reassuring pillow—and had poured orange juice into a glass for Adrian. He moved with that practiced flutter of someone who made a home without thinking too hard about it:
Hands that tidied, thoughts that floated elsewhere. Callen's spot was conspicuously empty; the blond had gone out early, some half-dramatic message about appointments and "stamina" training trailing behind him in the group chat.
"Morning."
Yu said when Adrian came in, voice easy. He pushed a plate toward him with a small, hopeful smile.
"You okay? You look a bit… quieter than usual."
Adrian's jaw tightened the barest fraction. The composed reply settled on his tongue like a coin.
"I'm fine."
He accepted the plate, sat, and watched Yu move around the small kitchen, watching how Yu's hands smoothed a napkin, how his lips pursed when he tasted the porridge, how he glanced toward the doorway as if expecting someone else to stride in at any second.
Yu looked, for all his bright domesticity, like a man holding a private load of worry under soft smiles. He stroked his belly absently—a reflex now, as natural as breathing—and hummed another half-tune, trying to keep the world ordinary. Adrian sat opposite him, plate between his hands, the plastic test tucked into his pocket like a secret ember, and the two of them ate in a silence that said everything neither dared speak.
---
Theo had told himself he would play it cool. He had rehearsed it in the car—a calm nod, a gentleman's smile, nothing too much, nothing to scare Yu away again. But the moment he spotted him standing at the campus gates, all of those fragile rehearsals burned to ash.
Yu stood there like he had stepped straight out of some dream Theo was unworthy of. The soft blouse skimmed delicately over his shoulders, loose enough to float, but tucked neatly into the flowing waist of that long skirt. The fabric swayed in the early breeze, framing the suggestion of slim legs beneath, and the high waistline cleverly concealed what little swell had begun to curve at his stomach. His hair—the half-tied bun, tendrils left to fall free—made him look younger, sweeter, almost fragile. And his makeup… subtle, refined, the kind of careful touch that only made the natural glow of his skin shine brighter.
Theo's breath stuttered in his chest. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, as though holding on could ground him against the raw hunger rising in his throat. Cute. Feminine. Breathtaking. Words didn't even come close.
The Love-o-meter ticked up:
48 - 49
When Yu spotted him and gave a small, practiced smile, Theo felt his pulse hammer against his ribs. He climbed out of the car faster than he meant to, his own movements stiff with barely contained nerves, and for a beat he could only look.
"…Yu."
His voice was hushed, like saying the name too loudly would break the spell. Then, louder, rougher than he intended.
"You look… beautiful."
The words hit the air heavier than he'd wanted—not casual, not light, but starkly honest. Rin, who had insisted on coming along to drive them into the city, stood stiff at the far side of the car, his mouth pressing flat into a thin line as though he'd witnessed something too private.
Theo ignored him. He was caught in the line of Yu's skirt as it swayed, the faint shimmer of gloss on his lips, the way his lashes lowered when he shifted his gaze away. The urge to claim him—right there, in front of whoever watched—pulsed through Theo's chest so hard it almost hurt.
"Shall we go?"
Theo finally managed, opening the back car door for him with a hand that trembled, though his face betrayed nothing but heat.
Yu stepped forward, skirts brushing lightly against his legs, and slid into the car. Theo lingered, one hand still on the open door before taking the seat next to Yu, his chest tight with the realization:
This wasn't just a "favor."
This was a trap of his own making.
And Yu was already caught.
Inside the car, the atmosphere felt tight as the air itself.
Yu sat primly in the back seat, skirts fanned over his knees, hands folded neatly in his lap though the faint tremor in his fingers betrayed his nerves. His reflection glowed faintly in the window—the curve of gloss, the soft lashes lowered, the subtle blush still clinging to his cheeks.
Rin, at the wheel, tried to keep his eyes ahead but failed more than once. Every so often his gaze flickered up to the rearview mirror—not to check traffic, but to steal glances at Yu.
'This is Joy's best friend? The boy who collapsed against me in tears just days ago? Looking like…'
He swallowed hard.
'Looking like this?'
The longer he stared, the more the shape of Yu blurred with the outline of some elegant woman. The careful bun, the blouse and skirt, the sheen of lip gloss—it was disarming.
"Rin."
Theo's voice cut sharp through the air.
Rin jolted, hands twitching on the wheel.
"Y-Yes, sir?"
Theo's cough was deliberate, scathing in its quietness.
"Ahem—the road. Keep your eyes on the road."
A flush crept up Rin's neck. He flinched forward, spine stiffening, and forced his attention back on the passing lanes with an almost comical over-focus, as though sheer intensity could burn away his mistake.
Yu glanced between them, the corner of his lips twitching faintly. The tension was too thick, and though his heart still fluttered from Theo's earlier compliment, he forced his voice light to cut through it.
"So…"
Yu tilted his head, hazel eyes darting sideways toward Theo. His gloss caught the light when he smiled, though the smile itself was careful.
"Where exactly are we going for this… 'date' of ours?"
Theo turned his head, catching that careful curve of lip, the faint shimmer on his cheekbones. His chest tightened with something warm, dangerous. He hadn't even answered yet, but already he felt Rin watching from the mirror again, and his jaw locked.
"…Somewhere important."
Theo murmured, his voice low and deliberate, gaze never leaving Yu's face.
"A place I want you to see."
Yu's brows knit faintly. The words felt weighted, heavier than a casual outing. A flicker of unease passed through him, but he tilted his face back toward the window, letting the question linger unpressed.
Theo sat back, eyes dark, one hand flexing against his thigh like he was holding back from reaching across the other side.
The car rolled forward in silence again, Rin's eyes glued to the asphalt now, though tension bled sharp at the corners of his jaw.
The destination remained unspoken.
And that made it all the more dangerous.
---
The car slowed to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires as the Kingsley manor rose before them like some looming shadow of another world. Stately. Severe. And far too serious for something Theo had casually called a "date."
The locks clicked. Theo was out of the car first, his polished shoes sinking softly into the drive. With practiced ease, he moved to Yu's side, opening the back door in one fluid motion.
"Come."
He said quietly.
Yu tilted his chin, brows arching as though to say Really? But when Theo extended his hand—steady, deliberate—Yu placed his smaller one in it. His palm disappeared into Theo's, fingers swallowed whole, warm against the calloused strength there.
Theo guided him out gently, but when Yu stepped onto the drive and the car door clicked shut, he didn't let go.
Instead, his long fingers shifted, interlacing with Yu's in a firm, unyielding hold. His thumb pressed against the back of Yu's hand as though it belonged there.
Yu glanced down, heart thudding, a faint quirk of his lips betraying his amusement.
'So this is a date now?'
He thought, but he didn't protest. He simply allowed himself to be led, skirts brushing his legs as the two crossed the long path toward the double doors.
The manor loomed closer, each step heavier than the last.
Theo leaned in, his shoulder brushing Yu's, his voice a low whisper at the shell of Yu's ear.
"Remember our agreement. No questions. Just follow along."
Yu's stomach clenched tight, a storm of unease rising in his chest. Still, he tilted his face up, meeting Theo's gaze with a practiced smile that didn't quite reach his hazel eyes.
"Fine."
He murmured, his tone light but his thoughts uneasy.
'No questions. No questions.'
'But why does this feel like anything but a normal date?'
Together, their joined hands swung between them, one leading, one following, as the heavy manor doors loomed larger, swallowing them both in shadow.
The heavy double doors opened with a resonant groan, spilling warm golden light across the marble entryway. The Kingsley manor was not just a home—it was a cathedral of wealth and legacy. High vaulted ceilings stretched above, gilded chandeliers burning low but steady. The polished floor reflected every flicker of light, and portraits of solemn Kingsleys past watched with cold, painted eyes as Yu and Theo stepped inside.
The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft scuff of Theo's shoes guiding them deeper into the hall. Yu's skirt swished at each step, the careful weight of Theo's hand still wrapped around his own—warm, steady, but shackling all the same.
At the far end of the room, seated like a monarch upon a high-backed chair carved of dark wood, was Theo's grandfather. His presence filled the space without needing to move:
Sharp blue eyes set into a face weathered with age, his cane leaning against his knee, his posture impeccable, commanding.
Theo slowed, bowing his head slightly out of respect, and Yu followed, dipping his own body in a small, graceful motion.
For a moment, nothing was said. Only the faint sound of a clock ticking somewhere distant, counting down like a fuse.
Then the old man's voice cracked the silence. Deep. Certain. Final.
"Is this the girl you plan on marrying?"
Yu's blood froze, all the air in his lungs catching in a single sharp breath. The words rang in his ears, echoing louder than any clock or chandelier or footsteps.
'Girl? Marrying?'
His hazel eyes widened, darting to Theo, praying it was some mistake. Some misunderstanding.
But Theo's hand squeezed his, firm, possessive. And then—
"Yes."
Theo answered, without hesitation. His voice was calm. Certain. His confirmation struck like a blade through Yu's chest.
[Congratulations, Host. You've been promoted to the role of a secretly male fiancee.]
The room tilted. Time fractured—half impossibly fast, half dragging like molasses.
'He's using me.'
The thought was a scream inside Yu's skull, even as his lips curled into a flawless smile, so dazzling it could have been painted on.
He wanted to vomit. To claw his way out of his skin. To tear his hand out of Theo's grip and shout the truth. But instead, his free hand curled into a trembling fist, hidden behind his back.
On the outside:
Brilliance. Charm. Perfection.
On the inside:
Fury, heartbreak, betrayal.
Theo's grandfather gave a slow nod, his piercing eyes never leaving Yu. Approval—or judgment—it was impossible to tell.
Yu's cheeks ached from how wide he forced the smile. He could feel his heart being crushed under every tick of that unseen clock, every moment he stood here dressed as a lie.
'So this is what I am to him. A mask. A puppet. A "girl" to parade before his family.'
And still—he smiled.