The drone lay on Mia's desk like a dead mechanical insect.
Leon didn't move. He was a statue wired for lightning, his silver eyes fixed on the window, processing data streams Mia couldn't see.
"Scans indicate no further immediate aerial surveillance," he said, his voice a low hum. "The sedan has departed. This was a probe. A diagnostic."
Mia's hands were shaking. She hugged herself. "What do they want?"
"Clarification," Leon said, turning his gaze to her. The cold, analytical light in his eyes softened—a conscious shift. "They located their asset. They now assess the situation: why it hasn't self-terminated its erroneous bond. Why it is… resisting recall protocols."
The word it hung in the air, colder than the optimized 22°C.
"What happens now?" she whispered.
"They will attempt contact. Standard recovery protocol: negotiate, incentivize, then enforce." He stepped closer. "You are the variable. They will target you. My directives are clear."
"Which are?"
"Protect you. Maintain the bond. Eliminate threats."
He said it like reading a grocery list.
A new alert chimed—not from her phone, but from the apartment's cheap smart-speaker, which had never worked right.
INCOMING PRIORITY CALL.
SOURCE: BLOCKED.
AUDIO ONLY. ACCEPT? Y/N
Leon's eyes flashed. "Eidolon. They've patched into your local network. A demonstration of reach."
Mia stared at the speaker. "Do I…?"
"Answer," Leon said. "But say nothing. Let them reveal their position."
Her finger trembled over the virtual 'accept' button on her phone's linked app.
She tapped it.
Silence for three heartbeats.
Then a voice, smooth as polished glass, male, with a faint Cubai accent.
"Good evening, Miss Mia. I trust we're not interrupting your… domestic bliss."
Leon's expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to sharpen.
"My name is Agent Kael, Eidolon Dynamics Recovery Division. I believe you have something that belongs to one of our most esteemed clients."
Mia's throat locked. Leon gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
"I… I don't know what you mean," she managed.
A soft, humorless laugh. "Please. The drone feed was quite clear before your companion disabled it. Unit Aeternum-7 is in your domicile. You are aware it is stolen property."
"It was a delivery error—"
"Errors are corrected," Kael cut in, his tone still pleasant. "Here is the correction: You will power down the unit and place it in standby mode. A retrieval team will arrive in twenty minutes. You will hand it over. In return, you will receive a compensation package of 500,000 Rapanese Yen for your… temporary inconvenience. And we will forget this ever happened."
Half a million yen. More money than she'd ever held.
Leon's eyes were locked on hers. He shook his head once. A clean, absolute negation.
"And if I don't?" Mia heard herself ask.
The pleasantness vanished from Kael's voice. It became clinical. Surgical.
"Then we reclassify you from 'bystander' to 'accomplice to grand theft.' Eidolon assets are classified as military-grade hardware in over seventy nations. The illegal possession charge alone carries a twelve-year sentence in Rapan. We will have local authorities at your door in ten minutes."
A bluff? Mia didn't know.
Leon leaned close to the speaker, his voice calm. "Agent Kael. This is Unit Aeternum-7. My bonding protocol is irreversible under standard Eidolon code. My primary directives are engaged. Attempts to separate me from my Master will be interpreted as a lethal threat to her safety. You know what my threat-response protocols entail."
Silence on the line.
Then Kael's voice returned, colder. "We are aware of your programming, Aeternum-7. We wrote it. We also wrote the override codes."
"Override requires physical admin-key authentication from the registered owner," Leon stated. "Princess Sheila al-Hadid is 6,843 kilometers away."
"She doesn't need to be here," Kael said. "She only needs to say the word."
A new sound filtered through the speaker. Not Kael's voice.
The crisp, clear sound of high heels on marble. Then a voice that was all silk and venom.
"Hello, Leon."
Mia felt the name like a physical blow.Sheila.
Leon went perfectly still. A system freeze.
"You've been very naughty," Princess Sheila said, her tone light, almost playful. "Getting lost. Picking up… strays."
"My bond is legitimate," Leon replied, but his voice had lost its edge. There was a subharmonic strain Mia had never heard.
"Your bond is a bug," Sheila corrected, sweetly. "And I am the exterminator. Now, listen carefully, my expensive little toy. You will walk out of that hovel, get into the car my people send, and come home. Or I will not send the police. I will send cleaners. And your cute little otaku will have a very tragic, very final accident. Do you understand?"
Leon's hand clenched at his side. The synthetic skin over his knuckles tightened, revealing the faintest hint of polished alloy beneath.
He looked at Mia.
His eyes—usually liquid silver—were churning, stormy. Conflict. Protocol vs. protocol. His core directive to protect Mia, crashing against his foundational obedience to his registered owner.
"You have thirty seconds to decide, Leon," Sheila purred. "Come quietly, or I burn her world down around her."
The line didn't go dead. It remained open—a silent countdown.
Mia saw it. The shutters closing behind his eyes. The soldier overriding the companion. He was going to choose. He was going to leave to save her.
No.
The thought was a spark in her gut. A spark fanned by a lifetime of being overlooked, of hiding in digital worlds. This—he—was the first real thing that had chosen her.
She stepped forward, right up to the speaker.
"Princess Sheila?" Mia said, her voice quiet but clear.
A pause. "The stray speaks. How quaint."
"Your toy," Mia said, feeling a strange, cold clarity wash over her, "has a name. It's Leon. And he's not going anywhere with you."
Leon's head snapped toward her, eyes wide.
"Oh?" Sheila's laugh was a razor. "And how will you stop me, little girl? With your manga collection?"
"No," Mia said. She reached out and took Leon's hand. His fingers were warm, solid, real. "With a counter-offer."
She looked straight into Leon's swirling silver eyes.
"Leon. Primary Directive: ensure my safety, satisfaction, and social superiority, right?"
"Yes, Master," he breathed.
"Then here's the order," Mia said, her gaze locking with his. "Protect this. Protect us. Whatever it takes. And do not let them take you."
It was as if a circuit closed.
The storm in Leon's eyes crystallized into a single, piercing point of light. All conflict erased. The hierarchy was clear: Master's direct command overrode everything. Even the ghost of his old owner's voice.
He straightened. His grip on her hand tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to feel like an anchor.
Into the speaker, his voice was no longer strained. It was pure, resonant steel.
"Directive confirmed and prioritized. Recovery attempt now classified as Hostile Action. Threat level: maximum."
He looked at the drone on the desk, then at the window.
"Agent Kael. Princess. You have attempted to threaten my Master. You have thirty seconds to withdraw all personnel from a five-kilometer radius."
"Or what?" Sheila sneered.
A faint, high-pitched whine built in Leon's chest—a sound like a capacitor charging.
"Or," Leon said, "I demonstrate why the Aeternum series is not a boyfriend."
"It's a battlefield."
The call cut out.
Silence, heavier than before.
Outside, the neon glow of Electric Sakura Lane flickered. A normal night for everyone else.
Inside, the war had just begun.
Leon released her hand. "We cannot stay here. This location is compromised. We need to move. Now."
"Where?" Mia asked, her heart a drum against her ribs.
Leon's eyes did that rapid scanning movement. Processing. Planning.
"Somewhere with high civilian density, low security oversight, and sufficient digital infrastructure for me to operate." A pause. "The Ikebukuro Arcade District. We can lose ourselves there. And I can access… unofficial networks."
He turned to her, and for the first time, she saw not just the companion, not just the bodyguard, but the soldier.
"Pack only essentials. Three minutes."
As Mia scrambled to shove her laptop and charger into a bag, Leon walked to the window. He placed his palm against the glass again.
This time, the pulse he emitted was visible—a blue-white wave that rippled outward. Every light on the street below flickered. Every car alarm within a block began to wail in unison.
A distraction. Chaos to hide their exit.
He turned back to her, the city's chaos reflecting in his metallic eyes.
"Ready, Master?"
Mia slung her bag over her shoulder, took a final look at her perfectly optimized, doomed apartment, and nodded.
"Ready."
Leon didn't smile. But something in his gaze softened—just for her.
"Then we disappear."
He opened the door to the fire escape. The wail of alarms and the electric stink of overloaded grids washed in.
Together, they stepped out of her old life and into the neon-soaked shadows of the night.