Viper stared at her, his single visible eye widening. He looked down at his boots, then at the severed rope, and finally back at the window. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked like a computer program trying to divide by zero.
A new text box pinged into existence between them, flashing an angry red.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Narrative Deviation Detected.]
[Objective Failed: The Heroine did not scream.]
[Trying to recalibrate...]
"Recalibrate this," Tisha muttered, swiping her hand through the text box. It shattered into pixels like spun sugar.
This might be one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had. I don't recall ever dreaming in text boxes before.
"You..." Viper took a step back, clutching his knife against his chest as if she were the one holding a weapon. "You broke the rope with your mind. Are you a witch? The Boss said you were a writer, not a spellcaster!"
"I didn't use magic, I used common sense," Tisha sighed, looking around the room for something to cover herself with. The lace nightgown was drafty. She spotted a heavy, gold-embroidered dressing gown draped over a chaise lounge and pulled it on. It smelled like cedar and aggressive musk. "And who is 'The Boss'? The guy with the silver-and-black hair and the terrible trigger discipline?"
Viper blinked. "You mean Don Dante? The King of the Underworld? The man whose name makes grown men tremble?"
"That's the one. Take me to him."
Viper laughed, a nervous, barking sound. "Lady, I can't just walk you to the Don. I was supposed to knock you out, throw you over my shoulder, and deliver you to the dungeon. That's the protocol."
"Okay, look at the logistics," Tisha said, counting off on her fingers. "Option A: You try to knock me out. I scream—not in fear, but to alert the guards I assume are standing in the hallway. You get caught botching a stealth mission. Option B: We walk out of here like civilized people, I tell Dante that I surrendered voluntarily, and you get credit for a successful capture without damaging the merchandise."
Viper paused. He tilted his head, the gears visibly turning. "I do get a bonus for 'Pristine Delivery'..."
"Exactly. It's an efficient play. Minimize risk, maximize reward." Tisha walked to the bedroom door and put her hand on the handle. "Now, are we going, or are you going to stand there licking that high-carbon steel until you sever your tongue and bleed out on this ridiculously plush carpet?"
Viper sheathed the knife. "Fine. But if you try to run, I'll... I'll do something scary."
"Yes, yes. I'm terrified. Lead the way." Tisha said flatly and opened the door.
The hallway was exactly what she expected: endless red carpet, sconces shaped like dragon heads, and absolutely zero fire sprinklers.
"Stealth mode," Viper whispered loudly. He crouched down, exaggerating his movements like a cartoon character, tiptoeing with high knees.
Tisha walked normally behind him. "Viper, stand up. Your center of gravity is shifting too much, causing your boots to creak. You are literally louder when you sneak."
"Shh! The guards!"
"There are no guards," Tisha pointed out. "This is the West Wing. Structurally, the guard station would be near the stairwell to monitor ingress and egress points. Placing a guard here would be a waste of manpower."
As if on cue, they passed an empty alcove. Viper stood up, looking offended. "How do you know our security layout?"
"I don't. I know architecture. And I know that whoever designed this place watched too many movies and never read a blueprint."
They reached a set of massive double doors at the end of the hall. Tisha could hear voices inside—deep, booming, dramatic voices.
Viper reached under his eyepatch and rubbed his perfectly functional eye. "Okay. This is the Throne Room. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't look him in the eye. And for the love of god, don't mention friction coefficients."
"No promises," Tisha said.
Viper pushed the doors open.
[Chapter 3 Complete]
[Loading Chapter 4: The Lion's Den...]
The room was cavernous, of course. A long red carpet led to a raised dais where a literal throne sat. And lounging on that throne, swirling a glass of amber liquid, was the man from the splash screen.
Don Dante.
He was even more high-definition in person. His black hair was perfectly swept back, peppered with distinguished silver at the temples. His shirt was unbuttoned to a degree that violated health codes for a place of business.
He looked up as they entered, his eyes narrowing. "Viper," Dante's voice boomed, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "You returned early. Did you secure the little bird?"
Viper shoved Tisha forward. "She, uh... she surrendered, Boss. Voluntary capture."
Dante stood up. He walked down the steps of the dais, moving with a predatory grace that Tisha instantly analyzed as 'practiced rehearsal.' He stopped inches from her, invading her personal space. He smelled of rain, expensive scotch, and raw, masculine musk.
Wait, Tisha thought. That's the exact same scent description as the guy in my failed draft. Stop looking at mt delete files, you omniscient jerks!
Dante reached out, tilting her chin up with a gloved finger. "So," he purred, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "The little bird flew right into the lion's mouth. Are you brave? Or just foolish?"
A pink text box appeared next to his head:
[Select Response:]
A) "I'd rather be in your cage than free without you."
B) (Bite his finger)
C) "Please, have mercy, my Lord!"
Gah! It's so cringe.
Tisha ignored the box. She looked at his finger, then at his face.
"Actually, I'm neither," Tisha said, pulling her chin away. "I'm a writer with a deadline, and I have some serious notes about your security protocols. Your window glass is not tempered, your ropes are cheap, and your 'Enforcer' here," she thumbed at Viper, "doesn't understand basic physics. If I'm going to be held hostage here, I expect a higher standard of competence."
The room went dead silent.
Viper covered his face with his hands.
Dante stared at her. His "predator" mask slipped, replaced by genuine confusion. The pink text box flickered and vanished, replaced by a gray system notification:
[ERROR: Unrecognized Input. AI adapting...]
Dante blinked. "You... have notes?"
"Several, actually," Tisha said. "Can we sit down? My feet are killing me, and this carpet is surprisingly unsupportive."
Dante stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, sensual smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that usually made women faint in the game trailers.
"You are a bold one," he murmured. He snapped his fingers.
POOF.
A high-backed velvet chair glitched into existence directly behind Tisha. She jumped, nearly tripping over the hem of her dressing gown.
"Did you just... render a chair?" she asked, touching the upholstery. "The polygon count on this velvet is surprisingly high."
"Sit," Dante commanded, sinking back onto his throne. "Entertain me. Tell me why the great Don Dante should listen to a captive in a nightgown."
Tisha sat. She crossed her legs, realizing too late that she was barefoot. She tried to look dignified anyway.
"First of all," she began, pointing a finger at Viper, who was currently hiding behind a potted fern. "Your 'Enforcer' operates with cliched theatrics. Licking a knife is unsanitary. Bacterial transfer aside, the saliva creates an oxidation risk for the carbon steel. He's essentially rusting his own weapon to look cool."
Viper gasped from the fern. "I oil it nightly!"
"Secondly," Tisha continued, turning her gaze to the Don. "You. You're sitting in a throne in a room with vaulted ceilings and stone walls. The acoustics are terrible. If you tried to give a whisper-quiet order to a subordinate, the echo would carry it to the front door. It's a security nightmare."
"And speaking of theatrics, why were you even trying to kidnap me? We are literally in the same building. We came down one flight of stairs to get here. And we didn't run into a single guard. A toddler could break in here."
Dante leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. The light hit his cheekbones just right. "And what would you know about security, Bella? Are you a spy? An assassin sent by the Obsidian Syndicate?"
"I'm a writer," Tisha said. "I research. And right now, my research tells me that you are trying very hard to project 'Alpha Male' energy, but your body language is contradictory."
Dante stood up again. He didn't like being analyzed. He liked being the analyzer. He stalked down the steps, closing the distance between them in three long strides. He placed a hand on the back of her chair and the other on the armrest, boxing her in.
The "Kabedon." The Wall Slam. Or in this case, the Chair Slam.
He leaned down, his face inches from hers. His voice dropped to that husky, resonating register again. "You think you can read me?" he whispered, his breath ghosting over her lips. "I am an abyss, cara. If you look too deep, you might fall in. And I might not catch you."
A wind machine kicked on from nowhere, blowing Dante's hair dramatically. Pink rose petals began to fall from the ceiling.
[Romance Event Triggered!]
[CG Unlocked: The Don's Gaze]
Tisha squinted and reached up to place two fingers against the pulse point on Dante's neck.
Dante froze. "What are you—"
"Shh. I'm counting," Tisha said. She watched his eyes. "Okay. Your heart rate is a steady 72 beats per minute. That's a resting rate. You aren't excited, angry, or aroused. You are physiologically bored."
She moved her hand to his face. Dante flinched, but didn't pull away.
"Your pupils are fixed," she noted, leaning in closer, invading his space. "If you were attracted to me, the autonomic nervous system would trigger pupil dilation. Yours are static. Also, you have a microspasm in your orbicularis oculi muscle. That's not passion, Dante. That's a twitch indicating suppressed annoyance or perhaps a magnesium deficiency."
She sat back, brushing a rose petal off her shoulder. "In conclusion: You are reciting a script. You don't want to 'devour' me. You probably just want a nap and a sandwich. So, can we drop the act? It's exhausting."
Dante slowly pulled back. The wind machine cut out with a sad whine. The rose petals stopped falling.
He looked at Viper. "Did she just... diagnose me?"
Viper nodded, wide-eyed. "I think she called you boring, Boss."
Dante looked back at Tisha. The "Don" mask was completely gone. In its place was a look of bewildered fascination.
"A magnesium deficiency?" he touched his eye. "It has been twitching lately."
"Eat more leafy greens and dark chocolate," Tisha advised. "Now, about my release. I have a cat to feed."
Before Dante could respond, the double doors banged open again.
"Dante!"
A new man strode in. He was tall, dressed in a sharp, charcoal three-piece suit that was buttoned all the way to the top. His hair was jet black, slicked back with a severity that suggested he didn't have fun, ever. He wore rectangular rimless glasses that glinted in the light and held a clipboard like a weapon.
This was Lorenzo. The Cold, Calculating (literally?) Lieutenant.
"We have a situation at the docks," Lorenzo barked, not even looking at Tisha. "The shipment of 'Olive Oil' was intercepted. And Viper is late with the hostage."
He stopped. He looked at Viper hiding in the fern. He looked at Dante standing awkwardly by the chair. And finally, he turned his cold, deadpan gaze to Tisha in the dressing gown.
Tisha waved.
"She's... different, Renzo," Dante said, rubbing his neck where Tisha had touched him. "She knows things. Scary things. Like friction."
"She did give you some useful dietary advice, boss," Viper eked out.
Lorenzo stared at Tisha. "Friction?"
Tisha sighed. "It's a long story. But while you are here... are you the one in charge of logistics? Because this building must be a heating bill nightmare."
Lorenzo blinked. He slowly reached up and removed his glasses, holding them by the arm as he pinched the bridge of his nose—a gesture of profound, exhausted drama.
"Finally," he muttered, gesturing blindly with the spectacles. "Someone who understands the overhead costs of a villainous lair. Do you have any idea how many condos we had to buy to put a throne room with vaulted ceilings in here? It was not a sound investment just for 'castle vibes' in the city. A real castle would probably cost less. I have been fighting the board on this for months."
[System Update]
[Chapter 4 Completed]
[New Route Unlocked: The Lieutenant]
[Current Status: Harem Assembling]