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It started with dinners and jewelry from auctions.
You never asked for them, never hinted that you wanted them, but Sylus draped you in luxury like it was second nature, like placing a diamond bracelet on your wrist was as simple as lighting a cigarette. You knew the weight of every price tag, the way the world measured worth in shimmering stones and rare metals. You knew Sylus didn’t have to buy them, didn’t have to spend a small fortune just to hand you a necklace you would never wear or a ring too exquisite for your fingers. You knew it was a facade, knew he was playing a part. A man like Sylus couldn't be seen as anything less than untouchable. You told yourself that was all it was.
He paid for dinner, of course. Handed his sleek black-and-gold credit card to the waiter without even glancing at the total. Just like he had given it to you at the first auction you attended together, letting you spend ten million on a modified protocore. Like it meant nothing. Like money was a game and you were his partner in it.
But the thing was, dinners and outings together weren’t just about business anymore. Or at least you hoped so.
You told yourself it was. But then there were the nights where he would take you to plays, to shows, on joyrides through Linkon city, wind rushing against your skin as you held onto him. The way he always asked where you wanted to go, what you wanted to do, as if he wasn’t Sylus, as if he wasn’t used to people bending to his will instead.
It was in the moments between, the way his fingers lingered just a second longer when he helped you off the bike. The way your stomach twisted, warm and unfamiliar, whenever his name appeared on your screen, asking you to meet him.
You tried not to think too much about it.
Tried not to think about how easy it was to want him. He never asked for anything in return.
And then came the crow plushie.
It was ridiculous, really. Of all the things he had given you, it should’ve meant the least, it had been a passing disappointment, a store sold out of pre-orders, a shrug, an “oh well.” you really wanted it, and it probably showed, but you forgot about it until a soft and small plushie nestled in your arms the moment he handed it over, custom-made just for you. Sylus had somehow managed to get one.
You had gone all the way to the N109 zone just to pick it up. Spent the evening with him. Ate dinner, watched a movie. And at some point, whether it was exhaustion or just the quiet pull of comfort, you had fallen asleep.
When you woke, you weren't on the couch where you’d fallen asleep.
It was “your” room.
You’d never called it that, but that’s what it had become, the guest room that never seemed to house anyone else. The one that always remained untouched except for when you were there. It was familiar, but still not yours, not really.
Morning came with a lavish breakfast spread across the table, a display of delicate pastries and perfectly brewed coffee, made by Sylus’s personal chef.
He looked up when you entered, eyes scanning your expression. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “I guess I’m just used to my bed. It’s always a little strange sleeping somewhere else.”
His expression shifted, so fast you barely caught it. A flicker of something, worry? displeasure? In an instant it was gone, buried beneath his usual smirk.
“Is that so, kitten?”
You thought nothing of it. Until the next time you came back to the base.
It wasn’t subtle. The walls had been painted a soft grey, a shade eerily close to your apartment’s. The couch now held all your plushies in a careful arrangement. There were plants, real ones, thriving in low light, just like the ones in your bedroom back home. And the bed, the mattress were different. The covers, too. You recognized the brand. It was the same one you had in your apartment.
You had stood there for a long moment, taking it all in. Then you had found Sylus, leaned against his desk, casual as always, as if he hadn’t just recreated the one place in the world where you felt safe.
"You changed the room," you said, and it wasn't a question.
He barely looked up. “Wasn’t comfortable before, was it?”
“Sylus—”
He brushed it off like it was nothing, like it hadn’t cost him anything at all. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was as easy for him as signing a receipt, as thoughtless as handing you a necklace you’d never wear. But it felt different. It felt like something else entirely.
You didn’t say anything after that. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
You told yourself it didn’t matter. That it was just Sylus being Sylus, excessive as always. You could’ve argued. You could’ve told him it was unnecessary, that it was over the top, too much. But you didn’t. Because the truth sat heavy in your chest, the truth that maybe it wasn’t this room that felt the most comfortable. Maybe it wasn’t this mattress, this bed.
Maybe it was the other one, the one down the hall, the one that had his bed, larger, softer, warmer. Maybe you weren’t ready to face the fact that your bed hadn’t felt quite as comfortable ever since you had slept in his, when the energy linkage had appeared and left you with no other option than to sleep next to him.
Then, you were complaining to Sylus on the phone about not having anything to wear for your friend’s wedding.
"I swear, I’ve checked every store. Either nothing fits, or I hate it," you groaned, pacing your apartment. "Maybe I’ll just skip the whole thing."
"Don’t be ridiculous," Sylus said lazily. "You’ll go, and you’ll look perfect."
"With what dress? A bedsheet?"
He chuckled, the sound warm and amused. "Patience, kitten."
You rolled your eyes, expecting him to tease you more, but an hour later, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, Luke and Kieran stood there, arms full of garment bags.
"Boss said you had a wardrobe crisis," Kieran smirked, stepping inside like he owned the place. "Consider it handled."
Handled was an understatement. Inside those bags were at least a dozen dresses, each one more stunning than the last, delicate fabrics, intricate designs, colors that suited you perfectly.
Your phone buzzed. A message from Sylus.
"Pick whichever one you want, sweetie."
It was too much. It was so Sylus. But it was also… sweet.
The night of the wedding, the compliments poured in. You should’ve expected that, but the warmth that bloomed in your chest when you caught sight of your reflection was new. You looked good. You looked… expensive.
Between speeches and stolen champagne sips, you took a picture and sent it to Sylus. “ Thanks for the dress. Wish you were here.”
You didn’t add the last part, but it lingered in your mind. Bringing the leader of Onychinus to a hunter-filled event? Not the best idea. But still, you thought of him, absentmindedly touching the elegant brooch that had come with the dress, running your fingers over the cold metal.
And then, the bike.
Technically, it wasn’t a present, right?
You had won a bet. And Sylus was a man of his word.
So now, his bike, the one that probably cost more than most cars on the street, was yours to ride to and from work.
"I can't actually keep this," you told him when he handed over the keys.
Sylus only smirked, arms crossed. "A bet’s a bet, kitten. Or are you backing out now?"
You scoffed, flipping the keys in your hand. "Never."
His gaze flickered with something unreadable before he stepped closer, his voice lower. "Then keep it."
So you did.
And every time you rode it, you wondered if you had really won at all, or if you had just given Sylus another excuse to stay closer to you.
Then, there was the apartment.
You were sitting on the couch in Sylus' office, the only sound in the room was the faint clatter of Sylus’s keyboard and the distant hum of the N109 zone outside. You knew he was busy, the weight of his work settled over the room like an unspoken rule, the empire he commanded always demanding something from him. And yet, he had told you that you were welcome here, that you could stay, even when he was occupied.
So you did.
“You seem very interested in those texts, kitten.” Sylus's voice was smooth, amused, breaking the silence. His red eyes flickered toward you from behind the glow of his laptop screen, taking in the way your brows had drawn together, lips pressed into a faint pout, absently tapping at your phone screen as frustration simmered beneath your skin. The soft leather cushions shifted beneath you as you adjusted your posture, exhaling sharply.
“My landlord is raising my rent,” you muttered, not looking up. “He just told me.”
Sylus didn’t respond immediately, his attention seemingly drifting back to the endless stream of numbers and reports flashing across his screen. His fingers ghosted over the keyboard, but you noticed the slight pause, the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary before returning to his work.
You sighed, more at yourself than anything else. It was fine, really. Annoying, yes, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Your hunter salary was more than enough to cover the increase, and if anything, it was just another inconvenience in a long list of things you had to deal with. Life in Linkon City was expensive; that was no surprise.
Shrugging off the irritation, you exited the chat with your landlord and pulled up a game instead, something mindless, something to fill the silence.
Then, the next day a man in a suit showed up at your door.
"You just need to sign here, and the apartment is yours," he said.
"What?" you asked, blinking at him.
"Yes, miss, just one signature and the ownership of this apartment will be transferred to you. Mr. Sylus already handled the rest."
Oh.
You closed the door in the man’s face and pulled out your phone.
"Sylus, what the fuck?"
He chuckled on the other end. "What’s wrong, kitten?"
"You bought my apartment? Seriously?"
"I bought you your apartment."
You sighed. "Sy, I don’t need you to buy an apartment for me. I can pay rent just fine."
"Yes, but you don’t have to," he replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
It angered you, the way he said it like it was nothing, like he had bought you dinner or a dress. Did he think you couldn't handle things on your own?
"Sylus, you need to stop. I don’t need you buying things for me. I have my own money. This is too much."
The line went silent for a moment. Then, his voice came through, more serious than you'd ever heard it.
"Perhaps I made a mistake. I apologize."
"Okay," you said, unsure of what else to say.
That night, he showed up at your apartment. You let him in, already in your pajamas, knowing the day was just starting for him. There was an awkward silence.
You had been rude. You knew that. But how else were you supposed to react when someone bought you a whole apartment?
Sylus watched you from where he sat, his gaze sharp yet unreadable, the dim light of your apartment casting long shadows over his face. There was an unspoken tension between you, one you weren’t sure how to address, one he wasn’t willing to ignore.
“You’re mad at me,” he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was softer than usual, missing that teasing lilt he often carried when speaking to you.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not mad, Sylus. I just… I don’t know how to react when you do things like this.”
His expression didn’t shift, but his fingers drummed lightly against his knee. “Does it bother you that much?”
You looked away. “It makes me feel like I owe you something.”
His chuckle was quiet, almost bitter. “You have it backwards, kitten. It’s the other way around.”
Something in his tone made your chest tighten. He was serious, no teasing, no smugness. Just an honest statement that felt heavier than it should. You swallowed, looking away.
“What do you mean?”
Sylus leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “The first time you walked into N109… I wasn’t on my best behavior.” He let the words sink in, watching for your reaction. “You deserved better.”
You frowned, thinking back to that time, but it felt so distant now. “It doesn’t matter, Sylus. That’s in the past.” You hesitated, then softened. “I care about you. And it’s not because of your money or your contacts or what you can do for me.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something fragile beneath all that control. “Maybe…” He trailed off, glancing away as if debating whether to continue. Then he looked back at you, unwavering. “Maybe this is the only way I know how to show you I care.”
Your breath caught.
“I’ve never felt like this about anyone,” he admitted. “And maybe I’ve just been trying to show you.”
You stared at him, his words settling in, reshaping something within you.
“What do you mean?” you asked, voice quieter than before.
Sylus smirked, standing, stepping closer. You felt the air shift, felt the gravity between you pull taut. He was watching you with that knowing look, the one that made your heart stutter.
Oh. That.
“Maybe there’s another way,” you murmured, tilting your head up, closing the distance. Your fingers brushed against his leather jacket, light, hesitant, before you let yourself fall forward, pressing your lips against his.
The world melted away.
He tasted like warmth, like something dark and intoxicating, like the quiet promises he never spoke aloud. One of his hands curled around your waist, the other found the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You felt the tension in his grip, the way he held you as if trying to say everything he never had the words for.
And just like that, there was no more uncertainty. No more ignoring the feeling that had been creeping in for so long. Just you and Sylus, caught in something inevitable, something neither of you were willing to fight anymore.
“…You can’t keep doing this,” you said when the kiss ended
Sylus smirked, the moment of vulnerability slipping behind something more familiar. “I don’t think you can stop me.”
You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. You could argue, could fight against it, but the truth was, it felt safe, knowing someone like Sylus was willing to move mountains for you without hesitation.