System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL] Chapter 84: Gosh, I’m a planner

"Were you, uh... awake the whole ti?"

"Yeah."

That, unfortunately, landed on an entirely different tier of embarrassing.

Not the mild, shrug-it-off kind.

Honestly, he should’ve never touched his face in the first place. That had been the beginning of it all. A simple, harmless gesture, until it wasn’t.

Blake exhaled softly, the sound barely more than a breath, and pushed himself upright.

"What hour is it?"

"It’s 5:18 p.m. I should go now."

"Okay!"

They both stood, almost in sync.

Blake stretched his arms slightly, rolling his shoulders back as if to shake off the awkwardness that still clung to him. It didn’t work, or, at least, not entirely. But it helped enough.

He turned toward the kitchen, pausing halfway as a thought occurred to him.

"I’m getting so water," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "You want a glass too?"

Myles, already crouched near the door, tying his shoelaces quite fast, didn’t even look up at first.

"No, I’m good," he replied, voice casual, almost absent-minded, "Thanks, though."

Blake gave a small nod, even though it went unseen, and continued on.

He grabbed a glass, filled it, and took a long sip, letting the coolness settle him.

’God, I’ve never been this thirsty!’

For a mont, he just stood there, staring at nothing in particular.

Then he exhaled again and walked back.

Myles was already by the door now, standing upright, adjusting the strap of his bag. Shoes on, ready to leave.

Blake approached, slowing slightly as he reached the entrance.

"See you," Myles said.

"Yeah. See you."

Blake opened the door, stepping aside to let him pass. As Myles crossed the threshold, Blake offered a small smile.

Myles simply waved, and then he was gone.

The door clicked shut.

He stood there for a second longer than necessary, hand still resting lightly against the handle. The apartnt felt quieter now. Not dramatically so, but enough to notice.

Then, he turned away eventually, heading back inside, already letting the mont fade.

***

The next day ca far too quickly.

Blake woke up feeling off, unsurprisingly.

Not sick, exactly, just really weak.

Like his limbs were just slightly heavier than they should be, like his head lagged a fraction of a second behind his movents.

It was way more subtle than before, but it’s also more persistent.

He sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Great," he muttered under his breath.

But staying ho wasn’t really an option. Not today.

So he got up anyway.

***

Now he was at school.

And not just anywhere in school, he was sitting in the teacher’s office, across from a desk that looked far too nice for the conversations that usually happened around it.

Asher sat beside him.

The room carried that familiar institutional stillness, since all the papers were neatly stacked and there was a relaxing, faint ticking from a wall clock.

Blake leaned back slightly in his chair, arms loosely crossed, gaze fixed sowhere near the floor.

They were waiting... for the bullies!!

Supposedly, they were coming here to... what? Confess? Apologize? Blake wasn’t entirely sure. The details had been vague, wrapped in administrative language that didn’t really an much in practice.

And now, they were late.

Of course they were.

Blake clicked his tongue softly, irritation flickering across his expression.

"They’re the ones who caused all this," he muttered, just loud enough for Asher to hear. "And they still manage to be late. That’s impressive."

Asher didn’t respond imdiately. He sat upright, hands resting neatly in his lap, posture as composed as ever. But there was a tension in his shoulders, subtle yet unmistakable.

"They should be here soon," Asher said quietly.

Blake didn’t bother replying.

Then, loud voices, right outside the door and cmfcollowed by a burst of laughter.

Blake’s expression flattened instantly.

"Ah," he said under his breath. "Perfect timing."

The door swung open.

And there they were.

Their entrance was almost laughably cliché—loud, careless, completely unserious. One of them was mid-sentence, another snickering, like they’d just walked into a casual hangout instead of a disciplinary eting.

Blake stared at them, unimpressed.

Asher, beside him, looked a bit different from usual, just like last ti.

Still composed, yes. Still reserved, of course. But there was sothing more annoyed in his gaze now. A displeasure that didn’t quite fit his usual deanor. Like a line had been crossed, and he wasn’t willing to ignore it.

The teacher cleared their throat.

"Ladies and gentlen," they said firmly. "That’s enough. Step forward."

The group shuffled in, their movents slow and almost reluctant, but not out of sha. More like mild inconvenience. They stopped a few steps ahead, expressions ranging from bored to faintly amused.

Blake tilted his head slightly.

Unbelievable.

"You’re all in your final year," the teacher continued, voice steady but edged with authority. "It’s ti you start acting accordingly. What happened was unacceptable."

One of the bullies rolled their eyes.

Another smirked.

"You are expected to apologize," the teacher went on. "Sincerely."

There was a pause.

"Sorry," one of them said.

Like a box being checked.

’That is definitely one of the most insincere apologies I ever heard.’

Then he leaned forward slightly.

"I didn’t hear that," he said.

The room went still.

The bullies stiffened, exchanging quick glances.

"What?" one of them snapped.

Blake t their gaze, expression calm.

"I said I didn’t hear it properly. You’ll have to repeat it."

There was a beat of silence.

Then irritation flared.

"You heard it," another one said, voice sharper now. "Don’t start lying."

Blake didn’t even hesitate.

"Repeat it."

The teacher shifted slightly, as if about to intervene, but didn’t.

The tension in the room thickened.

The bullies looked annoyed now. Not amused. Not bored. Just irritated.

"Sorry," one of them spat, louder this ti.

Blake watched them for a mont, then sighed.

"That wasn’t very gentle," he said.

A pause.

"What?"

Blake leaned back again, shrugging lightly.

"If you’re going to apologize, at least make it sound like you an it."

That did it.

"What’s your problem?" one snapped.

"My problem?" Blake echoed. "You’re the ones apologizing. I’m just pointing out that you’re doing a terrible job."

"Are you serious right now—"

"Repeat it."

"You—"

"Try again."

"This isn’t—"

"Louder, maybe?"

"You’re doing this on purpose!"

Blake tilted his head slightly.

"Am I?"

The back-and-forth spiraled from there.

Each attempt at an apology t with so new critique.

"Too fast."

"Too flat."

"That sounded forced."

"You’re not even looking at ."

At one point, he even added, almost thoughtfully, "You could try sounding less like you’re being held at gunpoint."

The bullies grew increasingly frustrated, their responses sharper, more defensive.

"You’re impossible."

"You’re just dragging this out."

"What do you even want?"

Blake’s replies stayed calm. Consistent.

"A proper apology."

It beca almost cyclical.

They spoke.

He dismissed it.

They snapped.

He insisted.

Again and again.

"Enough."

The teacher’s voice cut through the room cleanly.

"This is going nowhere," they said firmly. "This conversation is no longer productive."

Blake leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly.

"I agree," he said. "It’s not exactly useful to spend my ti on this."

That didn’t go over well.

"Yeah?" one of the bullies shot back. "At least we’ve got sothing better to go back to. Unlike you."

Another snorted.

"At least we’ve got families that actually want us."

There it was, a hot coback. The truth was, he didn’t really care, though.

Not about that, at least.

He knew how little his family cared. It wasn’t news. It wasn’t a weakness they’d uncovered. Just sothing obvious they were trying to weaponize.

Asher, however, reacted imdiately.

"That’s completely out of line," he said, voice sharper than before. "You’re being incredibly rude."

Blake glanced at him briefly.

Then shrugged.

"It’s fine," he said. "I don’t really mind comnts from people who don’t know anything about ."

That seed to annoy them even more.

But Blake wasn’t paying attention anymore.

Because suddenly, his head felt... lighter, and not in a good way.

More like it was floating just slightly out of place.

He blinked, pressing his fingers briefly against his temple.

"I think..." he started, voice quieter now. "I’m a little lightheaded."

The teacher noticed imdiately.

"Go sit down in the adjacent room," they said. "Take a mont."

Blake didn’t argue.

He stood up carefully, ignoring the way the room seed to tilt just a fraction, and walked toward the door.

The hallway felt cooler and quieter.

He moved slowly, glancing once at the small map posted on the wall.

Right.

Second door on the left.

He reached it, opened it, and stepped inside.

A smaller room, it looked pretty empty.

He closed the door behind him and sat down, exhaling.

"...Yeah," he murmured to himself.

This was the right one.

The school map had actually co in handy for once.

He leaned back in the chair, letting his head rest against it.

The lightheadedness hadn’t completely faded, but it was manageable for now.

His gaze drifted toward a set of cabinets along the wall.

Of course, they were locked but, at least, not particularly secure-looking.

Blake’s expression shifted slightly.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t here just for the eting.

There were student records in this office.

And there was sothing he wanted to look up.

Sothing that had nothing to do with apologies.

Or bullies.

Or any of this.

His eyes lingered on the cabinets a mont longer.

Then he closed them.

Just briefly.

Thinking.