One could say I’d been acting... off for the past few days. And they’d be right. I’d never felt this kind of rage toward anyone before—a deep, burning fury that clawed at my insides every ti I replayed Guy’s words. That fucking idiot threatened to take Jasmine to his bed? It made my blood boil. I wanted to strangle him right there in the street, feel his smug throat crush under my hands. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I had to play smart. Had to let Guy think he’d won—that I was packing up, moving out, letting Jasmine slip through my fingers like sand. It was the only way to lure him into complacency. One wrong move, and everything crumbled.
I’d spent the morning pacing my apartnt, the eviction notice crumpled on the counter like a death sentence. Forty-eight hours—now down to less than twenty-four.
Burney’s was busier than usual for a weekday morning, the air thick with the scent of fresh-ground beans and stead milk. Clinking cups, murmured conversations, the hiss of the espresso machine. I nursed a black coffee in the corner booth, back to the wall, eyes on the door. My leg bounced under the table, nerves frayed.
The door chid. Nala slipped in, laptop bag slung over one shoulder, her movents quick and jittery. She paused just inside, eyes darting over her shoulder like a hunted animal checking for predators. The morning light caught her glasses, flashing as she scanned the crowd—suits hunched over laptops, students with headphones buried in textbooks, a barista wiping down the counter with rhythmic swipes. Her gaze landed on . Relief flickered across her face, mixed with fear. She hurried over, weaving between tables, bag thumping against her hip, and slid into the seat across from with a soft exhale.
"Hey," I said. "You okay? Look like you saw a ghost."
She glanced back at the door one more ti before wrapping her hands around the cup, as if drawing warmth from it. "What happened, Evan?"
"Guy showed up at my place yesterday," I said, keeping my tone even, casual—like we were discussing the weather. "With bodyguards. Handed an empty safe as a fuck-you. I’m out tomorrow. Red-tagged, the works. I have to do sothing."
"Fuck..." She buried her face in her hands, elbows on the table, shoulders curling inward. Her voice muffled through her fingers. "This is all my fault. All of it. If you hadn’t stepped in that night at the con—if you hadn’t stopped him—"
"No." I reached across the scarred wooden table, took her hand gently but firmly. Her fingers were ice-cold, trembling slightly. I squeezed, eting her eyes when she peeked through her fingers. "Even if I’d known this was coming—every punch, every threat, the eviction—I’d do it again, Nala. You’re innocent in this. That guy? He’s the most fucked-up person I know. Twisted. You don’t deserve any of the shit he’s put you through."
╭───────────╮
EVENT
===============
Nala’s Interest 7
╰───────────╯
Seven points. She needed to hear it—soone giving a damn about her, not just using her as a pawn or a punching bag. Poor woman. Living under his roof, his rules. That video was probably just the surface of the hell she endured. I wondered how deep it went—the control, the fear, the isolation.
Also... where was my Special Event reward from kissing Delilah? Ah, nevermind.
"I..." Nala swallowed hard, nodding slowly, her eyes glassy. She pulled her hand back but didn’t look away. "I really... don’t know what to say. Thank you. No one’s ever... said that to . Not like this."
"You don’t have to say anything," I said, leaning back slightly, giving her space. The booth’s vinyl creaked under . "I have a plan, Nala. And I need information from you. Detailed stuff."
"O-okay," she said, straightening a bit, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. She finally took a sip of the latte, foam clinging to her upper lip. "What... kind of plan? You’re not going to do sothing stupid, are you?"
"I need to get inside your place."
"Impossible," she said flatly, setting the cup down with a soft clink. "You need Guy’s keycard to get inside. Even I don’t have one."
"You live there," I pressed, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "How do you get in every day?"
"I knock on the main door," she explained, her voice dropping even lower. "The maids let in. Guy’s the only one with full access—the card, the app, biotrics for his private areas. The staff have limited keys."
"Shit." I rubbed my jaw, stubble rough under my fingers. The café’s chatter faded into background noise as I thought. "Any way for to slip inside?"
"It’s a five-star hotel, Evan," she said, shaking her head. "Security’s insane. Concierge at the desk, caras in every corner—lobby, hallways, elevators, stairs. Doorn outside. Valet watching the garage. You can’t hide. They’d spot you in seconds and escort you out. Or worse."
I couldn’t tell her about Ti Stop. Not here, not now. The ability to freeze the world for minutes at a ti—it was my ace, but explaining it would sound insane. I exhaled slowly, mind racing.
I also couldn’t let myself get caught on the caras as well. Since I was going to carry the safe inside, the cops would think I planted the evidence there just by taking a quick glance at the recordings. I had to be careful.
"Nala," I said, voice low, intense. "Any way you can crack the door? Just for a second?"
"I... could open it from inside," she said slowly, frowning as she pieced it together. "But I can’t let anyone in, Evan. The maids would see. Guy has caras in the hallway too. If soone slips in..."
"That works," I said quickly, heart picking up. "When I call—just open it. One second. That’s all. Can you?"
"I... can?" She tilted her head, confusion deepening. "But why? What are you—"
"No questions," I cut in gently but firmly. "Okay? Trust on this."
"Fine," she said, uneasy, her fingers twisting the handle of her bag. "You’re scaring , Evan. This sounds... dangerous."
"Don’t be." I softened my tone, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. "I swear, Nala. You’ll be free from him. Both of us. And... maybe then, another ani con? No guns pointed at heads. No yelling to undress. Just us, geeking out over panels and cosplay. Like normal people."
She smiled—small at first, then real, lighting up her face in a way that made the café feel warr. She stood, smoothing her sweater. I rose too, the booth scraping back. We locked eyes for a long second, the air between us charged with sothing new—hope, maybe, or the start of trust.
Then she leaned in, quick as a heartbeat, and kissed my cheek. Soft. Warm. Lingering just a fraction longer than friendly. My eyes widened in surprise.
"I’m... sorry," she stamred, pulling back, her face flaming red from ears to neck. "That was so unprofessional."
"I like that unprofessional side of yours," I said, grinning, leaning in to kiss her cheek in return.Her skin was soft, slling faintly of vanilla shampoo. "Do you like my unprofessional side?"
╭───────────╮
EVENT
===============
Nala’s Interest 8
╰───────────╯
She went full tomato-red, adorable in her fluster, grabbing her laptop bag off the table with shaky hands. She turned away to hide her face, mumbling sothing incoherent. "I... gotta go. Lunch break’s almost over."
"Sure," I said, still grinning, watching her fumble with the strap. "Bye, Nala. Stay safe."
"Y-yeah. Bye." She hurried out, the door chiming behind her, glancing back once with a shy wave before disappearing into the street crowd.
I sank back into the booth, vinyl creaking under , and dragged both hands down my face until the skin stung. The plan with Nala, the USB, the safe, Guy’s fingerprints; everything felt like a fuse burning toward a bomb I couldn’t see.
I was about to wave for another coffee when my pocket buzzed.
Penelope.
I hesitated, thumb hovering. Richard again? I had zero bandwidth for that ss. But the mory of ndy on her bed, knees to chest, voice trembling, flipped the switch. I answered.
"Penelope?"
"Evan... it’s ndy. She’s calr now, but she’s convinced soone broke in again."
"She’s sure it happened?"
"Yes," Penelope said, voice frayed. "She keeps saying it’s Richard."
"God..." I rubbed my eyes. "Okay. I’m on my way."
"Thank you," she breathed. "Really."
╭───────────╮
EVENT
===============
Penelope’s Interest 3
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I killed the call, stood, and pocketed the phone. The café door chid as I stepped out into the afternoon glare.
Could it be Richard? The guy I’d caught with a hooker, the one who’d sneered he was finished with ndy and Kayla? That version didn’t match a stalker slipping through windows. Unless he was two-faced, obsessed one minute, indifferent the next. People like that were live wires.
╭───────────╮
WON - INTERACTIONS
===============
Jasmine: Interest: 40 / 60★★
Kayla: Interest: 5 / 20
Tessa: Interest: 27 / 40★★
Kim: Interest: 30 / 40★★
Delilah: Interest: 37 / 40★★
Cora: Interest: 100 / 100★★★★★
ndy: Interest: 4/20
Nala: Interest: 15/20
Penelope: Interest: 3/20
===============
Progress:
★☆☆☆☆ - 20 Interest: Milestone reward
★★☆☆☆ - 40 Interest: Milestone reward
★★★☆☆ - 60 Interest: Milestone reward
★★★★☆ - 80 Interest: Milestone reward
★★★★★ -100 Interest: Milestone reward
===============
Select a woman to track progress.
╰───────────╯
Guy would wait. The eviction clock ticked, but if Richard was terrorizing ndy, that stopped today. Cops, restraining order, whatever it took. I was done with him.
"Alright..." I muttered. "Let’s see if your house really got hit, ndy."
❤︎❤︎❤︎
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