1:45 a.m.
The underground trains had long shut down for the night. Truth be told, Sera didn't enjoy walking alone through dark, empty streets at this hour.
But tonight was different.
She had company.
And that company was none other than—
Mickey Mannix.
Toshi's words kept looping in her head:
("Technically, Syd's supposed to be your protector, too. But looks like he's already chosen to turn a blind eye when it comes to you. Haha~")
Bastard...
She never—not even once—expected Mickey Mannix to be assigned as her escort. This had to be a prank. A very specific kind of mental torture.
Those assholes... They did this on purpose.
Sera stormed ahead, irritated and stomping with an entitled flair. Mickey noticed—but wisely chose not to say a word.
2:00 a.m. sharp.
At Sera's 5-star-on-top-of-5-star hotel suite.
The classic revolving doors of the luxury condo lobby rotated open, pushed by the night guard. The front desk staff looked up from their posts and instantly straightened up when they saw who walked in.
"Good evening, Miss."
Their tone and demeanor were flawless—fit for a palace.
But then they noticed something odd.
Sera wasn't alone.
A boy with green hair and pink shades followed in after her.
The staff's eyes sparkled as if asking, Where on earth did she find this one?!
Mickey didn't react. He just scanned the space with indifferent, darting eyes.
Sera swiped her keycard at the front desk. She didn't say anything—but narrowed her eyes in a silent "Don't get the wrong idea."
Moments later, they reached her floor via the elevator.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
Mickey instantly realized this place was beyond just a hotel. The hallway was decked out in deep black and crimson carpeting, gilded lighting fixtures, and dead silence—like an ASMR room.
Neither of them spoke until they stood in front of her door.
Sera turned and looked him dead in the eye.
"Listen. No one's ever stepped foot into this place. Not one single soul. But this—this is an exception. Got it?"
"…"
"I said—got it?!"
He nodded.
"Tch."
Beep.
She swiped the card and opened the door.
The instant the scent of her room hit Mickey's face, he was blasted by an overpowering wave of mixed perfumes. So strong, he immediately started coughing.
"Cough! Cough—COUGH!"
The dramatic coughing made her squint suspiciously.
"About to die or something?"
"…No. Cough! Cough! Just figured out why no one ever comes over."
"!?"
That was a slap in the face.
"Let's call it… the fragrance of aristocracy."
This f**ing guy…*
Click.
She slid the card into the slot inside, activating the lights and appliances. Mickey stepped in quietly, scanning her luxury-laced den.
It was peak Sera—jet-black decor trimmed with pink, plush furniture, and that ever-looming perfume that threatened to choke out any man who didn't have a skincare routine.
Sera dropped her bag, kicked off her stockings, and tossed them into a basket. She led Mickey to the central dining table.
"This is my space. Which means: my rules. Got it, Mannix?"
He nodded.
"Rule one. You sleep over there."
She pointed to the plush sofa she usually Netflix-binged on.
"Rule two. You are not—I repeat, not—to step one foot into my bedroom."
She jabbed her finger toward her private door.
"Rule three. I'm gonna shower now. While I do, you are to stay locked inside the kitchen. Door shut. No peeking. Understood?"
She pointed toward the kitchen's glass door.
Mickey nodded again.
He was obedient, sure—but something about him made her feel like he was silently judging her.
"…Go already!"
He walked off and shut himself inside the kitchen.
Sera wasted no time. She stripped down, grabbed her toiletries, and dashed into the bathroom.
50 minutes later.
Yes, you read that right—fifty whole minutes in the bathroom.
Steam and luxurious soap fragrances poured out the moment the door opened.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She padded across the floor, towel wrapped, twisting her body left and right in satisfaction. She slipped into her bedroom to change.
20 minutes later.
The bedroom door opened again. Now dressed in a black button-up and shorts, she stepped out and walked over to the kitchen.
"Mannix. You can come out now."
…
No response.
"Hey. Mannix."
BAM BAM. She knocked harder.
...
And then it hit her. Her eyes widened in sudden dread.
"Oh no."
She kicked the kitchen door open—
And there it was.
Disaster.
Mickey Mannix stood amid a battlefield of sweets. Her hidden stash—every cake, every sandwich, every burger, every damn chocolate bar—laid out like a gourmet buffet. All unwrapped. Some bitten. Some mangled.
All exposed.
He hadn't eaten them.
No, he just arranged them in rows and columns. Meticulously.
Even the floor wasn't spared.
Their eyes met.
Mickey didn't say a word. He just clasped his hands behind his back and slowly surveyed the dessert disaster zone.
Then he looked at her.
Then back at the sweets.
Then back at her again.
"M-Mannix—I-I can explain!"
"..."
"Mickey, listen to me! I'm not some glutton or anything!"
Sht. Sht. SHT. I totally forgot about that stash!!*
Still silent, Mickey began placing the items back where he found them.
Sera, flustered, marched forward and kicked aside wrappers as she rushed up to him.
"Wait—Mannix! You understand me, right?! It's not what you think!"
His eyes said it all.
Not judgmental—just… full of pity.
"Mannix! I swear I'm not a food hoarder!"
"..."
"…You sure can eat."
Just that one sentence.
But it felt like he stabbed her through the gut with a six-foot lance.
The ultimate shame.
They put the snacks away together. Silently. Though in her mind, Sera was screaming bloody murder.
Goddamn it. This is the worst day of my life.
"…Hand me that one."
"But you haven't finished this one yet."
"JUST GIVE IT HERE!"
She yelled and dumped over 70% of the snacks into the trash. If she could toss Mickey off the balcony too, she probably would.
"Studying burns a lot of energy, huh…? Totally get it."
That would've been a harmless comment—
If it hadn't come from a literal world-class secret agent.
Compared to his daily life, her studying probably burned as much energy as a sleepy kitten.
"Mannix… I curse you."
She hissed through clenched teeth.
The worst part?
He didn't even make fun of her outright.
He didn't have to.
She knew.
He knew.
That was enough.
More brutal than any joke Syd ever made.
"Can I go use the bathroom now?"
"Go. Get out."
He started walking past her—but paused.
Then turned back around.
"…Why are you wearing makeup if you're going to bed?"
"Mind your own damn business!"
Of course she wore makeup. Like hell she was letting him see her bare face. That's why she took 20 minutes to prep.
Actually…
He hadn't complained once the entire hour she was in there.
…Maybe he wasn't the worst.
Or so she thought.
Until Mickey turned back once more…
Sniff. Sniff.
"You smell nice. Been like that since the school."
"…HUH?!"
Sera turned tomato-red and instinctively tried to cover herself.
"W-What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Your scent's strong. Do girls usually wear this much perfume to bed?"
He leaned in slightly to sniff near her hair.
She yanked herself away, scrambling toward the fridge.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU PERV?!"
"And your shampoo… plus the roll-on under your arms. How many layers did you put on?"
She was practically glowing red now.
"H-H-How do you even know that?! A-Are you spying on me?!"
"I was in the kitchen the whole time, remember?"
Oh God.
Now her heart was racing for an entirely different reason.
Mickey smirked.
"You really go all in, huh?"
And with that, he walked off—leaving Sera speechless in the kitchen.
But then it hit her.
"YOU FREAK!!! GROSS!!! I TAKE IT BACK—SLEEP OUTSIDE, YOU PERVERT! OUT!! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!"