The night was silent, but Leo couldn't sleep.
The system was off.
There were no immediate threats.
Caesar was breathing, alive, just beyond the wall.
Joseph snored a few meters away.
And yet…
the world wasn't still.
Leo had tried to close his eyes.
But the moment he did, he saw it: Kars.
The failure.
The absorption attempt.
The blinking red error line.
The system's voice rejecting him.
And inside his chest…
the frustration still burned.
"You must allow his perfection."
A simple phrase.
A damn sentence.
In his previous life, when things didn't go as planned—a layoff, a breakup, a defeat—
Leo developed a silent instinct for enduring pressure.
At first it was insomnia. Then aimless walks.
And sometimes…
intimacy.
Not out of love.
Not out of affection.
But to regain control.
Desire didn't rule him.
It organized him.
And that night, under that ancient moon, the impulse returned.
Not as a vice.
As a need.
🌫 Encounter
He was walking down the damp stone hallways when he turned a corner of the west wing.
A warm breeze touched him first.
Then a thread of steam.
An open door.
And finally, he saw her.
Lisa Lisa.
She was stepping out of the thermal bath with a white towel tied around her torso.
Her wet hair draped down her back like black ink.
She walked calmly. Elegantly. With authority.
And she saw him.
She didn't stop.
She didn't cover herself further.
She simply raised her chin.
—Can't sleep either? she asked.
Leo stopped at a respectful distance.
—I thought silence would help.
—And it didn't.
—Not when the system reminds me I have to let a god manifest just so I can erase him.
Lisa Lisa frowned.
—System?
Leo smiled faintly.
—A way of naming my sentence.
A tense silence.
She didn't step back.
He didn't move forward.
And then, Lisa Lisa lowered her gaze slightly.
—You know Caesar should be dead.
And yet, he lives.
Leo didn't reply.
She took a slow step toward him.
—And I know it wasn't luck.
Nor JoJo.
Nor me.
Leo inhaled.
His eyes were calm.
—And why didn't you say anything before?
—Because I hadn't decided what you are.
And maybe… I still don't know.
[Passive scan: Lisa Lisa emotional state — unspoken debt / maintained distrust / contained attraction]
—What's your real name? she asked, never breaking eye contact.
—Does it matter?
—I like to know who I… close chapters with.
Leo stared at her.
—Call me Leo.
For now.
—And what are you?
—An exception.
An error in the manuscript.
Or… its editor.
Lisa Lisa chuckled softly.
—George never talked like that.
But your face… it's just like his.
Leo lowered his head for a second.
—Then don't look at me for who I was.
—I don't.
Silence.
She took another step.
They were less than half a meter apart.
The tension wasn't sexual.
It was self-referential. Narrative. Animal. Strategic.
Leo spoke more quietly.
—You don't owe me for Caesar.
Lisa Lisa shook her head.
—That's not why.
But that night… if you hadn't been there…
—I know.
—And I still don't trust you.
But I think it's fair
that tonight, at least, we be human.
Lisa Lisa turned.
She didn't invite him with words.
But she didn't close the door.
Leo followed.
And for that night,
in a room that smelled of steam, wood, and history…
the author and the instructor
did not discuss the fate of the world.
They simply shared the one thing that couldn't be planned:
a free choice.
There were no promises.
No repeated names.
No eternal caresses.
Only the creak of the futon,
the rhythm of shared breathing,
and a silence more comfortable than any victory.
At dawn,
Lisa Lisa still slept, her brow faintly furrowed.
As if even in dreams, she never fully let down her guard.
Leo dressed without a sound.
Ran a hand through his hair.
And left.
[Narrative state: complex emotional bond activated.]
[Lisa Lisa: tactical respect / emotional debt / unspoken complicity.]
[Leo: calm temporarily restored.]
As he closed the door, he murmured:
—A controlled distraction.
And as he returned to camp…
his mind was already back on Kars.