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The next morning, San didn't go to the bar. He didn't train. He didn't even scroll aimlessly on his phone.
He sat on the balcony with a tablet and a cup of cold black coffee—Hyme's version of a "serious investigation mood." Hyme was inside, curled up with his tail twitching anxiously, pretending not to peek at San through the curtain every ten minutes.
"Okay," San muttered, tapping through open tabs. "Reiks. Reiks Group. Real estate, logistics, energy contracts… shady stuff, but nothing obviously illegal."
He scrolled down an old article.
> 'Reiks Group absorbs third hybrid-owned company this year.'
San frowned. "Absorbs, huh? More like eats them alive."
He clicked into one of the lesser-known news sites and found a buried report from four years ago: a hybrid-run transport service called Silver Paw Express had mysteriously shut down after "irregularities" in licensing. Guess who bought their fleet two days later? Reiks Group.
"Dirty," San muttered.
Just then, Hyme padded out barefoot, yawning and pulling San's oversized hoodie tighter around himself.
"You're still at it?"
San nodded. "Trying to connect the dots."
Hyme sat beside him, curling his legs up. "I already tried that. Dad's investigators found nothing solid. They're too good at cleaning their tracks."
"Maybe." San leaned closer to show Hyme the screen. "But you were looking in official records. I'm looking where angry ex-employees go to complain—forums, social media, anonymous tip blogs."
He scrolled further.
Hyme blinked. "You're not just muscle."
"Wow," San said dryly. "Is that your idea of a compliment?"
Hyme smiled faintly. "You're smarter than you look."
San smirked. "You're softer than you act."
That made Hyme pause. He looked away, ears drooping just slightly.
San nudged his shoulder. "Hey. I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," Hyme said quickly. "I like it when you say it."
They were silent for a while.
Then San's eyes widened as he tapped something.
"Here. Look at this."
It was a thread on a forgotten hybrid rights blog, archived but still intact.
> "Three hybrid staff from Reiks' personal estate disappeared in 2 months. No police report. No funerals. We're not safe. Someone's covering it up."
The usernames were anonymous, but San found a contact form buried at the end.
"I think this blogger might be the key," he said, already typing a message. "If even half of this is real, we need to be careful."
Hyme looked at the screen, then at San. "Why are you doing all this?"
San blinked. "Because someone's threatening you. And I—"
He stopped.
Hyme watched him, eyes narrowing slightly. "And you?"
"…I like you," San admitted, face flushing slightly. "Even when you're annoying. Even when you hog the bed and drink milk at 3 a.m."
Hyme blinked slowly.
Then, to San's utter surprise, Hyme leaned over and placed a soft kiss on San's cheek.
"I like you too," he said quietly. "And I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
San touched his cheek, stunned. "You kissed me."
"You're keeping track now?" Hyme teased.
"Of course," San said, recovering with a smirk. "You think this is a game? I'm going to rank every kiss."
Hyme rolled his eyes, tail flicking. "Idiot."
San grinned. But underneath it, his eyes stayed serious.
Because someone was playing a dangerous game behind the scenes—and now, he wasn't just a broke bar worker anymore.
He was part of the war.
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