The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room washed in a sudden silence. The echo of his boots lingered long after he vanished down the corridor.
Pearl slowly released her hold on me, her arm slipping away like warmth fading from my skin.
The air felt heavier… as if the room itself sensed the shift.
Akira's voice — moments ago teasing, careless — now replayed in my mind:
"Don't do any action without my order."
Those words were sharp, commanding.Cold enough to remind me of exactly who he was beneath that rare smile:a man used to power, to danger, to blood.
I stared at the door he had disappeared through.
Why was my heartbeat chasing after him?
Pearl snapped her fingers in front of me, pulling me back into reality. Her expression softened — no longer mischievous, no longer the playful "elder sister" he spoke about.
Now she looked… curious. Concerned.
"You look like someone just stole your soul," she teased lightly, but her voice hid something gentle. "Don't worry. He always gets too serious on calls. Army stuff. Secret missions. Whatever."
I nodded, though my throat was dry. Army. Missions. Violence.
That was his world.
And suddenly, the sweet little chaos of their sibling fight felt like a dream I shouldn't have touched.
Pearl guided me to the typewriter — an old, iron thing sitting on her desk, keys worn from years of typing.
She tapped the machine."Okay, lesson one. This monster is your new friend."
I placed my trembling fingers on the cold keys.
Her laugh was soft, amused. "You look terrified. Relax. It's just a typewriter, not a bomb."
I tried to smile back, but worry clung to me like a second skin.
Pearl leaned her hip against the desk, watching me with sharp brown eyes.
"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"
I froze.
"No— I was just—"
"You were."She smirked. "I've seen that expression before. That's called Akira damage."
Despite everything — the fear, the uncertainty — I let out a small laugh.
Pearl's face warmed in victory."See? That's better. Girls who work with him need to breathe sometimes."
Work with him.
I didn't know whether to feel honored or trapped.
Pearl handed me a sheet of blank paper. "Put it inside. I'll show you."
The paper slid in, trembling between my fingers. My thoughts still chased his silhouette down the hall.
Pearl continued explaining the mechanism, but her voice grew distant, fading beneath the tightness in my chest.
In my mind, I kept seeing him walking away…
Commanding. Broken. Dangerous.
Why was I worried about him?
Why, when I barely even knew him?
Pearl stopped mid-sentence.
"Hey," she whispered, tilting her head. "Are you okay? Do you want some water?"
I stared at my own hands — small, fragile, helpless.
"I… I don't know," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Pearl searched my eyes, studying the panic I didn't know I was showing.
"You aren't used to people caring about you, are you?" she said quietly.
My breath caught.
No one had ever asked me that.
Not my parents. Not anyone.
Before I could answer, Pearl stepped closer and placed her hand over mine — warm, steady.
"You're safe here," she whispered. "Akira may be an idiot, but he doesn't hurt the people he decides to protect."
Protect.
That word struck harder than I expected.
He bought me.
But… he is protecting me?
I stared at the keys beneath my fingertips. My reflection trembled in the typewriter's metal surface.
Outside the room, somewhere far down the hallway, I could faintly hear Akira's furious voice. Orders being barked. People running. Something urgent. Something dangerous.
I shouldn't care.
I shouldn't.
And yet…
My chest tightened with fear — not for myself…
…but for him.
What is he to me?
The question echoed inside me, unanswered, unsettling.
Pearl nudged me gently toward the typewriter.
"Come on," she whispered. "Let's start."