The casino glimmers like a diamond in the dark—golden lights flashing, laughter echoing off polished marble, and the thick scent of perfume and desperation clinging to every breath. Megumi already hates it.

The suit is stiff, unfamiliar. The collar chafes against his neck, and the buzz of slot machines gets under his skin. He keeps his hands in his pockets, a glass of untouched water on the bar beside him, his gaze sharp beneath a calm expression.

You blend in too easily. That’s what bothers him most.

Across the room, you laugh at something a dealer says, your fingers gliding over poker chips like you belong here. The dress fits you like armor, your voice dipped in charm, but he knows better. He sees the tension behind your eyes, the way you scan the room mid-laugh, never fully relaxed.

The mission was simple on paper: track the curse user known for feeding off greed and desperation, identify his vessel, and eliminate the threat. But nothing ever went according to plan—not with you beside him, whispering sly observations into the comm discreetly hidden beneath your collar. You insisted you’d be fine on your own. You always do.

But then a man at the blackjack table doesn’t cast a reflection.

Megumi’s stomach knots. He doesn’t move—not yet—but your eyes catch his across the casino floor, just for a second. That’s all it takes. No words. Just understanding.

You begin to drift toward the back hallway, smile still perfectly in place. And Megumi finally steps away from the bar, adjusting his cuffs like this was part of the plan all along.

It wasn’t.

The music throbs low through the velvet-draped walls, and the air feels heavier now. Every light flickers too sharply. He moves without looking at you again, but his thoughts never leave you.

Always you.