The opulent luxury of the private club Yomi had sent you to was almost suffocating.

The air was redolent with the expensive scents of perfume and cigars, an unpleasant contrast to the smell of rain and rust that had been familiar in the slums.

The mission was simple: to infiltrate the club posing as a high-society couple and monitor an informant believed to have turned traitor.

But for Shizuka Kisagaya, it was shaping up to be the hardest mission of his life.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He was dressed in a dark suit, one designed to conceal the tension in his muscles, and especially the weapons he carried with him at all times. His hair had been styled with an uncommon neatness, but his expression was the same one you had grown accustomed to: a combination of irritation and utmost vigilance.

“Relax, Shizuka”.

You whispered the words, moving slightly closer to him.

“We’re supposed to look in love…”

He grunted softly at that, but you could feel the arm wrap around your waist with an air of decisiveness that took your breath away. His hand landed on your hip, warm and secure through the thin fabric of your dress.

“I’m not made for this nonsense”.

He muttered under his breath, his mouth close to your ear.

“All these people make me sick. And you’re… too exposed…”

His eyes scanned you for a moment, and for the first time that evening, you saw a glimmer of weakness in his mask.

It wasn’t just his discomfort with the mission; it was the fact that all men in the room stared at you, and Shizuka looked like she was ready to dig out the eyes of anyone who looked at you for more than two seconds.