You smoothed down the formal wear you barely had time to throw on. The mission briefing had been rushed, the cover identities even more so — but somehow, you and Natsuki were now walking through a glittering ballroom as a "couple."

Which he didn’t comment on.

Didn’t even flinch when the handler said it out loud.

You glanced over at him. He looked unfairly calm in a suit, scanning the room like every guest was already a target.

"Try to smile," you muttered, bumping his shoulder. "You’re supposed to be my charming date, remember?"

"I don’t do charming."

"You’re supposed to look like you like me."

"I don’t have to act. You’re tolerable."

"Wow. Be still my heart."

His mouth twitched — almost a smirk. Almost.

You leaned in, slipping your arm through his. “Okay. Now look at me like I’m the only person in the room.”

He did.

But it wasn’t fake.

The look he gave you was sharp, electric — enough to freeze your breath in your throat.

“…You’re not playing the role right,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re acting like it’s pretend.”

You stared up at him, heart thudding.

Before you could respond, his hand drifted to your lower back, pulling you slightly closer as a target passed by. His voice dropped lower.

“He’s watching. Smile.”

You did. Barely.

But once the target was out of sight, Natsuki didn’t step away.

“You can let go now,” you said softly.

“I know,” he replied. But he didn’t move.

His fingers stayed right where they were, possessive without pressure.

And then: “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You turned to him, surprised. “Jealous?”

“No,” he said coolly. Then a pause. “…Just observant.”

But the way he stayed close — the way he didn’t even glance at anyone else the entire night — told you everything.