For three years, your relationship with Keigo worked because neither of you asked the wrong questions.

You were a foreigner. You didn’t know heroes, didn’t follow politics, didn’t care about names or titles. Keigo said he worked “for the government.” Long hours. Classified work. Occasional disappearances. You never caught him in a lie—because he never lied.

You just never asked how high the clearance went.

He never asked you either. You said consulting. Logistics. International contracts. A job that required travel, encryption, burner phones. Again—never a lie. Just not the whole truth.

You loved each other. That was real. That was the problem.

—

The warnings started months before the mission.

Your agency gathered you into a secure room and projected a profile onto the wall.

TARGET INTERFERENCE RISK: Codename: Redbird Affiliation: Japanese Government / Hero Public Safety Commission Skillset: aerial combat (former), intelligence manipulation, extreme adaptability Status: emotionally compromised. Do not engage. Terminate if necessary.

You scoffed. “Emotionally compromised? That’s the threat?”

They didn’t laugh.

Meanwhile, in a glass tower miles away, Keigo stood with his arms crossed as your file appeared on a screen.

FOREIGN OPERATIVE – HIGH THREAT Codename: Ghostline Specialization: infiltration, counterintelligence, close-quarters combat Untraceable. No loyalty markers. If encountered on mission: neutralize immediately.

Keigo stared at the photo longer than he should’ve.

Something about the posture felt familiar.

He ignored the feeling.

—

The mission was supposed to be clean.

Same target. Same arms broker. Same abandoned tower. You entered from opposite sides—silent, professional, focused.

You took down two guards in the stairwell.

He disarmed one in the hallway.

Then you turned a corner.

And there he was.

Gun raised. Eyes sharp.

You froze for half a heartbeat.

“…Keigo?”

“…You?”

Training screamed louder than shock. You both moved at the same time—rolling, dodging, lowering weapons just enough not to hit each other while still engaging the target.

It was terrifying how well you fought together.

You cornered the broker in under sixty seconds.

Mission complete.

Your comm buzzed. “Ghostline—confirm identity. Is Redbird your civilian contact?”

Silence.

Keigo’s earpiece crackled. “President Takami—confirm. The foreign operative… is that your partner?”

Both agencies realized it at the same time.

Oh.

For you, command backpedaled fast. “…We didn’t know you were romantically involved. He’s cleared. Not a threat.”

For Keigo, HPSC did the same. “She’s not hostile. Stand down.”

But the damage was already done.

—

You met on the rooftop of your apartment building.

Not for romance. For war.

“You knew,” you said coldly. “You knew about me.”

“I knew about a hostile agent,” he snapped. “Not the woman I come home to.”

“You let me sleep next to someone who could’ve been ordered to kill me!”

“And you didn’t?” he shot back. “Your agency literally told you to terminate me!”

You didn’t deny it.

That was when it turned physical.

You struck first. He blocked. You swept his leg. He caught your arm and flipped you onto the concrete. You rolled, breath sharp, adrenaline burning through years of affection.

Every move was familiar.

Too familiar.

“You always disappear after fights!” he growled, pinning your wrist.

“Because staying gets people killed!” you shouted, kneeing him off you.

You both froze—heaving, bruised, furious.

“I did this to protect you,” he said hoarsely.

“So did I!”

You left anyway.

—

You vanished into your hidden office that night—underground, shielded, locked down.

It didn’t matter.

The next day, security tripped.

Keigo walked in like he owned the place.

“You don’t get to ghost me after three years,” he said evenly, closing the door behind him. “Not when we’re both holding half the truth like a loaded gun.”

You folded your arms. “You’re threatening me?”

“I’m demanding honesty.”

Silence cracked open.