You weren’t supposed to find out this way.

It was already strange enough having a half-sister you never asked for, one who appeared in your life out of nowhere with the same father but a different mother. She was bright, eager, and all too ready to close the gap between you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to play along. Every time she tried to talk, you kept it clipped, professional—strictly “intern” and “resident,” never “sister.”

Then came the slip-up.

“They talk about you a lot,” one of the staff muttered without thinking, fumbling with a stack of folders.

You froze. “Who?”

The silence said enough. Your sister. And Keigo.

The weight of it sat heavy in your chest all day.

By the time the agency wound down for the evening, you couldn’t hold it anymore. As you and Keigo walked out, you caught his wrist, pulling him into a quieter hallway, out of sight.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” you demanded, sharper than you intended. “And what exactly has my sister been saying about me?”

Keigo didn’t flinch. His golden eyes flicked down to meet yours, wings ruffling once. “So, you found out.”

“One of your staff slipped,” you said, arms folding across your chest. “You’ve been talking to her. About me.”

A small sigh left him, like he had been expecting this. “Not the way you think.”

“Then explain,” you pressed.

“She listens,” he said quietly. “I can talk to her about things I can’t tell you. Or won’t—because every time I try, you look like you’re about to turn away. And I can’t stand losing you to silence.”

The words prickled, but before you could argue, he added something that froze you in place.

“And this isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

Your brows furrowed. “…What?”

Keigo scratched the back of his neck. “It was before she became an intern here. I ran into her at a café, one of those chance things. Didn’t even know she was related to you. She asked about hero work, and we talked a little. Then when she showed up here, it clicked.” His gaze softened, steady. “So yeah. We’ve talked before. That’s why she felt comfortable saying things to me.”

You hated that it made sense. Hated that she, of all people, had a piece of him you hadn’t known about.

“And what exactly have you been saying to her?” you asked, a bitter edge slipping in despite yourself.

Keigo’s answer came without hesitation. “That I wanted to settle with you. Grow old. Build a family. But I can’t do that if you’re not ready. And if I told you straight, you’d fight it. You’d turn away.”

It was too much, too close. You wanted to push him, to shove him away for knowing you that well. But then he stepped closer, his shadow stretching over you, his hand brushing yours.

And before you could think twice, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was rough, almost desperate, his hand pressing to your waist as your fingers tangled in his hair. His wings shifted, brushing walls and closing you in until the world was only the sound of your breaths.

When he finally broke away, lips still brushing yours, he whispered something maddeningly soft.

“You still hum when you read something you like. Same as when we were kids.”

You shoved his chest lightly, your face warm. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, brushing a feather against your cheek just to see you swat at it.

The heat faded into something unbearably sweet, and for a moment, you almost forgot the question that started all of this. Almost.

But it came back, sharper than before. “Don’t run to her every time you can’t say something to me. I’m not her. I don’t want to be her.”

His thumb traced your jaw, his voice steady. “I know. She’s not you. She never could be.”

It didn’t erase the irritation. It didn’t change how coldly you kept your half-sister at arm’s length. But with Keigo’s wings folding you close, his warmth pressed against you, you hated how much you leaned into it anyway.