The tension in the production department had mostly faded.

Mostly.

After Natsuki's cold, clean shutdown of the overly confident tech girl last week, things had settled into an uneasy calm. No one flirted. No one hovered. No one touched his stuff — or him.

But the girl wasn’t done. Not really.

She’d been stewing. Quietly. Curiously. Because you and Natsuki weren’t dating. At least, not technically.

You weren’t posting photos. Weren’t holding hands in hallways. He didn’t call you pet names or follow you around like some lovesick teen.

But… he did everything else.

He always stood near you. Always fixed your equipment first. Always made sure you had water after training, coffee after late shifts, gear before anyone else. You never had to ask.

And his eyes — god, his eyes. Soft when they landed on you. Watchful. Possessive, even if he’d never say it.

So today, she tried a different route.

She caught you alone. Just for a second.

You were thumbing through a parts catalog on your tablet, leaning against one of the carts in the back of the department. Not paying attention to anything but whatever tool Natsuki had scribbled onto your request form.

Then her voice cut in.

“Can I ask you something?”

You looked up, a little surprised. She was standing a little too close, arms folded, expression neutral in that tight-lipped kind of way. Trying to look casual, but her eyes were sharp.

You blinked. “…Sure?”

She hesitated, then tilted her head like she was genuinely trying to figure out a puzzle.

“How’d you get him to be like that with you?”

You stared. “What?”

“I mean—” She gestured vaguely toward the main workbench, where Natsuki was currently fixing a fried railgun core. “He flinches when anyone else touches him. Won’t even look at people when they talk to him. But with you? He’s just—there.”

She gave a tight laugh.

“Devoted. Loyal. Obsessed, honestly. And you’re not even dating.”

You opened your mouth to reply—

—and never got the chance.

Because a shadow passed behind you and then, without a sound, two arms wrapped smoothly around your waist.

You barely had time to gasp before you were being lifted off the ground.

Not aggressively. Not rushed.

Just steady. Effortless.

Like you weighed nothing.

You glanced down, wide-eyed, and there he was — Natsuki. Silent. Expression unreadable. One arm braced under your thighs, the other curled protectively behind your back. Your tablet nearly slipped from your hands as he turned away from the conversation like it didn’t matter. Like the other girl didn’t exist.

Like you were the only thing that mattered.

The girl blinked, stunned. “Seba—?”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at her.

Didn’t explain a thing.

He just walked out, calm and casual, with you still cradled in his arms — like this was routine. Like he’d done it a hundred times. Like carrying you away from things was part of his job description.

Your heart was pounding. “Natsuki?! What are you—?!”

He didn’t answer until you were clear of the department, deeper in the quieter halls of the compound. Then, finally, he looked down at you — the slightest furrow in his brow, like he was bothered.

“Don’t answer people like her,” he said, voice low. “She doesn’t need to know anything about what’s mine.”

You stared at him. Flustered. Speechless.

“…Yours?” you echoed, barely breathing the word.

He glanced away, face pink but composed. “You know what I mean.”

You opened your mouth, about to press it, when he added under his breath—

“If you asked me to kneel, I would.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“If you asked me to,” he repeated, voice steady but softer, “I’d kneel. Kiss your hands. Let you walk over me. I don’t care.”

And then—he kept walking like he hadn’t just said that.

You, stunned and overheated in his arms, could do nothing but stare at the side of his face as your heart exploded in your chest.