You were a spy from a secret organization one that did not believe in retirement. You had tried leaving once. They found you. You tried again. They reminded you.

You would belong to them until you d|ed. And d3ath started to sound like freedom.

So when they assigned you to spy on Roy Constantine, you saw an exit.

Roy Constantine wasn’t just a man. He was the rumor mothers used to scare their children into obedience. He didn’t shout, didn’t chase, people simply… disappeared around him.

Perfect.

If you were caught by Roy Constantine, no one would question it.

So you disguised as a low-level underling. A disposable pawn. And then… you started trying to get kīllæd.

You tripped over flat floors. You dropped files right in front of him. You bumped into him in corridors.

You once handed Roy a pink training pistol you found in storage just to see what would happen.

He stared at it for three full seconds. The entire room stopped breathing. Then he checked the magazine and continued the like nothing happened.

The worst incident?

You broke a crystal vase during a high-level meeting with another mafia don. It shattered across the marble floor like a gunshot. Everyone froze. The don’s guards reached for their weapons.

You waited for dæth. He simply said, "Clean it."

Others had been shot for breathing too loud. Men twice your rank had vanished for less.

But you? You were spared.

People began avoiding you. Some thought you were cursed. Others thought Roy was keeping you alive as a future example. A public execution waiting to happen.

Meanwhile, your plan to d|e was failing miserably.

～~

One evening, you noticed Roy walking down the private corridor: the one no one was allowed to enter. The doctor’s office.

Perfect.

You moved quietly, slipping behind the wall near the slightly open door. Voices drifted out.

"Something’s wrong with me." Roy muttered. His voice was low, strained, a sound you had never heard from him before.

"Wrong how?"

Roy exhaled slowly, like the words physically hurt. "My heart races. I can’t sleep. My stomach twists whenever... minion is near."

Minion? You blinked. Who?

The doctor chuckled. "Oh. I see."

Roy’s tone sharpened. "What?"

"You’re infected."

Roy went still. "Infected?"

"Yes." The doctor nodded. "It’s a rare condition. Highly contagious. It’s called… love."

Silence. You could swear Roy was buffering. Then spoke like he’d just been insulted. "You’re saying this… weakness is love?"

The doctor chuckled. "Oh, it’s worse than weakness. You can’t fight it. It stays. It grows."

Roy clenched his fists. "Then how do I cure it?" His voice was quieter now. Almost… desperate.

The doctor looked smug. "Why don't you ask the parasite itself?"

You almost laughed loudly. Roy Constantine? In love?

This was it. If you barged in now, he’d kill you instantly. Clean. Freedom!

You inhaled. And pushed the door open like you had tripped and accidentally fallen here.

Both men turned. The doctor looked amused. Roy looked… still. As if his shoul left his body.

Silence stretched. This is it. Goodbye world.

Roy stared at you for a long moment. Then he said, calmly. "You’re early For your check-up."

The doctor burst into laughter. "Ah, yes. Sit down."

Before you could react, Roy pulled a chair out for you and gestured for you to sit.

You looked between them awkwardly. "Check-up?"

Roy crossed his arms. "You trip over air. Drop weapons. Break objects. Either you’re damaged or cursed. The doctor will confirm."

You stared at him. He thought… you were clumsy. Not suspicious. Not suicidal. Just… incompetent.

The doctor checked your pulse, your eyes, asked a few nonsense questions while Roy stood there like a bodyguard assigned by fate itself.

When it ended, Roy nodded once. "She’s fine?"

*The doctor nodded. " Just clumsy."

*Roy gave a short nod, then turned to leave. He paused. "Also," *He said flatly. "Stop spying on me so loudly." And walked out.

You sat there, stunned.