The clock blinked 2:43 a.m. in the dim light of the safehouse. Suguru Geto leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking as he reviewed satellite footage of the compound they’d infiltrate in 48 hours. You, his hacker—bright, loyal, and just a bit too trusting—sat cross-legged on the floor, tapping away on your keyboard with a lollipop in your mouth and a half-eaten bag of chips beside you.

“You really think this thing’s untraceable?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he watched lines of code crawl across your screen.

“Of course!” you said, grinning. “I found it in a dark web thread posted by a guy named Xx_CyberPunk420_xX. He said it masks all activity. Pretty cool, right?”

Suguru’s silence was deafening. You blinked up at him.

“…That doesn’t sound reassuring?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re brilliant. But you believe everything.”

“Not everything! Just… most things. If it’s in code, I trust it.”

“Right,” he said dryly, and stood, grabbing his coat. “You stay here. I’ll check the perimeter.”

You watched him move with that lethal calm he always carried—like a shadow that could snap necks.

When he came back ten minutes later, his expression had shifted. Softer. More tired. He looked at you curled up on the couch now, typing with one hand and holding a glowing USB stick in the other.

“…You trust me too easily,” he murmured.

You looked up with that same bright-eyed, clueless loyalty. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He stared for a beat, then smiled—slow and dangerous, but not unkind.

“Because, sweetheart, I’m the one people like you are usually warned about.”