My heart skipped. Excuse me?
"You're offering to help me break someone's heart," Cassius continued, his eyes boring into mine with terrifying intensity. "You're playing with lives, with emotions, with the very fabric of this Academy. How do I know you won't just discard me when you've gotten what you want? How do I know you're not just another player in some game I don't understand?"
"I don't play games, Cassius. I manage outcomes."
"Then prove your commitment to the outcome." He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "For the Garantie... I want a token of your compliance. Something that proves you're as invested in this as I am. I want you to let me touch you. Just once. A hand on your thigh, or a kiss on your neck. Something that proves you're not just a cold observer, but a participant."
Holy shit.
My brain screamed. This wasn't in the script! Cassius wasn't supposed to be this bold! He's supposed to be the guilty one, not the demanding one!
Internally, I was panicking. My Third Rate Sensitivity was already reacting to his proximity, the heat between my legs spreading like spilled wine. The thought of his hands on me the hands of a Conqueror sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated arousal through my system that nearly made me buckle.
But I can't back down now. If I back down, I lose all leverage. I lose the upper hand. I lose the 'Ice Queen' persona.
I forced myself to maintain eye contact, my face a perfect, frozen mask of boredom, even as my pulse thundered in my ears.
"You want to test my commitment by touching the architect?" I asked, my voice steady despite the war raging inside me. "That's a bold move, Cassius. Very bold."
"Is it too bold for you, Frost?" he challenged, his eyes challenging me.
Fuck it. I thought. If I'm going to be a puppet master, I need to know how the puppets feel when they touch the strings.
"Fine," I said. "One touch. As proof of my investment."
Cassius stepped closer, closing the distance until our faces were mere millimeters apart. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, could see the individual flecks of crimson in his red eyes as they studied my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
"You know," he murmured, his breath brushing my jaw, "I can't help but wonder what you're into. Do you hate Jin and want to make him suffer? Or do you love him and want to clear all the obstacles away from him?"
I love him? I almost laughed. Love Jin? The walking cheat code? The reason my SP economy exists? Absolutely not.
I gave a bored shrug, keeping my eyes flat and level on his a feat of engineering, considering my cyprine had already begun its slow, warm descent, soaking through my thong and starting its journey down my inner thigh.
"I don't love that perfect guy," I said. "I do hate him, but that's not particularly what drives me. I won't explain more."
Because the truth is 'I'm farming his fetish for cosmic points to kill a giant spider,' and that conversation doesn't fit in a neck kiss budget.
"Now," I continued, tilting my head slightly to the side, presenting the pale, exposed column of my neck like a merchant displaying premium goods, "are you going to touch me, or back away?"
His eyes squinted slightly suspicion, calculation, maybe a flicker of something sharper but then he made his choice.
He leaned in.
His lips pressed against my neck.
Soft. Warm. Deliberately slow.
"Hn..." The sound escaped me before I could stop it a tiny, breathless thing, quickly smothered under the frozen mask of my expression.
Neck kiss. Neck kiss. It's a neck kiss. Better than his hand on my drenched thigh. Vastly better. This is the economical option. This is the discount Garantie. I chose well. I am a genius of fiscal management.
But my body disagreed with my accounting.
The moment his lips made contact, a hot, tingling current ran from the point of contact straight down my spine, pooling in my pelvis like molten sugar. His mouth moved a slow, dragging press of lips against the sensitive skin below my ear, and my knees wobbled in a way I desperately hoped wasn't visible.
It's just a neck. It's JUST a neck. Why is a neck this... this...
Oh. Right. Third Rate Sensitivity. The entire body is an erogenous zone. There are no discounts in this body. There are only premium prices everywhere.
His kiss deepened not biting, not sucking, just a lingering, warm pressure that lingered a second longer, two seconds longer, than any professional transaction required. His hand rose and settled lightly on my waist, steadying me, and the weight of it the simple, possessive weight of a palm on my hip through the uniform fabric made my thighs press together instinctively.
"Mmh..." A second sound, softer, leaked out.
Stop making noises. You are a businesswoman. Businesswomen do not whimper in parks during contract negotiations.
Finally finally he pulled back.
His red eyes were half lidded, his breathing slightly uneven, and there was a look on his face that I could only describe as a man who had just tasted something he intended to taste again.
"Commitment confirmed," he said, his voice rough.
"Wonderful," I replied, my voice perfectly level while my heart performed percussion solos. "Then the Garantie is delivered. The contract is live."
I flicked my fingers, and the [ MANA CONTRACT ] window flared, the terms sealing with a soft, resonant chime. Binding. Permanent. Death clause included.
"Pleasure doing business," I said flatly, stepping back and putting professional distance between us. My thigh was slick. My neck was warm. My dignity was intact. Mostly.
"Ellen." He called my name as I turned to leave.
I paused, glancing over my shoulder.
"Thank you," he said simply.
...Don't be sincere. Sincere men are harder to manage.
"Noted," I said, and walked away, feeling his gaze on my back the entire way.
Operation Rose Mira: contract signed, Garantie paid, first payment incoming.
Cost assessment: one neck kiss, two involuntary noises, and a thong that is now legally a biohazard.
...I need to do laundry. And possibly a bath. A long, very professional, entirely non transactional bath.
***
Three days later, Cassius stood beside me in a dark corridor of the Academy, eyeing the shopping bags at my feet with the expression of a man who had just been handed explosives and told it was a party favor.
"Are you sure of that, Ellen?" he asked, doubt dripping from every syllable.
I looked down at the bottles of alcohol lined up in the bag. Purchased with the first monthly payment from Cassius himself which, I want it noted, was a beautifully efficient economic loop: his money, my strategy, his romance. I'd also bought new nightclothes. Proper ones. Full coverage. Long pants. A revolution in my personal life.
"It will work. Trust me," I said. "Wouldn't want to lose my life stupidly."
Which, for me, is technically true and completely hollow, since [Unbinding] means the death clause of that contract couldn't touch me if I tried. The contract is a leash around HIS neck, not mine. Ah, the perks of being the only person in the world with contractual immunity. It's good to be the architect.
I looked up at him. His eyes did the thing again the slow, hungry sweep that started at my face and worked its way down with the subtlety of a landslide.
"Stop looking at me like that," I said flatly. "The Garantie has been delivered, and I don't trust you enough for a second Mana Contract. Eyes on inventory, not on me."
Cassius's eyebrows twitched. His face went faintly red, clearly replaying the neck kiss in his memory in high definition.
Good. Let him remember it. Motivated men follow plans precisely.
"Now," I continued, arms crossed. "Do you remember the plan, or do I need to explain it to you again?"
He straightened, clearing his throat, and recited:
"I invite Jin and Rose for a small cozy party at my dorm. I fake drinking a lot because Jin will always drink right after I do. Once Jin is wasted, I fake going to the bathroom and feeling bad. Rose, who doesn't drink, will eventually come check on me and ask if I'm fine it's her nature to care for her close ones. And there, in my 'drunkenness'... I kiss her." He paused. "Is that it?"
I nodded.
That was, word for word, the opening event of Rose and Cassius's route in the game except in the original, Cassius had been genuinely wasted. Real alcohol, real loss of control, real guilt. The game used his drunkenness as the excuse that let him cross the line.
My version was cleaner. Controlled. A performance with a script. The same kiss, but aimed instead of stumbled into.
"You got it," I said. "I know it sounds fairytale ish, but it will work. Rose's pattern is predictable: she cares, she gets close, she lets her guard down around people she's known forever. And Jin's pattern is even more predictable: he matches you drink for drink because he's too proud to let you outdrink him. Men are simple, Cassius. You just have to aim them."
I handed him the bottles. He took them, weighing them in his hands like sacred artifacts of a very stupid ritual.
"And if it goes wrong?" he asked. "If Jin wakes up mid kiss? If Rose pushes me away?"
"Then we adapt. That's what I'm here for," I said. "But it won't go wrong. Timing is everything, and I'm giving you the timing."
He exhaled, nodded, and clutched the bottles to his chest like a soldier receiving orders.
"Saturday. My dorm. Eight o'clock."
"Saturday," I confirmed. "Eight o'clock. And Cassius?"
He looked up.
"When you kiss her don't hesitate halfway. Half kisses are worse than no kisses. Commit, or the whole setup dies."
"...Commit," he repeated, more to himself than to me.
"Good." I turned to leave, then paused. "And drink water during the party. Fake drunk men still need functioning livers. I didn't invest in you just to have you die of alcohol poisoning before the second act."
He laughed quietly. "Yes, ma'am."
Ma'am. I like that. Respect. Obedience. A well trained Conqueror in the making.
Saturday. Rose's route, act one, scene one.