Lyon was standing inside a phone store.
But not just any phone store.
It was THE store.
The kind of store that appeared on the news whenever a celebrity or an important politician needed a new device.
A store where, according to what he had heard a thousand times, you couldn’t even enter unless you had a permit signed by someone from the government, because the devices they sold inside weren’t normal phones.
They were continental network phones.
That strange network that, according to rumors floating around the internet, worked even when you were inside a portal to another world.
A phone that allowed calls from the heart of a dungeon and could send messages from there too. It was also extremely resistant to impacts, acid, magic, strong pressure, whatever.
A device for elite hunters or government officials.
In other words, something a university student studying graphic design should never have seen even from a distance.
And yet, there he was.
Standing in the middle of the main showroom, staring at display cases lit with white light, showing models with no visible prices, because obviously, if you had to ask the price, you weren’t qualified to buy them.
'How… did we end up here?' Lyon thought, not moving.
Beside him, Cya walked with complete normality, as if entering a place like this was the most ordinary thing in the world for her.
And, seeing her in her hunter uniform, it probably was.
The problem wasn’t her.
The problem was him.
Because when Lyon had opened the apartment door, he had put on the first thing he found so he wouldn’t look like a lunatic receiving visitors in pajamas.
A random white T-shirt.
Comfortable shorts.
Old shoes.
The most stay-at-home clothes he owned.
The clothes of someone saying, "I’m at home, leave me alone."
But of course.
When he left with Cya to "buy the phone," his mind had imagined a normal store. A corner shop. A neighborhood branch.
Not this.
Lyon felt too embarrassed to move, because in this place, all the other customers, the few that were there, were dressed as if they were going to a formal dinner.
Tailored suits.
Elegant dresses.
Discrete jewelry that was still clearly expensive.
A woman with a long coat that probably cost more than three months of his rent.
An older man with a watch that sparkled every time he moved his wrist.
And among all those people, there was Lyon, in shorts and old shoes.
Lyon could feel the stares.
He could feel them on the back of his neck, at his side, in the reflection of the glass.
People looked at him, looked away, looked at him again, and exchanged quiet comments with whoever was next to them.
'Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look…' he repeated to himself, staring fixedly at nothing. 'If you don’t look at them, they don’t exist. If they don’t exist, then what they think doesn’t matter...'
"You know that philosophy doesn’t work, right?" the voice inside his head commented, sounding clearly entertained. "They’re still looking at you even if you don’t look at them."
'Shut up.'
"Just saying."
Right at that moment, a little girl, around six or seven years old, who was holding the hand of an extremely elegant woman, raised her finger and pointed at him with absolutely no filter.
"Mommy, look at that boy," she said out loud, with that high-pitched voice children use when they’re making a public comment they think is private. "Why is he dressed like that?"
The mother looked at Lyon.
Looked at the girl.
Looked back at Lyon and let out a small laugh.
"Shhh, sweetheart, don’t point," the mother said, with a smile she clearly wasn’t hiding. "It’s not polite."
But the two of them kept looking at him.
And the little girl laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand.
Lyon felt the temperature of his face rise without being able to do anything about it.
'…'
'…you little… no, calm down. Calm. She’s a child. A small child. We don’t hit children.'
"But the mother is fair game, right?" the voice suggested, clearly enjoying the moment. "You could go to the bathroom for a second. Transform. Come out with your other face, and…"
'No.'
"Just one slap. Just one."
'No.'
"A little pat, then. A gentle one. So she learns not to laugh at simple people."
'Shut up.'
Lyon breathed through his nose, slowly, and forced himself not to clench his fists.
She was a child.
She was a child and her badly raised mother.
He wasn’t going to make a public scene over the laughter of some brat.
Although for one second, just one second, he did imagine himself coming out of the bathroom in his white-haired vampire girl form, with those arms that could burst giant worms apart, and slapping that elegant woman so hard she flew straight into the next display case.
Just one second.
Then he sighed and let the idea go.
'Not worth it,' he decided.
While Lyon finished calming himself down mentally, Cya had already spoken with someone at the counter and was coming back.
She had a box in her hand.
A metallic box with a finish that reflected the white light from the ceiling in a very specific way, and a golden logo engraved in the center of the lid.
The kind of packaging that looked more important than whatever was inside it.
Cya stopped in front of him and extended the box toward him without any ceremony.
"Here you are," she said, with her usual flat voice. "Your phone."
Lyon looked at the box.
He looked at Cya.
Then he looked at the box again.
"I…" he started to say, without really knowing where to go from there. "This… this is too much, Cya. Seriously, too mu—"
"Excuse me."
A voice interrupted Lyon’s sentence.
It was the employee who had been assisting Cya.
A young woman, with her hair tied up in a flawless hairstyle, the store uniform ironed down to the last crease, and an expression of professional courtesy that didn’t move even a millimeter.
The employee had approached Cya with firm steps.
"Excuse me, miss," she said, in a tone that was completely respectful but also completely firm. "Why are you handing the device to the young man?"
Cya turned her head slightly toward her.
"That is none of your concern," she answered, in a dry tone that sounded almost bored.
The employee blinked, without losing her professional smile.
But Lyon noticed that, on the inside, that smile was fighting against something.
"I understand your position, miss," the employee continued, without getting flustered. "But I must inform you that company policy only allows the user who made the purchase to use the device. Our devices are linked, through a registration process, to the person who acquired them. It is not possible to transfer usage to a third party without a formal procedure."
Cya looked at her.
She didn’t frown.
She didn’t change her expression.
She didn’t move even one millimeter.
She simply looked at her.
And then she spoke.
"I am going to be very clear with you," Cya said, with that flat voice that suddenly sounded three degrees colder than before. "If you decide to apply that policy to me right now, this is what will happen."
The employee swallowed, her professional smile still intact.
"First," Cya continued, "I will make the necessary calls so that the business you work for ceases to exist in less than a month. The second part will take a little longer, but it will also happen: you will not find work anywhere else. Anywhere. I will make sure of it personally. And if you have relatives, siblings, parents, partners, they will also—"
"I’m sorry," the employee suddenly said, her voice a little faster than she probably wanted. "I’m very sorry, miss. It was not my intention to disrespect you. I was only… only doing my job. Please forgive me."
The employee lowered her head in a small bow.
Cya stared at her for one more second.
"It is good that you understand the situation," she finally said.
Then she turned her gaze back to Lyon, as if none of that had just happened.
Lyon, for his part, had watched the entire exchange without saying a single word.
And inside, his brain was on fire.
'What…? What… did I just witness? Did Cya just threaten to destroy an employee’s life and her family over a store policy? Is it really… okay for me to accept a gift from a psychopath?'
Lyon looked at the employee.
The poor girl still had her head slightly lowered, her hands clasped in front of her body, clearly trying not to visibly tremble.
Lyon felt a stab of guilt in his stomach.
'Poor girl….'
"Pfff, poor girl," the voice inside his head repeated, in a tone somewhere between amused and almost proud. "Look, I’m not going to lie. I like Cya more and more."
'Of course you like her,' Lyon thought bitterly. 'She’s basically like you, but with a body.'
"And is that a bad thing?"
'YES.'
Lyon swallowed and, before Cya could end the conversation, intervened.
"Cya," he said, with the calmest voice he could manage. "No, seriously. There’s no need… no need to go that far. A simple cellphone would be fine too, you know? There are cheap phones everywhere. Any one would work. I don’t need one of these. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble because of me."
Cya turned her head to look at him.
For a second, she observed him in silence.
"Consider this gift a gesture," Cya replied, with the same flat voice. "And also an invitation. I want you to calmly think about what kind of design work you would like to do for me. For my guild, I mean."
Lyon blinked.
"…That’s what you want in return?"
"Yes."
"Just for me to think about it?"
"For now, yes."
'For now…'
Those two words stayed spinning inside Lyon’s head, repeating again and again.
But before he could answer, the employee carefully cleared her throat.
"Excuse me, young man," the employee said, addressing Lyon this time.
Her tone had changed.
It was no longer the tone of an offended professional.
It was the tone of a very, very interested professional.
The employee’s name was Mira.
And while she spoke to Lyon, her mind was racing at full speed.
Because she recognized the woman with black hair and red eyes.
She hadn’t recognized her immediately, because people like her usually appeared on the news with makeup, professional hairstyling, and in a more controlled setting.
But now, looking at her calmly, there was no doubt.
It was Cya.
Cya Hogwarts, leader of one of the most well-known hunter guilds in the region.
The same woman who last month had signed a cooperation agreement with two foreign guilds, news that had appeared on every financial portal.
The same woman rumored to have an absurd level of power, even though no confirmed ranking had ever been published.
And Mira had just told this woman, Guild Leader Hogwarts, that a policy prevented her from doing something.
'Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I’m going to lose this job. I’m going to lose my house. I’m going to—'
But then Mira’s mind clicked onto something even more urgent.
If Cya was in this store, buying a special phone for a boy dressed in shorts and a white T-shirt, that meant…
Who the hell was that boy?
Mira looked Lyon up and down, trying not to be obvious.
Cheap clothes.
Old shoes.
Short hair, but clearly cut at home.
Nervous posture.
He definitely didn’t look like a normal customer.
And Cya, Guild Leader Cya, was buying him a phone.
And not just any phone.
One of the continental network models.
'Is he a hunter?' Mira thought. 'Could he be an undercover hunter? Is he on a secret mission?'
It was the only explanation that made any sense.
But if Cya had simply wanted to get an extra phone for a subordinate, she wouldn’t have come in person. She would have placed a private order with the company. The company would have sent the device directly to the guild headquarters. With her corporate card, with her credentials, everything clean, everything formal.
Doing it like this, in person, buying it in the main showroom, with the boy beside her…
This was something else.
It had to be something else.
And if it was something else, Mira didn’t want to ruin it.
Especially because Mira was, according to her own words and according to her monthly evaluation, the exemplary employee of the branch.
Top salesperson two months in a row.
The one who closed the most complicated accounts with patience and politeness.
If this boy was important, she had to treat him well.
If this boy was important, she had to make him want to buy more products from the store.
That was why Mira cleared her throat and addressed him with the most polite voice in her professional catalog.
"Excuse me, young man," she said. "If you allow me, I would like to offer you something. I know you already have the device in your hands, but if you allowed me to take your biometric data, I could prepare a model better adapted to you. Personalized. With specific settings for your needs. It would be a quick process and would not take more than a few minutes."
Lyon looked at her.
And for a second, Mira’s professional smile trembled slightly.
Because it wasn’t a look of "how interesting, tell me more."
It was a look of "what the hell are you talking about?"
"Uh…" Lyon said slowly. "No, thank you. Honestly… honestly, I’m fine with a simple phone. This already feels like more than enough. I don’t need anything else."
Mira was left speechless.
Because in her years working at the store, never, ever, had any client rejected a biometric customization offer.
Biometric customization was the most expensive add-on in the catalog.
People ASKED for biometric customization.
But this boy was rejecting it?
'No…' Mira thought, her legs feeling a little weak. 'No, no, no, no. Don’t tell me…'
And then she felt it.
She felt it before she saw it.
Cya’s gaze.
That stare, that fixed red-eyed stare, locked onto her without needing to say a single word.
A look that said with complete clarity: you just offered my companion something he rejected, which means you offered him something he did not want, which means you bothered him, which means now you are truly in trouble.
Mira’s mouth went dry.
'That’s it,' she thought, eyes wide. 'That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. I ruined my life. I ruined my life trying to sell an upgrade. I’m greedy. A stupid greedy woman. I’m going to end up living under a bridge. My mom is going to kill me...'
But then Lyon, who clearly had NOT noticed the murderous look Cya was giving her, kept talking.
"But thank you for the offer, seriously," Lyon said, with a small shy smile. "I can tell you put a lot of effort into your work. You handled the entire procedure super quickly and with a lot of patience. You’re a good worker."
Mira blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
"I said you’re good at what you do," Lyon repeated, shrugging slightly. "That’s all. Thank you."
Mira stared at him.
And for one second, completely outside of her professional training, she didn’t know how to react.
Because… no one had ever told her that before.
Customers praised her sometimes, but always with generic phrases.
"Very kind."
"Very attentive."
Phrases they said to everyone.
But "you’re a good worker," like that, while looking her in the face, after rejecting her best offer…
No one had ever said that to her.
Mira’s face warmed up.
Beside her, Cya frowned slightly.
Only a little.
Barely a movement of her eyebrows.
But it was there.
"All right, that’s enough," Cya said, returning to her flat voice. "We’re leaving."
"Y-Yes, of course," Mira replied, still a little dazed. "Have an excellent day. And… and thank you very much for your purchase."
Lyon gave her one last brief smile and followed Cya toward the exit.
Mira remained standing in the middle of the showroom, holding the empty box in her hands, her head spinning.
'What do I do…?' she thought, looking at the door they had just walked through. 'Do I report this to my superior? The policy was violated. The device was linked to one client and handed to another person. That is… that is serious. I should report it.'
But on the other hand…
If she reported it, Cya would find out.
And Cya had told her very clearly what would happen if she applied the policy.
Mira stayed still, the box between her hands, staring at the door.
'Better… better think about this calmly when I get home.'
◇◆◇
Outside, on the sidewalk, Lyon took a deep breath.
He felt as if he had just walked out of a torture chamber.
Which was a new feeling for him, considering that the last thing he had done that same day was fight a giant worm with his bare fists.
"Well, uh… thanks, Cya," Lyon said, holding the metallic box carefully, as if he were afraid of dropping it. "Seriously. This phone is… probably the most expensive device I’ve ever had in my life. I’ll take really good care of it. It won’t get a single scratch. I promise."
Cya looked at him.
"Mmm."
"Uh… seriously."
"Mmm."
Lyon didn’t really know what to do with that response, so he decided to end the conversation right there. He gave her a small wave, a casual goodbye, and started turning to leave in the direction of his apartment.
"Wait."
Lyon stopped.
"Yes?" he asked, turning around again.
Cya was standing in the same spot, her hands clasped in front of her body and her red eyes fixed on him.
For a moment, she said nothing.
"Cya?" Lyon insisted. "What is it?"
Cya took a breath.
"I would like to invite you to eat."
Lyon blinked.
"…What?"
"I am inviting you to eat."
"…Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Cya fell silent.
And stayed silent for a good while.
So long that Lyon started wondering if he had to repeat the question.
But just when he was about to open his mouth, Cya spoke.
"Do you perhaps…?" she began slowly. "Do you perhaps not want to be with me?"
Lyon opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it.
Closed it again.
And inside his head, the voice’s laughter exploded all at once, making his entire face tense up.
"HEHEHEHEHEHE—" The voice couldn’t breathe from laughing. "Oh no, no, no, this is too much. This is too good. Did you hear her? DID YOU HEAR HER? 'Do you perhaps not want to be with me?' The signs aren’t signs anymore, Lyon. This is a glowing billboard the size of a building."
'I swear I’m going to—'
"And look, tell me the truth, tell me the truth, tell me the truth: you always wanted to do this, didn’t you? Go out to eat with a girl. You wished for it for years. You complained every night in front of the mirror that no girl ever looked at you. Now a pretty girl invites you out. And not just any pretty girl, a GUILD LEADER. Accept. ACCEPT. ACCEPT RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR—"
'SHUT UP!' Lyon shouted in his mind. 'Shut up! Shut up already! This is not what you think! This girl is clearly terrible at socializing! She just threatened an employee! It’s not a sign of romantic interest, it’s a misunderstanding! She doesn’t know how people normally invite others out! That’s all! IT’S A MISUNDERSTANDING!'
"Uh-huh. Sure. A misunderstanding. Of course."
'IT IS!'
"Accept the invitation."
'…'
"Accept."
'…okay, but only because I’m hungry.'
"That’s the only thing that matters, my love."
Lyon took a deep breath, escaped the mental loop, and looked at Cya, who was still waiting for an answer with her red eyes fixed on him and an expression that was becoming less and less flat.
"That’s… that’s fine," Lyon said, his voice a little weaker than he intended. "Let’s go eat."
Cya nodded once.
"Good."
◇◆◇
Before Lyon realized it, he was already sitting at a plastic table in a fast-food restaurant lit by fluorescent lights, in front of a double cheeseburger and a bag of fries that Cya had paid for without even looking at the bill.
They ate almost in silence.
Lyon focused on his burger because it was the only thing that allowed him not to think.
Cya ate hers with the same flat expression she used for everything else.
From time to time, they talked about unimportant things: the weather, traffic, how good the cheese was.
And when they finished, Lyon breathed in relief.
'Done,' he thought, wiping his hands with a napkin. 'That’s it. I did it. We ate. Now I say goodbye politely, go home, get into bed, and tomorrow this will just be a weird memory from a weird day. Just a bad dream.'
They left the restaurant together.
Cya walked beside him in silence, looking ahead with her hands in her uniform pockets.
Lyon was mentally calculating how many blocks he had left before reaching his apartment.
How many minutes until he could close the door.
How many steps until he could stop being next to this strange woman who bought him phones, threatened employees, and invited him to eat.
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes to his apartment.
He would survive.
He would—
Cya stopped.
Lyon, carried by momentum, took two more steps before noticing that she had stayed behind. He turned around, confused.
"Cya?" he asked. "What’s wrong? Why did you—?"
And then he saw where she was standing.
He saw the building she had stopped in front of.
He saw the golden lights on the facade, the enormous revolving doors, the uniformed concierge standing beside them, and the discreet but shining sign with the name of a hotel whose nightly price probably equaled a full year of rent for his apartment.
Lyon froze.
He looked at the hotel.
He looked at Cya.
He looked at the hotel again.
"Will you accompany me?" Cya asked.