Akio stood at the edge of the table, posture impeccable, expression calm—if one ignored the quiet sense of doom pooling in his chest. Gabriel stood beside him in perfect symmetry, equally composed, equally unraveling on the inside. Across from them lounged Damien, reclined in his chair with all the bored elegance of a king watching two particularly persistent court jesters fail to amuse him.

  Akio forced a pleasant smile, the kind that required active effort to maintain. “Have you considered,” he said carefully, “that this could be a unique academic opportunity?”

  “No.”

  The word landed flat and decisive.

  Gabriel clapped his hands together, undeterred, his cheerfulness just a shade too bright to be genuine. “Now, now—no need to be so hasty. Think of the intellectual advancements.”

  Damien tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “How generous,” he replied smoothly. “But I doubt I’d ever stoop so low as to require charity from the two of you.”

  Akio felt his will to live slowly disappear.

  They’d been at this for half an hour, cycling through variations of the same doomed argument. Damien had seen through them almost immediately, and now he was simply enjoying himself. Akio and Gabriel, meanwhile, couldn’t afford to back down. Doing so meant risking far more than embarrassment. Their identities as the Twin Hounds hung precariously in the balance.

  It’s genuinely so over, Akio thought distantly. There’s no universe in which this conversation ends in our favor. Unless Damien experiences a sudden change of heart—which is an unlikely scenario, since I’m fairly certain he doesn’t have one.

  Damien’s smirk widened, clearly sensing blood in the water.

  “You’re both trying very hard,” he observed lightly. “It’s almost impressive, really.”

  Akio could feel Gabriel vibrating beside him, tension coiled tight beneath his calm exterior. He was two seconds away from committing a possible hate crime—but he held it together. They both did. Any crack in composure would be confirmation of defeat, and neither of them would ever willingly admit to losing to Damien.

  This would be so much easier if he wasn’t involved, Akio thought with deep resignation. Without Damien, they wouldn’t have to deal with his pettiness. His smug, insufferable delight in their suffering.

  Akio was still weighing their increasingly limited options when he sensed movement nearby. He glanced up just in time to see Yoru approaching the table. Her steps were quiet, almost hesitant, as if she were worried about interrupting them.

  She stopped a respectful distance away, giving a small nod first to Akio, then to Gabriel, before turning her attention to Damien. Instinctively, the three of them paused, the tension in the air shifting as they made space for her to speak.

  “So…” Yoru began, voice a little shy but steady. “Cecily is letting me help with her photoshoot. She said you were modeling too. Is that… true?”

  Akio felt his breath catch. Beside him, Gabriel went utterly still. Neither of them spoke. They both turned their attention fully to Damien, watching him with the focus of people witnessing an unprecedented event. If this went poorly, it would be catastrophic. But if it went well—

  Damien didn’t answer right away.

  Akio could see the gears turning in his head. Damien took in Yoru’s tone, the careful hope in her expression, the way she was clearly bracing herself for disappointment. And for the first time all morning, the tiniest crack appeared in that immaculate composure.

  “There’s no way,” Gabriel whispered under his breath.

  Akio silently prayed to every power that might be listening.

  “I…” Damien said, then paused.

  “Yes.”

  Yoru’s face lit up instantly, the relief and joy unmistakable. “Really?” she said, brightening. “I’m so happy! That means a lot to me.”

  “…Of course,” Damien added, sounding faintly like he’d just signed his own death warrant.

  Akio remained outwardly composed. Internally, he ascended.

  Yoru had done the impossible. She’d accomplished in one sentence what thirty minutes of negotiation, strategy, and psychological maneuvering could not. The doomed mission was suddenly, and miraculously, a success.

  She’s such a hero, he thought with the reverence of one worshiping a goddess. We’re saved. Amen.

  Gabriel, beside him, bowed his head slightly, as if offering a silent prayer of gratitude to a newly revealed saint.

  Yoru glanced back at them. She looked curious, pleased, and a little proud—completely unaware of the magnitude of what she’d just done. Akio offered a small, grateful smile in return. The Twin Hounds would live to see another day, and it was entirely thanks to her.

  “Well then,” he said evenly, as though this outcome had been anticipated all along, “we should get going.”

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  Gabriel shot Damien a sidelong glance, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Wouldn’t want to be late now, monsieur.”

  Damien responded with a withering glare but said nothing.

  The four of them made their way toward the photoshoot location. As soon as they stepped onto the set, Akio was hit with a sensory overload: bright studio lights angled from every direction, long tables draped in vividly colored fabrics, mirrors propped against stands, cameras, makeup kits, garment racks. At the center of it all stood Cecily, happily humming to herself as she sorted through outfits with the focus of a mad scientist at work.

  The moment she spotted them, she lit up.

  “Perfect timing, besties!” Cecily chirped, already skipping over before anyone could protest. She adjusted her glasses and immediately began shoving clothing into their arms. “Changing rooms are over there—try these on! I just know these are going to look fabulous on you three.”

  Akio accepted the outfit on reflex, then froze, staring down at the fabric in his hands. That was the exact moment it sank in: this was really happening. A quick glance to either side confirmed his fears—Gabriel looked resigned, Damien openly displeased. But there really was no other choice.

  With a quiet sigh, he headed for one of the changing rooms. The fabric slid easily over his skin as he changed, surprisingly cool and well tailored. When he finally looked at himself in the mirror, he paused.

  A light collared shirt, a pale blue tie, a light gray vest fitted neatly over it. Dark trousers cinched with a belt, accented by delicate silver chains on one side. And over it all, a long white jacket trimmed with silver. The look was dress-casual yet refined—academic, exactly as Cecily had promised. It was far fancier than anything Akio would normally choose for himself… but, all things considered, it could have been much worse.

  He slipped his arms through the jacket sleeves and stepped out.

  Immediately, Cecily gasped.

  “Oh my god—yes!” she exclaimed, rushing toward him with uncontained delight. “It looks even better than I hoped! The colors match your natural tones perfectly. This is exactly what I envisioned!”

  Before he could respond, she grabbed one of his sleeves, frowning in concentration. “Ooh—wait, babe. You’re not supposed to put your arms through the sleeves.”

  Akio blinked. “I’m not?”

  “Yep!” Cecily beamed, already fixing the jacket. “You just drape it over your shoulders. Like a cape. Sleeves are purely decorative here.”

  Akio complied automatically, though his thoughts lagged a step behind. “But… doesn’t that go against the whole point of having sleeves?”

  Cecily finished adjusting the coat and gave him a satisfied wink. “It’s fashion. Some things are just for aesthetic~”

  Akio was still processing that answer when Cecily turned sharply, already calling out across the set. “Yoru! Come look! What do you think?”

  Yoru approached a little hesitantly, steps light and careful. She stopped just in front of him, eyes lingering longer than he expected. For a brief moment, they made eye contact.

  Then she looked away.

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks faintly warm. “It looks really nice…” she said softly.

  Cecily beamed even brighter. “I know, right?!”

  Akio stood there, suddenly aware of himself in a way he hadn’t been a moment ago. His attention drifted back to Yoru. She glanced at him again, just for a second, before looking away once more.

  Was she always this shy? he wondered. And maybe it was just the lighting, or the heat from the studio lamps… but he couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that she was blushing.

  Before he could dwell on it, the soft scrape of fabric drew his attention as one of the changing room curtains slid open.

  Akio turned just in time to see Gabriel step out, clearly enjoying himself. The academic theme was there, but with a playful twist—a dark gray collared shirt paired with a dark red tie worn just loose enough to look intentional, brown pants with overall straps accented by small gold buckles. He twirled a beret between his fingers like a prop he’d been waiting to deploy.

  Gabriel strode over and gave a dramatic bow.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished chaos gremlins,” he announced, placing the beret atop his head with a flourish. “I have arrived.”

  Cecily immediately lost her mind.

  “It’s perfect!” she cried, circling him. “I knew you would absolutely slay in the overalls!”

  Akio smiled despite himself. Fashion, for all its impracticalities, was something Gabriel genuinely enjoyed—and seeing that easy delight on his face softened something in Akio’s chest.

  “You look good,” he said simply.

  Gabriel flashed him a charming grin. “So do you.” His voice softened just a touch. “The jacket suits you.”

  Akio hesitated, then considered that. “You think so?”

  Before Gabriel could answer, Akio noticed Cecily had gone very, very still. He looked over and, much to his dismay, found she was staring at the two of them with a grin that could only be described as predatory.

  “This is literally textbook boyfriend behavior,” Cecily declared.

  “We were talking about the clothes,” Akio said flatly.

  “On the surface, yes,” Cecily replied immediately. “But don’t you see? It’s more than that. The unspoken care. The quiet admiration. The way you both make each other feel seen just by being there—”

  “Fellas,” Gabriel cut in mildly, “is it gay to compliment your friend’s looks?”

  “Apparently,” Akio replied.

  From nearby, Yoru let out a small, helpless giggle.

  The soft scrape of another curtain drawing open cut through the chatter, and all of them turned instinctively toward the sound.

  Damien stepped out and approached without a hint of hesitation. Where Gabriel’s outfit leaned playful and academic, Damien’s was dark, severe, and deliberate—an interpretation of the same theme stripped of warmth. Black and charcoal dominated the palette: a high collared shirt with faint cross-hatching barely visible in the fabric, a black tie pulled perfectly straight, dark trousers secured with a belt accented in gold. Over it all hung a long black coat, dramatic in cut, punctuated by straps and subtle buckles, with touches of ember-orange threading catching the light.

  Cecily gasped like she’d just witnessed a religious experience.

  “YES!!” she squealed, clapping her hands together. “This is literally perfect! Your entire vibe just screams dark academia!”

  Damien stopped beside the group and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves with practiced precision. Outwardly, he looked as detached as ever, but Akio caught the faintest flicker of intrigue in his expression as he examined the fabric.

  “Not bad,” Damien admitted coolly. “The tailoring is surprisingly well made.”

  Gabriel placed a hand over his chest, mock solemn. “Truly, the end times must be upon us if Lord Disapproval himself is handing out compliments.”

  Damien shot him a sideways glance. “Please,” he said flatly. “If you never hear compliments, it’s because I don’t waste them on idiots. And do not call me that.”

  While they bickered, Akio found himself staring—not at Damien’s face, but at his coat sleeves. They were long. Structured. Functional. Very much worn.

  His gaze flicked down to his own coat, still draped over his shoulders like an elaborate suggestion of clothing rather than something meant to be used properly. The cut was similar. The length, too. The only real difference was the color. So why—

  “How come he can wear the sleeves?” Akio asked, genuinely perplexed.

  Cecily turned to him, beaming, as though the answer were obvious. “It’s fashion!”

  Akio looked back at Damien’s sleeves. Then at his own. He processed this information for a long, thoughtful second before blinking slowly.

  “…This is irrational,” he concluded.

  Yoru let out a small, genuine laugh at that, lifting a hand to cover part of her face as her shoulders shook.

  Cecily stepped back, radiant with pride, and clapped her hands together once more. “Okay! That’s it! You three look incredible. Absolute slay. We are officially ready for the photoshoot!”

  Akio sighed softly, resignation settling in as he adjusted the coat on his shoulders.

  This was his life now.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Akio