CHAPTER 20: SEDUCTION BY SAKE AND C-LIST ACTION FLICKS

The movie’s opening credits rolled across the screen, a symphony of explosions and screeching tires that promised exactly the kind of mindless entertainment I’d been counting on. Some action blockbuster about a rogue agent with nothing left to lose. Perfect. The plot wasn’t the point—the distraction was.

"This is garbage," Natalia muttered from her end of the sofa, chopsticks poised above a piece of fatty tuna. She’d changed into silk pajamas, her hair falling in damp waves around her face.

"It’s art," I countered, taking a slow sip of sake. The warmth bloomed in my chest, a pleasant counterpoint to the ache in my muscles. "Sometimes the brain needs garbage."

Natalia snorted, but she didn’t reach for the remote. Instead, she popped the tuna into her mouth, her eyes flickering to me for a fraction of a second before returning to the screen.

That’s how it had been for the last twenty minutes. Quick, furtive glances when she thought I wasn’t looking. Her eyes tracking my movements like I was some dangerous animal that had wandered into her living room.

The old Satori was gone.

This new reality didn’t fit into her neat little boxes. Good thing I’d spent years learning how to exploit exactly that kind of cognitive dissonance.

I reached for a dragon roll, my arm stretching across the space between us. Her eyes followed the movement, lingering on the definition that had emerged in my forearm.

"More sake?" I offered, holding up the bottle.

She pushed her cup forward, still not meeting my eyes. "Thanks."

As I poured, I let my gaze drift over her face. The flush from her shower had faded, replaced by a different kind of heat. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and it wasn’t from the alcohol—she’d barely touched her first cup.

[Status Update: Target experiencing—]

I pushed the System’s notification aside. I didn’t need a supernatural cheat code to read a woman’s body language.

On screen, the protagonist was engaged in a high-speed chase through narrow city streets. The camera work was deliberately chaotic, all shaky close-ups and rapid cuts designed to disorient.

"This cinematography is giving me a headache," Natalia complained, but she leaned forward slightly, drawn into the spectacle despite herself.

"That’s the point. They want you to feel the chaos." I shifted, stretching my legs out under the coffee table. The movement made my shirt ride up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above my waistband. Natalia’s eyes darted down, then away.

I suppressed a smile. This was almost too easy.

"So," I said conversationally, "are you going to tell me what really happened in that cave?"

Her chopsticks froze halfway to her mouth. "What do you mean?"

"The Overload. That was more than just exhaustion, wasn’t it?" I kept my tone casual, curious rather than accusatory.

Natalia set her chopsticks down, her shoulders tensing. "It happens sometimes when I push too hard. It’s none of your business."

"It becomes my business when I have to carry you through half a mile of monster-infested tunnels."

Her face darkened. "I didn’t ask you to—"

"You didn’t have to ask. You’re my partner, remember?" I cut her off, meeting her gaze directly.

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.

"It’s happened before," she admitted quietly. "When I train too hard, or when I try to maintain multiple telekinetic constructs at once. Daddy calls it ’overextension.’ Says I need to learn my limits."

"And the Cryo-Lich Ring? It’s supposed to help with that?"

Her eyes lit up, the first genuine enthusiasm I’d seen from her all evening. "It’s a stabilization catalyst. The Lich cores have properties that help regulate mana flow and prevent feedback loops in the neural pathways. With it, I could maintain my shield and offensive constructs simultaneously without risking an Overload. Plus, it can let me gain access to minor cryokinetic abilities."

"Smart investment."

A comfortable silence fell between us as we returned our attention to the movie. The protagonist was now infiltrating a high-security facility.

"That’s not how you take down a sentry," Natalia muttered, picking up another piece of sushi. "His form is all wrong."

I chuckled. "You’re a combat expert now?"

She shot me a withering look. "I’ve been training since I was five. And that?" She gestured at the screen with her chopsticks. "That would get you killed in two seconds flat."

"Show me," I challenged, my voice dropping slightly. "What would you do differently?"

Her eyes narrowed, assessing whether I was mocking her. Finding no trace of sarcasm, she set her plate aside.

"First of all, you never approach from the front like that," she explained, her hands moving in demonstration. "You use their blind spots. And that grip he’s using? Total amateur hour. You’d lose control of the weapon instantly."

"Where did you learn all this?" I asked.

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Daddy hired private instructors. Combat specialists from different disciplines. He wanted me to be prepared."

"For what?"

"For everything."

On screen, the action had escalated. The protagonist was now engaged in a firefight, bullets whizzing past as he dove for cover. The sound design was impressive, each shot a thunderclap in our living room.

Without warning, a massive explosion ripped across the screen. The sound system boomed, the bass so deep it rattled the plates on the coffee table. It was a cheap jump scare, telegraphed a mile away, but effective nonetheless.

Natalia flinched hard, her body jerking sideways instinctively. She collided with my side, her head thumping against my shoulder and bicep. For a split second, we both froze.

I felt her sharp intake of breath, the moment of shock registering. Her hair brushed against my neck, soft and still slightly damp. Her skin radiated warmth through the thin silk of her pajamas.

She didn’t pull away immediately.

For one heartbeat, then two, then three, she remained pressed against me, her cheek against my shoulder. I didn’t move, didn’t look at her, kept my eyes fixed on the screen as if nothing unusual was happening.

[Schema Points +5.]

Finally, as if coming to her senses, Natalia jerked away. She scrambled back to her side of the couch, putting maximum distance between us. From the corner of my eye, I could see the furious blush spreading across her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing into the collar of her pajamas.

"Sorry," she mumbled, reaching for her sake cup and draining it in one go.

I shrugged casually. "It was a good explosion."

She shot me a look, part embarrassment, part irritation. "It was cheap. You could see it coming a mile away."

"And yet." I smiled slightly, still not looking directly at her.

She busied herself with rearranging the sushi platters, creating a more substantial barrier between us on the couch.

I allowed myself a small, knowing smile, visible only in the flickering light of the television. I took another slow sip of sake, savoring the burn.

"You’ve really changed," she said suddenly, her voice so quiet I almost missed it under the movie’s soundtrack.

I turned to look at her directly this time. "What was that?"

She met my gaze, something uncertain flickering in her violet eyes. "I said you’ve changed. Your body, your behavior, everything. It’s like you’re a different person."

If only she knew how right she was.

"Maybe I am," I said, holding her gaze. "Or maybe this is who I always was, underneath."

A shadow of confusion crossed her face. "That doesn’t make any sense."

I leaned forward slightly. "People are layers, Natalia. What you see isn’t always what’s really there."

She frowned, studying me with an intensity that might have been uncomfortable if I weren’t so accustomed to being assessed.

"Why now?" she asked. "Why the sudden transformation?"

I considered my answer carefully. This was delicate territory. Too much truth would sound absurd. Too much fiction would ring false.

"Let’s just say I had a wake-up call," I said finally. "I saw myself through someone else’s eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw. So I decided to change it."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Death has a way of putting things into perspective.

Natalia seemed to accept this, nodding slowly. "I still don’t understand how you manifested an Aspect so late. It’s practically unheard of."

I shrugged. "Maybe it was always there, just waiting for the right trigger. Or maybe I’m a medical miracle. Either way..." I held up my hand, summoning a small flame to dance across my palm. The fire cast shadows across my face, highlighting the angles that had emerged as the fat melted away. "I’m not a Zero anymore."

Her eyes fixed on the flame, then rose to meet mine.

"No," she agreed quietly. "You’re definitely not."

I extinguished the flame with a flick of my wrist. "More sushi?" I offered, reaching for a plate of unagi.

She nodded, accepting the change of subject. But as I passed her the plate, our fingers brushed briefly. I felt her tense, saw the quick rise and fall of her chest.

I smiled to myself as we turned our attention back to the movie. I finally realized my purpose here. This wasn’t just about seduction anymore.

This was about reinvention. About power. About taking everything this world had denied Satori and claiming it as my own.

Starting with the purple-haired princess sitting on the other end of this couch.