The moment I’m out of sight, I press a hand to the wall and take a long breath.
My fingers still tingle from her skin. My throat is dry. My heart, traitorous thing, hasn’t slowed since the second our eyes met.
And now every molecule in my body is screaming at me for leaving her behind.
And her mouth. The way she bit her lip like she was suppressing instinct.
And worse—I wanted to lose mine.
I wasn’t even watching the stream.
I was in the southern wing when it aired. Busy reviewing troop schedules, skimming supply manifests, ignoring the buzz of excitement rippling through the system like it mattered. I’d already voiced my opposition to the Yuai Match Program so thoroughly that every lab assistant and council member likely dreamt of my arguments.
The project was an experiment. A vanity exercise. An indulgence for scientists who believed they could refine nature’s most volatile force, bonding, into something predictable. Controlled. Contained.
I had no interest in watching it play out.
At least, not until I heard my name.
Loud. Definitive. Echoing through the hall like a warning bell.
“YUAI MATE IN QUESTION IS KAYON PERTRON!”
I froze mid-step.
And then I moved—fast.
I was ready to dismantle the entire panel. To call out the manipulation in front of the full broadcast stream.
But then I saw her.
And everything... shifted.
She stood in the middle of the room, flushed and breathing unevenly. Her clothing was strange, bright, soft. Her hair was unkempt. Her lip was bitten red.
And my body reacted before I understood what I was seeing.
Heat flushed through my chest. My limbs felt unstable. I was… aware of her. Every detail. Her pulse. Her breathing. The faint scent of her skin, even from a few paces away. I could feel something tugging from the center of me, a draw that made no logical sense.
I wasn’t angry anymore.
I masked it quickly. Said the first thing I could think of, that I felt nothing. That I was simply analyzing her face. But the truth is I had no idea what I felt.
Only that it scared me.
I reach the far corridor before I stop again, breathing hard.
This was supposed to be a theory. An experiment.
Now I feel like I’ve been claimed by something I didn’t consent to.
I make the call. To the only one I can even remotely call family.
Revek.
He’s the only one I trust to give me a straight answer without posturing. The only one who’ll listen without turning me into a symbol. And more importantly, the only member of the Council of Four who might be willing to undo this quietly.
He’s waiting in the northern sector’s quiet court, tucked behind the archives. Off-duty robes. Arms folded. Posture relaxed. But his eyes are sharp as ever.
“You got here fast,” he says, voice even.
“I need to speak with you privately,” I say. My tone is clipped, direct. No room for ceremony.
“I assumed that.” He gestures toward the stone bench under the outcropped roots. “Sit before you boil over.”
I remain standing.
“You saw the broadcast,” I say.
“Of course.”
“Then you understand why I’m here.”
I ignore the jab. “I want it voided. The match. The record. The announcement. Quietly.”
Revek blinks once. “You want me to overrule the machine everyone has been speaking on for the last 5 years?”
“You’re a Councilor.”
He studies me. “You’re serious.”
“Do I look like I’m here to chat?”
A beat of silence stretches between us.
Then he leans back against the wall. “You’re asking a lot. In fact, what you’re asking is impossible, even for me.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m asking you to help protect what I’ve built.”
Revek doesn’t respond immediately. He’s not one to rush words. He watches me instead. Like he’s trying to look past what I said and see what I won’t.
Which means everything I am now, everything I’ve earned, has had to be cleaner. Stronger. Untouchable.
Revek’s voice is low. “You think this weakens you.”
“I think it opens a door I’ve kept locked for a reason.”
He watches me for a moment longer. “And what reason is that?”
I hesitate.
Then I speak, voice level. “Because affection, in my world, was always transactional. Because in my family, trust was leverage, and love was a weapon. And I don’t—” I catch myself. Adjust. “I can’t afford to have my clarity compromised.”
“You think this match compromises you.”
Revek is silent again, but his posture shifts. He’s not dismissing me. He’s considering the weight of what I’ve said.
“Your service has been flawless,” he says. “You’ve never bent. Never broken. You are the most disciplined guard we have.”
“Then let me stay that way.”
“You believe this human, Mindy, undoes all of that?”
He nods slowly. “And what if she doesn’t go away quietly?”
“Then I need your help to ensure this match is treated as an error. A system fault. Nothing more.”
His expression tightens, not from disagreement, but from something quieter. Disappointment, maybe. Or understanding.
“You think I haven’t seen you claw your way out of your parents’ shadow?” he says. “You think I don’t know what it took for you to carry that name into every hall and never let it own you?”
“Then you know why I can’t let this happen.”
“I’m not scared,” I snap. “I’m focused.”
“No, you’re rattled. You came straight to me. No delay.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
Revek exhales, then straightens. “I won’t void the match, Kayon. I can’t.”
The silence that follows is heavier than any threat.
“I do not want any of this.”
“I know, and I apologize. I can assure you it will be your decision, not that of the Yuai Match machine, at the end of this.”
I give a small nod. I have already made my decision, so that’s all I need to hear. I turn to leave.
“But,” Revek adds, and I stop mid-step. “There will be questions. Curiosity. Whispers.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Let them whisper.”
He smiles faintly. “Let them, yes. But give them nothing to feed on. Take her out tomorrow. Show her the facilities. A brief tour. Nothing more. It will look... cleaner. Less like a rejection, more like a consideration. Give the people of this planet even a taste of what they’ve been craving so we don’t have a revolt on our hands.”
“A farce in motion,” I mutter.
“Perhaps,” he agrees. “But a necessary one. For me, Kayon.”
I exhale through my nose, jaw tight. He rarely asks for anything. Which is exactly why it’s harder to ignore.
“Fine,” I say, already regretting it. “But why does it feel like this conversation wasn’t about comforting me at all... but about making the planet happy?”
Revek meets my eyes, unfazed. “Because when the planet is happy, Kayon, we are all happy.”
I leave without another word, pretending it doesn’t already feel like a huge mistake.
