For a fugitive with a glowing curse on his palm and the entire city's syndicate hunters breathing down his neck, Tian Qiren never expected his next hiding spot to smell like instant noodles, wet socks, and the faintest hint of burnt magic. The place Yan Yue called her "internship apartment" was less a home and more a magical hoarder's fever dream.
Yan Yue shoved Qiren inside, slamming the door with such force that a dozen enchanted bottles and flickering relics rattled against the shelves. "Security enchantment up," Yan Yue muttered, activating a cracked artifact that hummed and shimmered, the air warping as silence fell like a threadbare blanket. "This ward blocks heat signatures and nosy bureaucrats. But don't step on the turtle glyph unless you want a surprise bath."
Qiren blinked, blinking away rain and squinting at the chaos. Ancient scrolls teetered like dominoes, magical sparks fizzed from a misconfigured relic, and a drying rack held several pieces of bright blue innerwear dangling over a mound of overdue research submissions. Yan Yue moved around the mess with expert clumsiness—almost knocking over a mug of instant noodles and sending a stack of forms flying—before scooping up a pair of her own underpants (the definite "I-don't-do-matching-laundry" kind) from the desk. She mumbled something about "field calibration" and turned beet red.
Qiren's hope of keeping a straight face crumbled. He pretended to admire a rune-carved frog statue instead.
"Focus!" Yan Yue snapped without looking, already rummaging for a suppressor patch. "Here. Magic suppressant. Stick this on your mark before you fry my thesis notes."
Qiren accepted, but the patch flopped into the remains of an enchanted rice cracker bag. "Technical finesse," he said, trying to peel sticky magic off his fingers.
Yan Yue huffed, snatching the patch and slapping it firmly onto the right spot on his palm. "You're a danger to snacks everywhere," she said, cheeks flushing as she stuck the last of her laundry behind a spellbook.
The apartment was so cramped that any movement risked some magical accident. Qiren kept a wary eye on a potted plant that shimmered with runes and, suspiciously, seemed to squirm when left in the sunbeam. "How do you live in here without blowing up the neighborhood?"
"Surviving the Cataclysm– and my own mess – is a full-time job," Yan Yue said, only half joking.
Without warning, Yan Yue's field notebook—left innocently beside a sandwich—burst to life with a cheery beep, a cartoon face popping from its cover, and chirped, "Intern Yan Yue: flagged for excessive rescue attempts, borderline obsession with arcane hazards, and—note—improper storage of intimate clothing on work surfaces—"
"NO!" Yan Yue lunged, snapping the notebook shut, face now fire-engine red. "You didn't hear that!"
"Don't worry," Qiren deadpanned, "your secret's safe. Unless the plant writes a tell-all."
Yan Yue rolled her eyes, but a small smile escaped. "I'm haunted enough by eldritch laundry. Now you too?"
Qiren grinned, relieved to see her relax.
She pulled a battered ID badge from a drawer and scribbled his name with a glyph-ink pen. "You're now 'Research Subject: Qiren, Anomalous Affinity.' Ministry-approved—until I get caught or you accidentally vaporize my roommate's ramen stash."
Qiren clipped it on, feeling more like a side character in a school play than a most-wanted thief. "What's the plan if someone checks?"
"You pretend to be my project: very uncommunicative, likes to mutter about 'quantum mana flux' and 'dimensional interference'—really spooks security." Yan Yue winked. "It buys us time, especially if you look like you're going to hurl."
He nodded and noticed, too late, that the sentient plant was now nibbling on his shoe. "Is that thing actually hungry or just punishing me for being here?"
"Spirit-sealed. Just ignore it unless it starts glowing green—that means it's about to spit out a research complaint."
Despite himself, Qiren felt some tension slip away. "You're risking a lot to hide me."
Yan Yue straightened. "The city's already dangerous. Letting the Ministry or syndicates have a new Gate anomaly? Worse. Besides, if I get in trouble, it won't be because I left someone to die on the street."
For a second, the seriousness settled. Qiren met her gaze, then tried to lighten the mood: "Let's promise that if all this blows up, we'll at least get our minor disasters grouped together for efficiency."
Yan Yue grinned, stepping back into the wardrobe, tripping over a pile of field uniforms. "That's how you get promoted around here."
Suddenly, alarms blared outside—city broadcasts flashing red. Qiren's suppressed mark tingled beneath the patch, sending a jolt up his arm. "That doesn't sound friendly."
Yan Yue checked her scanner: "Gate anomaly—three blocks away. Monsters inbound, maybe Ministry patrol too." She pressed her hand to the window, runes swirling as dusk gathered outside. "If they scan this room, we're both in for a rewrite."
Qiren hesitated, then squared his shoulders: "I don't suppose you have an enchanted baseball bat handy?"
Yan Yue shoved a broom into his hands. "Close enough. And if you threaten the plant, it bites harder than a Gate beast."
Together, they listened as footsteps pounded in the alley, voices shouting, glyphs glowing under door-cracks. The city's nerves were worn thin—and now, their tiny sanctuary was already under threat.
Yan Yue steeled herself, blue hair catching the last light of her security spell. "Ready, 'research subject'? Tonight, you get to see what survival looks like when fate's out of coffee and patience."
Qiren nodded, heart hammering as his mark pulsed harder, hungry for trouble.
Outside—danger, monsters, and a city desperate to eat miracles.
Inside—two unlikely allies, a magical lab, and the very real threat that if this night went wrong, the next department incident report would be titled: "Laundry, Lab Accidents, and the End of the World."