NIOR MANSION
The gates slide open without sound.
Rhea steps out of the car, posture straight, face composed the kind of composure that costs blood to maintain. Her clothes still carry Ling's scent. She doesn't slow down.
Inside, the mansion is too quiet.
Kane is waiting in the living room.
Not pacing.
Not sitting.
Standing.
Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. Assessing.
Rhea stops three steps away.
Kane speaks first.
"Is everything okay?" said Kane.
Her voice is calm. Controlled. The kind of calm that cuts.
Rhea doesn't hesitate.
"Of course."
Kane's gaze drags over her slowly — the faint redness around Rhea's eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the way she's holding herself too tightly.
"You look tired."
Rhea lifts her chin.
"University."
A pause.
Kane steps closer. One measured step. Then another. "You met her."
It's not a question.
Rhea nods once.
"Yes."
Kane exhales through her nose, slow.
"And?"
Rhea keeps her expression neutral. Perfect. Trained.
"Nothing unexpected."
Kane studies her face like she's reading a document line by line.
"You're slipping."
Rhea stiffens just barely.
"I'm not."
Kane reaches out and lifts Rhea's chin with two fingers. Not gentle. Not rough. Possessive.
"Look at me."
Rhea does.
Her eyes are steady. Moist but steady.
"I told you not to get close."
Rhea swallows.
"I know."
"I told you not to feel."
"I don't." said Rhea stiffly.
A lie.
Kane doesn't call it out. She never does. She tightens her grip instead.
Kane searches her face one last time.
Then: "You'll stay away from her."
Silence stretches.
Rhea nods.
Once.
Clean. Obedient.
"I'll stay away. Just like you said." said Rhea.
Kane released her.
Satisfied.
She steps back, already disengaging.
"Go rest."
Rhea turns without another word and walks upstairs.
Her steps are steady.
Only when she reaches her room does the mask crack.
She closes the door softly.
Leans her forehead against it.
Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
No tears fall yet.
She whispers so quietly it barely exists:
"Liar."
Then she straightens, wipes her face, and walks deeper into the room.
Night settles over the Nior mansion like a held breath.
Rhea is halfway through changing when she hears it not a sound, exactly, more a shift. Air disturbed. Curtains moving when they shouldn't.
She freezes.
Then the window slides open.
Ling appears like she owns gravity itself one hand on the frame, body folding in smoothly, boots silent against the floor. Dressed in black. Hair loose. Eyes sharp, amused.
Rhea spins, furious.
"And what the hell are you doing?"
Ling straightens slowly, eyes dragging over her bare legs, loose shirt, hair undone. She smiles like she planned this.
"Breaking in," Ling says calmly. "Obviously."
Rhea storms toward her, grabs her wrist, yanks her fully inside, then slams the window shut.
"Are you insane?" she hisses. "Mom is downstairs."
Ling leans back against the wall, unbothered. Lets Rhea crowd her.
"And?"
Rhea keeps her expression neutral. Perfect. Trained.
"She can't see you."
Ling tilts her head, studying her face too closely.
"She won't," Ling says. "You wouldn't let her."
Rhea scoffs.
"You think you know everything."
Ling's gaze drops to Rhea's mouth. Lingers.
"I know when you're lying."
Rhea steps back, crossing her arms.
"You shouldn't be here."
Ling follows. One step. Then another.
"Yet you didn't call security."
Rhea opens her mouth then shuts it.
Ling smiles wider.
"Missed me?"
Rhea turns away sharply.
"Get out before you ruin everything."
Ling's hand shoots out, catching Rhea's wrist.
"Define everything."
Rhea's breath stutters once. She pulls her hand back.
"You're not funny."
Ling leans in, voice low.
"You scold me better at night."
Rhea glares.
"You climbed three floors. Through a window. Like a criminal."
Ling shrugs.
"For you."
Rhea laughs once, sharp.
"You're impossible."
Ling steps closer until there's barely space left.
"Say it again," she murmurs. "But quieter."
Rhea's jaw tightens.
"You can't stay."
Ling's fingers brush Rhea's waist brief, deliberate, gone.
"I already am."
Rhea closes her eyes for half a second.
When she opens them, Ling is still smiling.
Possessive. Unrepentant.
Outside the room, the mansion sleeps.
Inside, the lie deepens.
"You shouldn't be here." Rhea's voice was sharp. Controlled.
Ling doesn't answer immediately. She looks at her slow, deliberate then smirks.
"Don't act," Ling says quietly. "You missed me."
Rhea scoffs, but it comes out too fast.
"You're delusional."
Ling reaches up and pulls her hoodie over her head, tossing it aside like it's nothing. She walks straight to Rhea's bed, uninvited, unquestioned, and sits down heavily.
She pulls the blanket up around herself.
"Come," Ling says, patting the mattress lazily. "Let's gossip."
Rhea stares at her.
"This is not funny."
Ling raises a brow.
"You scolded me already. That was the serious part."
Rhea exhales through her nose, irritated and then, against her own judgment, she walks over and sits.
The mattress dips.
Ling doesn't waste a second.
She shifts, pulls Rhea back, positioning her between her legs. Her back hits the headboard. Rhea's back settles against Ling's chest like it was practiced.
Rhea stiffens.
"Ling—"
Ling's chin drops near Rhea's shoulder.
"Relax."
Her arms come around Rhea slowly wrapping, trapping. Present. Certain.
Rhea leans forward instinctively, then stops herself.
Too late.
Ling's fingers slide down and intertwine over Rhea's waist, thumbs resting where her pulse betrays her.
Silence stretches.
Rhea swallows.
"You're going to get caught."
Ling hums softly, amused.
"By who?"
"My mom."
"And?" Ling repeats, voice lazy.
Rhea keeps her expression neutral. Perfect. Trained.
"She can't know."
Ling presses her forehead lightly against the back of Rhea's head.
"She won't."
Rhea's fingers curl into the blanket.
"You're reckless."
Ling's grip tightens just enough to be felt.
"You're shaking."
"I'm not."
Ling smiles against her hair.
"Lie better."
Rhea tilts her head back a fraction before she can stop herself — the contact sends a quiet jolt through her.
Ling notices everything.
Her fingers interlace more firmly, claiming the space they're already in.
"We're just talking," Ling murmurs. "Gossiping. Like you said."
Rhea's voice drops.
"You don't gossip like this."
Ling exhales against her neck.
"So," Ling says, "did your mother give you another lecture about bad influences tonight?"
Rhea scoffs, trying to sound bored.
"You're not an influence. You're a disaster."
Ling chuckles softly against her shoulder.
"A disaster you let into your room. Through a window."
Rhea shifts, annoyed.
"I didn't let you—"
Ling interrupts, fingers tightening just enough to remind her who's holding her.
"You didn't stop me."
Rhea clicks her tongue.
"You're unbearable."
Ling grins. "Say it again."
Rhea rolls her eyes. "Unbearable."
Ling leans closer. "Louder."
"You're—" Rhea pauses, feels Ling's breath near her ear, and snaps, "You're impossible."
Ling laughs quietly, pleased.
"Better."
Rhea tries to move forward, but Ling doesn't let her. Instead, she tilts her head back against the headboard, deliberately crowding Rhea's space.
"You're sitting wrong," Rhea mutters.
Ling hums. "I like it."
Rhea taunts back, sharper now. "Of course you do. You like anything that feels like control."
Ling's smile turns slow, dangerous.
"And you like pretending you hate it."
Rhea opens her mouth to argue and Ling's fingers suddenly move.
They slide, quick and unexpected, digging lightly into Rhea's sides.
Rhea jerks.
"Ling—!"
Ling doesn't stop. She tickles her again, merciless and precise.
Rhea gasps, then laughs sharp at first, then real, breaking through despite herself.
"Stop— wait— Ling!"
Ling laughs too now, low and victorious, holding her tighter so she can't escape.
"There," she murmurs. "There's the real one."
Rhea twists, laughing, breathless, trying to get away and in the chaos, they end up too close.
Too close.
Rhea's laughter dies first.
She realizes where she is how her back is pressed to Ling's chest, how Ling's chin is near her shoulder, how their breathing has synced without permission, how close their lips are.
Ling realizes it a heartbeat later.
Silence drops.
Rhea smiles before she can stop herself. Small. Unguarded.
Ling's breath catches.
She leans in slow enough to give Rhea time to pull away.
Rhea doesn't.
Ling's lips brush hers soft, brief, deliberate.
A kiss that doesn't ask.
Rhea's cheeks warm instantly. She looks down, flustered, lashes lowered.
Ling watches her reaction like it's everything.
"See?" Ling murmurs. "Gossip."
Rhea doesn't answer.
She stays where she is, still between Ling's legs, but her hands have gone still. The teasing smile fades from her face, replaced by something fragile she rarely allows to surface. Ling notices immediately. She always does.
Rhea exhales slowly.
"When you left," she says quietly, eyes fixed on the far wall, "after… all of that revenge mess… I was scared."
Ling's arms tense around her for a fraction of a second.
Rhea keeps talking before Ling can interrupt.
"I knew what I was part of. I knew Mom's plan. I didn't stop it fast enough." Her fingers twist into the blanket.
"But when you walked away like that, like I was already dead to you… I thought I'd lost you for real."
Ling lowers her chin to Rhea's shoulder, listening.
"I wanted revenge," Rhea admits, voice shaking now.
"I won't lie about that. I grew up with it. It was fed to me like oxygen." She swallows.
"But my feelings for you weren't fake. Not even once. That part was real. Terrifyingly real."
Silence stretches.
Ling's grip didn't loosened. Her hands slide from Rhea's waist to her stomach, resting there, grounding.
"You should've said something," Ling murmurs.
"I tried," Rhea whispers back. "Every time, something stopped me. Mom. Timing. Fear. You."
Ling lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but it's not mocking.
"You're unbelievable."
Rhea turns her head slightly. "That's all you have to say?"
Ling shifts, pulling Rhea closer so her back is fully pressed to her chest.
"No," Ling says calmly. "I also owe you an apology."
Rhea stiffens.
Ling continues, voice steady. "I left because I thought staying would finish breaking me. I didn't think about what it would do to you." A pause. "That part's on me."
Rhea's eyes sting. She doesn't wipe them.
Ling tilts her head, nudging Rhea's temple with her forehead. "But don't think you're off the hook."
Rhea lets out a weak huff. "There it is."
Ling's tone sharpens, teasing returning like armor sliding back into place.
"You terrified me," Ling says. "You played with fire and expected me not to burn."
"I didn't play—"
Ling's fingers press lightly into Rhea's stomach, silencing her.
"And yet," Ling adds, softer now, "you're still here. And so am I."
Rhea turns fully this time, twisting enough to look at her. Their faces are close again, breaths mingling.
Ling smirks. "So next time you're scared, you don't wait for revenge plots to end. You tell me."
Rhea nods slowly. "Okay."
Ling's smile widens, dangerous and fond at the same time.
"Good," she says. "Because if you disappear on me again, I'll climb through that window every night just to remind you who you belong to."
Rhea scoffs, cheeks warm. "You're impossible."
Ling leans in, brushing her nose against Rhea's.
"And you love it."
She kisses her slow, certain.
Just staying.
They don't move apart.
Instead, the silence stretches until it becomes uncomfortable, honest.