Morning
Nox stepped out of the room dressed in a rosemary-colored turtleneck tucked into clean-cut black trousers. His violet eyes framed by loose strands of black hair that had escaped his usual messy bun. The fit hugged his waist in a way that was entirely illegal, and the rich color contrasted his pale skin like art in motion. He didn't say a word, just walked into the room like he wasn't about to cause a national crisis.
Leo looked up from his coffee, stared for a good five seconds, and then said, "No. You're too distracting. Too flashy. Hoodie. Now."
Nox blinked once, expression unbothered. "Okay."
He turned around, went back into the room, and returned three minutes later in his usual black hoodie and cargo pants. His belly button piercing peeked out when he lifted his arms to tie his bun. Leo crossed his arms.
"Mask. Cap."
Nox sighed like a long-suffering saint, pulled on his black mask and low baseball cap without complaint.
From the stairwell, Dominik and the ex-boss watched like scandalized aunts at a telenovela.
"Why is that killer assassin so calmly obedient?" Dominik whispered.
"Did you see the way Leo stared at him? He looked like a husband trying to stop his man from breaking hearts in public," the ex-boss muttered.
College Registration
The campus was buzzing with students, but Leo and Nox were ghosts in the system—fake identities flawless, records immaculate thanks to Nox's earlier hacking. They went through registration with practiced ease, attending the admin orientation, nodding at things they'd never follow.
Leo chose electives in strategic planning and international business—his brain already calculating territorial grids and cover operations. Nox, for reasons only he found logical, picked art history and AI systems "for fun."
They received their student IDs and schedules, then slipped away to their usual rooftop access door—a forgotten maintenance stairwell that led to a quiet, open skyline.
There, they ate cup noodles, sharing smokes under the overcast sky. Leo leaned back, holding the lighter up silently as Nox shifted his mask halfway down to light his cigarette off Leo's. Neither spoke. They didn't need to.
Apartment Hunting
That afternoon, they toured apartments near campus. To anyone watching, they were just two quiet college boys—one intense and the other unreadable.
They settled on a top-floor apartment. Two bedrooms. Solid sunlight. A small private rooftopand wine celler.
But what sold it was the hidden basement space.
"Clean storage," Nox said simply.
Leo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The lease was signed in twenty minutes.
Dinner & Nightfall
Dinner was a ramen place three blocks away. Nox got the spiciest broth on the menu with a gallon of garlic. Leo didn't comment—just slid a pack of gum to him across the table afterward like it was ritual.
Back at the new apartment, Nox laid out the gear he'd unpacked: old-school posters, newly polished daggers, and their matching rifles—initials etched near the trigger in sharp silver.
Leo inspected them like they were priceless antiques. "Were you the one who etched our initials?"
"It felt right."
Leo said nothing but held the rifle a little longer than necessary.
They watched a movie sprawled on the couch. The kind with grainy fight scenes and dramatic synth music. Nox's legs stretched across Leo's lap, a cigarette between his fingers. Leo leaned in, took Nox's cigarette into his own mouth, and lit his with it, free hand resting on Nox's neck, tracing the thorns of the Roman tattoo he always pretended not to care about.
Nox didn't flinch.
"You used to wear your mask all the time," Leo said.
"I'll put it back on when we're on campus."
"Good. Don't smile the third year rep fainted."
Dominik's Meltdown
From the rooftop garden above their unit, Dominik clutched a file like it was a horror script.
"They made dinner together. Watched a movie. Lit cigarettes using each other's mouths. Do you understand? That's domestic. That's marital."
The ex-boss was sipping wine, very much amused.
"The assassin let the mafia prince braid his hair."
"They shared a rifle set. Matching. Initials. Are you getting this?! They have coordinated piercings. THEY TOUCHED NECKS."
"You're very invested, Dom."
"I'm not invested. I'm emotionally compromised! We are watching two emotionally constipated idiots stumble into something we are not allowed to call love."
The ex-boss smirked. "At least we've got front-row seats."
Dominik stared off the balcony. "One day they'll realize. And when they do, I'm either going to cry or combust."
"Let's hope it's not both."
End of Chapter