David stared at his phone screen.
A new message appeared.
> Just... breathe slowly again. Please.
David’s hands were still trembling.
He hadn’t even sent "Hi"—his heartbeat had been too loud.
But now... Fiona messaged first?
David’s lips parted slightly.
"Breathe slowly? Is that... like, code? Or... some kind of modern urban girl fetish that’s trending now?"
His fingers slowly typed a reply:
> You mean... like... real breathing?
But he didn’t send it right away.
He looked at the chat name.
"Damn it, don’t get ahead of yourself, David.
It could be a mistake.
Maybe it was meant for a friend. Or—
He deleted the message.
His breathing grew heavier.
His shirt stuck to his chest, half-lifted with each exhale, exposing abs still slick from stress-sweat. A single drop slid from his collarbone to his bellybutton. His pajama waistband hung loose, revealing the top curve of his hip—a body trained for strength, now reacting like a teenager to six words.
Glanced at the mirror.
"I seriously need to finish that push-up set.
My brain’s spiraling."
Meanwhile, Fiona was still staring at the screen.
The screen stayed lit.
Three dots bouncing. Typing...
She immediately rolled to the left,
Her feet kicked the blanket like she was trying to self-destruct. The blanket slipped halfway down her chest, revealing the curve of one shoulder and the slight bounce of her camisole-covered breasts. Her thighs rubbed together under the sheets, a subtle friction born from panic and heat. Even embarrassment had a physical shape—and right now, it hugged her tightly like static.
"I thought it was SatowuBot!
Why do the notifs look so similar?!"
Fiona covered her face with her hands—
but peeked through the gaps between her fingers.
"David’s gonna think I’m horny for him...
just from... breathing..."
Suddenly, her screen turned off.
"Oh my god... oh my god... oh my god..."
She turned it back on.
Her heart pounded like a drumline.
The screen came to life.
A new notification appeared:
> David is recording a voice message...
"OH MY GOD, HE’S RESPONDING WITH A VOICE MESSAGE?!"
into two crashing emotional planets:
Embarrassment and Curiosity.
Her finger hovered over the exit chat button...
"I... have to hear it..."
Her phone buzzed again.
> Voice message – 0:06
Fiona opened it slowly.
David’s voice came through...
His breathing was heavy.
> "If that’s what you want...
But first, tell me—was that really meant for me?"
She threw her phone onto the pillow and screamed. "AARRRGHH!!! WHAT IS THIS—WHY IS IT TURNING OUT ?!"
The pillow squished between her breasts, her nipples pressing gently against the fabric. A tremor ran down her stomach, tightening her core. The deep rumble of David’s voice had lit something warm in her belly—an ache too confusing to name, too innocent to resist, and too late to deny.
The dawn air wasn’t even cool yet.
But David was already drenched in sweat,
like he’d just been punished to run laps around Floor 10 without buffs.
His shirt clung to him.
He stood in front of the mirror in his rental room,
staring at his own reflection.
he hadn’t slept at all.
wait, no—Fiona’s message—
still echoed in his head:
> "Just... breathe slowly again. Please."
"I don’t get it. Was that... a mistake? Or maybe..."
David swallowed hard.
He glanced at the mirror again.
Stared at his own face.
though tired—was still... symmetrical.
Jawline chiseled thanks to daily push-ups and a low-sodium diet.
He gave a small smirk.
"...I’m handsome," he whispered.
But his smile didn’t last.
Behind the mirror, behind the muscles—
he was still just a man
who had lived too long without knowing
what it meant to be needed.
And now, a single mistyped message
had made him want something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
Then nodded to himself.
"Yeah... yeah... no wonder Fiona likes me even though we just met hmm..."
He nodded again, more confidently this time.
But with that movement...
his eyebrows lifted slightly.
His once-proud chin now looked hesitant.
As if his reflection was asking:
"You sure about that?"
David suddenly panicked.
"...NO NO NO. DON’T CATCH FEELINGS YET. FOCUS. FOCUS."
a small flower had already begun to bloom.
looked a lot like the 🙂 emoji.
Fiona was still staring at the ceiling.
The fan spun slowly above—
as if counting the digital sins she’d just committed.
> "Just... breathe slowly again. Please."
...replied with a voice note.
"I SENT IT TO THE WRONG PERSON AND HE CAUGHT FEELINGS?!"
She curled up in bed.
Her left hand hugged a pillow.
torn between opening the chat and throwing her phone out the window.
"SatowuBot never sends voice notes, damn it..."
Fiona let out a breath.
She hugged the pillow tighter.
"...Why does he have such a deep voice too...
Do all guys have two modes: cold & muscular, or stupid & heart-throbbing?"
She looked at her phone again.
Typing bubbles appeared:
"AAAAAA I’M NOT READY!!! WHAT’S HE GONNA DO NOW?!"
Fiona screamed into the void.
But she couldn’t look away from the screen.
what David would write next.
I can’t tell if I want him to stop... or say my name. She thought.
And somewhere far away from early side character romcom—at the place
where pain took shape, and love wore claws.—the Tower still raged.
Velmora move forward,
her movement heavy, weighed down with pressure.
like steam rising from lava forced into cold.
Her eyes locked straight on the transparent dome
that enclosed Nathan and Validia.
In her hand, she gripped her trident—
which had just returned to her.
It shook, not from fear,
"You..." she muttered.
Nathan, who had been gently stroking Validia’s head, looked up in confusion.
"YOU!!!" Velmora screamed,
slamming her trident into the ground,
splitting it with a sharp crack.
Nathan stood up immediately—
still completely naked,
dust clinging to his thighs and shaft—
and stared back at her.
The sunlight hit his lower torso just right, casting highlights along the defined lines of his hips. The dust clung to his shaft like a teasing veil—exposed yet humbled. Each step made it sway slightly, as if trying to reclaim dignity in the middle of Velmora’s fiery accusation.
Validia waking up in confusion.
"You defiled my honor!"
Velmora pointed at him,
her eyes blazing red.
You—You made me touch you!
You took advantage of my emotional weakness for your sick game!"
Nathan threw both hands up.
"I DIDN’T ASK TO BE JERKED OFF!
You were the one who stole the damn start!"
For a split second, Nathan saw something in Velmora’s eyes—
not rage, but betrayal.
The kind you only see in someone who gave you their pride
and realized you didn’t know how to hold it.
But she looked at him like he was.
The transparent dome quivered
as Velmora raised her trident again,
ready to stab through its surface.
But before she could strike—
"—That won’t be enough,"
Velmora froze. The words hit deeper than steel.
Velmora’s fingers tightened, but her grip faltered.
Because she wasn’t stabbing Nathan.
She was stabbing the version of herself that had believed in someone—
to anchor her in a collapsing world.
And now, the trident shook with regret.
Lilith looked at her, smiling—
like a mother watching her child throw a tantrum over a doll.
"You can pierce the dome if you like...
but you won’t stab guilt with a trident, Sweetheart."
Velmora clenched her teeth.
But she didn’t strike.
Her breasts heaved violently with each breath, barely contained by her ruined armor. The top had split further near her right nipple, the leather creaking with every movement. Her rage made her chest shake—an unintentionally erotic rhythm that danced between anger, shame, and the remnants of unwanted desire.
Livia, still in Domina’s arms, suddenly moved—
She hugged Domina tighter.
"Why..." she whispered.
Tears began falling again.
"Why did we want to be saved by her?"
Her eyes glanced toward Lilith.
"Why... are we such cowards...?"
She just stroked her sister’s back gently.
"Why didn’t we choose to die there...
Her hands gripped Domina’s shoulders tightly.
"Why... hic... Why did we ask to forget...