Chapter 211: Chapter 211: Giving
Chapter 211: Giving
The moment Yvonne told him to put his shoes on, Elias knew the night was over.
That was not concern.
That was dismissal.
No one put shoes back on if the next step was going to be fun. Not in a bed. Not on a chair. Not even on a desk, if one had the decency to maintain atmosphere.
Elias did not hide his displeasure. It showed plainly across his face, sulky and sharp, like a child whose candy had been snatched from his hand. He kicked Yvonne once with his right foot.
There was no force behind it.
That made him even more irritated.
He tried to pull his foot out of her hand, failed, then gave her a cold look. "Put them on for me."
The demand was so spoiled it should have been insulting.
Yvonne did not get angry.
She looked down once. Without bending, she hooked the toe of one shoe with her foot and flipped it up neatly, catching it with practiced control.
Elias’s brow lifted.
Yvonne saw the thought cross his face. "Planning something bad again?"
Elias sniffed. "What bad thing? I was only going to climb onto your shoulders when you bent down."
Yvonne said nothing.
She put both shoes back on him anyway.
Once they were secure, Elias jumped down from the desk and walked toward the door without looking back.
His purpose had always been too clear. Since it failed, he left just as cleanly, with no lingering and no shame.
At the office door, he paused.
Then he seemed to remember something. He untied the tie from his waist and tossed it back to Yvonne.
"Keep it or throw it away."
Yvonne caught it.
She stood there holding the fabric, watching the boy leave.
The Pandora’s box she had closed with her own hands still looked painfully tempting. Worse, it left behind something she had not expected to feel.
Regret.
[Yvonne Quinn’s favorability has increased. Current value: 43%.]
Only after Elias walked out of Longhaven Hospital did System Theta dare to speak.
[System Theta: Host...]
It stopped there.
This was probably the biggest setback Elias had suffered since entering the mission.
In a certain sense, he had actively seduced someone and failed. Not only that, he had failed with a woman who had already tasted him before.
Elias’s mood was visibly poor. "I don’t get it either. Yvonne’s character shouldn’t be like this."
In the original plot, she had been the kind of woman who could play Elias half to death without blinking. How had she turned into a model citizen the second he came near her?
[System Theta: Could it be the Bureau...]
"Shut up."
[System Theta: ...]
It sounded terribly wronged.
Elias kept walking under the hospital awning, night air cool against his face. "That isn’t your place to say."
He could curse the Trash Trope Intervention Division all he wanted. He was their ace field operative. He could point at the Bureau’s nose and insult their ancestors, and at most they would pretend not to hear.
System Theta was different.
It was an actual internal employee. It could not casually suspect the Bureau, much less badmouth it.
Elias let the thought roll through his mind and, after a while, found the answer.
He had moved on Yvonne too early.
She was not yet the Yvonne Quinn who had fully released the devil inside her. She was still standing behind the clean line of Dr. Quinn, still pretending the hospital mattered more than the desire under her skin.
Some major experiences had not happened yet.
Without those turns, why would her personality twist all the way into its final shape?
Elias clicked his tongue. "How annoying."
Was this fun for them?
Technically, the Bureau had not altered Yvonne’s personality. It had simply chosen a point in the plot where several women had not finished becoming their worst selves yet. That meant Elias could not rush every target with the same methods. He had to follow the steps, wait for certain changes, push at the correct fractures.
After the first flicker of anger passed, Elias calmed down.
He lifted his head toward the sky.
The city above Longhaven was full of hard white stars and high glass windows. From somewhere behind one of them, Yvonne might have been watching. Or maybe not. It hardly mattered.
If Yvonne needed to change, then he would change her.
He did not need the original plot to push her forward.
He was the new plot.
By the time Elias returned to the apartment Serena had rented for him, he had already stopped thinking about the failed office scene as failure.
He slept well.
Comfortably, even.
The next morning, he washed, dressed, and opened the door.
Then he froze.
Giselle stood outside.
Elias’s face lit up at once. He threw himself at her without thinking twice.
"Giselle!"
Giselle opened her arms.
She accepted him calmly as he wrapped himself around her like an octopus, arms around her neck, body pressed close, all morning warmth and shameless dependence. Her face stayed cool, her posture elegant, as if holding a boy clinging to her in the hallway was the most natural thing in the world.
"What’s wrong?" she asked softly.
Elias buried his face against the side of her neck. His voice came out low. "I missed you."
"I’m here now."
Giselle thought she understood.
After what had happened with Serena, Elias must be craving warmth. He needed company. He needed to open his eyes and see that someone had not left.
She could not live with him.
Not yet.
But she could make sure the first person he saw every morning was her.
So she did not hurry him. She only held him and waited until he climbed down on his own.
When Elias finally released her, a faint blush had risen on his cheeks.
"How long were you waiting outside?"
"Not long."
Giselle clearly did not want to discuss it. She shifted the subject at once. "Are you hungry? Let’s get breakfast."
Elias wisely stopped asking.
He already knew the answer.
Giselle had waited outside his door for one hour, eighteen minutes, and thirty-two seconds.
System Theta had reported her arrival the moment she stepped into the hallway. Elias had listened, rolled over, taken his time, slept a little longer, then finally got up to wash and dress.
How did you make someone give everything to you?
You made her give a little first.
Then a little more.
Then a little more.
Time was the least precious thing at the beginning, which made it the easiest thing to spend. By the time a person realized how much they had paid, they had already learned to keep paying.
Elias linked his arm with Giselle’s and walked with her toward a breakfast place near Westbridge.
The shop was crowded at this hour. Students came in half-awake with backpacks slung over one shoulder. Office workers waited near the counter with coffee orders in hand. The kitchen called names over the noise, and steam rose from the open service window, carrying the smell of eggs, potatoes, coffee, and grilled meat.
Giselle stood inside all that noise like she had been placed in the wrong painting.
Silver hair. Pale skin. Blue eyes still distant enough to make strangers look twice and then look away. She had the Frost name, the quiet posture, the kind of upbringing that did not belong among crowded tables and plastic order numbers.
And yet she was here.
Dragged down from the clouds, not by force, but by a boy holding her arm and smiling at her like she was shelter.
They found a small table near the window.
Their breakfast came quickly: two oversized diner bowls, steaming with eggs, crisp potatoes, gravy, and thick pieces of sausage. Elias looked down at his serving and let out a small distressed sound behind his hand.
Giselle looked up. Her silver hair slipped over one shoulder, and her blue eyes focused on him. "What?"
"It’s too much." Elias frowned at the bowl as if the portion had betrayed him. "I can’t finish this."
He looked troubled, like the problem was real and serious, and as if he regretted not asking the cashier about the size before ordering.
One second later, Giselle’s fork entered his bowl.
She took nearly a third of the potatoes and eggs and moved them into her own.
"Is that better?"
Elias’s smile turned bright at once, his eyes curving. "Yes."
"Then eat."
They lowered their heads and ate amid the messy, living noise of the shop.
Every so often, Giselle’s fork returned to his bowl. Not to take this time, but to give. A piece of sausage. A strip of bacon. A crisp edge of potato she seemed to think he might like. She did it without ceremony, as if feeding him from her own plate had become ordinary in the span of a single morning.
Elias looked up at her.
The corner of her lip still held a scab from the fight. One side of her cheek carried a faint purple shadow that had not fully faded. The marks did not destroy her beauty. They made it worse, somehow, because they proved she had been dragged into the mess and stayed.
So after leaving him last night, had she gone back to treat her own wounds?
This high, untouchable young heiress had really been hurt badly because of him.
Elias smiled.
His voice softened. "Giselle, you’re so good to me."
Giselle’s mouth lifted by the smallest amount.
Then the silver-haired girl answered him with the calm seriousness of someone accepting the feeling he had handed her.
"Mm."
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