Yu sat numbly on the stiff paper on the examination table, pamphlets crumpled in his lap, his knuckles bone-white. His throat felt raw from swallowing tears and bile. Joy was saying something soft beside him, her warmth brushing over him like a blanket, but it was DK01's voice that slipped sharp and low into his mind.
{Host's emotional instability detected. Stress metrics spiking. Correction required.}
[Host…]
The clinical timbre deepened, almost like it leaned closer inside his skull.
[Yu. Your Incubus soul is starving. Do you understand? This is not merely fatigue from your human body—it is soul-hunger. You have not fed in days. Not from Theo. Not from Callen. Not from Adrian. That emptiness gnaws at you. It weakens your body, accelerates fatigue, and puts you and your offspring at risk. If you let it go unchecked… you will waste away. Starve. Until nothing remains.]
Yu shuddered, gripping the pamphlets tighter.
'Starve?'
His stomach flipped.
[Balance is everything. You must feed both your body and your soul. Yes, restraint remains essential—you cannot devour carelessly, not when you have lives growing inside you—but abstinence will kill you faster than over-indulgence. Choose your food sources, ration wisely, and keep feeding. Without balance, neither you nor the children will survive.]
Yu clenched his jaw, wanting to spit back—
"I never chose this."
—But DK01, as if anticipating the words, cut in coldly.
"You did. When you selected the skill to bear children. You ignored the description."
The HUD flickered into the center of his vision. Translucent text he'd once scrolled past without reading were now brought forth before him and highlighted.
[Skill: Volutio Eggo Fertilis.
The power to alter any body Host inhabited to be capable of bearing children. Permanently etched into the Host's soul upon acquisition.
Effects:
– Increased fertility.
– Probability of conception: 100% with Tragic Targets, 80–90% with side characters.
– Multiples highly probable: twins, triplets, quadruplets, etc… higher not impossible.
– Cannot be unequipped or revoked.]
Yu's breath stuttered. He nearly dropped the pamphlets. His belly seemed to pulse under his palm, as if mocking him.
[You bound yourself to this the moment you accepted. The hunger, the pregnancies, the inevitability—they are yours now. They will follow you from world to world.]
DK01's voice softened only a fraction, like a mechanical sigh.
[If you had read more carefully, you would not be surprised. But now? Now, you must endure what you have chosen.]
The words cut deeper than any blade.
'Endure. Always endure.'
Yu's lips trembled, pressing against a sob that wanted to escape. He clutched the pamphlets so hard they wrinkled against his palms, his chest tightening with every word DK01 had left behind like a curse carved into him.
'Permanently etched into my soul. There is no escaping it. No second chance. No undoing. Just… more babies, always more, until I can't endure anymore.'
He stayed quiet, trembling, his lips pressed shut as if silence alone could keep him from breaking. He leaned subtly into Joy, her warmth grounding him, clinging harder to her sleeve like a drowning man holding onto driftwood. He didn't trust his voice. He didn't trust himself not to scream.
The world blurred by until they were in Joy's car again, the steady hum of the engine too calm against the storm inside him. Joy, ever practical even with softness in her voice, reached across the console.
"Yu… maybe you should go to the student advisory office…"
She said gently.
"Ask for a leave. Take a year off. Rest, give birth. Then when you're ready, go back."
The words pierced him like knives. Yu flinched as though slapped.
'Not again.'
His stomach turned, his head buzzing as memories crashed through him—Yukio, logging into online classes he never finished. Yukio, quietly dropping class after class as morning sickness consumed him. Yukio, choosing the babies over his degree every single time until he'd given up the dream completely.
And now here he was again, Yuvin, sitting in another car in another life with his belly swelling and his chances at finishing college slipping through his fingers like water.
His breath broke apart. He bent forward, hands slamming against his face, fingers clawing at his temples as though he could tear the pressure out of his skull.
"I can't—"
His voice fractured, dissolving into sobs.
"I can't not finish again! I swore—I swore I would, I promised myself! Not again! Not again!"
The sobs wracked him, heavy and childlike, flooding until his body shook. Shame and failure twisted with every tear.
'Stupid, stupid failure. That's what I am. Too weak. Too reckless. Too cursed.'
Joy startled, her hand flying to his back.
"Yu—hey, no, don't say that! You're not a failure."
Her voice broke as she tried to steady him, rubbing his back in soothing circles even as panic flickered across her face.
She leaned closer, trying to catch his hidden face in her hands.
"You're not stupid. You're not failing. You're just… carrying too much. Too much on your own."
Her voice softened to a whisper, firm beneath the gentleness.
"But I'm here. You don't have to do this alone."
Yu only shook harder, muffled sobs against his palms, unable to let the words in.
Joy didn't let Yu go until his sobs softened into hiccupping breaths, her hand never leaving the small of his back, her voice a steady anchor. Little by little, Yu's trembling slowed, the storm of tears tapering into a fragile silence. His face was blotchy and damp, eyes rimmed red, but the worst of the wave had passed.
"Breathe."
Joy murmured as she dabbed at his cheeks with a tissue, coaxing his hands down.
"That's it. Just breathe. One step at a time, okay? We'll figure it out. But not tonight. Tonight you rest."
Yu managed a weak nod, throat sore, heart still heavy but no longer ripping him in two. He clung to the tissue like it was a lifeline as Joy started the car again and pulled out of the lot. The drive was quiet, Joy's humming filling the silence now and again, as though she could wrap him in a cocoon where no one—not Theo, not Adrian, not Callen—could reach him.
By the time they pulled into the penthouse garage, dusk had bled into evening, and the air had gone knife-cold. Yu was still clutching his pamphlets against his chest as he opened the passenger door, his body slow, heavy with exhaustion. Joy rounded the car and reached to steady him—
And froze.
Like clockwork, another car door shut just a few paces away. The sound echoed in the still air, and when Yu glanced up, his stomach dropped. Adrian.
He'd just stepped out of his sleek, dark car, tie loosened from his internship at the law firm, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He adjusted his coat, his presence filling the driveway like a shadow cast too long.
The air turned colder than the weather itself.
Without hesitation, Joy slipped in front of Yu, her small frame standing between him and Adrian. The act was absurd—she barely reached Adrian's chest, her build nothing compared to his sharp, broad silhouette—but to Yu, the gesture hit him square in the chest. Her arm stretched back to keep him behind her as though she could shield him from everything with sheer willpower alone.
Yu's throat knotted, a bitter laugh threatening to crack out but dying in his chest. He pressed a hand gently to her back, grateful for the ridiculous, impossible protection. Even if she couldn't stop Adrian physically, her presence said everything.
He wouldn't have to face him alone.
Adrian's eyes flickered between the two, a glint unreadable, the faintest narrowing at Joy's stance.
The air bristled, heavy, waiting.
The opened garage held its breath. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, throwing long shadows between the car and figures across the long driveway. Yu could hear the echo of his own heartbeat, still fragile from earlier, but now pulsing with something hotter—hungrier.
Joy didn't move, her back rigid against Yu's chest, one arm half-raised like she might physically bar Adrian if he stepped closer. Yu wanted to laugh at the sight, ridiculous and protective, but his throat was too tight.
Adrian, for his part, didn't speak at first. He just looked. His eyes flickered from Joy's trembling stance to Yu's smaller frame peeking out from behind her shoulder. His jaw ticked, his nostrils flared once, and the silence grew heavier, weighted with all the unspoken tension that had been building for days.
Finally, Adrian moved. Not with a shout or a shove, but with a slow, deliberate step forward—enough to make Joy tense and throw her arms out wider as though she were a wall. His voice was low, even, but it carried the weight of command.
"Move, Joy."
She shook her head, her ponytail swishing like a defiant banner.
"Not until you say what you want. You scared him last time. I'm not letting you near him until I know you won't—"
Adrian cut her off with a flick of his hand, not unkind, but sharp. His eyes softened—if only slightly—when they landed on Yu again.
"I need to see him. That's all. Just see him."
Yu's lips parted, caught between the pounding ache in his chest and the sudden curl of warmth low in his belly. Adrian's presence was overwhelming, suffocating even, but right now it didn't feel dangerous. Not in the way it should. Instead, his broad frame and piercing gaze looked… mouthwatering.
Yu's tongue flicked against his lips without thinking, and he nearly cursed himself for it.
'Appetizing.'
That's all he could think. Every inch of him hummed, Incubus instincts stirring like a hungry beast in its cage.
And then DK01's cold, clinical tone thrummed through his head.
[Warning! Your hunger is climbing, and being this close in proximity to a food source is making it harder to stay steady, increasing risk. Proceed with caution. And do not—repeat, do not—let your instincts take the wheel over mission priorities.]
But Yu's fingers itched. His pulse quickened. He didn't feel fear anymore. He felt… possibility.
'If I could just get Joy to leave us alone...'
Yu thought hazily.
'Just for a moment…'
His lips tugged into the faintest, secret smile.
The air between them stayed taut as a wire, humming with all the things that had been said and everything that hadn't. Adrian watched Yu with the same quiet intensity he used in meetings—measured, dangerous—but Yu surprised himself by finding the courage to step forward, to defuse the knife-edge of the moment with something nearly ordinary.
"Come inside."
Yu said, voice small but steady.
"I—was planning on making your favorite for dinner anyway. I want to talk. Just us."
Joy's eyes went wide, then sharp.
"Yu, no—"
She started, hands already moving toward him as if to physically stop him from making the kind of bad decision that might blow everything open. She wanted to drag him back into the safety of the penthouse, to shield him from whatever gamble he was about to play.
Yu held up a placating hand.
"I'll text you if I need you. If anything's wrong, come get me, okay? I trust you."
He forced a smile that tasted like steel.
"I just need to speak with Adrian. Alone. Please."
Adrian didn't jump at the invitation. He didn't need to. His answer was a slow nod—acceptance, not triumph—then a glance back at Joy as if to say he understood the gravity of what it might look like. Joy's face crumpled for a fraction of a second; then she hardened, summoning all the fierce protectiveness she owned.
"If you do anything to him…"
She warned Adrian in a voice that had gone small but sharp.
"I'll find you. I'll call the cops, the dean, everyone. I'll come for him."
She swallowed, the threat wrapped in trembling concern, then turned to Yu.
"I'll be at Izan's. I'll take my phone off silent. Text me every ten minutes. No—text me every five. If I don't hear from you, I'm coming back with backup."
Yu's jaw moved. For a beat nothing else moved—then, with a tight, single nod of acknowledgment, Joy turned and hurried to her car. She left words and a promise in the air:
A safety rope, a warning, and a threat rolled into one. Yu watched her go, the tail of concern still clinging to his chest. As Joy's taillights winked out, the world narrowed; the front door clicked shut, and the two of them were suddenly alone on the threshold.
Inside, quiet swallowed them. The hallway light pooled on the floor between their shoes. Adrian stepped in first, taking in the fact he finally managed to enter Yu's sanctuary, he took off his shoes by the door with a softness that belied how many things he could do with his hands. Yu swallowed, feeling the hum under his skin—hunger, fear, calculation—and for the first time since everything had gone wrong, he tried to steady his breath.
"Sit. I'll go make us dinner."
He said, his voice softer this time, and gestured to the small dining table. He could feel what DK01 would say next—warnings, alerts—but he ignored the phantom voice for one breath and met Adrian's chocolate brown eyes.
Adrian sat at first. The single decision carried a dozen consequences. Outside, the sound of cars and wind diminished, leaving the penthouse to its own tightened calm. Then Adrian spoke up.
"Let me help. I don't want you straining yourself because of me."
Adrian then stood up from where he sat, as if showing Yu he would listen and do anything asked of him first before moving on his own. Yu's kitchen was massive, yet it felt fuller with Adrian moving around in it. The clatter of pots and pans had softened into something almost rhythmic, almost domestic, and Yu found himself leaning into the sound of Adrian's footsteps against the tile, the scrape of a knife across the cutting board, the warm thrum of the stove.
"You?"
Yu teased lightly as he slid vegetables into the pan.
"Helping? You'd probably manage to burn water if I left you unsupervised."
Adrian's ears flushed pink, a contrast against the dark tattoos peeking at his collar.
"...I've been learning."
He muttered, glancing down at the knife in his hand as though embarrassed by how careful he was being.
"Small things. I can chop. Lift. Stir. Whatever you need."
Yu caught himself staring—caught himself smiling, even—as the man who was usually a storm of shadows and storms fumbled like a schoolboy desperate not to ruin a first impression. His chest gave a treacherous little stir.
"…Alright then."
He said at last, voice softer.
"You chop. And don't you dare make the pieces uneven."
Adrian's lips twitched at that, half a smile, before he bent his head and set to work. They moved around each other in a rhythm neither had rehearsed, shoulders brushing, Yu flicking Adrian a glance every time their hands almost touched at the counter. It was… unnervingly easy, this quiet partnership, and by the time the rice had steamed, the vegetables had sizzled into softness, and broth was bubbling low, Yu's heart was making noises he hadn't given it permission to.
When it came time to carry the food out, Adrian insisted on lifting both plates, ignoring Yu's raised brow and faint pout.
"You're carrying enough already."
He said with a glance at Yu's belly, voice so gentle it startled Yu into silence. He swallowed, nodding, and let Adrian bear the weight.
They set the plates down at the small dining table. Steam curled up between them. The air smelled of broth, ginger, and something almost like peace.
Adrian pulled out a chair, not sitting until Yu had first. His manners—so unlike the gun he'd held days before—made Yu's heart twist painfully in his chest.
Yu lowered himself into the chair, the faint swell of his belly brushing against the edge of the table as he settled. Adrian sat opposite, his movements cautious, deliberate—as though any sudden shift might send the fragile moment shattering.
For a while, there was only the clink of silverware, the soft steam rising from their bowls, the muted hum of the city beyond the penthouse windows. The broth was light, fragrant, easy on Yu's stomach; he sipped, swallowed, and felt warmth spread through his insides. But beneath that warmth sat something heavier, darker—his Incubus instincts coiling like smoke, humming, reminding him he was starving.
"You didn't burn the kitchen down."
Yu said finally, his voice teasing but quiet.
"That's progress."
Adrian glanced up, spoon paused halfway. A faint smile curved his mouth.
"Guess I'll take that as high praise."
His voice was low, amused, but there was a softness at the edges Yu wasn't used to hearing.
The silence after was… thick. Yu's gaze slid down, to Adrian's hands. Broad. Strong. Veined. He imagined them on his skin again, gripping, steadying, claiming—his breath hitched before he caught it. He shifted in his chair, acting as if it was nothing.
He set his spoon down and brushed his fingers against his stomach, deliberately slow, deliberately vulnerable. His lips curved into something between a pout and a sigh.
"Mm… I keep forgetting how heavy I feel lately."
He murmured, feigning weariness as his gaze flicked up to catch Adrian's reaction.
Adrian froze, the muscles in his jaw clenching. His gaze dropped to Yu's hand pressing into the fabric of his shirt, then lingered on the faint swell beneath it. He swallowed visibly, his spoon lowering to his bowl.
Yu tilted his head, lashes lowering in a coy blink. He let his fingers trace idle circles against his shirt as though soothing himself.
"…Maybe I shouldn't even bother with eating so much."
He added slyly, voice soft enough to invite protest, to invite care.
Adrian's chair scraped faintly against the floor as he leaned forward, tension visible in every line of his shoulders.
"Don't say that!"
He said, sharper than intended, before softening.
"Don't… don't do that to yourself. You need this food. So do they."
His eyes flicked to Yu's belly again, as though he couldn't stop himself.
Yu's lips parted, a small intake of breath.
'Got him.'
He lowered his gaze, feigning a fragile smile.
"…Then…"
He whispered, tilting his body slightly toward Adrian across the table.
"Maybe you should help me. Make sure I… finish everything."
The implication hung in the air like a held breath, subtle and sharp at once.
The quiet stretched, taut as a wire. Steam drifted lazily between them, the faint clink of Yu's spoon tapping the rim of his bowl the only sound. His hand still rested over the swell of his belly, pale fingers tracing the outline in absent little motions.
Adrian's chair scraped across the polished floor, a sound that made Yu's pulse jump. He didn't say a word as he gathered his plate and bowl, moving them deliberately—until he was no longer across from Yu but beside him, the space between their bodies suddenly close, close enough Yu could feel the heat radiating from Adrian's frame.
For a heartbeat, Adrian didn't move further, just sat there, his brown eyes fixed on Yu's profile. Then, slowly, like a man reaching for fire he knew would burn, Adrian lifted a hand. His fingertips brushed against Yu's wrist, tentative at first, testing if Yu would flinch away.
Yu didn't.
Adrian exhaled softly and reached for the spoon resting in Yu's hand. The broth shimmered faintly as he dipped it into the bowl and lifted it, careful not to spill a drop.
"Here."
He murmured, voice low, almost reverent, as he guided the spoon toward Yu's lips. Yu didn't hesitate for a second before opening his mouth, trusting, and Adrian felt something in his chest loosen as Yu swallowed. He waited, patient, before offering another spoonful—broth first, then a bit of softened rice, then vegetables—each motion unhurried, as though the world had narrowed to this simple act of care.
Every so often, Adrian's gaze betrayed him. It drifted to the gentle curve beginning to form beneath Yu's shirt, subtle but unmistakable, awe flickering across his face at the quiet miracle taking shape there. Then his eyes would lift again—to Yu's mouth, faintly pink and full, still warm from the soup—and he would have to swallow, grounding himself, reminding himself to breathe. The feeling wasn't sharp or urgent; it was a slow, aching warmth, tangled with tenderness and something protective, almost holy.
He fed Yu another spoonful, his knuckles brushing Yu's lips as if by accident, and this time he smiled—small, soft, and a little undone.
Adrian kept the rhythm slow and steady, as if he were afraid the moment might shatter if he hurried it. Spoon after spoon, he fed Yu patiently, waiting each time until Yu had swallowed, until his breathing had settled again. The broth warmed the air between them, carrying the faint scent of vegetables and rice, grounding and gentle. Adrian's shoulders gradually eased, tension melting out of him with every careful bite he offered and Yu took.
When the bowl was nearly empty, Adrian tipped the last spoonful toward Yu's lips, watching closely as Yu accepted it. A small drop of broth clung to the corner of Yu's mouth afterward, and Adrian hesitated—just for a second—before reaching for the napkin. He dabbed softly at Yu's lips, his touch light, almost reverent, as though he were handling something precious. Yu didn't pull away; he simply looked at Adrian, eyes tired but calm, trusting but behind that:
Hungry.
Adrian set the spoon aside and folded the napkin in his hand, his gaze drifting once more to Yu's barely-there curve, then back to Yu's face.
"That's it."
He murmured, warmth threading through his voice.
"You did good."
He stayed there a moment longer, close enough to share the quiet, as if making sure Yu was truly finished—not just with dinner, but with the weight of the day—before finally taking Yu's hand in his, the care lingering between them like a held breath.
Yu didn't flinch, didn't pull away. The quiet acceptance seemed to steady Adrian more than anything else could have.
Adrian's breath caught. His other hand slid over, palm warm against the back of Yu's smaller hand. He pressed lightly as Yu guided Adrian's hand down just enough that the curve beneath the oversized shirt was exposed to his touch.
When his broad palm spread flat against Yu's belly, the air seemed to vanish from the room. Adrian's thumb stroked a slow, reverent line, his other hand trembling faintly where it still covered Yu's wrist.
"You're… really…"
Adrian whispered, the words unsteady, unfinished, his voice caught between awe and fear.
Yu's lips parted, his throat tightening as his Incubus hunger purred at the contact, urging him to sink into it, to coax Adrian further.
The tension had tipped; there was no going back to casual and domestic now.
Yu's lashes fluttered, the heat creeping across his cheeks as Adrian's hand lingered, heavy and grounding against his belly. He didn't speak, didn't move to push it away—just let the silence hang, fragile and breakable, as if daring Adrian to shatter it.
Adrian swallowed hard, his thumb brushing in cautious arcs, like he was trying to memorize the shape beneath the soft fabric. He didn't push further, but the tremor in his hand betrayed how much he wanted to. His gaze flicked up to Yu's face, searching for a reaction, for permission he wasn't sure he deserved.
Yu tilted his head just enough to meet those searching earthy brown eyes. His lips curved into a small, tremulous smile, the kind that wavered at the edges—fragile, uncertain. He let his fingers twitch faintly beneath Adrian's palm, the tiniest acknowledgment.
That was all it took.
Adrian's breath left him in a shudder, and his hand pressed firmer, warmer. The reverence in his touch sent a shiver spiraling down Yu's spine. And in that moment—when Adrian's heartbeat thudded through his chest and his scent coiled around Yu like smoke—Yu felt it. His instincts stirred. The hunger, humming low, curling hotter with every passing second.
He leaned, slow and cautious at first, as though testing a forbidden edge. His shoulder brushed Adrian's, his smaller frame easing closer until their arms touched. The hunger urged him further, to tip his head and rest it against Adrian's chest, to drink in that heat, that vitality, to taste him.
His lips parted, breath shaky as he whispered.
"Adrian…"
—half plea, half warning, his Incubus voice softening the syllables into something dangerously sweet.
Adrian froze, every muscle taut, and Yu felt his restraint hanging by a thread. His instincts purred louder, coaxing him closer, urging him to slip past fragile and into claiming.