Project owner

The glass doors sighed shut behind her. As Rei started leaving, the cold weight of Takumi’s decree still pressed against her chest like a bruise. In front of her the hall toward the elevators stretched on, her heels echoing sharp against marble. Through her fog of worry, she realized there was another set of footsteps following.

She glanced back. Cillian gave a small nod, his posture respectful but alert. Rei saw his caution. He had always been good at reading her mood, giving her space when she was exhausted or fed up. Slowing her pace, she took a closer look at him. He was tall, built like someone who’d done his share of combat training, but the toughness was softened by the way he carried himself: polite, always at a careful distance. Brown hair, light green eyes that looked oddly calm for a Kuroda man. Unlike the monochrome suits of other corpo employees, his palette was warmer: browns, beige, the occasional green tie that matched his gaze. He looked like he belonged to a different family entirely.

Cillian Kelly

Rei slowed, inclining her head toward him, “You don’t have to trail behind me Cillian,” she said softly stopping her stride entirely, “Remind me, what are you again – my manager, handler? Sorry, it’s been a lot… with Eidolon.” He stopped too, expression unreadable, and gave a faint half-smile, “I’m not your manager, middle management technically, but my title is Project Owner, assigned to ensure the safety and wellbeing of my asset”, he grimaced at his own words, hand brushing the back of his neck, “Sorry. That sounded—”

“Like I’m not a person?”, Rei teased, smiling warmly, “I’ve been called worse. And thank you for protecting me. I remember that handsy exec at the demo the other night. You stepped in fast.” Cillian’s eyes flickered, but he inclined his head, “It’s my job – and let me ensure you, I see you as a person. We have that in common. It’s okay for you speak to me, to ask favors like earlier… I’m not a surveillance drone.”

Rei smiled, appreciating the way he asserted his own humanity behind the job, “Thanks for saying that. I’m sorry that I haven’t been the most talkative asset so far.”, Cillian frowned and Rei chuckled, waving a dismissive hand to signal she wasn’t offended for real, “I mean it, thanks, this conversation helped make me feel more comfortable chatting in the future. Don’t worry. I’m not insulted at all.” He smiled, and Rei saw a flicker of relaxation cross his features.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime. Rei stepped in first, then turned to lean on the railing, shifting a little closer to him than necessary. Testing. He didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat. His eyes scanned her, lingering at her lips before returning to her gaze. They reached the garage, but when he opened the back door of the black Rolls-Royce, she moved past it and tugged at the front passenger handle instead.

“I’d rather sit up here,” she said. Cillian blinked but shut the back door and moved around to open the front one for her. His courtesy was automatic, even when she disrupted protocol. Sliding into her seat, Rei buckled herself in as he joined her. He paused, studying her face for a minute before starting the engine. “Any particular reason?”, he asked as the car eased into the stream of glittering traffic.

Rei shrugged lightly, though there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, “I thought it was time I got to know you better. Several trips and we’ve barely had a conversation, seems rude.” The hint of a smile tugged at his mouth, before he said, “That’s honestly a fresh outlook, most don’t bother. Ignorance is bliss and all that.” Rei tilted her head, watching the lights streak across the glass. “If you ask me, ignorance is either for the satisfied – or those who’re afraid to look in the mirror”, she glanced over at him, his eyes on the road as he took a turn, “and I’m neither.”

Cillian lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment. For a while, silence filled the cabin, the hum of the city their only accompaniment. Then, impulsively, Rei asked, “Have you tried it? Eidolon?” His grip on the steering wheel shifted subtly, his knuckles tightening for half a second, before he released. His jaw flexed. “Yes,” he said at last, “Everyone on the project had to. It’s required.” His tone was clipped, but there was something beneath it, resentment? Regret? Something in the way he said it made it clear: he either hadn’t enjoyed it or hadn’t wanted to. Rei leaned back in her seat, tracing the patterns on her clutch for a while before almost whispering, “I tried it too.”

That startled him. He coughed into his fist, green eyes darting toward her before returning to the road. Rei laughed softly, the sound easing the tension, “I was curious. I wanted to see what those red-faced corpos at the demos were moaning over”, she sighed, turning her face back toward the neon blur outside the window, “But it wasn’t me. It was a perverted slave dressed up in my skin.”

The car hummed forward, silent but for her words. The city streamed past in streaks of chrome and neon, the rain-slick streets glowing like veins of electricity. Cillian drove with the easy confidence of someone who’d spent his life in motion, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely against his side. Rei studied him, chin propped against her hand.

“You…”, she said lightly, “…don’t exactly strike me as a SD man, or are you?” Rei crossed her legs, resting her elbow on her knee, adopting a pose of intense inspection, “You just don’t look like the type to spend hours in some lounge with a halo on.” He gave a low chuckle, eyes still on the road, “Not hardly. I’m not usually a SD asset Project Owner either. My background’s in weapons.” Rei straightened at that, turning to him more fully, interested. His voice wasn’t boastful, more matter-of-fact.

She smiled faintly, “Weapons, huh? That makes sense. You’ve got that shiny gun on your hip – and a ‘simple guy’ vibe.” He glanced at her curiously, “Simple?” He looked almost wounded. “Yes, or, what I mean is you’d rather get a drink at a bar than take in the sensations of a simulation?” she explained eyes glinting, unapologetic, but then added, “Don’t worry Cillian – that’s a compliment in my book”.

He gave her a sidelong glance, “Well… you’d be right about that anyway.” Something about the honest admission made her like him more. She ran her fingers over the fogged edge of her window, “I guess you know the work I used to do in Chochin? Hostess shifts at the Den?” The car in front stopped suddenly and he had to slam the breaks, but he answered unaffected, “I know”.

Rei tilted her head at him, a wry smile spreading, “Of course. I bet you know everything about me, don’t you?” He didn’t answer that. She continued anyway, her voice softening as she thought back, “There used to be this regular. Wore brown suits. Polite guy. Name was Kelly, like you. Maybe a relative?”

His hands tightened minutely on the wheel, his profile unreadable in the glow of the dash. After a pause, he said evenly, “Could have been. We’re a pretty big bunch. Brown and beige – it’s part of the heritage.” Rei turned in her seat to face him more openly, “I like that you dress differently from the others. You stand out.” That earned her another sidelong look, a spark of something curious and alert in those calm green eyes. Her smile became playful. She angled her head to better meet his eyes, reading him the way she read execs in Chochin, “Yes. That was flirting.”

For a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched; caught between amusement and restraint. He didn’t look away this time, meeting her gaze directly before returning his attention to the rain-smeared road. Cillian’s mouth curved into the faintest grin, “Flirting with your driver, Rei? Dangerous habit. Next thing you know, people will start talking.”

She leaned back into the soft seat, grinning, “People will always talk anyway. Why – am I making you uncomfortable? Are you going to tell on me?” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, “No, but I better beware, you got a sharp tongue,” his voice was warm but still measured, “Good thing I’m paid to keep you safe, not to indulge you.” That made her laugh but also stopped her teasing.

The sleek car slid through the glittering arteries of Mirage City, a silent bubble in the chaos. The initial, charged energy from Rei’s direct flirtation had dissipated into a more comfortable, if watchful, quiet. Cillian seemed to have decided on a strategy: careful, professional distance, leavened with a dry, Irish wit.

He glanced at her, his green eyes thoughtful as he took in her profile against the neon-lit window. She’d been through the wringer this week; via surveillance feeds he’d watched brutal training sessions, other promotional events where she’d been leered at by shareholders, and finally there was the ride back from The Den where Takumi’s possessive scrutiny had been evident. Yet here she was, joking with him. Her resilience was a puzzle he was still trying to solve.

“So, tell me…” he began, his tone deliberately light, breaking the silence, “What’s your official diagnosis? That I’m an Irish sports bar ‘simple guy’?” Rei turned from the window, a surprised laugh escaping her. She crossed her arms and gave him a slow, appraising look, from his polished shoes to the perfectly knotted tie at his throat. “Hmm. The suit is throwing me off. Too sharp. Unless you’re hiding a football shirt underneath?” she arched an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her dark eyes. He chuckled, a genuine, warm sound, “I’ll never tell. Trade secret.”

“Right, right. Project Owner secrets,” she teased, leaning back, “So, if not shouting at a screen in a sticky-floored pub, what’s your sport?” He grinned, a quick flash of white. “I like sports I can win,” he admitted easily, “Darts. Pool. Games of precision. Minimal fuss.” A shadow crossed Rei’s face. “So you gamble?” she shot back, her grin widening but straining. “I like winning,” he corrected, his tone leaving it deliciously ambiguous, “And you? Any secret sporting passions? Besides looking impeccable while pouring tea for billionaires.”

The question brought another gloomy trace to her eyes, a flicker of something old and bitter beneath the playful veneer. Her smile turned wry, tinged with dark sarcasm, “My father put me off most sports. Anything with a betting pool, for obvious reasons. And boxing… specifically.” She looked out the window again, her voice softening, “But I do like working out. Losing myself in something repetitive, something demanding controlled breathing. It… quiets the noise.”

He nodded, remembering the surveillance feeds of her morning rituals, “Something like yoga?” She glanced back at him, a remnant of her earlier mischief returning, “Something like that. Some martial arts demand a similar focus. At first, I learned for practical reasons… as self-defense against certain types of creeps.” She gave a small, ironic shrug, “Nowadays, it’s more about building the stamina to stand through three-hour meetings about server latency without collapsing. It’s all about application, right?”

Cillian couldn’t help but laugh, a short, sharp sound of genuine amusement, “A practical woman. I respect that.” He navigated a turn, his expression turning more contemplative, “You handle it all… remarkably well. The training, the events. Eidolon truly is… a lot.” Rei met his gaze in the reflection of the window. For a moment, she saw not just a corpo security detail, but a man who noticed, who assessed, and who, despite his best efforts at detachment and neutrality, seemed to respect what he saw.

“You can get used to most things when you put your mind to it,” she said quietly, not entirely truthfully, “Or you find ways to cope. Like joking with your Project Owner.” He held her gaze for a second longer than was strictly professional before returning his eyes to the road. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. “Best part of my assignment so far,” he said, his voice low.

Their continued conversation was a delicate dance of barbs and genuine admissions; a tentative bridge being built over the chasm of their vastly different positions. The rest of the ride passed in an almost comfortable silence, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the soft rain tapping the windshield. By the time he pulled up to her apartment in Sakura Avenues, the oppressive weight of the day felt a little lighter.

Cillian cut the engine and got out without delay. He took out the black box from the trunk and handed it to her, she thanked him, caressing the box reverently. As he came around to open her door, Rei gave him a small, sincere smile, “Thanks for the chat, Cillian… and for not being a surveillance drone.”

He gave a slight bow, his green eyes crinkling at the corners, “Anytime.” Like always he walked with her to her apartment, his broad shoulders a steady shadow beside her. Rei moved slowly, a slender, regal figure holding her head high even in exhaustion. At the door, he stopped, keeping a polite distance, “Goodnight, Miss Rei,” he said, his tone professional but not cold.

She grimaced at him, a small pout at her lips as she corrected, “Just Rei.” For the first time, his green eyes lingered on hers without the shield of professionalism. A spark flickered there, interest, amusement, maybe something else, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, “Goodnight, Rei.” She lingered a second longer than necessary before unlocking her door, “Thank you again, Cillian. For everything today.”

He gave a short, professional bow of his head and turned back toward the elevator. Watching his back retreat, Rei realized she respected him more for not flirting back. His restraint was different from the cynical control of Takumi. Cillian chose to keep his cards close to him, neither taking the bait nor baiting her. Someone who might listen and not just command.