Eidolon

Favor-Partner

The engine’s hum faded unhurriedly, leaving only the distant thrum of the city. As their ritual dictated, Cillian exited and came around to open her door. He walked her to the building’s entrance, a silent, protective shadow. Tonight was the last night before Takumi’s deadline to choose her favor-partner. At her front door, Rei didn’t immediately slide her key into the lock. She stood with her hand on the cool metal of the door handle, her pulse quickening. “Cillian,” she said, her voice softer than usual, “Would you… like to come in? For tea.”

His gaze, usually fixed on some middle distance, sharpened and dropped to her face. Suspicion warred with something else, concern, perhaps. He’d seen the tension coiled in her shoulders all week. “I know it’s not whiskey, but…” she added, a weak attempt at a joke that fell flat in the quiet hallway. After a beat, he gave a single, slow nod, “Alright.”

Inside, the warmth of her apartment was a stark contrast to the corporate blankness they’d just left. Rei moved on autopilot, filling the kettle, setting out two delicate cups. She placed a small plate of mooncakes on the low table, her hands trembling so vaguely she hoped he wouldn’t notice. She couldn’t look at him as she poured the steaming green tea. The words felt like shards of glass in her throat.

“Takumi,” she began, her voice barely a whisper. She forced herself to look up, to meet his guarded green eyes, “He’s calling in a favor I promised him once.” Cillian said nothing, just watched her, his large frame perfectly calm as he picked up his teacup, “He wants to record me for Eidolon, being with someone… else.”

The words hung in the air, ugly and stark, “He has these… jewel shaped devices from Helix Apex. To record everything.” She saw the minute tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly where his left hand rested on his knees. “He said it has to be… one of his employees,” she continued, the torrent of words now unstoppable. Rei let out a shaky, nervous laugh, trying to dress the lunacy in something lighter, but it came out as a broken sound, “And I… I don’t want it to be just anyone, not some stranger he picks out.”

She took a ragged breath, her composure finally cracking, “I’m scared, Cillian. I’m scared of what he’ll do, the things he thinks of and his anger. I’m scared of what he might do to me or…”, her voice dropped to a terrified whisper, “… or to you, if I dragged you into this.” She met his gaze fully, her black eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, “Because I want it to be you.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Cillian didn’t move, didn’t recoil in disgust or anger. He simply sat, processing the horrific reality she had just laid at his feet. The tea steamed unaffected. The confession hung in the warm, scented air of her apartment, a desperate plea and a terrible danger, all at once. He sat motionless, seemingly in shock, his tea resting disregarded in his right hand.

Rei chuckled nervously, trying to come to terms with the absurdity of it herself, but her voice cracked. That made him put the tea down and run a hand over his neck, green eyes dark with thought. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he confessed, “I do Rei, I mean you’re… but Takumi, he doesn’t forgive. Even obedience can be punished if it rubs him wrong – if it stirs his anger… or jealousy.” Her laugh was bitter, “I know… I’m sorry Cillain. I… I won’t mention you. Maybe I’ll just tell him no. That I refuse. Let him demand something else.”

Cillian rose and walked toward the window, “If you do that, he’ll invent something worse.” He stared at the rain-soaked glass for an eternity before turning back to her. His face was torn between frustration and want, protectiveness and dread. Rei couldn’t contain the tears, the frustration. She sobbed almost without sound, only her forced breathing giving her away. He stepped close, laid a hand gently on her shoulder, then pulled her up and into a hug.

For a moment she was pressed against his chest, breathing in his smoky cologne, hearing only the tightness of his breath, “If you name me… he might reject it, but if you don’t…” She clung to him then, breaking for the first time since Takumi had bought her out and forbidden her to see Karasu. Tears bled freely into his shirt. He held her, stable and conflicted.

The silence in the warm apartment was broken only by the soft sound of Rei’s sobs as tears soaked into Cillian’s shirt. His arms firmly cradling her in the storm of fear and humiliation. He could feel the fine tremors running through her, the weight of the impossible choice crushing her.

She pulled back softly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand firmly, a gesture that was both vulnerable and fiercely defiant. “What is he even playing at, Cillian?” she whispered, her voice raw, “He was so jealous of Karasu… and the Helix Apex boss for just kissing my cheek. So why… why this? Is it some kind of self-torture? Or is it just about rank?” Rei started pacing, the logic a frantic, desperate puzzle she had to solve to survive, “Bjorn is a CEO and Karasu is a king in the shadows. They’re rivals. But his employees, their loyalty is supposed to be given. Maybe that’s it, maybe he only feels threatened by power that equals his own. Or maybe this… this is about owning the scenario completely, controlling every variable, including the man,” she stopped, pressing her fingers to her temples, “God, it’s exhausting. He’s like a spoiled child with the power of a god. A terrifying, meticulous toddler.”

She looked at Cillian, her black eyes wide with a weary realization, “The only way to survive his tests is to not play the game the way he expects. If I name anyone, I’m making a choice he can punish. If I name no one, he invents something worse.” She hugged herself, a shiver running through her, “I won’t name anyone. But… if he suggests you…”, her voice dropped, laced with a painful hope, “I don’t think I would be able to choose anyone else. I’m just… I’m hoping...”

Cillian watched her, all the troubling calculations she’d just voiced reflected in his own grim expression. He saw the trap as clearly as she did. To shield her too openly was to risk being removed, leaving her utterly alone. To do nothing was to fail her completely. With long steps he moved closer, stopping in front of her. He didn’t touch her, but his presence was intense.

“Rei,” he said, his voice low and gravelly with resolve, “In this insane situation… my job is to protect you. But it’s more than that now… I want to protect you,” he took a deep breath, his eyes holding hers with an unwavering earnestness, “So if it comes to it, if he suggests me… I want you to pick me.” The confession hung between them, a monumental risk. “And,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, filled with a profound sincerity, “I need you to know something. If that happens… if we’re in that situation, I would never force you. Not a touch, nothing you didn’t want. That’s a promise.”

Rei looked at him, at the fierce protectiveness and the candid honor in his gaze. It wasn’t the polished charm of Takumi or the possessive fire of Karasu. It was something more open, and at that moment, more powerful. A promise of safety, of choice, in a world that sought to strip her of both. Fresh tears welled in her eyes, but these were different; they were tears of staggering relief. She didn’t trust Takumi, she was terrified of his whims, but in the eye of this hurricane, Cillian had just handed her a lifeline not of escape, but of dignity.

“Thank you,” she breathed, the words imbued with the weight of her entire being. It was more than gratitude for a potential shield; it was gratitude for the promise itself; for being seen not as a pawn or a prize, but as a person whose consent mattered. In the nightmare Takumi was constructing, that promise felt like the only real thing left.