When the System Ships You

Two days ago, the system gave me a task: Deliver a bouquet of sunflowers to Arno Theryn Solace.

A simple mission on screen. But in reality?

Every time I thought about it, my chest tightened like a vice. It felt like trying to walk barefoot over scorching road. I kept putting it off, convincing myself it was for her sake. She deserved peace. For that I need to keep my distance. To keep her safety.

But the truth is?

I wanted to see her.

Even if it was just for a moment.

I wanted to see the way her brows crinkled when she was annoyed. The soft glow she carried under harsh hospital lights. The way her voice- calm, clinical that somehow made the world feel less chaotic.

I missed all of it.

But I also knew… I didn't deserve it.

And so I stalled, hesitated and ran from a damn flower mission like it was a death sentence.

Until now.

[DING!]

A notification bar slid across my vision like a guillotine blade.

Final Warning: Mission expires today at 6:00 PM. Failure will result in penalty.

"Penalty?" I muttered. "What kind of penalty?"

Pokolo materialized beside me with her usual smug grin, legs dangling from the top of my office bookshelf like a child watching a drama unfold.

"Don't test the system," she sang. "Last guy who ignored a love task had to speak only in girl voice for a week. Very… awkward during business meetings."

I closed the notification with a groan and called Shan. "Get the car ready. We're heading to Victoria Garden."

Shan blinked. Then slowly, slowly, his lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Mr. Moreaux," he said, his voice positively oozing amusement. "May I ask… is this trip by any chance... for Ms. Solace?"

I stared at him blankly.

He raised both hands in mock surrender. "Just asking. You don't have to answer."

---

Victoria Garden was quiet at this hour, the golden haze of afternoon stretching over the trimmed hedges and stone paths. The scent of fresh roses, lavender, and moist earth filled the air. Shan stayed behind in the car, thankfully sparing me any more teasing.

I walked alone toward the flower selection stall at the edge of the park. A small, humble setup—wooden table, woven baskets, sun-faded umbrella.

A gardener with a grey beard and wide smile greeted me. "What can I get you, sir?"

I looked at the sunflowers. Bright, hopeful. Almost offensively cheerful.

Just like her.

"I'll take those," I said. And I want to pluck the flower myself, I smiled.

"All of them?" he chuckled.

I nodded.

Okay Mr. After you done picking flowers, come here.

With a nod, I entered the sunflower garden and picked some of the best flowers I felt a connection with. Then brought those to the stall.

The gardener is quite an old man, in his sixties. He began bundling the stalks carefully, snipping leaves, layering green ribbon. "Is it for someone special?"

My lips curled- awkward, unsure. I rubbed the back of my neck and gave a small nod. "Yeah… she's the most cheerful lady I know."

The gardener looked up, smiling. "You're a lucky man, then. She must be something."

"She is," I said, more to myself.

He tied the bouquet with a gentle hand. "Delivering it yourself?"

I paused. My heart dropped just a little.

"I'm… afraid she hates me," I admitted.

There was a moment of silence.

"Then all the more reason to show up. Women don't hate flowers, son. They hate being forgotten."

The gardener glanced at me kindly and asked, "Would you like to include a note?"

I hesitated. A note? Words felt like a betrayal when spoken out loud...but written down?

Maybe they'd feel truer, like I could finally say the things I never had the courage to.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Write... 'To my sunbeam.'"

The old man chuckled warmly as he scribbled on the small tag with an elegant hand. "'To my sunbeam,' eh? Romantic one, aren't you?"

"Not really, I wanted to say more, but only those words came out loud" I murmured, accepting the finished bouquet. "Just… finally honest."

I didn't respond. Just stared down at the sunflowers in my hand...bright, obnoxiously alive, unapologetically warm.

Like her.

Just as I turned around, half-lost in the scent of sunflowers and tangled nerves, and that's when I saw her.

Arno.

She was just a few inches behind me.

Standing there like some vision out of a fever dream I didn't imagine.

She wore a sleek white gown that floated like mist around her ankles, the soft breeze brushing against the silk fabric and her loosely tied hair. The golden light of late afternoon framed her face, and for a split second- I swear time had the decency to pause.

Every heartbeat became a song in my chest.

She smiled, "Bluebird," she said softly, her voice like calm water breaking over rocks, "are those flowers for me?"

I blinked. Stared at her like an idiot. My hand, still holding the bouquet, had frozen halfway up like I'd glitched.

Bluebird.

She still called me that.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt lined with sandpaper.

"I...uh...yeah," I stammered, then cleared my throat. "They are. I mean… if you'll take them."

The moment I handed her the bouquet, her fingers brushed against mine, just a whisper of a touch, but it jolted through me like a live wire.

She looked down at the flowers, then at the little note tied around the stems. Her lips twitched.

"'To my sunbeam'?" she read aloud, her ocean-blue eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. "Lucien… are you confessing or auditioning for a poetry club?"

I coughed, suddenly forgetting how to function. "It...it was just a note. Just… symbolism. Sunflowers. Sun. Beam. Bright... things."

God. Kill me.

She bit her lower lip to hide a grin. "You're blushing," she said, utterly delighted.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not," I repeated, which, in fact, only made it worse. My face was practically setting off fire alarms.

Arno tilted her head. "You always get this red when you give flowers, or am I just special?"

I swear I could hear steam escaping my ears. "Okay...I- uh..I should go."

Her brows lifted, clearly enjoying every second of my social combustion.

"I have a meeting!" I blurted out, already taking a half-step back. "Urgent. Corporate. Very serious stuff. Paper... signing. Numbers."

"Of course," she said smoothly, "very believable, Mr. Moreaux."

I didn't even argue. Just nodded...too fast and turned on my heel like a soldier retreating from the front lines.

I could hear her chuckle float on the air, light and smug.

God help me.

I ran from the flower mission like it was an ambush, bouquet successfully delivered, dignity severely wounded.

---

The moment I sank into the car seat, a voice chimed in my head.

"Mission complete. Congratulations! You've earned 50 points. The reward will be credited to your personal account shortly. Your host, Pokolo, will also receive 100 points."

"Well done," Pokolo added, her voice echoing from… nowhere.

I jerked my head up, then down, checked the rearview mirror, even peeked under the seat like an idiot. "Where are you?" I muttered under my breath.

"Inside your space," she replied, calm as ever.

Shan, sitting infront, gave me a side-eye like I'd grown horns.

"Mr. Moreaux… are you okay? Why are you mumbling to yourself? Wait—don't tell me you've been possessed?"

Before I could respond, he switched tracks like it was nothing.

"Oh! By the way, did you see Ms. Solace? I spotted her heading this way too."

I didn't answer. My throat tightened, my brain short-circuited, and I just stared out the window.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, well, mostly silence. Except for the screaming in my chest.

---