Good Night

After their strategy talk, everyone retreated their own rooms.

But before sleep, Myth knew he had to do something.

The last battle was a failure.

But the good thing about failure is—it teaches you.

And Myth had learned his lesson.

He had to use Sira's powers. Not just once, but keep using her.

Myth quietly slipped out of his room.

Knock... knock...

The door opened.

Sira stood there in her black nightgown. Barefoot. Eyes half-tired.

"Hey..." Myth said, voice low.

"Can I come in?"

Sira was a little surprised to see Myth at this hour. But she knew—if he'd come here, then something had to be serious.

"Yes... what happened?" she asked right away, stepping aside to let him in.

Myth entered and glanced around the room. The walls were a dirty white, stained with large yellow patches. Cracks ran across them like veins, even creeping onto the desk. In one corner stood a bed—pink bedsheets, red pillows—completely out of place in a room like this.

He quietly pulled out a chair and sat down.

His eyes found Sira, now sitting on the bed. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then, in a calm, polite voice, Myth began to speak.

After a moment of silence, he spoke in a polite voice.

"Sira, let's become friends again. Normal friends—not strangers," Myth said, glancing at her to gauge her reaction.

Sira's eyes widened slightly. A faint smile appeared on her face.

"Yes... okay, Myth. What happened? Why the sudden change of heart?" she asked.

That smile made Myth furious.

It felt like he was trapped in a cage, and his captor was smiling—just because he had finally caved.

"You know what happened. As pathetic as it may sound after everything I said... I do care for you," Myth said flatly, showing no emotion.

Sira's smile faded into a frown. Looking down, she replied softly:

"Myth... you owed me one. Let's call it even."

Myth sighed and leaned back. After a pause, he spoke again.

"No. I still owe you. I'm not the kind of person who throws someone into a river full of crocodiles, then pulls them out and says, 'we're even.'"

He paused.

"So no—I still owe."

He got up from the chair and turned to leave.

But Myth couldn't shake the feeling.

Raev showing up—that wasn't part of the plan. His presence alone had caused everything to fall apart.

And then there was Myth himself.

The way he'd jumped in to save Sira from a fatal blow…

That wasn't like him.

All of it—Raev's interference keeping Walker busy, his own impulsive actions—it all seemed to revolve around Sira.

Maybe Myth's odds had shifted.

Maybe his ambition to win had grown causing him to take more risk.

Maybe his care for Sira had deepened.

Maybe the this all just because Sira wanted to save herself.

But there was a darker, more terrifying possibility:

What if all of this happened simply because Sira wanted to be friends with him again?

If so...

Then she had already won.

Myth was trapped—by Sira's powers.

Now, he had no choice but to manipulate her—constantly—just to keep her powers in check.

To observe, to predict. That was the only way he'd stay ahead.

Just as he reached for the door, ready to leave—

Sira spoke in a low voice.

"Myth, why are you treating me this way? What have I done to you?"

Myth froze.

He couldn't answer. A dull ache rose in his head, a warning sign.

Because deep down... she was right.

'Why am I treating her this way? It's her life. She's not doing anything wrong.'

He could've lied from the start.

Faked his feelings—just like before. Controlled her through kindness and charm.

But he hadn't. And he knew exactly why.

Sira, still looking down, spoke again—

Her voice soft, raw with emotion.

"Myth... I know you care about me. A lot.

I care about you too. Please don't think your feelings are one-sided.

You're one of the most important people in my life.

And I would gladly give my life to save yours.

Just please... don't treat me like a stranger.

We've shared too much.

Too many memories, too many feelings that make me who I am.

So please..."

Myth's heart throbbed.

His chest tightened with fear—because of what he was about to ask.

Still not facing her, he spoke:

"Can you honestly answer one thing?

Do you ever want to leave Ciel's house?"

He glanced back slightly, his heart racing.

There was silence.

Then, with a cracking voice, Sira replied—

"Why do you always bring that up...?

I told you, didn't I?

My family works for him. Why would I leave them, Myth?"

Myth exhaled.

That was the answer he expected.

But part of him had still hoped for something else.

Sira was like a drug.

He'd get close, feel good, enjoy his time… then crash.

Nothing good ever came of it.

Only heartbreak.

He turned and looked at her—

That dejected figure sitting on the bed.

"So what you're saying is, you want me beside you…

but you'll always be with Ciel?"

Sira looked up.

Tears welled in her eyes.

"What's wrong with that, Myth...?

I just want you to be my close friend.

What does that have to do with Ciel?"

She paused.

"Myth… my parents are my first priority.

And just below them, it's you... and Ciel.

So please... stop being so insecure. Please."

'Insecurities?'

The word stung.

Myth felt a flicker of anger rise inside him.

A small ember, but it burned deep.

He turned and started walking away.

He didn't want another fight. Not tonight.

"Wait!!" Sira yelled.

When he didn't stop, she ran forward and slammed the door shut.

Standing in front of it, blocking his exit—

Her voice trembled, but was firm.

"We're getting down to it, Myth."

Myth steadied his breath.

He wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

He had to use Sira's powers—understand them, control them.

"I told you, didn't I? We're friends," he said, keeping his tone neutral.

"So can you please move aside? I'm really tired… especially after that punch below my ribs."

He walked toward the door.

But Sira didn't move.

Instead, she placed both her hands on his shoulders to stop him.

Myth looked at her teary eyes—

His own face calm, but the anger simmered beneath.

Sira didn't back down.

Still holding his shoulders, she spoke:

"Myth, I'm ambitious. I want to be strong, I want to grow.

I will not have Ciel or his family use them at their convenience."

She paused. Her voice cracked.

"So please… tell me why you keep pushing me away like this."

Myth tried to pull free, but Sira was far stronger.

She held him firm.

When he suddenly used force—

His body gave out.

Pain shot through his ribs and knees.

They both crashed to the ground.

Sira landed on top, pinning him down.

"Answer me!" she cried, voice trembling.

'She's crazy… out of her mind…'

Myth was stunned. Angry, yes—but mostly stunned.

Sira had never acted like this.

A part of him wanted to hurt her back.

To say something cruel.

But he knew too well what her powers could do.

So he swallowed the rage.

Looked her in the eye.

"Okay," he began. His voice like a blade.

"You are Ciel's property. Beneath him.

And I'm ashamed to call you my friend—

Because people think we're equals. Because I think we're equals.

That alone puts me beneath him.

Even though my mother earns more than his entire family."

He paused.

"So do you get it, Sira?

We're not equals right now.

So either become my equal—or let me go."

Tears streamed down Sira's cheeks.

They fell onto Myth's face, but he didn't blink.

He just stared at the ceiling.

He had made the same mistake again.

Sira's voice cracked through the silence:

"Alright... I'm not just Ciel's property… I'm yours too.

So go ahead—order me around.

Want me to clean your room? Dress you?"

Her voice grew sharper, more bitter.

"Are you happy now, Myth?

Does that satisfy your ego?

Is your fragile pride safe now?"

"Want me to shout it to everyone I meet?

Will that make you feel better?"

'She's insane… absolutely insane. She might just rival my mother.'

'What do I even say to calm her down?'

Myth kept staring at the ceiling.

Unmoved by her tears.

But he knew—he was done for.

There was no escaping Sira.

He was completely, hopelessly trapped.

"Alright, Sira," he muttered.

"Can you please let go of me now?"

But she didn't.

She just collapsed into his chest.

Her sobs soaked his shirt. Her tears dirtied his skin.

Myth didn't fight it.

He couldn't.

They stayed like that—

One hour. Maybe more.

And finally, when the weight on his chest lifted—

Sira whispered:

"I'm sorry."

She got off him.

Myth slowly sat up, then stood and wiped his face.

He looked at Sira.

"It's alright. I'm sorry too."

He turned toward the door.

Just before leaving, he glanced back and said:

"Goodnight."

As the door shut softly behind him, Myth leaned his back against it for a second.

He didn't know whether he had just won… or lost.

But one thing was certain—he had to survive Sira… until the Undercity was behind them.