LOGINDream's POV The first thing I heard was the alarm. Not the usual morning chime from my wall panel, but the shrill, mechanical scream of a system breach. I shot upright in bed, the red emergency lights flashing through the penthouse like veins of fire. “System, report,” I barked, voice sharp and rough from sleep. No response. Only static. Then, the building itself seemed to shudder, screens flickering, locks disengaging, cameras twitching like they were alive. My breath came quick, cold realization sinking in. This wasn’t just a glitch. Something was inside. I reached for my wrist console, scanning the alerts. Every line of code scrolled in crimson. Unauthorized access, central AI override, encrypted source unknown. Unknown? No. Not unknown. I’d seen that encryption before. Years ago. Adrian. The thought hit like ice water. I froze, staring at the corrupted data feed as fragments of his old coding signature bled through, the patterns, the encryption rhythm, even the precise sy
Gloss POV The static hum of the system was supposed to be gone. Dream had stabilized it after our last meltdown, and I’d sworn I’d keep it that way. But lately, the hum had changed. It had… a tone. A rhythm. Almost like breathing. At first, I told myself I was imagining things. Too much caffeine, too many nights tangled in corporate drama, and too many mornings pretending everything was normal. But when the lights in Dream’s penthouse flickered at exactly 3:33 a.m. for the third night in a row, and a voice, soft, low, unmistakable, murmured my name, I stopped pretending. “Gloss…” The sound came from the system interface near the wall. Its blue glow pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. I froze in bed, my hands gripping the sheets, every nerve alive. Dream shifted beside me but didn’t wake. I turned my head slowly, watching the console screen shimmer as if something…someone…was trapped inside it. “Gloss, can you hear me?” That voice. Calm, intimate, dangerous. Adrian. My chest tight
Dream's POV The studio lights dimmed after the interview, but the noise didn’t fade. It followed us out like a ghost, echoing through the reporters shouting questions, through the flashes of cameras, through the weight that settled in my chest the moment Adrian’s name was spoken aloud. I managed to smile, to keep my mask on until we reached the car. Gloss walked beside me, waving politely to the crowd, but his hand brushed mine once, subtle, grounding. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. By the time the driver closed the door and the city started to blur past the window, the silence became unbearable. Gloss finally said, “You okay?” I stared straight ahead. “Fine.” He sighed softly, turning his head toward me. “You don’t look fine.” “I said I’m fine.” The words came out sharper than I meant. He didn’t reply, but I could feel it, the flicker of my anger bleeding into him through the bond. His pulse quickened slightly, mirroring my own. I forced myself to take a breath, to pull
Gloss POV The next morning came faster than I wanted. I barely got any sleep, mostly because the system announcement from last night still echoed in my head like a bad joke. “Mission: Attend Couple Interview.” I’d thought maybe it was one of those optional quests we could ignore, but no. When I checked the system again at sunrise, it was flashing red. “Mandatory mission. Failure will reduce synchronization by 40%.” So, there I was, sitting on the edge of Dream’s couch, nervously fixing the collar of my shirt while he stood by the window, reading through the list of “approved talking points.” The air between us felt too still, too charged. Every time I glanced at him, I caught the reflection of his perfectly pressed suit, the calm confidence he wore like armor. But even from where I sat, I could feel it, that small ripple of tension running through our bond. Dream wasn’t calm. He was faking it. “We’ll be fine,” he said finally, not looking at me. “It’s just a twenty-minute segme
Dream's POV It started with a headline. “CEO and Secretary Spotted Leaving Penthouse Together at Dawn.” There was even a picture, blurry, but unmistakably us. Gloss had been half-asleep, wearing my oversized hoodie, while I looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Which was true. Unfortunately, the world didn’t care about context. By the time I reached the office, chaos had already taken over. The lobby was crawling with reporters, microphones flashing like weapons. My assistant tried to block them as I walked through, but the questions came flying from every direction. “Mr. Dream! Is it true you’re in a relationship with your secretary?” “Were you together last night at your penthouse?” “Is this why the company canceled the investor’s dinner?” I ignored them, pushing through until the elevator doors slid shut. The silence inside was a relief, cold, sterile, temporary. When I reached my floor, Gloss was already waiting in my office, sitting at my desk like he owned the
Gloss POV I never thought my life would come to this, standing at the edge of Dream’s ridiculously huge bed while the system blared in my head like an overenthusiastic wedding planner. [System Notification: To maintain emotional stability and synchronization, hosts must share sleeping quarters. Proximity improves balance by 73%.] I blinked at the message, rereading it three times, hoping it would magically change into something less humiliating. It didn’t. Dream, of course, was already unbuttoning his cufflinks, completely unfazed. “You heard the system,” he said calmly, as if the universe hadn’t just forced us into some cosmic sleepover. “I heard,” I muttered, still clutching my pillow like it was a lifeline. “Doesn’t mean I agree.” “You don’t have to agree,” he replied without looking up, his voice low and deliberate. “You just have to follow orders.” “Orders? Oh please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re enjoying this.” He glanced at me then, a faint smirk pulling at his lip







