บททั้งหมดของ LEVEL UP MY COLD CEO {MxM}: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Dream's POV Gloss was still asleep when I woke. His hair was a mess, the kind of wild that made him look both harmless and dangerous at once. The city lights filtered through the curtains, silvering his cheekbones. I watched him breathe for a moment, slow and even, the faint hum of our mental link still lingering at the edge of my mind. Every now and then, a stray thought of his flickered through, warm, lazy, unguarded. It felt wrong to listen, but impossible to turn off. I pulled away and stood by the window, staring at the skyline that stretched beyond the penthouse glass. The day ahead loomed over me like a shadow. The company’s tenth anniversary. A celebration, a show of strength, a chance to prove that DreamCorp hadn’t fallen despite everything that happened. Gloss had volunteered, no, insisted, on planning the entire event. He’d been glued to his tablet for days, designing, budgeting, and arguing with vendors who couldn’t meet his standards. I’d wanted to stop him at first.

Dream's POV The sound of alarms was replaced by something worse, silence. Not the peaceful kind, but a heavy, choking quiet that pressed against my ears. The whole building had gone dark after Adrian’s words, his voice still echoing inside my head like static I couldn’t scrub out. Every neon sign, every glowing display, every heartbeat of electricity in the penthouse-level ballroom had flatlined. I blinked, trying to see past the shadows. Gloss stood a few feet ahead, his hand outstretched toward where Adrian’s hologram had been seconds ago. The space was empty now, just faint particles hanging in the dark. I stepped closer, my heartbeat loud enough to feel in my throat. “Gloss,” I called softly. No response. He turned toward me, his face dimly illuminated by the faint backup lights lining the floor. For a moment, I saw confusion flicker in his eyes, then focus. “It’s the residual code,” he said. “Adrian didn’t survive. What we saw… it’s just the fragment reacting.” But the way

Dream's POV Light broke across my face, soft and golden, like a sunrise that had been waiting for years. The first thing I felt was warmth. Not the artificial hum of servers or the cold flicker of monitors, real warmth. I blinked, once, twice, until the world around me came into focus. I was lying on a bed. A real bed. Sheets crisp and white, sunlight spilling across the wooden floor. For a long moment, I didn’t move. My chest rose and fell in a rhythm that felt both foreign and familiar. I was alive. I was breathing. But something inside me felt... wrong. There was no static in my head, no soft whisper of code, no digital pulse thrumming beneath my skin. The air was too still, too quiet. The system was gone. I sat up slowly, pressing a hand to my temple as if that would help the dull ache there. My fingers brushed against the small scar just above my ear, the neural port. It was cold now, lifeless. The faint light that had always glowed there no longer shone. For the first time

Dream's POV The rain had followed me since morning, soft and persistent, tracing silver threads across the glass of the car as it moved through the city. It was the kind of weather that felt familiar, even comforting, like it belonged to another time I couldn’t quite recall. I watched the buildings blur by, the wet streets shimmering under the lights, and tried to ignore the ache that had been sitting in my chest all week. I was supposed to feel content. The company had expanded, the new branch was running smoothly, and the board had approved my latest proposal. Everything I’d been working toward for years was finally falling into place. Yet, something felt wrong. Not broken, not missing, just wrong. The world was too quiet. The assistant beside me kept talking about figures, schedules, data, but her voice was just noise in the background. My mind wandered elsewhere, chasing fragments I couldn’t hold on to. A laugh, a voice, the smell of coffee. I didn’t know where they came from

Dream's POV The nights started changing. At first, it was just static in my sleep, faint flickers of something I couldn’t name, the way a forgotten song hums in your head without melody or words. But then the dreams sharpened. The flashes came faster, clearer. Coffee steam curling into the air, soft laughter I’d never heard before, a hand brushing mine, the smell of rain clinging to clothes, a voice, “Dream.” Every time I woke up, my chest ached, as if my heart had been running through memories my mind had lost. I’d sit at the edge of the bed, staring at my hands, wondering why my body reacted to phantoms. It was madness. Or maybe something else. Since I’d met Gloss again at that café, my world hadn’t been the same. I’d told myself it was a coincidence, that hiring him was logical, he was capable, quiet, and reliable. But deep down, I knew it was instinct. The kind that pulled without asking for permission. The kind that said, don’t let him go again. I didn’t even understand th