All Chapters of LEVEL UP MY COLD CEO {MxM}: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Dream's POV Gloss’s silence settled like a stone inside my chest. The moment those words left my mouth, the moment I whispered “Forget me? Gloss?” everything inside me twisted. He looked shattered, trembling, eyes wide with panic and confusion. I stepped toward him, reaching for him because I could feel him slipping away, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, torn between two worlds I never meant to place him between. Before I could say more, the world around us cracked. At first, it was a faint sound, like thin ice under pressure. A sharp, crisp line sliced across the sky, glowing white for one long second before spreading. Another crack followed, this one louder. The sky split open as if some unseen hand had taken a hammer to my reality. Pieces of the clouds shattered like glass and disappeared into the void. The city buildings around us flickered in and out, their foundations melting into glowing grids before blinking back as unstable outlines. The world I wished int

Gloss POV Time stops the moment those cold words scrape across my mind. Confirmed. Real body termination initiated. Everything freezes around me, as if the world cannot decide whether to keep me alive or let me dissolve. My breath catches in my throat. My pulse stutters. I feel Dream’s grip around me, strong and desperate, like he is trying to anchor me to a world that is already slipping between my fingers. Then, without warning, a soft light settles around us. It floats in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam. Warm. Still. Quiet. The kind of quiet that feels almost sacred. The countdown stops. The shaking ground stills. The broken sky pauses in its cracking. Even Dream’s heartbeat halts against my chest. Only the light moves, pulsing gently, wrapping around me in a way I never expected anything system related could. I blink at it, waiting for the cold mechanical voice to return and drag me back into panic. Instead, when the voice finally comes, something in it is different.

Gloss POV Darkness does not hold me. Light does not greet me. Instead I float. Weightless. Airless. Caught between waking and falling, like my body is present somewhere but my soul is unsure of where to settle. The world feels too soft under me, like a sheet of fog instead of a real surface. I blink, and everything comes into view at once. Dream’s office. The familiar desk. The soft glow of evening light brushing across the floor. And him. Dream sits in his chair, his head bowed slightly, his hand wrapped around my scarf. The sight of him makes something inside me ache. He looks tired. Heavy. As if he has spent hours whispering to a ghost he cannot see. I take a breath, though the air feels thin. I rise slowly, pushing myself upright, and my fingers slide through the floor before I realize what is happening. My hand does not meet resistance. My legs do not cast a shadow. My heart still beats, but softly, like it knows it is not completely tied to this world anymore. I stand

Dream's POV Gloss is warm in my arms. Warm. Solid. Here. His breath grazes my neck while I hold him, and I still do not trust it. I still do not trust myself. I still do not trust this world that once tore him away in ways I cannot even describe without wanting to tear the sky apart. My hands stay firm around him, one at his back, the other at the base of his skull, as if anchoring him might somehow convince reality to behave. He is real again. Those words echo in my head long after I whisper them. His heartbeat shakes against my chest, steady and unsure all at once. My body remembers how empty I felt without that rhythm close to me. I press him closer, afraid the warmth might flicker, afraid the solidity might fade, afraid the world might trick me again. I keep my eyes shut for a long moment, letting the weight of him settle against me. The room is still trembling faintly, like the last aftershocks of an earthquake. My office chair lies tipped on its side. The glow that was w

Gloss POV Life had a way of creeping back in quietly, subtly, after everything that had shattered and bent and rebuilt itself around us. Days began again like tiny pulses of routine, stretching across hours that felt almost ordinary. The first morning, I woke in Dream’s penthouse, sunlight spilling lazily across the floor, painting the room gold, and the first thing i noticed was him beside me, still asleep, his arm thrown over the edge of the bed like he hadn’t moved all night. I stared at him, taking a quiet breath, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the line of his shoulders, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. My fingers itched to touch, but now they could, and i did, brushing a strand of hair from his face. He murmured something low in his sleep, smiled faintly, and rolled onto his side, facing me. My heart did a tiny somersault. Coffee became our first ritual again. I wandered into the kitchen in pajamas too big for me, still smelling faintly like the hotel room i had