She stared at him for a long moment, her mind racing, trying to process everything. "This is crazy." She repeated. And quite an understatement at that.
"Crazy doesn't even begin to describe our world." He chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. "So, what's your answer, Saya? Are you willing to give it a try?"
Saya was silent, contemplating his proposal. She was conflicted, to say the least. She had never imagined herself being a part of such a non-traditional relationship, and yet here she was, considering it. Tysone was a good guy, even if he was a pervert and a jerk sometimes. And he was right; this was not the same world they used to know. Rules and norms had been thrown out the window.
She took a deep breath, her decision made.
"Alright. I'll give it a try. But I'm not going to make it easy on you. Also, if I'm going to partake in this, we have to lay out a set of rules and expectations, okay?" She stated firmly. She needed some control over the situation; she wasn't just going to jump into it blindly.
He grinned. "That's fair. Let's talk it out."
"I don't want to feel like I'm competing for your attention. This relationship needs to be balanced, fair, and equal for all of us. However, I've been there from the start. You catch my drift? I don't want to be a concubine in this, I want to be the main wife." She declared, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't going to be some second-rate girlfriend; she wanted to be an equal partner.
He blinked. Uh oh. If he agreed, he'd have to tell Mai. But what if she wanted the same? Gotta deflect this shit. Let them deal with this because his job was to kill zombies, not be the moderator for women's disputes.
"I think you have to take that up with Mai." Tysone stated. "You both need to decide which one is the main wife."
She frowned, her brows furrowing in irritation. "Why? You can't choose?"
Tysone looked her in the eyes, serious. "Saya, come on, don't be dumb. I'm a man. A pervert too. Do you know how hard it is for me to not choose you? I can't, and I won't, because it wouldn't be fair. It has to be both of you, and if that can't happen, well, this is over before it begins." Tysone said.
"..."
She sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
"I hate you, and I hate myself for loving you all the same. Let's set this aside, then." She huffed.
She was going to have to confront Mai, but that could wait.
"Next rule." She began, her voice stern and resolute. "No secrets between any of us, and definitely not between us and you. We need to have complete trust and transparency in this relationship." Her eyes locked onto his, conveying the seriousness of her demand.
Tysone nodded. "Fair enough. Honesty is crucial."
"Also, no double standards. If you're going to spend time with someone, it has to be fair for everyone involved. We won't tolerate favoritism." Saya added, her voice firm and uncompromising. "Though I wouldn't mind you spoiling me a bit."
Tysone raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a small smirk. "Oh, really?"
Her face turned a deep shade of red, realizing what she had inadvertently confessed.
She quickly turned away. "Shut up."
Tysone smiled at her, his eyes filled with admiration and amusement. "Alright. No secrets, no double standards, and I'll make sure to spoil you, Saya. Any more rules?" He asked.
She thought for a moment, clearing her throat. "N-Nothing else c-c-c-comes to mind at the moment." She said so, but for some totally enigmatic reason, her eyes turned watery and her cheeks turned pink.
"Huh?" Tysone blinked.
"Jerk!" She screamed.
He laughed, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. She stiffened for a moment, her breath catching in her throat, but then relaxed under his touch.
"Alright, then." Tysone whispered, leaning in closer.
"Idiot." Saya muttered, her lips inching towards his. Their lips touched, a gentle brush at first, sending sparks through her body. His lips were soft and warm, igniting a fire within her that she had never felt before.
She pulled back for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. "T-This is so weird." Was that her first kiss?
Tysone grabbed her chin and tilted her back towards his lips. His tongue invaded her mouth, coaxing her to meet him. She yelped in his mouth, eyes opening wide, yet soon fluttering to a pleased, heavy-lidded state.
"Mmmm..."
He was gentle yet firm, his hand moving to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. She felt his other arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her mind went blank, and she could only focus on the feeling of his lips against hers, his tongue dancing with hers in a passionate rhythm.
Warm. Wet. Slippery. Messy.
Very messy.
She trembled when her saliva trickled out the corner of her mouth, but then she was too distracted by his lips, and his hands.
Tysone had pushed her back into her own bed, and his hand was on her chest. He was squeezing it. This guy, this fucking guy—!!
When Tysone finally released her from the kiss, they were both gasping for breath, their eyes locked in an intense gaze.
His thumb traced the line of her jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt through her.
Saya shivered, moaning slightly. "You're a problem, Ty." She whispered, her voice barely audible. "A huge, yankee-sized problem."
He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "Yeah, but I'm your problem now." He lowered his head again, but before their lips could meet, a frantic, pounding knock rattled Saya's bedroom door.
"Tysone! Saya-san! You need to see this! Now!" Kohta's voice, usually so steady, was tight with urgency.
The moment shattered. Tysone pulled back, a curse under his breath. Saya pushed herself up, her face flushed, a mixture of annoyance and concern warring in her expression. "What now?" She muttered, straightening the rumpled cyberpunk jacket Marin had so painstakingly crafted.
Tysone was already on his feet, the familiar mantle of leadership on his shoulders. He strode to the door and yanked it open. Kohta stood there, panting, his face pale under the dim hallway lights. He wasn't wearing his party costume anymore, but his standard tactical gear.
"What is it, Kohta?" Tysone's voice was sharp.
"Outside!" Kohta gasped, not waiting for a reply. He spun on his heel and barrelled down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. "On patrol… I saw… you just have to see it."
"Shit." Tysone grumbled, turning back for a second. Saya was right behind him, her expression grim. The playful blush was gone, replaced by the sharp focus of the group's strategist. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. "Let's go."
They followed Kohta with haste, down the stairs and through the now-quiet living room where the ghosts of their party lingered.
The makeshift stage, the scattered cups, the faint scent of punch and perfume.
Kohta led them not to a window, but straight to the heavy, reinforced front door. He fumbled with the locks, his hands shaking slightly, before swinging it open to the dark, wet night.
"Out there." He said, his voice a hushed, terrified whisper. He pointed past the gate, towards the distant, dark tree line at the edge of the property. "Look."
Tysone and Saya peered out into the rain-swept darkness. At first, there was nothing but the black silhouettes of trees swaying against a sky still faintly lit by the dying, unnatural aurora. Then, Tysone saw it. A flicker of light. An orange-red spark, low to the ground, moving between the trees. Then another. And another.
They were like embers carried on a phantom wind, weaving through the woods.
"What is that? Torches?" Saya murmured, her brow furrowing. "Survivors?"
"No." Kohta said, his voice trembling. "They're… they're not carrying them. The fire… it is them."
As he spoke, one of the lights broke free from the woods, loping into the open field that separated the forest from their mansion. It wasn't a torch. It was an animal. A dog. Or what looked like a dog, if a dog had been flayed, charred black, and set ablaze from the inside out.
Its skeletal form was wreathed in flickering, smokeless flames. Its eyes were hollow sockets burning with molten-red light. As it moved, it left behind a trail of scorched, smoldering footprints on the wet grass, the rain hissing into steam where it stepped.
A low, guttural howl echoed across the field, a sound that was less animal and more the grating of hot metal.
Then another one joined it. And a third. A pack of them, all burning, all howling that same horrifying, unnatural cry. They weren't straight out making their way towards the mansion. They were loitering, probably.
Or at least, hunting.
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at [email protected]/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.