The hallway was silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan.
Arora's boots clicked lightly against the marble as she walked toward the lounge. She expected to find her subordinates gossiping or sparring—anything but him.
Yet when she stepped inside, she stopped short.
Jack was there, standing in the center of the room, smiling at her as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
For one disorienting heartbeat she simply stared. He's still here...
Her expression hardened, masking the ripple inside her. "Where are the others?"
Jack tilted his head. "You mean Edwin, Brother Kelvin, and Miso?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Where are they?"
He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "They all left me here—and told me to cook something for you when you woke up."
Arora blinked. The absurdity sank in. "What the hell? Why would they ask you to cook for me!?"
She snatched her phone from her pocket and dialed. "Hello! Edwin! Where the hell are you?"
Static crackled, then his voice came, full of mischief.
"I'm ... on a date with my girlfriend!"
Arora's brow twitched. "You don't have a girlfriend, Edwin."
"Ah—ah! Bad signal, can't hear you, Leader!"
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone, fury simmering. "He hung up on me?"
Miso didn't answer her call either.
Her jaw clenched. "What am I supposed to do now!?"
The frustration broke loose in one sharp cry that echoed down the empty corridor.
"AAAHH!"
Jack peeked from the kitchen doorway, startled. "What happened, Baby?"
She exhaled sharply, glaring. "I'm hungry! Do you even know how to cook?"
Jack's grin returned, bright and ridiculous. "Yes, I do! Tell me what you want to eat."
Arora crossed her arms, pretending disinterest. "Just a bowl of fried rice."
"Coming right up!"
---
In the Kitchen
Jack moved with a lightness that didn't belong in a fortress like this.
He rolled up his sleeves, humming softly as he gathered vegetables from the counter.
The knife began its rhythm — swift, sure, almost musical.
Arora sat across from him, arms folded, but her eyes followed the dance of his hands.
The scent of raw onion and garlic filled the air. The steady rhythm of chopping was oddly soothing.
He's actually good, she thought, surprised.
Her gaze softened before she noticed. And he looks... kind of handsome doing that.
She caught herself and blinked hard. What the hell am I thinking?
But her traitorous mind wandered anyway —
for a fleeting moment, she imagined standing up, walking to him, reaching out...
In her mind, she saw herself whispering:
"Jack, how come you're this beautiful?"
She imagined him turning, startled.
Beautiful? he'd ask, and she'd laugh softly, Yes. You shouldn't make me feel like this.
Her thoughts carried her further — the imagined warmth of his body, the faint smell of smoke and soap, the way she might lean close enough for her breath to touch his ear...
And then—
The sound of the spoon clattering against the stove pulled her back to reality.
She blinked hard, her pulse racing.
The dream shattered like glass, and she realized she'd been staring far too long.
Jack was just turning to look at her, confused. "Uh... Baby? You okay?"
Arora quickly stood, hiding her face behind her hand. "I—uh, yes. The smell's just... strong."
Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs. What am I doing... imagining something like that?
And yet, despite her embarrassment, she couldn't suppress the faint warmth that lingered.
For the first time since she'd built her empire of fear,
the Black Rose had let herself dream — even for just a second —
of what it might feel like to be human again.
To Be Continued.