Chapter Text
It started as a normal day.
Which, in hindsight, should have been suspicious.
Lloyd Forger—Twilight—was more than capable of maintaining a flawless routine. That was the point of this entire operation.
Yor took Anya to school.
He handled his work.
Everything proceeded as expected.
Efficient.
Controlled.
Predictable.
Franky had warned him.
Repeatedly.
“Your wife’s not an idiot, man.”
Lloyd had dismissed it.
Yor was perceptive, yes—but not in a way that threatened the mission.
Not yet.
Still…
There were… complications.
Minor ones.
Manageable ones.
Like the fact that his composure slipped around her.
Occasionally.
Rarely.
…More often than acceptable.
He had caught himself staring.
More than once.
Blushing—
Unacceptable.
But it was fine.
Everything was under control.
This was a mission.
Nothing more.
Even if Yor balanced her responsibilities with effortless grace.
Even if her presence made this fabricated domestic life feel…
dangerously convincing.
Focus.
He had always known this could happen.
Running into the Thorn Princess was a statistical possibility.
A manageable one.
A scenario he had prepared for.
So why—
Why couldn’t he shoot?
The gun remained steady in his hand.
Perfect posture.
Perfect aim.
Perfect opportunity.
And still—
Nothing.
Across from him, the Thorn Princess moved like a shadow.
Precise.
Effortless.
Untouchable.
She dodged every bullet.
Didn’t retaliate.
Didn’t advance.
Didn’t even try.
She was… stalling.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed.
That’s not her style.
Then he noticed it.
Blood.
Seeping through her clothes.
His grip tightened.
She’s injured.
And she still wasn’t attacking.
That was wrong.
Everything about this was wrong.
That’s not Yor.
He corrected himself immediately.
That’s not your wife.
Even if—
No.
Irrelevant.
“…I didn’t think this would come so soon, Lloyd-san.”
Twilight blinked.
Wait.
Lloyd-san?
Not Twilight.
Not enemy.
“…I already knew you belonged to the opposite country, but…”
Her voice wavered.
His thoughts stalled.
She knew?
No—that didn’t make sense.
If she knew, she would have acted differently.
Strategically.
Efficiently.
This—
This was something else.
“…To think the moment would come when I couldn’t synchronize our timers…”
Silence.
“…Timers?” he repeated.
Yor didn’t answer.
She started pacing.
Visibly distressed.
“Being a spy was surprising, yes, but it explains your excuses—and mine were convincing enough—”
Mine?
“But I thought your assignment would be later! Did I take too long finishing mine?!”
Twilight shot a still-moving target on reflex.
His brain had stopped contributing.
What is happening?
“…If you’re here with me, then—”
The realization hit.
Hard.
His eyes widened.
“…Anya.”
Yor nodded immediately, tears in her eyes.
“Anya’s home alone.”
Silence.
…Oh.
Anya stared at the window.
The house felt too big.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
Papa? Mama?
Something bad is happening.
Twilight made a decision.
A terrible one.
A completely unprofessional one.
He lowered the gun.
“Yor—”
That was as far as he got.
Because Yor grabbed him.
And then they were moving.
Fast.
Very fast.
Twilight—master spy, elite operative, rational thinker—
Was being carried.
This is unacceptable.
“…You’re bleeding,” he managed.
“You’re injured too!” Yor shot back, tightening her hold.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Her expression softened slightly.
Relieved.
Twilight looked away immediately.
His face was warm.
This is also unacceptable.