Mya stopped short just before the corner, her fingers tightening around the edges of Stiletto's oversized trench coat. The heavy wool still carried his scent—leather, faint spice, and something unmistakably him. She lifted her chin, drew a shaky breath, and turned to face him.
"K—Kiss me."
The words came out small, almost lost in the morning chill, but there was steel beneath them. She was trying—really trying—to borrow some of his easy confidence before the door she dreaded opened.
Stiletto's mouth curved into that familiar, lazy smirk as he stepped in close, one hand sliding to the small of her back, the other tilting her chin up with two fingers. Then he kissed her. Slow at first, then deeper, until the tension in her shoulders finally eased and she relaxed against him. When he pulled back, her lips were parted, cheeks flushed beneath the morning light.
"Better?" he murmured.
Mya exhaled a tiny, unsteady laugh. "For now."
And then, they rounded the corner together.
Acerbus's better streets unfolded around them—clean cobbles free of mud or refuse, carriages rolling smoothly past with quiet clatter, merchants calling out wares in practiced rhythms without ever raising their voices to a shout. Magic-powered lampposts stood at regular intervals, glass globes still glowing softly against the pale morning sky even though dawn had already broken. Everything felt orderly. Polished. Safe.
Stiletto glanced sideways at Mya, then down at himself. Black pants tucked into sturdy winter boots, a simple white T-shirt stolen from the school's physical education stockpile—it was soft, breathable cotton. It was just another thing that truly reminded him of his home back on Earth… nothing like the stiff, itchy tunics that had filled his predecessor's wardrobe. For whatever reason, that was all he'd possessed.
What a weirdo…
Anyway, this was the nicer half of Acerbus—the part with trimmed hedges and freshly swept stoops. His predecessor had never set foot here before, since school had always been the extent of his visits. Even though it was only ten minutes by carriage to reach Mya's apartment, the previous owner of this body had never once bothered to wander an extra block beyond the academy gates.
The outside world must have been scary.
As they reached the modest stone building, they started up the stairs. The hallways were clean, the walls painted a soft cream, faint echoes of their footsteps bouncing off polished wood. Halfway to the third floor, Stiletto's mind drifted again.
'Hopefully this goes well...'
Honestly, he was scared shitless. The old Stiletto had met James a few times, and the image of the man in his mind was not one he wanted to mess with. Not to mention, he was also just nervous. This was his first time having to sit across from a man whose wife he'd drilled into night after night.
'I'm sure it'll get easier though...'
Arriving, Mya paused outside apartment number 307.
She drew a long, steadying breath, her shoulders lifting, then easing back down. The trench coat swallowed her frame, sleeves slipping past her fingertips, yet she still looked impossibly small.
Then, their eyes met—both seemingly saying the same thing:
'We got this.'
Mya gave the smallest nod—like she was steeling herself one last time—then raised her knuckles and knocked.
The sound echoed faintly in the quiet hall.
A beat...
And a moment later, the door creaked open.
James stood there—nothing like the hazy image Stiletto carried from borrowed memories. Disheveled blond hair hung limp over his forehead, a patchy brown beard clung to his jaw like it had given up trying, and tired blue eyes sat sunken in a face that looked ten years older than it should. He was maybe 5'9", forced to tilt his head up to meet Stiletto's gaze. The man in front of him wasn't the man Stiletto remembered. This James looked worn thin, shoulders slumped, clothes rumpled like he'd slept in them.
A smirk tugged at Stiletto's mouth before he could stop it.
'This might be easier than I thought.'
James blinked once, surprise flickering across his features, then his gaze settled on Mya. "Mya… aren't you supposed to be at work?" His voice came out rough, uncertain. His eyes slid sideways. "Why'd you bring the boy?"
Mya didn't flinch. All the nerves that had twisted her stomach moments ago seemed to vanish the second the door opened as she smiled—warm, easy, like this was the most ordinary morning in the world.
"I wanted to invite my Young Master over for breakfast," she said smoothly. "And… I have something I'd like to talk about."
Unsure of what to think, James's eyes moved between them. He caught the dress first—one he hadn't seen her wear in years—but didn't dwell on it. Instead, his attention settled on the oversized trench coat draped over her shoulders, its quality impossible to ignore. After a moment, he gave a slow nod. "Whose coat is that?"
Mya's smile held, masterful, though a faint flush crept up her neck. "I was cold on the ride over. I asked him to lend it to me." She smoothed Stiletto's most-prized article of clothing with one hand, casual as anything. "It's warm."
Grunting, James's eyes flickered to Stiletto before returning to his wife—something sharp and fleeting passing through them. "Hang it up on the coat rack," he muttered. "Make sure not to forget that thing, though…" He paused, voice dipping lower, edged with something close to envy. "…it might be pretty expensive to pay him back if you lost it."
Seeing an opening, Stiletto seized it. He stepped forward and extended his hand, his grin wide and bright. "Thank you for having me, Mr. Caster! Mya has been an excellent… maid to me, so of course I had to accept her invitation!"
James looked startled—like the loud, confident voice didn't match the quiet boy he remembered. He stared a second too long, then reached out and shook Stiletto's hand. The grip was loose, distracted. "Yeah…" he said, scratching the back of his head. Then he turned, swinging the door wider. "Come in."
Once James stepped farther away, Mya and Stiletto locked eyes in the doorway.
Stiletto leaned close, his voice a low scold meant only for her. "You could've told me this was going to be a surprise..."
Mya blinked. Her wrinkled forehead scrunched deeper as the realization hit—she really hadn't warned him.
'Shit.'
A flush immediately climbed her cheeks. She opened her mouth, trying to speak—clearly sorry—but no words came. However, knowing it wasn't a big issue, Stiletto's expression softened as he gave her a small, reassuring shake of the head. "It's fine… let's go in."
They both stepped forward...
But just as the two were about to cross the doorway, a sudden voice rang out from somewhere deeper inside the apartment. A girl's voice—high-pitched, sharp with irritation.
"Daaaddd! How many times do I have to tell you to let me answer the door?! Your face is going to scare people away!"
Footsteps followed—quick, light, almost impatient.
James didn't bother responding as he rounded the corner, already stepping aside. At the same time, someone else slipped past him—brushing his shoulders as she came from the back of the apartment.
Stiletto didn't recognize her. Not a single borrowed memory stirred. And yet, despite not having any memories of the girl before him, it was immediately obvious who she was.
Same dark-green hair, the same bleak silver eyes, the same fair skin. She was taller and leaner, her frame fit and athletic rather than soft and curved like Mya's. Her breasts were smaller—still generous by any normal standard—but nothing like the heavy, straining mounds Mya carried. Youth clung to every line of her face, making her seem almost too bright against the dim hallway light.
Mya's gasp broke the silence—gleeful, dramatic, and unmistakably playful.
"Is that Sarah Caster I see?!"
She surged forward, large breasts bouncing hard against the thin gray dress as she swept the girl into a crushing hug. "What are you doing here?!"
The girl laughed, arms wrapping tight around Mya's waist. "Surprise, mom! The academy decided to let the students have a few weeks of break, so I came to visit!"
Yep, that definitely confirmed it:
Mya's daughter was home.