System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]-Chapter 19: This life is so unbelievably damned...

’What the hell happened in those godforsaken thirty minutes for his favorability to spike like that?’

[ Dear Host, you have exited negative status. Your survival probability has increased. ]

"...Did I talk in my sleep or something?"

"No."

Blake let out a long, exhausted sigh and pushed himself upright, a dull heaviness still clinging to his limbs.

"Let’s just play."

Being drugged wasn’t funny. Not even a little. It obviously sat wrong in his chest. How was he supposed to trust Myles after that?

Not that he ever really did.

’Doesn’t look like he touched me... but who knows at this point.’

They passed the time like that, quiet. Myles barely spoke, his expression was sharper, colder than usual. And yet, according to the system, his favorability had climbed into neutral.

’Neutral, huh...’

Blake didn’t know how to feel about that.

’Is that even better? At least when he was negative, he felt... something. Even if it was bad.’

***

"Thanks for the fun time."

Blake stood by the door, already half-turned to leave.

"Take this."

Myles held something out. Blake glanced down.

"Ah, isn’t this yours?"

"...."

A pause. As always, an uncomfortable one.

"...Never mind, let’s exchange umbrellas. Thanks."

He took it anyway. At this point, he didn’t care what it was, he just wanted out.

On the walk to the bus stop, the anxiety never left. It lingered, constant, gnawing.

"Spoon."

[ Yes, Dear Host. ]

"What did Myles do while I was asleep?"

No response.

How baffling.

Why couldn’t he even know that much?

’I hate you. Fuck, seducing Myles isn’t easy. I hate this...’

His eyes started to sting, but he forced it down. Crying in the middle of the street wasn’t an option.

There wasn’t even a good reason to cry.

Other than being drugged.

’I mean... that’s not the only thing he did.’

The memory alone made him shudder.

His phone began to ring.

That never really happened. Not Blake’s parents, not Myles, not classmates. No one ever reached out first.

He pulled it out, raising an eyebrow.

Unknown number.

"...Huh."

With a tired sigh, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and sat down at the bus stop to wait.

Blake dragged himself through the door like something the world had already chewed up and spit back out.

The apartment greeted him the same way it always did, he could never get familiar with it.

"...Tch."

Annoyance flared, quick and sharp. He tossed the umbrella aside carelessly. It clattered against the wall and slid to the floor, abandoned just as quickly as the thought.

"Not my problem."

Except everything about this was his problem.

Blake exhaled slowly, rubbing at his face before heading into the kitchen. Routine. Something normal. Something he could control.

His favorite soup with meat.

He moved on autopilot: cutting, boiling, stirring, his thoughts slipping in and out like static he couldn’t quite tune out.

As he sat on the table, Blake realized he had zero appetite for his favorite soup.

His grip on the spoon tightened.

’That bastard...’

No matter how he tried to frame it, twist it, justify it, it always circled back to the same ugly truth.

Myles had drugged him.

And Blake was supposed to do... what?

A quiet, humorless breath escaped him.

"Yeah. The day I actually seduce him I’ll also beat him up."

Not only that, but the system really had a sick sense of humor and was basically useless when needed.

He truly couldn’t afford to let his guard down again. Maybe he was viewing Myles as a human.

It wasn’t exactly that, anyway, since he saw most of the things Myles does to be continue being a villain.

’How can I avoid situations where I lose control...’

No drinks. No food he didn’t see prepared. No staying over. No—

His thoughts stalled.

’...No getting too close.’

Silence stretched.

"...Right."

But that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

He clicked his tongue, irritated, and took another bite.

’And I need to stay alive.’

That part mattered more than anything. Favorability, system, world-saving, none of it meant anything if he ended up dead before any of it paid off with him getting back to his original body.

Dinner ended without him remembering how it tasted.

***

Later, Blake dropped onto his bed, the springs creaking faintly under his weight. He stared at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, thoughts still looping in messy circles.

Myles.

’Neutral now, huh...’

Did he have to reach one hundred percent to convert Myles into a good guy?

Fifty? Seventy?

’Those numbers are way too big, I’ll never be able to reach such a high favorability in a single year.’

He rolled on the bed, kicking air.

Then, the phone rang.

"Gosh, what’s the deal with everyone today..."

Blake frowned, reaching over lazily before pausing when he saw the screen.

Unknown number.

"...Again?"

He let it ring for a second longer this time.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, young master."

Blake blinked.

The person on the other line was definitely a man. His voice was measured and professional.

His brows knit together slightly.

"...Who is this?"

"I am the chairman’s secretary."

"Oh."

Of course.

His expression flattened almost instantly, whatever faint curiosity he had draining away.

Blake’s father was rich, after all. Seems like he’s a chairman.

"What is it?"

"You will be picked up tomorrow."

Blake sat up slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"...Why?"

There was a pause on the other end.

A small one, but noticeable.

Like the man hadn’t expected the question.

"It is Miss Calliope’s birthday."

Blake stilled.

"...Miss who?"

Another pause. Slightly longer this time.

"Your half-sister, young master."

Silence.

Blake stared at nothing, the words taking a second to settle.

Half-sister.

’...I have a what now?’

That was new.

That was very new.

A strange, hollow kind of disbelief bubbled up in his chest.

’Would you look at that.’

Of course, this man had another child. Of course there was another family, another life, somewhere out there that Blake had never been a part of.

And he had to deal with it now.

He huffed out a quiet breath, more tired than surprised.

"...Right."

Neglected didn’t even begin to cover it.

Still, he didn’t press it.

Because it was obvious.

Blake just didn’t matter enough.

"When and where is this party?"

"Next Tuesday. As usual, you will remain at the residence for the week prior."

Blake’s stomach dropped.

"...A week?"

His grip tightened slightly on the phone.

A week away.

A week of distance.

A week where...

’Myles’ favorability could drop again. Holy crap.’

The thought hit fast and sharp, sending a flicker of unease through him.

He had just clawed his way out of negative.

He couldn’t afford to lose that progress. He fought so hard to get that neutral status. Even getting back to -1 would make him cry.

"...Do I have to stay the whole week?" he asked, tone flattening.

Another brief pause.

"The chairman would not approve otherwise."

Blake clicked his tongue softly.

’Of course he wouldn’t.’

That annoying, neglectful bastard only remembered he existed when it was convenient.

"Yeah, sure. Figures."

He leaned back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair.

For a moment, he considered pushing harder.

Refusing.

Making an excuse.

But...

’Not worth it.’

The hassle, the consequences... and the fact that, at the end of the day, he still depended on that man’s money.

"...Fine. I’ll go."

"Very well. A car will arrive tomorrow morning."

"Mm."

The call ended shortly after.

The room fell silent again.

Blake slowly lowered the phone, staring at it for a moment before letting it drop onto the bed beside him.

A week away from Myles.

Away from the only thing currently keeping him alive.

"...Great."

He let out a long breath, then flopped back fully onto the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes.