Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

He slumped back, finally resting on the only bench atop the watchtower.

"What a way to tempt fate," he muttered.

Just as she was about to act, his voice stopped her in her tracks. "I don't know why, but something about you feels so familiar, comforting even. This dagger, it's like I've known it forever. And honestly, I'm just so tired." Years of living on the edge, his mind constantly wound tight, he had thrown himself into mission after perilous mission, thriving on the danger each new task brought.

It was as if he was desperately searching for something, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Surviving time and again only deepened the void within him.

His skills, sharpened by countless operations, had earned Fisher's unwavering trust, making him Fisher's most reliable confidant.

Even someone as cunning as Fisher had once admitted, "Bryan, your dedication is unmatched. You're my right-hand man, so much so that I'd trust you with my life." Yet, Bryan hadn't stopped; he pursued even more dangerous tasks.

But now, holding this woman, inhaling her sweet scent, he felt exhaustion wash over him for the first time.

He wanted to walk away from this blood-soaked life, feeling as though he'd finally found what he'd been blindly seeking, wishing for nothing more than to stop.

Irene froze, his words striking a chord within her. Shortly after, his breathing softened, and in less than a minute, he was fast asleep.

So deeply asleep, as if nothing could wake him.

A sharp pang of emotion turned Irene's face pale, an emotion she couldn't quite identify.

Clutching the dagger, she considered slashing her own throat.

Yet, the weapon halted mid-air, her gaze fixed on his face, ultimately unable to go through with it, perhaps because of his resemblance to Jaired.

Irene's gaze dropped to the chaos beyond the watchtower, the overwhelming desire to flee momentarily quelled.

She wondered how Jaired and King were faring, feeling detached from it all.

Turning to the peacefully sleeping figure, she frowned. Was it his face that had bewitched her?

If she truly sought a replacement for 001, Jaired would have been the obvious choice.

Though Jaired didn't harbor feelings for her, guilt would prevent him from denying her anything.

He'd do anything for her, or more accurately, for the memory of the wronged 001.

Tears welled in Irene's eyes at the 001, each memory

into her heart, threatening to

Her few moments of weakness had always been linked to 001.

Irene, typically in control of her emotions, now felt a constricting pain, her fingertips trembling. She hadn't intended to find a substitute for 001; no one could take his place, not even Jaired.

Just as the agony threatened to shatter her sanity, a voice reached her ears.

"Boss, are you sure I should go?"

Irene stiffened, as if frozen, half-expecting it to be a hallucination.

But then, he spoke again.

"001 wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't dare defy your orders."

Without responding, Irene's vision blurred, the world around her swirling into an indistinct landscape. Suddenly, she covered her mouth, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

She feared that releasing her grip would

Unleash a torrent of Set

potentially waking the man

hem

belongs to

In his sleep, he occasionally furrowed his brow, his loyalty even evident in his dreams.

At last, he uttered the words he'd wanted to say that night.

"001 wouldn't dare. This was the birthday gift I wanted to give you on the night you came of age." "Worried I might never get another chance, I searched long and hard for a retired craftsman."novelbin

Unable to contain herself any longer, Irene turned and embraced the man her, sobbing uncontrollably

beside he

for the first time.