Misato’s body went rigid against mine. Not the good kind of rigid either. The kind that meant her brain had just caught up to the fact that she was pressed against me like we were slow dancing at prom.

Her hands came up to my chest, not pushing exactly, but creating just enough space that she could tilt her head back and look at me with those sharp lime green eyes. The vulnerability from thirty seconds ago evaporated like it had never existed. Classic Misato defense mechanism: emotional moment over, back to business.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her voice carried that formal edge she used when talking to faculty. "For listening. For... this."

She gestured vaguely between us, like physical comfort was some kind of foreign concept she needed to categorize and file away. Which, knowing her background, it probably was.

Misato stepped back, extracting herself from my arms with the same careful precision she used for everything else. Her right hand came up to grab her left arm just below the shoulder, fingers wrapping around her bicep in what was probably supposed to be a casual gesture.

Except the movement pushed her chest up and forward, and suddenly my brain forgot how to process anything else.

Holy shit.

I mean, I’d noticed Misato was built before. Kind of hard not to when someone spent half their time in form-fitting tactical gear. But seeing her in civilian clothes, with that unconscious little motion highlighting exactly how well-proportioned she was? That was a whole different level of distraction.

Her black t-shirt wasn’t tight exactly, but it sure as hell wasn’t loose either. The fabric stretched just enough to outline curves that had no business being that perfect on someone who could probably benchpress a small car. And with her arm positioned like that, creating this little frame that drew attention to exactly the right places...

Thank god for baggy jeans and strategic jacket positioning, because this was not the time for obvious physical reactions to my squad captain’s accidental sexy poses.

Misato’s gaze flicked to the side, avoiding eye contact like she’d just remembered we were standing way too close in my apartment after an emotional breakdown. Pink colored her cheeks, barely visible but definitely there.

"Well." She cleared her throat, still not looking at me directly. "Goodnight, Jace. I’ll see you for training tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, Misato." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

She moved toward the door with that controlled grace that made everything she did look choreographed. Even walking away was a masterclass in efficient movement and unintentional appeal. Her jeans fit just right, emphasizing the athletic curve of her hips and the lean strength in her legs.

The door clicked shut behind her, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

Good thing she hadn’t noticed the obvious effect she’d had on me. That would have made an already complicated situation infinitely worse. Nothing ruins a touching emotional moment quite like your squad captain realizing you’re sporting wood from hugging her.

Though honestly, how was a guy supposed to react normally when Misato Ayame pressed herself against him and then did that little arm thing? It wasn’t fair. Someone that intimidating had no business being that ridiculously attractive. The universe clearly had a twisted sense of humor.

I flopped back onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to process the last twenty minutes. Misato had basically confessed that the Davenports owned her entire family. Blair had escalated from verbal threats to physical violence. And now there was a Diamond-tier hunter coming to investigate me personally.

Also, I’d discovered that hugging my squad captain was both incredibly dangerous and incredibly worth it.

The System chimed softly somewhere in the periphery of my vision, probably tallying up some new relationship metric or unlocking an achievement I hadn’t asked for. "First Squad Member Consolation" or "You Let Her Cry on Your Shirt." I dismissed it without looking. My brain was still rebooting from Misato’s very literal, very distracting proximity. The girl moved like a weapon but felt like something else entirely, and my body had definitely noticed the difference. Not helpful. Very much not helpful when I needed to focus on the actual problem at hand.

The obvious move was right there, clear as day. Keep my head down. Train harder. Don’t antagonize the Diamond-tier investigation when it showed up at my door. Feed Blair’s sister the most boring, plausible narrative possible and hope she got tired of digging through my unremarkable life. Standard defensive play. Don’t make waves. Don’t give them ammunition. Let the storm pass over me and move on to someone more interesting.

That strategy had one significant flaw: it meant leaving Misato to face Blair’s wrath alone. And after what I’d just seen—the way she’d unraveled in my room, the terror in her voice when she talked about losing her mother’s job, the desperate vulnerability she’d tried so hard to hide—I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. Even my cynical, survival-focused brain drew a line somewhere, and apparently that line was "don’t throw the girl who hugged you under the bus just because it’s convenient."

Which meant I needed a different plan. One that didn’t involve sacrificing my most competent squad member to the Ice Queen’s tantrums.

I lay on my bed for another ten minutes, replaying the feeling of Misato pressed against me and trying to convince my body that now was not the time for that particular biological response. The ceiling offered no useful advice. Neither did the growing pile of dirty laundry in the corner that I’d been ignoring since orientation.

Finally, I sat up and pulled the System interface into focus.

Time to see where I actually stood.

◆ DIVINE MILKING SYSTEM ◆

│ JACE MONROE │ Height: 6’1" | Weight: 205 lbs │ Age: 18 | House: Obsidian

SYSTEM STATUS

Level: 6 (450/6000 XP)

Lifespan: 13D 10H

Points: 7,680

The numbers stared back at me, and I felt that familiar cocktail of relief and anxiety. Thirteen days wasn’t bad. Three weeks ago I’d been counting hours. Now I had almost two weeks of breathing room, plus enough points to extend that significantly if needed.

But breathing room wasn’t the same as safety. Cassandra Davenport was coming tomorrow. A Diamond-tier hunter with resources and motivation to dig into every aspect of my suspicious improvement.

And I was sitting here at Level 6 like some kind of tutorial character who hadn’t figured out the main quest yet.