I Woke Up in a Reverse World Utopia with a 10,000 to 1 Ratio-Chapter 7: Extreme Ultraviolet Lithography

[Kate’s POV]

Moonlight spills across our bed, painting Tyler’s sleeping form in silver as he rests against my chest. His weight is pleasant, warm and trusting as a child’s. I run my fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft it is, how vulnerable he seems in slumber. The filled sample cup sits on the nightstand beside me. The boy has remarkable stamina.

I should get up soon, deliver this to the pneumatic tube before it loses viability. But I can’t bring myself to move just yet. Not with Tyler nestled against me like this, his breath warm against my skin, his arm draped possessively across my stomach. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Eighteen years of planning, of climbing the ranks, of ensuring I’d be assigned as his guardian when the time was right. Eighteen years of nursing my hatred, letting it fuel me through endless nights of training and preparation. All so I could finally have my revenge against the son of the man who destroyed my world.

My mother’s face flashes in my memory, her gentle hands, her kind eyes that never got to see me become a woman she could be proud of. She was just doing her job, being a guardian to a troubled ward. She never suspected he would turn on her, never imagined he would become so violent. By all accounts, he seemed docile, cooperative.

Until he wasn’t.

I stroke Tyler’s hair, feeling the raised edge of his scar beneath my fingertips. This mark that I gave him, this wound I inflicted through Eliza’s hands. It was supposed to be just the beginning of his suffering. I had it all mapped out, how I would systematically break him down by becoming the perfect guardian to pull him out of his deep hole. Only to rip it all away and kill him at rock bottom.

But I didn’t account for this, for him looking at me with those trusting brown eyes, for the way his face lights up when I enter the room, for how desperately he craves my approval. I never anticipated how his innocent devotion would feel like a knife twisting in my chest, sharper than any blade I’d planned to use on him.

"You have no idea what I am," I whisper to his sleeping form. "What I’ve done. What I was going to do."

He shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible as he burrows closer to me. His trust is absolute, his love unconditional. It would be so easy now, a pillow over his face, a needle in his arm. Hell he might even let me if I asked nicely.

But the thought makes me physically ill.

When did this happen? When did my perfect revenge plot transform into this possessive, protective obsession? When did I start caring whether he lives or dies?

With a resigned sigh, I carefully extricate myself from Tyler’s sleeping form. His warmth lingers on my skin as I shift away, trying not to disturb him.

"No... please don’t go, Ms. Flynn," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "I love you."

My heart clenches painfully in my chest. Even half-conscious, he reverts to calling me Ms. Flynn, that old formality slipping through his dreams. I hesitate, one foot already on the floor, suddenly reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth we’ve created together.

"I’ll be right back," I whisper, stroking his cheek before forcing myself to stand.

The absence of his body against mine feels wrong somehow, like I’m missing a limb I never knew I had. I retrieve a robe, slipping it over my shoulders as I pad across the cool floor with the sample cup in hand.

In the living room, the pneumatic tube system waits silently in its alcove. I insert the cup, watching as it’s whisked away to the laboratories below.

Two days. That’s all it took for everything to change. Two days for eighteen years of carefully cultivated hatred to crumble like sand castles against the tide of his affection.

"I am absolutely pathetic," I mutter to myself, leaning against the wall.

But there’s something in the way he looks at me, a pure, unwavering adoration that seems impossible to fake. Could he really have fallen for me so quickly? Was he telling the truth? Or is this just his trauma response, clinging to the only source of kindness in his world?

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. It’s not too late to revert to my original plan. I could still make him suffer for his father’s sins. The path to revenge still lies open before me, tempting in its simplicity.

But when I close my eyes, all I see is his smile. All I feel is the gentle weight of his head against my chest, trusting and vulnerable. The thought of extinguishing that light makes me want to vomit.

I don’t think I’ll be able to go through with killing you if you keep looking at me like that.

The confession hangs in my mind, both liberating and terrifying. What does that make me now? A failed avenger? A woman compromised by unexpected affection?

I push away from the wall, drawn back to the bedroom by an invisible thread. When I return, I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest at the sight of Tyler sprawled across our bed, his face peaceful in sleep.

With a quiet sigh, I slide between the sheets, my body humming with an anticipation I never expected to feel. The mattress dips beneath my weight, and Tyler’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and dreamy.

"You came back," he murmurs, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. His hair is tousled, sticking up in all directions, making him look younger, more vulnerable.

"I missed you so much," he whispers, reaching for me with clumsy, sleep-heavy movements.

Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest. "I was only gone for a moment, Tyler," I reply, surprised by the tenderness in my own voice.

He leans forward, pressing his lips against mine in a lazy, uncoordinated kiss. There’s something pure about it, worshipful and sweet, that makes my heart twist painfully.

As he attempts to wrap his arms around me, I make a split-second decision. In one fluid motion, I pull him on top of me, guiding his sleep-warm body until he’s nestled against my chest. His hand lands on my breast, and I feel his fingers curl instinctively, before his breathing deepens again.

I lie perfectly still as Tyler drifts back to sleep. His hand remains on my breast, innocent yet claiming, and I find myself oddly moved by the gesture. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to crave his touch, to feel this strange, protective warmth spreading through me.

I stare down at his sleeping form, a thousand emotions warring inside me. Would he still look at me with those adoring eyes if he knew the truth? That I manipulated Eliza into hurting him, into carving that scar across his face.

My fingers pause against his cheek as doubt creeps in. This boy, this man who worships the ground I walk on, who gives himself to me so completely, would he still love me if he knew I’d orchestrated his pain?

Tyler stirs beneath my touch, his lips moving in his sleep. I lean closer, curious.

"He who controls photolithography controls the world," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep but the words strangely clear.

My eyebrow arches high on my forehead as I stare down at him in bewilderment. Of all the things to say in his sleep, that wasn’t what I expected.

"What the heck are you dreaming about ?" I whisper, a soft laugh escaping my lips despite the heaviness in my heart.