Work Text:
“Xeno, code red!”
Stanley did not knock when he entered, which in itself already warranted concern.
Because barely abandoned protocol even at home unless the situation demanded urgency, and the sharpness in his voice made Xeno look up immediately from his laptop.
He had been in the middle of reviewing a set of calculations, something routine, something predictable—until that single phrase disrupted the quiet of his office.
Xeno closed his laptop at once.
“Did something happen to Gen?” he asked, already standing.
There was no hesitation in the question, no need for clarification. A ‘code red’ could only mean one thing in their household.
After Gen had run away from them, the search had been… extensive and relentless.
And ultimately humiliating.
Because despite every resource at their disposal—every connection, every trained individual, every calculated approach—they had failed to find her for months.
A fact Stanley had found impressive.
Xeno had not shared that sentiment.
Gen had learned well too well. The survival instincts, the misdirection, the ability to vanish without leaving anything substantial behind—skills Stanley himself had taught her in passing, never expecting she would one day use them against them.
Stanley had been proud, so proud, his husband was almost glowing—despite the fact their daughter was still missing
Xeno had sentenced him to the couch for a week.
They had eventually found her, of course. They don't know if Gen had allowed herself to be found or perhaps she had simply stopped caring enough to remain hidden or to he possibility they were able to outmaneuvered her.
She had been using the name Asagiri.
A deliberate choice.
Legally, she was Gen Wingfield-Snyder.
The surname Asagiri traced back to Gina to a lineage that carried weight, influence, and history. A name that, while recognizable in certain circles, would not immediately lead back to Xeno or Stanley.
Considering the fact Xeno had cut off contact with his parents.
It was, in its own way, a clever misdirection.
Xeno had yet to determine whether Gen fully understood the implications of that choice, or if she had simply selected the one name they would least expect her to use.
Either way, it had worked.
And in the present…
Stanley shook his head.
“Fortunately, Gen is unharmed,” he said, though his tone remained grave. “However, this development is… comparable.”
Xeno felt himself being… nervous on where this direction is heading.
“What is it then?”
Stanley inhaled, as though preparing to deliver a report of significant consequence.
“According to our surveillance in Japan,” Stan told him, each word measured, “she has accepted a date.”
Silence followed as Xeno did not react immediately.
For a brief, suspended moment, the words failed to register—not because they were unclear, but because they seemed… improbable.
“…I see,” he said at last.
He did not, in fact, see.
Stanley continued, as though unaware—or perhaps fully aware—of the weight of his statement.
“The individual in question is male. Civilian. No immediate criminal record. However, background checks are still ongoing.”
Xeno’s expression did not change.
But he felt himself go pale.
“…You are correct,” Xeno murmured slowly. “This is code red.”
This is not elegant. Not elegant at all.
***
Xeno, as a high-level scientist, would naturally be involved in international research collaborations, corporate partnerships, and academic exchanges, meaning he would already have contacts stationed in Japan through laboratories, universities, or biotech-related projects.
These individuals would originally be legitimate research liaisons or data partners, not spies, but over time their role could quietly shift into information-gathering once Gen becomes a person of interest.
On Stanley’s side, his military background makes it plausible that he has access to intelligence-adjacent contacts or logistical assets tied to US operations in the Indo-Pacific region, including Japan, where strategic presence and monitoring infrastructure already exist.
These two separate networks would not have been built for Gen, but after her disappearance and later re-emergence.
Both Xeno and Stanley rationalize it as repurposing them into low-level observation channels under the justification of “security,” “risk prevention,” and “ensuring stability.”
In their minds, it would not be framed as stalking or interference, but as maintaining situational awareness around someone they consider both highly valuable and personally significant.
Conclusion: They kept an eye on their daughter, considering both Stanley and Xeno are in the US, and Gen didn't seem to be keen on seeing them anytime soon.
After the announcement from Stanley, it was decided he had to go to the kitchen and perhaps get a drink.
And then…
Xeno remained standing for a moment longer before slowly lowering himself back into his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he processed the information with the gravity it deserved.
“A date,” he repeated, as if testing the word.
Stanley—who followed him there—gave a single nod, already reaching into his coat to retrieve a thin folder.
“I’ve compiled a preliminary report.”
As expected from his beautiful husband.
Xeno extended his hand, and Stanley placed the file into it without hesitation.
The motion was smooth like the exchange of classified information between two officials rather than a discussion about their daughter’s social life.
Xeno opened the folder.
A photograph stared back at him.
He paused. “…This is him.”
“Yes.”
Xeno studied the image in silence. The young man appeared… unremarkable. Average height, neutral expression, the kind of face that would easily blend into a crowd.
“…He lacks distinction,” Xeno noted.
Stanley crossed his arms. “Agreed. Which makes him either harmless… or deliberately inconspicuous.”
Xeno flipped to the next page. “Occupation?”
“University student,” Stanley replied. “Majoring in business management.”
“…Business,” Xeno echoed, his tone flat.
For a moment, he remembered a man who majored in psychology and built a business because they seemed to like the challenge—according to his older sister.
That same man was Gen’s biological father, a deadbeat one at that.
“How disappointing.” Xeno clicked his tongue.
Stanley hummed in agreement. “No notable achievements in the scientific field nor military training. No indication of strategic thinking beyond standard academic performance.”
Xeno’s gaze sharpened slightly as he continued reading.
Not that it matters if this guy had those kinds of things Stan listed but… their girl deserved the world.
“Social history?”
“Limited,” Stanley told him. “A few past relationships. None long-term and no recorded incidents of violence.”
“…‘Recorded,’” Xeno repeated.
Stanley’s expression did not change. “We are still verifying.”
Xeno leaned back in his chair, tapping the edge of the file lightly against his desk as he considered the information.
“At first glance,” he began, “he appears statistically average.”
“Yes.”
“And yet,” Xeno continued, eyes narrowing slightly, “he has managed to secure Gen’s attention.”
Stanley’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “Which is precisely the issue.”
Another silence settled between them, heavier this time.
Because that was the variable that did not align.
Gen was not careless.
She was selective, perceptive, and far too intelligent to be easily impressed. If she had agreed to spend time with this individual, then there was something about him that had passed her internal evaluation.
Like Gen’s mother with Gen’s father—and look what that got them.
Xeno did not like unknown variables.
Stanley replied. “Based on observed behavior, he initiated the invitation. The location is a café. Public setting.”
“Public,” Xeno murmured.
“It’s public, a good environment to be in,” Stanley added. “Low immediate risk. However—”
“He gains proximity,” Xeno finished.
Their eyes met as understanding passed between them instantly.
Stanley nodded in understanding.
“He gains access to her time, her attention, and potentially—” he paused briefly, as if choosing his words with care, “—her trust.”
Xeno closed the folder.
That, more than anything, was unacceptable.
“…We cannot allow unregulated influence,” he said calmly.
“Agreed.”
“We will monitor them.”
Stanley’s lips curved slightly. “Already in motion.”
“Good.”
Xeno placed the file neatly on his desk, aligning it with precise care before resting his hands atop it.
“… oh, and Stan?”
“Yes?”
“…If he attempts physical contact—”
Stanley’s gaze darkened slightly. "He won’t.”
Xeno held his stare for a moment longer before giving a small, satisfied nod.
“…Good.”
Because Xeno and Stanley needed to protect their daughter’s virtue.
Add to that, they both know Gen's taste in men sucks. Yes, they remember that boyfriend from high school.
***
Gen ought to have realized there was a problem as soon as she got there.
The café was absolutely normal, not because of anything evident.
Warm lighting, quiet conversation, and the subtle aroma of pastries and coffee. Unfortunately, she had no reason to turn around and leave because it was the type of place people went on dates.
Still… something felt off. Maybe it was instinct.
Or maybe it was the fact that her life had never allowed anything to go this smoothly without consequences.
She pushed that thought aside as she spotted him.
Ah, there he was.
Her date.
He looked exactly like his picture—average, polite-looking, the kind of man who seemed safe enough to spend an afternoon with. Not particularly exciting, but Gen wasn’t looking for excitement today. Just… normal.
She could do normal.
“Hi,” she greeted, sliding into the seat across from him with an easy smile.
“Ah—hi!” he replied, a little startled before returning the smile. “You must be Asagiri-san.”
She hummed lightly. “That’s me.”
Although Asagiri Gen had become a celebrity—being in an entertainment industry as a mentalist—her popularity was still low in her books.
They ordered drinks. The conversation started off simple such as school, hobbies, the usual surface-level exchanges people used to gauge each other.
He was a little awkward, but not unpleasant, and Gen found herself relaxing just a bit.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Oh, sorry—!”
A sudden jolt.
Gen barely had time to register what was happening before something cold splashed across her front.
Silence.
She blinked. Again. And again.
And then slowly looked down at her clothes, now soaked in iced coffee.
Her date had frozen mid-motion, his empty glass still in hand, his face pale with horror.
“I—I’m so sorry!” he stammered. “Someone bumped into me, I didn’t—”
Gen lifted her gaze just in time to catch a glimpse of someone walking away behind him.
Too conveniently.
…Huh.
She smiled, feeling a little too calm.
“Oh, don’t orry-way,” she said lightly, reaching for a napkin as if this were a minor inconvenience and not a direct attack on her outfit. “Accidents happen.”
She dabbed at the stain, her mind already working.
Gen had to admit, this date was turning her off.
“It’s really my fault,” he insisted, panicking as he grabbed more napkins. “Let me help—”
“No, no,” Gen cut in gently, laughing it off. “If anything, it gives me an excuse to omplain-cay about this outfit. I was starting to regret wearing it anyway.”
It's a lie.
She liked this outfit as it had multiple hidden compartments, to hich made this even more unfortunate.
Still, she recovered quickly enough, and after a short trip to the restroom to clean up as best as she could, she returned to the table, determined not to let one incident ruin the entire date.
They resumed talking.
It was… fine.
A little more awkward now, but manageable.
Until a loud crash echoed from somewhere behind them.
Gen flinched slightly as a tray hit the floor, cups shattering as a waiter stumbled and muttered frantic apologies.
“…Rough day for the staff,” her date said awkwardly.
“Yes,” Gen agreed. “Very rough.”
She took a sip of her replacement drink.
It tasted normal.
She waited for a beat. Then another.
…Alright, at least it wasn’t poisoned. Or maybe Gen was being paranoid about this.
They continued after that. Or at least, they tried to.
Because not even five minutes later…
“Ah, excuse me!”
Another interruption.
This time, it was a server approaching their table, looking flustered.
“There’s been a mix-up with the orders,” She quickly said. “We’ll need to replace your drinks again.”
Gen stared at her in disbelief. “…We just got these.”
“Yes, I’m terribly sorry—”
She glanced down at her drink, then back at the server.
Didn't her date was the one who ordered this? Gen looked at her own date, and saw her flushing in embarrassment.
Then, very slowly, she smiled.
“Of course,” she chirped pleasantly.
Across from her, her date looked like he wanted to disappear.
“I swear this place wasn’t like this before,” he said weakly.
Gen tilted her head slightly, watching him.
“Don’t orry-way about it,” she said, waving it off. “If anything, this is making the date more memorable.”
That was one way to put it.
Another crash sounded somewhere in the distance.
Gen didn’t even look behind this time. Instead, she leaned her chin lightly on her hand, her smile sharpening just a fraction.
“…Tell me,” she said casually, eyes glinting with curiosity, “do you happen to have any enemies?”
“…What?”
“Nothing,” Gen hummed.
Because at this point—
Either the universe hated her or someone very specific did.
Maybe the universe hated her. Story of Gen's life.
***
With a quiet sense of accomplishment that comes after a mission had been carried out exactly as planned, Stanley placed the final report on Xeno's desk with a self satisfied smile.
“No further contact,” he said simply.
Xeno glanced up from the document he had been reviewing, his expression neutral but attentive.
“…Clarify.”
Stanley crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the desk.
“The man has not attempted to reach out again,” he explained. “No messages or calls, and no follow-up invitations.”
“…And Gen?” Xeno asked.
“She has not initiated contact either.”
That was enough.
Xeno leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling once more as he allowed the information to settle into place, each detail aligning neatly with his expectations.
“How elegant.” Xeno smirked, proud of his own work.
Stanley nodded, his posture relaxing just a fraction. “The operation was successful.”
Xeno did not immediately respond. Instead, he reached for the report, flipping through the pages with measured precision, reviewing the documented incidents—each “accident,” each interruption, each carefully orchestrated disruption that had, collectively, dismantled the evening.
Spilled beverage, service problems, and environmental disturbances.
“…That man displayed signs of escalating discomfort,” Xeno noted, scanning a section of the report. “Embarrassment, loss of composure and deviation from intended conversational trajectory.”
It seemed this guy was thoroughly embarrassed and rather not wanted to stand in front of Gen again.
“Correct.”
“And Gen?”
Stanley allowed himself the faintest hint of a smirk. “She adapted quickly on what's happening. Our daughter is impressive.”
“…As expected.” Xeno smirked.
Another moment passed before he set the report down neatly, aligning it with the edge of his desk.
“In conclusion,” Xeno said, voice calm and precise, “the probability of a second engagement between Gen and this individual has been reduced to negligible levels.”
“Effectively zero,” Stanley confirmed.
Silence settled between them.
“That's good.”
Because this was not merely about a failed date.
It was about ensuring that no external variable—no matter how seemingly insignificant—would interfere with Gen in ways they could not monitor or control.
Stanley pushed himself off the desk, clearly satisfied.
“I’ll have the team stand down from active observation on this subject,” he said.
“That would be appropriate.”
Another pause.
“…Stan.”
“Yes?”
“…Next time,” Xeno added thoughtfully, “reduce the frequency of disruptions. The clustering of incidents bordered on statistical improbability.”
Stanley huffed out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
“I’ll inform the team to be more subtle.”
“See that you do.”
And just like that, it was over.
Or that's what Xeno thought.
***
Weeks passed quietly without incident.
Gen continued her life in Japan, and while surveillance remained in place—as it always would—there were no notable developments requiring intervention.
For the first time in a while, there was stability.
Which, in Xeno’s experience, meant it would not last.
Still, he allowed himself the smallest degree of relief.
“Xeno.” Stanley did not shout this time but he started lighting up his cigarette.
Something in his tone alone was enough to make Xeno look up immediately.
“…Report.”
Stanley held a tablet in his hand, his expression unusually flat.
Which was never a good sign.
“There has been… another development regarding Gen.”
Xeno felt a familiar tension settle in his chest.
“…Elaborate, Stan.”
Stanley instead gave him a new file, and Xeno cautiously opened it with wariness of his heart.
This time, it's a different face and different name.
Same problem.
“She has accepted another date.”
Silence wrapped around them as Xeno did not move.
He did not breathe for exactly three seconds.
Stanley watched him carefully as he puffed out smoke. “…Orders?”
Xeno’s eyes scanned the new information, already analyzing, already categorizing, already identifying potential risks.
Another civilian and another unknown variable.
Another individual who, for reasons yet to be determined, had gained Gen’s interest.
Xeno set the file down.
“…We begin again.”
“Understood.” Stanley’s lips curved as he placed away his cigarette. “…Code red?”
Xeno met his gaze evenly. “…Code red.”
***
Gen checked her phone for the third time.
Nothing.
She leaned back against the fast food restaurant’s chair, tilting her head slightly as she watched the door, her fingers lightly tapping against the table in a slow, rhythmic pattern.
Five minutes late.
That was… still acceptable.
And then it became ten minutes.
Then it turned to fifteen.
Gen exhaled through her nose, glancing down at her phone again as if the act alone might magically summon a message.
Still nothing.
“…Okay-way,” she muttered under her breath.
Now this was just getting rude.
She picked up her drink—something warm this time, because she refused to risk another iced coffee incident—and took a slow sip, letting the heat settle her nerves.
Maybe he was just late.
Multiple reasons for the delay; Traffic, train delay, or unexpected emergency.
Gen was a reasonable person so that's fine.
Twenty minutes.
Her smile tightened slightly. Alright.
Now she was being stood up.
Gsb placed her cup down carefully, her fingers lingering on the ceramic as she stared at the surface of her drink, watching the faint ripples settle.
“…Wow,” she murmured, half amused, half incredulous.
Usually, people at least had the decency to cancel.
Or, at the very least, send a message.
She tapped her phone again, opening their conversation thread.
The last message was from him.
Looking forward for today.
Gen stared at it for a moment. Then she let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Clearly.”
This is really unbelievable. She wasn’t even angry. Just… baffled.
First, the disaster date.
Now this.
At that point, she was starting to think she was cursed.
She glanced around the restaurant, half-expecting something else to go wrong out of sheer consistency, but everything was… normal.
No drinks flying at her or maybe trays crashing. And no suspiciously timed interruptions.
Gen let out a sigh and dismissed the idea as she made her way to the door, as if nothing had happened.
“Whatever,” she muttered lightly. “His loss.”
***
The report landed on Xeno’s desk with a soft thud.
He did not open it immediately.
Instead, he stared at it for a moment, as if its existence alone was already a minor inconvenience.
Stanley, standing nearby, crossed his arms.
“…Another one?” Xeno tentatively asked.
“Yes,” Stan replied flatly. “Another candidate.”
That alone already told them enough.
Stanley sighed quietly, as if he was already weary of the pattern taking shape.
At last, Xeno opened the file.
A photograph appeared. A young man. Again.
Well-groomed. Public figure. Recognizable face.
“…A celebrity,” Xeno said, tone immediately unimpressed.
Stanley leaned in slightly, glancing at the profile before making a noncommittal sound.
Xeno flipped to the next page, scanning the details with growing scrutiny.
Film appearances. Public image. Fanbase. Carefully curated persona.
“…Inelegant,” Xeno muttered. “Surface-level charm. High visibility. Low structural stability.”
Stanley nodded “He would draw attention.”
Xeno kept on judging the man as Stanley agreed without hesitation. Because really? A celebrity?
Nevermind the fact their daughter was also a celebrity, but that's different.
Because in their internal framework, Gen being a celebrity—an unusual, high-profile, socially visible mentalist with public recognition—was not a flaw.
It was simply… established fact.
They sat in silence for a moment longer, both reviewing the file from different angles—Xeno analyzing risk factors, Stanley considering logistical interference potential.
Finally, Stanley spoke as he began to light up his cigarette. “Do we intervene?”
“…Judgement is unfavorable,” Xeno closed the file.
“…Gen would find him tolerable at best,” he concluded.
Xeno then scowled, “She does not deserve a celebrity like this… uncouth vulture.”
“Yes.” Stanley glancing at the follow-up notes.
“Continue monitoring,” Xeno set the file aside neatly as he ordered.
Stanley straightened and blew a smoke. “Understood.”
***
Gen stared at her phone for a long moment as she laid on her couch.
“…Huh.”
She checked again, as if the screen might change its mind if she looked at it differently.
Still the same.
You are unable to send messages to this user.
Block.
She was blocked without explanation.
Gen slowly lowered her phone, letting it rest against her palm as she leaned back against her chair.
For a moment, she didn’t move.
Not because she was shocked but because she was trying to locate the logical thread in the situation and realizing, somewhat distantly, that there wasn’t one.
“…Alright,” she said quietly to herself.
Her voice sounded too calm for what had just happened.
Yesterday went well, actually.
Her jokes had made him laugh, paid attention to what she was saying, didn't interfere, and even made genuine enquiries that were motivated by curiosity rather than civility. He had unhesitatingly proposed another meeting at the end of the date.
Gen had concurred. It had felt… promising.
And now, for some reason, Gen was blocked.
She exhaled slowly through her nose, staring at the empty space where the conversation used to be.
“…So that’s how it is,” she murmured.
Then she took another sip of her drink, because there was nothing else to do with her hands.
It wasn’t sadness that came first but confusion.
Because people didn’t usually go from planning a second date to complete digital disappearance overnight.
Gen tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “…Did I say something weird?”
She replayed the date in her mind.
Nothing stood out as everything had been… smooth.
That was the strange part.
Gen frowned slightly, tapping her phone against her fingers.
“Well,” she said after a moment, voice flattening into reluctant acceptance, “this a ew-nay move.”
She stared at the blocked contact again.
As she called her manager about her new schedules, she helped but glanced at the blocked contact number again.
Yeah, still blocked. Definitely not dreaming about that.
“…Weird guy,” she concluded mildly.
And then she moved on with her day.
At the same time, somewhere very far away, two men were quietly updating a report and calling it “mission success.”
***
Another incident occurred.
In a quiet restaurant, Gen sat opposite the man and listened to him talk with her hands neatly folded. At first sight, this one had been unusual; there were no evident signs of impending catastrophe and no danger.
For once, she gave herself permission to believe that perhaps things would remain normal long enough to be considered a ‘real date.’
His phone vibrated violently on the table halfway through his speech. His gaze locked on the screen as he froze in mid-word. His face immediately lost all colour due to whatever he saw there, which felt strange.
“I—I’m sorry,” he said, already standing up too fast. His chair scraped loudly against the floor. “I can’t do this. Something came up. It’s urgent.”
He didn’t even look back before leaving.
Gen sat there in silence for a moment, blinking once at the empty seat.
“…That was abrupt,” she said slowly, not even upset anymore—just categorizing the outcome.
***
Across the ocean, Xeno glanced at the report on his tablet with a faint frown. Stanley stood behind him, reading over his shoulder.
“Financial exposure triggered,” Xeno rolled his eyes. Then he paused, correcting himself with mild irritation. “No—actually, this is a complete collapse of personal stability.”
Stanley exhaled. “We did a light push. Just a notification.”
“Then why did he react like that?” Xeno pointedly says.
His husband shrugged. “Humans are fragile. Also, he had three unpaid loans. We just… reminded him they exist.”
Xeno stared at the screen for a moment longer.
“It’s an elegant outcome,” he said finally.
***
Gen’s next date started normally.
Which, unfortunately, meant something was about to go wrong.
Just as Gen was talking to her date, someone walked too close to the table and crashed into her from behind. She instantly moved to balance her drink as it tipped slightly.
However, the first person was bumped by another bystander in the same instant.
Which bumped Gem, which caused the table to bump too.
This resulted in her drink spilling straight onto the man's shirt—her date.
He froze. Gen also froze.
“Oh no,” she said immediately, reaching for napkins. “I’m sorry, that was—”
Before she could finish, another staff member rushed past in a hurry, accidentally knocking into the chair leg.
The table shifted again.
Another glass tipped. Now it was worse.
The man stared at his ruined shirt, face tightening with frustration and humiliation, and then he glared at Gen as if everything was her fault.
“This is…” he started, then stopped himself. He looked at Gen once, then shook his head. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
And then he left.
Gen slowly sat back down, staring at the chaos like it was a scientific anomaly.
“…is his ego that ig-bay?” she murmured.
***
Stanley read the report later with narrowed eyes.
“Interference chain reaction,” he said.
Xeno corrected him immediately. “Just a… Precisely timed environmental nudging.”
Stanley arched an eyebrow. “Same result.”
“It was a good plan.” Xeno hesitated, then agreed. “Functionally, yes.”
“She got blamed for it though.” Stanley sniffed. “What a fucking asshole.”
Xeno’s tone remained calm, but slightly dissatisfied. “Men like those should be taken care of at least.”
Right now, Xeno and Stanley were helping Gen in their way. It's a good thing Gen has good and incredible parents.
With those thoughts, Xeno can't help but be proud of himself.
***
Another date ended before Gen even arrived.
She checked her phone one more time.
Got ghosted again, huh?
This was getting ridiculous.
And well… Gen was a tiny bit amused.
***
Xeno received the report.
“He did not attend,” Stan said.
“Good.” Xeno nodded satisfied for himself. “Clean out for him.”
“Yes.”
“We did not directly contact him this time.”
“Didn’t need to. His calendar got double-booked by external pressure.”
“Efficient.” Xeno gave his husband a smirk. “Nicely done, Stan.”
“Also his phone stopped working.” Stanley abruptly added.
Xeno looked up. “Why?”
“Dropped in water.”
“…Accidentally?”
“Sure.”
Perhaps Xeno could send his husband an appreciation later at night once they were ready to get in bed.
***
On the next date with another guy, Gen waited.
And waited.
No message came and cancellation either. Just absence of her date.
She eventually paid for her drink and left early.
“…This is becoming a attern-pay,” she admitted.
***
Xeno reviewed the report that evening.
“Subject did not arrive,” he said.
Stanley leaned against the wall, smoke from the cigarettes trailing around him.
Xeno nodded slowly. “Logical disruption.”
Stanley added, “He turned back after twenty minutes.”
“Oh?” Xeno arched his eyebrow “…Reason?”
“He said ‘something feels off.’”
“…He is perceptive.”
“Or paranoid.”
Xeno harrumphed. “Both are acceptable outcomes.”
***
Another date involved fire.
Gen had just arrived when the alarm sounded.
At first, she thought it was a drill. Then someone shouted. Another moment, smoke appeared.
Then everyone started moving.
The man she was meeting looked around in confusion before standing abruptly.
“I was having a bad day already but this happened…”
“Um…” Gen wanted to ask what kind of bad day he was having but refrained herself.
“I think I need to go,” he said quickly. “This is… not normal.”
“That seems like a reasonable assessment,” Gen replied, unbothered.
He left immediately.
Gen followed the evacuation calmly, watching as the situation escalated behind her.
“…I didn’t even order-way anything yet,” she sighed sadly.
Unfortunately, this was her favorite restaurant.
***
Stanley stared at the report for a long moment before speaking.
“…Fire incident confirmed,” he said.
Xeno frowned immediately. “That was not scheduled.”
Stanley flipped the page with complete calm, as if this were a normal meeting update rather than a disaster report.
“It was scheduled,” he corrected. “We approved a minor infrastructure stress test in that sector two days ago.”
Xeno went quiet for a second, clearly trying to remember signing anything like that.
“…Stress test,” he repeated slowly.
“It's uhh…” Stanley cleared his throat. “Heat resistance evaluation.”
Xeno leaned forward slightly now, reading the report more carefully. His expression shifted from confusion to something closer to realization.
“…Why does it say ‘unexpected combustion escalation’?” he asked.
Stanley answered immediately, like this was obvious. “Because the fire got bigger than expected.”
Xeno stared at him flatly. “That is not an explanation,”
“It is the report wording,” Stanley replied. “I did not write it.”
Xeno leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose.
“So let me confirm this,” he said slowly. “We tested heat resistance in a building, near a kitchen area, and it caught fire.”
Stanley nodded. “Yes.”
Xeno’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So we caused the fire.”
“Yes.”
Another silence settled between them, they stare at each other for a while.
Xeno rubbed his temple briefly, then looked back at the report as if it might offer a more acceptable version of reality.
“…We really should be more careful,” Xeno muttered.
Stanley shrugged, completely unfazed. “We were. We just didn’t account for full ignition.”
Xeno frowned at the report, but his concern wasn’t really about the building itself.
“…That fire could have spread toward Gen’s area,” he sighed.
Stanley nodded, solemn. “Distance buffer was within acceptable risk margins.”
Xeno hesitated, then exhaled. “…Still. I don’t want her involved in unknown variables like that.”
“Understood. We will reduce our proximity to the next trial.”
Then, Xeno cleared his throat, his eyes narrowed slightly as he reread the report.
“…But the combustion response was impressive,” his face flushed in awe. “It's… elegant.”
Stanley’s expression didn’t change, but there was approval in his voice. “Structural failure timing was good.”
“So we agree it was too dangerous,” Xeno tapped the page.
“Yeah, ethically speaking.”
“…And we would still do it again,” Xeno nodded.
Stanley nodded back. “With better measurements.”
Xeno closed the file. “…You are both a problem and an asset,”
“That's the standard procedure since the first time we met.”
And neither of them looked particularly worried about what had just burned down.
***
Gen was in her apartment, and looked at her window.
It's already night time.
“…I think I should stop dating for a while,” she said.
If Gen was being sabotaged here, or the men she was with did this intentionally—it should be the other way around.
In her mind…It was infuriating that the universe was playing with her like this, Gen should be the one playing with the universe.
Really, this is unacceptable for her.
“…Actually, I think I should stop trying entirely.”
Just like that, it was decided.
***
Xeno’s office was unusually quiet that evening.
It's a tension in the air that says ‘everything is according to plan.’ Xeno approved.
Stanley stood near the window, arms folded, watching the city lights below as if they were a distant battlefield he no longer needed to manage. Xeno sat behind his desk with a tablet angled slightly upward, eyes scanning the latest report with calm precision.
A pause stretched between them, comfortable in a way that only came after… everything.
“Report received,” Xeno said evenly. “Our daughter finally declined the invitation.”
Stanley did not turn around immediately. He let the words settle, then nodded with slight happiness showing.
“Good,” he replied. “That eliminates unnecessary… variables. Right, Xeno?”
Xeno smiles, there’s a faintest trace of approval entering his expression too.
“It appears she has reached a conclusion independently,” he said. “Efficient decision-making on her part.”
Stanley finally looked over, a small smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.
“Or she finally got tired of it,” he said casually. “Either way, it works.”
Xeno nodded as he leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling in a measured way that almost resembled satisfaction.
“No further intervention is required,” he concluded. “At least for now.”
Stanley pushed off from the window and walked toward the desk, glancing at the report once more.
“No follow-up targets either?” he asked.
Xeno tapped the screen once, closing the file.
“None necessary,” he said. “The pattern has stabilized.”
There was a short silence after that, heavier than the previous ones, but not unpleasant.
Then Stanley spoke again, “So… we’re calling this a success?”
“…Yes,” he said finally. “A very successful mission.”
Stanley huffed a quiet laugh, almost amused. “I’ll take it.”
Neither of them moved for a second.
Then Xeno pulled out a drawer, took out a fresh glass, and carefully and slowly poured himself a drink. When one was presented, Stanley accepted it without saying anything.
For a moment, they lifted their glasses, but not in a way that would be perceived as emotional by anybody outside the room, but rather in the subtle way they dealt with everything pertaining to Gen.
“She is safer now,” Xeno said once more, sounding composed but slightly content.
“No more future partners,” Stan agreed. Then, after a beat, he added, “Finally.”
Xeno took a slow sip.
“No more future partners.”
They were the best parents in the world.
And Gen won't have to worry more about her love life.
***
Somewhere far away, as the husbands celebrated, Senku sneezed loudly in the middle of class.
The entire room went silent.
Every head turned toward him at once, as if he had just announced something catastrophic rather than a simple sneeze.
Senku blinked once, completely unfazed for a second.
“…Huh,” he muttered. “Maybe I’m sick.”
That single sentence was enough to trigger immediate panic.
“Sick?!” Taiju shouted, already standing up. “Senku! That’s serious! We have to get you to the clinic right now!”
“I don’t think it’s—” Senku didn't finish.
Taiju had already lifted him up as if he was a princess.
“WAIT—OI!” Senku snapped, instantly losing all dignity as he was carried across the room like it was an emergency evacuation.
“Don’t struggle!” Taiju said firmly, completely convinced he was saving a life. “You need rest! I will not let you collapse from overworking yourself!”
“I am not collapsing!” Senku protested, but his voice got drowned out by Taiju’s determination.
Around them, the class just watched in stunned amusement as Senku covered his face with his hand, fully aware there was no escaping this situation anymore.
“…This is humiliating,” he muttered.
But Taiju did not stop walking.
Not even a little.