Soft Spot → Sylus

He Who Has Enemies, Let Him Not Sleep

Ones of the few kindnesses Sylus shows is the fact that he accommodates his staffs well. While he might say that it's simply the bare minimum, buying your staff a whole apartment and a transportation of their choice for you is more than the bare minimum from an employer, especially for someone known to be a heartless man.

But, during the few conversations you had with the staffs earlier, you realize that Sylus is more than the infamous fugitive everyone knows of. Maybe due to his line of career, loyalty would be the most fundamental part of the system. By accomodating his staffs, he's saving himself from the hassle of a possible mole in his household.

So, you weren't surprised when a truckload of presents arrived by your doorstep the following day. Most of the gifts are small, but large in value - say, gemstones, jeweleries, weapons, antiques, etcetera. Most are addressed to Sylus himself, but the half other gifts are addressed to you and Theia respectively.

You spent the whole day unwrapping presents and breastfeeding Theia inbetween, as the nanny you hired yesterday is already on duty. The middle-aged woman, Mona, has been a huge help. Not only does she teach you how to care for Theia, she even acquaints herself, befriending you in the most leisure way.

"Never have I ever seen so much presents opened in one sitting," Mona remarks, cradling Theia in her arms, swaying her from side to side to lull her to sleep. Her eyes would glance around the room at all the unique presents she has only seen once in a lifetime.

"Honestly, me too," you respond, holding up a sword with its hilt adorned with a yellow topaz in the middle and pinkish spinels on each side. You'd guessed it's a decoration, but the blade is sharp enough to slice into a chunk of meat.

"You are one lucky woman, Miss," she chuckles softly. Looking down and noticing the calm Theia, Mona walks towards the crib - made of the finest mahogany tree painted in silver and accents of red, a red veil hangs from the top of the headboard, obscuring the baby inside of the crib.

Setting aside the sword, you breath a sigh as you glance around the room. There's still another stack of boxes to be opened, but your back is screaming for you to lay down. So, you did, laying on the soft rug as you look up the dark ceiling. "Yeah, but we're living a dangerous life. A deepspace hunter and a criminal? It's a troublesome duo."

"Well," Mona sits by my side, stacking whatever items she can and pushing them aside to make more room. "He looks like a responsible man. He'll keep you and your daughter safe for sure."

Your thoughts suddenly drift to Sylus. Earlier this morning, he just upped and disappeared, only to notify you via chat that he has business to do. But, it's very unlike him to handle business on his own, especially with how quickly he left.

A soft cry comes from the crib. Your instinct kicks in as you advance towards the crib to carefully carry your daughter in your arms. Shushing the small girl, she can immediately tell her mother's presence as her cries ceases. Theia's eyes flutter open to reveal dark red eyes glancing around the room in curiosity.

"Hey, Theia," you smile, gently caressing her soft, white hair. You wonder what gene you pass down to her, seeing as most of her feature is very Sylus-like.

"She might be hungry," Mona says, standing just opposite of the crib.

Nodding, you walk over to the bed with Theia in your arms. All the while, she's looking up at you with an indescribable expression. Laying down on the bed, you carefully place Theia right beside you. The girl squirms in her pastel pink swaddle, looking for her mother as soon as she lays on the bed.

-

In order to reveal the man causing all the destruction lately, Sylus has some of his men to gain as much intel as possible. By all means, the safety of his family comes first.

Standing in the solace of his warehouse, Sylus eyes the stacks of crates lining up from the end of the spacious room. It's more gifts that have just arrived - but it's not 'just a gift'.

Nerian, a man in his late 30s, stands right by Sylus. While his placid expression seems innocent enough, the assistant's posture easily gives away the anxiety he's keeping inside. Hazel eyes glance around the room, looking at the sea of crates out of caution.

"We often give our enemies the means for our own destruction," is written in fancy letters on a postcard that's issued back in the 1970s. Fancy letter, written on a collector-worthy postcard - whoever sent the gifts is mocking Sylus for his wealth. He simply chuckles, instead finding the mockery as more of a compliment than anything.

"Did you do as I say?" Sylus asks, turning to face Nerian with the postcard in his hands.

Nerian nods, "Half of the crates are antique, but usable weapons. The other half is full of different items, mostly decorations such as exotic masks, antique porcelain," deliberately, he speaks. "We also found the threat."

Sylus quirks an eyebrow as he watches Nerian scurrying over towards a short yet long crate that's placed at the very front of the other, bigger crates. Walking closer, he lets Nerian open the crate carefully to reveal a round mechanical robot. It's the first OTTO ever issued, a worn down but fixable android capable of guidance and helping with small, daily tasks.

A mist of red swarms the android. From a distance, Sylus carefully disassembles the machinery with his evol. It's fine, until he finds a small chip in its upper part and a rectangular shaped part in the core of the OTTO.

Frowning, Sylus crushes the rest of the mechanical parts, saving only the rectangular core. "Who sent it?

"It was sent under Apollo's Group," Nerian responds.

Clicking his tongue, Sylus quickly realizes that it's not a threat. "Apollo's Group, the one that owns Sifnos resorts?"

"Yes, that Apollo," Nerian responds, fully acknowledging the meaning behind all the gifts that they just received last night.

"Clear my schedule for the next two weeks. Send everything back to Apollo's Group and tell them I don't need a weapon to start a war," Sylus folds the postcard and stuffs it in his pocket. "Tell them I accept their invitation."