Beneath Their Devotion (Yanderes x Reader)

2.9 Undercover

— Earlier —

Ren sat at a back table in the café, his legs crossed, and wearing an expression that could have been carved from marble. A cup of untouched tea sat before him. Across from him, Nao was pulling a folder from her bag and placing it between them.

"The final roster," she said, tapping it with one neatly manicured finger. "The budget spreadsheet's in the back, and I added my notes, even though technically it's not my job anymore."

Ren didn't react. He just stared at the folder like it might sprout legs and walk away if he waited long enough.

Nao arched a brow. "You're welcome, by the way."

He exhaled through his nose, barely a sound. "If I thank you, will you leave faster?"

Nao gave a thin smile. "I'm glad to see presidency didn't take away your gift of charming people." She reached into her bag again and produced a small drawstring pouch. "This is the last of the club keys. And before you ask—yes, I wiped the drive before handing it over."

Ren remained still, gaze somewhere vaguely near her shoulder. He didn't even spare a glance at the pouch.

"God," Nao muttered. "You're even worse when you're bored."

Ren's eyes finally flicked to hers. "Then stop being boring."

She opened her mouth to retort something snappy, but paused when his posture shifted slightly. There was a slight tilt of the head, the angle of his attention changing so fast it looked instinctual.

Nao turned, more out of habit than actual curiosity. At the café entrance, Y/N walked in, rubbing her temples and sighing. Shiro followed behind her, and beside him was a girl Nao didn't recognise.

"Yikes," Nao said under her breath, referring to Y/N. "She looks like she came from a funeral." She turned back to Ren, ready to deliver some snide remark, but he wasn't listening to her. His gaze had locked onto Y/N the moment she entered. All pretense of disinterest had gone. His spine was straightened and his jaw softened, something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.

Nao stared at him, then scoffed. "Oh, gross."

He didn't react, so she reached across the table and snapped her fingers right in front of his face.

That got his attention.

He blinked. The movement felt almost deliberate, like surfacing from some faraway thought. His head turned with the clear weight of irritation, as if even acknowledging her presence cost him something. "If you do that again," he said, voice measured, "you won't have fingers."

Nao rolled her eyes. "There he is," she said.

Ren didn't react immediately. He just looked at her, his gaze cool and unreadable. He finally sat back and exhaled through his nose, speaking with the kind of calm that always meant trouble. "You should be careful with that tongue of yours."

There was a pause.

Nao cocked her head. "Careful?" she echoed dryly. "Of what, exactly? More bruises? I fear I can take it."

His eyes narrowed just slightly, but his voice didn't rise. "Of the fact that I'm still letting you breathe the same air as Y/N after your stunt at the gala," he said. "Of the fact that I'm letting you breathe any air at all." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Our shared history won't protect you forever."

The words hung there, sharp-edged and cold.

Nao's smirk faltered—just for a second—but she recovered quickly, chin lifting in defiance. Still, something had shifted. "Fine."