Chapter 3: The Girlfriend Proposal

His internal processors, usually humming along with the quiet efficiency of a well-optimized server, were now screaming, running at one thousand percent capacity as they tried to parse the info-dump he had just received.

_The Veil? A psychic firewall for the entire planet? Magic is real? And I’m a threat to it? Psycho Mantis—_

The thoughts tumbled over one another in a chaotic cascade. A relic from a favorite video game popped into his head unbidden, a desperate attempt by his brain to categorize the impossible.

This was so much bigger, so much more terrifyingly real than any video game boss.

While Yuki was grappling with the complete and utter demolition of his worldview, Aya began to pace. She moved with a compact, focused energy, her footsteps quiet and precise on the gravel rooftop, each step measured and deliberate.

She was a general on a battlefield, analyzing a sudden, unexpected change in terrain and formulating a new strategy. After three complete circuits of a small, imaginary square, she stopped, her posture ramrod straight.

She turned to face him, a decision clearly made, her violet eyes holding a dispassionate, analytical gleam.

“I have analyzed the situation,” she began, her voice as crisp and devoid of emotion as a system diagnostic report. “There are three possible solutions to the problem you represent.”

Yuki flinched. _The problem he represented_. He had gone from an invisible computer nerd to a high-priority existential threat in the span of twelve hours. It wasn’t the upgrade he had been hoping for.

“One: Elimination,” she said, her voice completely flat, as if she were discussing the option of ordering takeout. The words hit Yuki like a physical blow, and he took an involuntary step back, his breath catching in his throat.

“This option is inefficient,” she continued, a slight frown touching her lips.

“It creates a mess, both physical and magical. The disposal of the body would be trivial, but the cleansing of the residual energy and the fabrication of a plausible disappearance would require significant resources. It would likely draw unwanted attention from local authorities, both mundane and magical.”

_Small comfort,_ Yuki thought, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. At least his death would be an inconvenience for her.

“Two: A memory wipe,” she went on, ticking off the option on an invisible checklist.

“A simple _memoria deletio_ spell. Fast, clean, and in most cases, highly effective.”

Hope flickered in Yuki’s chest. A memory wipe. He could go back to his normal, boring life. He wouldn’t even know what he had lost. It sounded… perfect.

“However,” she added, extinguishing that hope with ruthless efficiency, “my family has attempted this before on individuals with a similar… cognitive profile to yours. We once employed a freelance hacker, a ‘white hat’ from the mundane world, to analyze a piece of encrypted data for us. When his work was done, we administered the spell. It fragmented. His mind couldn't reconcile the illogical nature of the erasure. He was left in a state of perpetual paranoia, muttering about conspiracies and glitches in the matrix. We had to perform a full personality reconstruction—a much more complex and morally dubious procedure—just to make him functional again.”

She leveled her gaze at him. “Your neural pathways are rigid, deeply ingrained with patterns and systems. The risk of turning you into a babbling wreck who believes he’s living in a simulation is unacceptably high.”

Yuki swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in his throat. He was not liking his options. Being killed was bad. Becoming a drooling conspiracy theorist was arguably worse.

“This leaves the third, most logical solution,” Aya said, taking a single, decisive step closer. She was now standing directly in his personal space, close enough that he could see the faint, almost imperceptible silver flecks in her violet eyes.

She forced him to meet her intense, unblinking gaze. Her expression was completely, terrifyingly serious.

“From this day forward,” she declared, each word delivered with the force of a judicial sentence.

“I will be your girlfriend.”

Yuki’s brain, already overclocked, simply shut down.

The world went silent. The wind, the distant city traffic, his own frantic heartbeat—it all faded into a dull, white noise.

For a solid ten seconds, there was nothing but static. Then, his brain attempted a reboot, failed, and short-circuited again. He just stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open, a single, monosyllabic sound caught in his throat.

“Wha…?”

He tried again, forcing air from his lungs.

“Did… did you just say… _girlfriend_?” he finally managed to squeak out, the word sounding alien and absurd, as if it belonged to a language he’d never heard before.

“Affirmative,” Aya nodded crisply. “It is the most efficient and logical solution to our mutual problem.”

“Efficient? Logical?” Yuki’s voice was climbing in pitch, verging on hysterical. “How is _that_ the logical solution?”

“Simple,” she said, beginning to lay out her logic, her tone that of a project manager outlining a proposal to a particularly slow intern.

“First, proximity and monitoring. A romantic partnership provides a constant, socially acceptable reason for me to be in your vicinity. It allows for open communication and constant observation, mitigating any potential leaks of information.”

She held up a second finger, her expression hardening slightly.

“Second, utilization. You possess a unique and valuable skill set. My family is not technologically illiterate, we built the computers in our Archive from scratch and wove magical components into their core architecture. They run on a closed, magically shielded network. But we are specialists in that esoteric system. We are not equipped to deal with the chaotic, world of mundane technology the Order is exploiting. Your expertise is the missing component in our operational strategy. This arrangement allows me to leverage that expertise without the complications of formal recruitment or coercion.”

Yuki was completely and utterly floored. He felt a wave of dizziness.

“That’s… that’s insane! You can’t just… _decide_ to be my girlfriend! That’s not how it works! There are… feelings, and dating, and… and you have to actually like the person!”

“Liking you is not a necessary variable for the success of this operation,” Aya countered, completely unfazed by his sputtering. She gave him a quick, analytical once-over that made him feel like a piece of faulty hardware.

“Furthermore, your social standing is low. You are largely invisible to the student body. A public relationship with me will act as a ‘social shield.’ It will make you a subject of curiosity, yes, but it will also effectively isolate you. No one will approach you, because they will be too intimidated to approach _me_. This prevents unwanted social contamination while we work. It is, as I said, mutually beneficial.”

She held out her hand, her palm up, a gesture that was less an invitation and more a demand for compliance.

“This is a contract. A binding agreement. You will provide technical assistance and intelligence gathering. In return, I will provide your protection from any magical threats that may arise from your involvement. This includes the Order of the New Dawn and any other hostile entities. I will also ensure your continued academic and social survival. Consider me your personal, magical bodyguard and social life manager.”

Yuki finally found his footing, a surge of indignant rebellion cutting through his fear. This was his life, not a business transaction.

“No! Absolutely not! This is crazy! I want nothing to do with this. I’ll keep your secret, I swear on my life! I’ll sign a magical NDA, whatever you want!”

Aya’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your word is insufficient. It is an emotional promise, not a guarantee. The risk of you talking, even accidentally, is too high. The contract is non-negotiable. Do we have an agreement, Yuki Amano?”

Yuki stared at her outstretched hand, then back at her intense, unyielding eyes. He was completely and utterly trapped. He thought about the magic he’d seen, the raw, terrifying power she wielded as easily as he wrote a line of code.

He thought about Option One and Option Two. Refusing her felt like a very, very bad idea. He was a mouse being offered a deal by a beautiful, terrifying hawk. The deal was absurd, but the hawk’s talons were sharp.

Defeated, he let out a long, shuddering sigh that seemed to carry all his hopes for a normal, invisible life with it.

“Fine. Okay. You win.” He looked at her hand but didn't take it, a last, pathetic act of defiance.

“But… but there are rules! Conditions!”

Aya’s eyebrow arched, a flicker of something like amusement in her eyes. “Specify your terms.”

“No… holding hands!” he blurted out, his face flushing crimson.

“Or anything like that! This is strictly business!”

Aya’s lips twitched, and for a split second, he thought she might laugh. A soft, almost inaudible murmur escaped them, a flowing, musical phrase in French. “_Quel puceau._”

Her expression immediately returned to one of cool professionalism. “Physical contact is an effective method of public demonstration for a romantic relationship, but I will concede this point for now, as a sign of good faith. We can renegotiate terms as the mission parameters evolve.”

She lowered her hand and gave a curt, business-like nod. “The contract is active. Welcome to the family business, Yuki Amano.”

She pulled out her own phone, its interface a sleek, minimalist design he didn't recognize. “Give me your number. Our first operational briefing is tonight.”

Yuki, still dazed, numbly took out his phone and they exchanged numbers. The action felt surreal, a bizarre dream sequence from a romantic comedy directed by a paranoid schizophrenic.

He, Yuki Amano, a boy whose social life was primarily conducted through a guild chat—was giving his number to Aya Lefebvre, the untouchable mystery of their class. His thumb felt clumsy as he typed in his contact information, his mind struggling to reconcile the mundane action with the insane context.

“Excellent,” she said, pocketing her device. “I will be in touch.”

She turned and walked to the rooftop door without a backward glance, her task complete, her part of the transaction finalized.

As she reached for the heavy metal door handle, a soft metallic click echoed from the other side, followed by a faint scraping sound, as if a shoe had shifted on the concrete steps of the stairwell below.

It was a tiny, insignificant noise, easily lost in the sighing of the wind that swept across the rooftop.

Aya didn't react to the sound, her focus already on the next phase of her mission. She pushed the heavy door open, its hinges groaning in protest, and descended into the relative quiet of the school building.

Yuki, his mind still reeling and his ears full of the white noise of panic, was completely oblivious. He followed her in a daze, his world having been irrevocably altered in the span of a single lunch break.

He stared at her retreating form, his mind a chaotic mess of terror, indignation, and a tiny, treacherous spark of excitement. He had just made a deal with either the devil or the weirdest, most intimidating girl in the entire world.

The door swung shut behind him with a heavy, final _thud_.

On the other side, pressed back into the shadows of the stairwell landing, Rina held her breath. She had come looking for him, worried after seeing him dragged away by Aya.

She’d been about to push the door open to the roof when she heard their voices, low and intense. She had frozen, her hand hovering just inches from the door.

Through the narrow, reinforced window of the stairwell door, she had seen it all. She hadn’t heard the words, couldn't make out the insane details of their "contract." But she had seen the look on Yuki's face, a mixture of terror and awe.

She had seen Aya’s unnerving proximity, the way she had invaded his personal space with an intimidating confidence. And she had seen the final, damning act: the quiet, intimate exchange of phone numbers.

Rina pressed her back against the cool concrete wall, making herself as small as possible until their footsteps faded down the stairs.

Only then did she let out the breath she was holding, a shaky, silent exhale.

She looked down at the floor. She suddenly felt very heavy, and very, very stupid.

She didn't understand what she had just witnessed, but the conclusion her mind jumped to was as simple as it was devastating.