twiyorbase - Tumblr blog

twiyorbase · 13 days ago

Text

In the Quiet of Growing Hearts

Chapter 3: A Quiet Symphony of Revelation (AO3)

Prompts: Secret Identity and Domestic

My late entry for TwiYorMonth25 @twiyorbase

The current manga chapter is chp. 112-2

------------------------------

In her 27th year, Yor has faced countless twists in life. The most devastating was the news of her parents’ death. She knows that, no matter how much one tries to prevent it, unexpected events can strike when least expected.

However, of all the things she prepared for, she never imagined she would find herself sitting on the Shopkeeper’s porch on such a beautiful day, staring at a file containing her husband’s photo and information. But instead of “Loid Forger” written as his name, it lists “Twilight” as the codename of the spy.

A spy….

“This man is known as a man with thousand faces. A notorious figure among our land. Do you have anything you’d like to tell me, Thorn Princess?”

The Shopkeeper’s voice remains calm and fatherly, yet Yor feels a shiver down her spine. Her survival instinct screams at her to flee. But she remains seated, unwavering. She knows she can’t run from the Shopkeeper. Besides, there is nothing to hide.

So, she straightens in her chair and meets the Shopkeeper’s gaze. “I only know him as my husband—a hardworking, upright citizen. A respectful and lovable doctor at Berlint General. A dedicated father and loyal husband. Loid Forger is his name.”

She holds his gaze, refusing to back down under the Shopkeeper’s scrutiny.

After several seconds of suffocating silence, the Shopkeeper sighs in contentment, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smile. “I’m glad to see you're truthful, Thorn Princess. But I need to know the real reason you married a spy from a neighboring country.”

Yor answers without hesitation. “I’ve already told you my reason. It’s for a cover so I can continue my work as part of the Garden.”

“And how has this cover served you over time?”

“I believe it has served its purpose. No one suspects anything unusual.”

“Hmm... Has anything in your life changed since the beginning of this sham marriage?”

“No.” Yor answers confidently.

“You mean nothing has changed? Nothing at all?” the Shopkeeper presess.

“I—” Yor falters, the intensity of his gaze making her question herself.

Her life has changed in the past year, hasn't it?

In the happiness and warmth of a home she’s longed for, she feels accepted, happier, and more fulfilled.

But… is it all fake?

Yor finally lowers her gaze and stares at the photograph of the man she knows as her husband.

For as long as she’s known him, he’s taken great care of Anya, Bond, and herself—preparing nutritious breakfasts despite his disheveled state the night before, planning and participating in family activities despite his apparent reluctance, even preparing coordinated outfits for them.

And in return, she’s done her best for him.

She knows how he likes his coffee. She knows when he’s overworked and prepares calming tea. She knows when his mind is overworking and urges him to stop and breathe. She knows his favorite color and scent.

But does she really know him at all?

“It’s to be expected.” The Shopkeeper’s voice breaks through her thoughts. “In your ongoing interactions with him, have you found any clues as to what his goals might be?”

Yor furrows her brow, thinking hard. She tries to remember any hints about Loid—Twilight’s mission.

He works at the hospital, for sure. From her occasional visits, she’s witnessed people genuinely thanking him for his remarkable service to both patients and colleagues.

He’s a dedicated father, always worrying about Anya—just like any doting parent would.

He sometimes scolds and fights with her—just like any parent would.

And Anya’s reactions, both admiration and frustration, are genuine. The love and bond they share is real.

Yet, sometimes her husband comes home at ungodly hours, claiming to have been tending to emergency patients. He’s often disheveled, heading straight for the bathroom. He must’ve been on a mission. Maybe he’s injured.

Oh no! What kind of wife am I not to have noticed?

Yor is horrified by her own realization.

“Thorn Princess??”

The Shopkeeper’s voice snaps her back to reality, and Yor shakes her head hard to focus. “I’m sorry, Shopkeeper. I don’t know anything about that.”

“Hmm.”

After a few moments of tense silence, Yor senses a shift in the Shopkeeper’s mood, the tension easing.

“I’m glad to know that, despite everything, that part of you remains the same, Thorn Princess.” He smiles warmly.

Yor blinks, confused.

The Shopkeeper chuckles. “Truthfully, ever since you told me about your husband’s view of politics, I've had my concern. It will be troublesome for us if you were to get involved with someone far right or far left. Especially if he…”

Yor blinks in confussion when the Shopkeeper starts to explain in his usual riddles. Why would the Garden care about someone who uses only their right hand or left hand? Nevertheless, she forces herself to focus as the Shopkeeper continues on with his explanation.

“....at the place. So I instructed our intelligence to investigate dr. Loid Forger. His record as an upright citizen came back clean—too clean. So, I had them dig deeper, look from different angles. What you see in front of you is as much as we could uncover. However, I did it without your consent. I apologize.”

Yor blinks at being addressed so directly. “Oh. Um... it’s okay. I mean, I’ve noticed Loid—Twilight favors using his right hand more than his left, but I think he’s ambidextrous. I am too, so I think it’s fine.”

At her explanation, Shopkeeper blinks and nods slowly.

Clearing his throat, he says, “I see... Well, now that we’re on the same page, let me show you something.” He hands her another folder and opens it.

Yor looks at the photos inside, showing people moving crates of weapons and packs of powdery substances.

Her blood boils. Is that drugs?

“During our investigation of dr. Loid Forger, we happens to find evidence of these vermins spreading blights to our land. It is safe to surmise that what the doctor was trying to do here is to stop these devilish acts. For now, it seems our goals aligns, but it needs further investigation. And thus I’d like to ask for your assistance in this matter.”

Yor’s mouth hangs open. “Are you asking me to…”

Shopkeeper smiles. “Assist your husband, Thorn Princess. And delineate your opinion regarding this man and his organization.” He gestures to her left. “And to make things as objective as possible, Director here will accompany you.”

Yor looks back and forth between her employer and her mentor, trying to process what’s expected of her. But as always, Director McMahon wears his stoic expression, and the Shopkeeper smiles knowingly.

Trusting that her mentor will explain things in simpler terms later, she nods, determined. “I’ll do my best, Shopkeeper.”

During the first few minutes of the drive to her next assignment, Yor sits anxiously in the back of the car. Having been his mentee since she was little, Yor understands she’s about to get scolded by Director McMahon for her carelessness.

Again.

She frowns, memories of her teenage years resurfacing. Her naivety had nearly made her the Garden’s weak spot, the entry point that could’ve crippled them. Fortunately, her mentor had been there to pull her out.

She had her fair share of scoldings back then, and she knows one is coming now.

“Mrs. Forger.”

She snaps out of her thoughts and sits straighter. “Yes, Director?”

“Didn’t I tell you not to trust people just like that?”

Yor gulps. “Yes, you did. But the situation back then was… complicated. I had to act quickly, or Yuri might get worried.”

He sighs and glances at her through the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road. “And you didn’t think it strange that someone would suddenly appear out of nowhere and ask you to marry him?”

“Actually, it was I who asked him to marry me.” Yor muses.

Director McMahon’s eyes snap back at her, and she immediately clarifies, “He seemed like the only person who could understand me, and he would never judge me, even without knowing what I actually do. He didn’t mind a sham marriage, since it benefited him too. It seemed like a solution to both of our problems.”

His eyes narrow. “And how has he treat you all this time?”

Yor smile softly. “He’s nothing less than a gentleman. Always kind, always taking good care of me. He never asks nor pries into my privacy.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Never prying into your privacy? Do you sleep in separate bedrooms or something?”

“Yes.”

His eyebrow raises higher. “All this time?”

“Yes. And we respect each other’s personal boundaries.”

“Hmm.”

Yor hesitates before speaking. “He is such a dedicated father and husband. I-... I really have no idea that he is a spy. He is so gentle and wonderful-...”

“And how can you be sure those opinions aren’t just your biased perspective?”

Yor blinks, taken aback. “Biased?”

McMahon clarifies. “You clearly care a lot about this man. Personal feelings can cloud your judgment. This scoundrel could do something blatantly despicable right in front of you, and you’d still call him a good person.”

“No. Loid—Twilight isn’t like that,” Yor protests. “He really is such a dedicated and kind man who–...”

“And as I said,” the director interrupts, “You need to put aside your personal feelings. He's a spy. What he shows you is exactly what you want to see. He manipulates to get what he wants, and it’s clearly working.”

Yor falls silent, her frown deepening.

She understands what her mentor is trying to convey, but she’s upset by how easily he judges her husband, despite not knowing him the way she does.

She sees what she sees.

Of course, Yor knows there’s a possibility that Loid is manipulating her. That all the warmth and kindness he shows her could be an act.

But no one could keep up such an act for an entire year. No one could pretend to lose their temper with their child and then feel such guilt. Or get visibly upset and pout when a date plan is ruined by a colleague.

One can act composed, but not the other way around.

Yor knows because she can see it in his eyes.

Wait.

Yor is stunned at her own conclusion.

The very thought that someone as notorious as Twilight might express his true feelings through his eyes seems outrageous.

But Yor truly believes it.

Perhaps her assassin training helps her sense it instinctively, but she can feel it every time.

“I am amazed by you—by how you endure gruesome work so that others can feel safe.”

Yor smiles wistfully, recalling his words.

He understands because he is in a similar situation, doesn’t he?

She concludes that Loid– Twilight is a good man, and she won’t judge him for whatever he must do, just as he never judged her.

Suddenly, the car comes to a stop, pulling Yor back to the present.

She looks up and notices they’ve arrived at a secluded area near the Berlint waterfront. The warehouses are neatly arranged, accommodating the transportation of goods from the vessels anchored at the piers.

It’s twilight now, and she peers out, spotting some human activity in front of one of the warehouses.

“Mrs. Forger.”

Yor shifts her attention back to Director McMahon.

“The Garden never forbids its assets from starting families. However, the organization must be certain that they can trust you. They need the proof that you’ll remain focused and level-headed in an assignment, even when situations clash.”

He gestures toward the activity at the pier. “This will be your most difficult test yet. Fail, and you’ll be disposed of.”

Yor gasps, clenching her teeth to keep her composure. She forces her heartbeat to slow.

Then, she nods, determination setting in.

Before she opens the car door, she hears her mentor speak softly. “I know you, Mrs. Forger. And I know that having a family to care for will only make your thorn sharper and more precise.”

Yor notices him fiddling with the ring on his left hand. She tries to meet his eyes through the rearview mirror, but as always, the reflection of his glasses obstructs her view.

Still, Yor appreciates that her mentor trusts her, and she smiles. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

With that, she bolts from the car and heads toward the pier.

She sneaks through the shadows of the warehouses, her senses on high alert as she gauges the movements of the drug dealers.

Soon, she finds a warehouse with commotion inside—most likely their base.

She scans the area and spots an entry point: an open ventilation shaft near the roof.

With a leap, she silently scales the building, slipping through the ventilation and landing quietly atop stacked containers.

Immediately after, she can hear angry shouts reverberating through the walls, followed by the shuffle of feet.

“Find him!!!”

“Put holes in that bastard!!!”

Focusing all her senses, she pinpoints the hostile intent surrounding her. Amid the bloodthirsty aura, she detects a faint presence at the far corner on her right.

Loid!!

“That bastard is cornered!!”

“Get hiiiiimmm!!!!”

The deafening muzzle blast fills the building.

Yor’s heart races in panic, but she forces herself to stay calm and not rush into the chaos.

She forces herself to close her eyes and controls her breathing.

In and out.

Drawing from her basic training, she chants in her mind.

“We are the Garden. We do not pluck off lives out of personal vendetta. We do it to cleanse our environment, to make the world a safer place.”

In and out

In and out.

When her heartbeat returns to a calmer rhythm, she opens her eyes slowly, bringing forth the calmness and confidence of the Thorn Princess.

Only then does she descend to serve her customers.

Twilight gasps for air as he hides between the containers and the end wall of the warehouse. His mind races, desperately trying to figure out how he could have been so careless, and let himself get cornered.

Looking back over the past few weeks, he doesn’t believe his cover has been blown.

As “Darrick,” he’s made great strides in advancing the drug-dealing operation, gaining valuable intel about the funding sources and the network behind the cartel disguised as a courier business.

However, he also has seen the signs of the internal dispute happening in this shady organization between the second in command Conrad and and the lord’s son Claus. Both have their own sources of funding from higher-ups in the government.

A week ago, word spread that Orson Otis—one of Conrad’s backers—was murdered.

And now, here he is, cornered as Conrad minions and caught in the middle of Claus’s betrayal. Twilight had thought he smoothed over the Rookie’s mistake from his early infiltration days, but apparently, it wasn’t enough.

Breathing heavily, Twilight focuses on surviving.

He surveys the area, calculating his options, all while mentally taking note of his injuries: a minor concussion, shallow cuts on his left temple, 3 to 4 broken ribs on his right side, a shallow gash over them, a dislocated left shoulder, and a dislocated right knee.

His eyes dart to the only possible escape route: the ventilation shaft near the roof. But with only one working leg, it's impossible to reach.

Chuckling bitterly, he rules out the one obvious escape route and looks around once more.

The containers and wooden crates around him likely contain weapons, but it would be difficult to fashion anything useful with just one working hand.

He grips his trusty Glock with his right hand and tightens his hold, as he reluctantly accepts the slim probability of his survival.

His mind drifts.

“Mama and Papa must be good when Anya’s off on her adventure in the forest.” Anya had put on her so-called scolding face in front of Yor and he, when they were going out of their apartment.

“You’re the one who should focus on Mr. Henderson’s instruction so you won’t get lost.” He deadpanned.

“Remember, Anya, if you encounter a bear, don’t run! Stay at a safe distance, and don’t make any sudden movements.” Yor’s voice had been full of concern.

“Yor, she will be camping in Eden’s ground. There won’t be any big wild animals there.” He tried to reassured her.

“But it’s still a forest, Loid!” She protested.

Anya placed her tiny hands firmly on her hips. “Anya’ll be fine, Mama! Anya got The Bondman kit in Anya’s bag. Just be sure Mama and Papa stay good while Anya is away.”

He rolled his eyes. Anya can be irrationally insistent sometimes.

He ushered her to enter the family car. “Come on now, or you’ll be late.”

Turning to Yor, he added. “By the way, Yor. I might be coming home late today.”

She smiled and responded, “Okay, I’ll order take outs. How about your favorite pasta from Bellissimo?”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Yor.” He said before entering the driver seat and turned on the engine.

“Safe trip you two!” Yor’s voice had slowly faded as they drove away.

Twilight swallows several more painful breaths, his thoughts swirling.

Is Anya doing okay at her camping? I can trust Yor to pick her up on time at school tomorrow… I hope Yor doesn’t wait for me for dinner…. I hope they’ll be fine without me.

The image of Anya, Yor, and Bond sitting at the dinner table flashes in his mind.

He blinks.

The sound of boots thumping toward him snaps him out of his daydream.

Get a grip, Twilight! he mentally commands himself. Wallowing in regret won’t save you now!

Gritting his teeth, he pushes his body to stand, bracing against the wall for support.

He stadies his grip on his Glocks and aims at the opening, ready to make the full use of his last remaining magazine.

He is about to pull the trigger when the first shadow comes to sight, but then the shadow screams and falls limply to the side. A massive golden ice pick-like object is lodged in the man’s skull.

Twilight blinks in confusion.

Before long he hears gunshots followed by screams and grunts and cracks of bodies hitting the walls, and then silence.

All of a sudden, a shadow appears at the opening and approaches him so fast while pulling the ice pick thing along their way.

Twilight tries to move back but is swept off his feet, carried in a bridal-style hold. He lifts his Glock, aiming for the shadow’s neck, but his hand falters as he recognizes the face.

His breath stops.

Yor???!!

Blinking his eyes hard, he tries to demolish the hallucination.

Maybe his concussion is worse than he has thought or maybe it's because of the blood loss. But no matter how many times he tries to ward off Yor's image from the one carrying him, the woman before him still carries her image vividly.

Her red eyes, her hair style, her gentle gaze as she lowers him gently to the ground at the crevice between containers at the other side of the warehouse

She takes a good look at him before whispering, “Pardon me,” and lifting two fingers to swing at him.

Startles, he tries to move away, but her fingers swiftly land painful jabs both at his left shoulder and his right knee.

The jolts of pain resonate through his body, forcing him to clench his jaw to stifle a groan as his body trembles. Thankfully, it subsides soon after.

Opening his eyes, he glares at her and growls. “Who the hell are you?!”

Her expression hardens. She stands tall, then offers a courtesy, her voice cold and professional.

“Good evening, Agent Twilight. My name is Thorn Princess. I happen to have customers to serve here. I highly appreciate it if you stay put, and not interfere with my job.”

Her voice, though distant and professional, still carries the echoes of Yor’s politeness.

Twilight’s minds races.

Wait, wait…. Job? What??

What is she really?

Who does she works for?

Has Yor been manipulating me all along?

She doesn’t wait for his response, turning away and walking calmly down the warehouse aisle, twirling golden ice picks on each hand.

Twilight reaches up to touch his face. The mask is still intact, but she addressed him by his real identity, ‘Agent Twilight.’

A cold shiver runs down his spine. She is dangerous.

His training kicks in. His first priority is survival. No matter who she is, she has seen through his disguise, and she’s a liability.

She must be eliminated.

And she’s giving him the chance.

He lifts his Glock, aiming at her back, ready to end this in one shot.

He can think of a way to continue Operation Strix later.

“Mama and Papa be good when Anya is away, okay?” Anya’s voice ringing in his mind.

He freezes, his hand shaking.

“I’m glad I married you, Loid.”

His breath hitches.

He lowers his gun.

He can’t.

This woman before him… No matter what persona she’s showing now, it’s still Yor.

His wife.

He requested her involvement in Operation Strix. If it turns out that he didn’t actually marry a civilian, then it’s his responsibility.

“I’m not exactly clean…”

She has told him before, hasn’t she?

Who is he to judge her when they are two sides of the same coin?

“Who the hell are you?!”

A shout snaps Twilight back to the present, pulling him out of his conflicted thoughts.

Dammit, Twilight!! Get it together!!

He scurries to stand, and is surprised to find that despite the pain, he can now move his left shoulder and right leg.

A fond chuckle escapes him as he realizes that, in their brief encounter, Yor must’ve noticed his distress and helped him without hesitation.

As always.

He can’t let her clean up his mess, though. He’s the one who got into this situation.

He immediately clambers the adjacent container, trying to get a better view of the battlefield ahead.

“Good evening. All of you gentlemen are part of the Der Kurier, correct? Can you give me the honor of taking your lives?”

Twilight smirks as he hears that despite the cold, and detached tone in her voice, Yor’s still that polite, even in the heat of battle.

“What are you babbling ab–... Gaaahh!”

“Shit!! Shoot her!!!” A voice screams.

Soon after the muzzle blast mixed with screams resonates throughout the walls.

Twilight knows that he has incapacitated more than thirty members present at this exchange before he was cornered. But despite that, there are still too many left to handle alone—especially for someone using only melee weapons.

He grits his teeth when crawling as fast as he can to the edge of the container.

He ready his gun but is stunned at what he sees.

Yor— Thorn Princess is moving so gracefully, dodging the rain of bullets while at the same time taking down opponents with precise, lethal strikes. Blood sprays in the air as she dances her deadly waltz, golden ice picks flashing like streaks of light.

It’s as if she is the goddess of death dancing the serenade of divine punishment.

His jaw drops, as he muses, “Beautiful……”

Twilight snaps out of it and slaps himself mentally.

This is not the time to oogle, dammit!!!

More than twenty of the members of Der Kurier go down like flies within seconds.

The last person in the warehouse is seen trying to run away stumbling near its gate while screaming, “It’s the Thorn Pri–... GUURGK!!”

Twilight curses under his breath.

Yor’s weapon might prevent the man from running away, however, the sound of that scream might draw attention from the backups–....

CRASH!!

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from above, followed by the fall of three gas canisters, which immediately burst out their contents.

Twilight eyes widen in horor, as he internally screams.

Poison gas!!

YOOORRR, get out of there!!!

As if hearing his internal distress, Yor locks eyes with him for a second before being engulfed by the poisonous mist.

Twilight spits out string of profanities as he looks around, trying to find a way to ward off the poisonous gas.

Looking up he finds four massive ventilation fans installed at the top of the warehouses. He follows the electrical wires installation and finds the electrical panel responsible for controling it.

“Get her!!!” Muffled orders reverbating through the area, soon followed by more gunfire.

Screams and gurgles mix with the uncoordinated muzzle blasts, indicating that his wife is still fighting and taking down the enemies.

But, she might not last long if he doesn't reach the panel as soon as possible.

Twilight scrambles in hurry while holding his breath as he sneaks between the shadows. Within seconds, he manages to get to the electrical panel and makes the fans running, sucking the poison gas out of the room.

He limps to the edge of the container and prepares his gun again.

But before he can act, a lifeless body slams against the wall in front of him. He notices the complete gear the dead man wears and immediately crouhes down to rip them off.

He then uses the oxygen mask, the infrared goggles, and cocks the rifles ready.

Scanning through the visual fields, he immediately identifies his wife among the combatants.

Aiming for the enemies located the farthest from her, he starts shooting.

One bullet precisely piercing their heads at one time.

Working together, both of them effectively wipe out the entire base of its operatives in mere minutes.

After scanning the area one last time, Twilight is sure that no more enemies will show up.

He rips off his mask and goggles, limping toward Yor.

He offers her the oxygen mask.

“Y— “ he cuts himself off as he remembers that he is still in disguise. There’s a possibility that Yor only knows him as Agent Twilight and not Loid.

“Thorn Princess! Use this mask. Hurry!”

But she ignores his offer, and instead hurries to his side and supports him. She scolds him softly. “Loid, what are you doing?! You’re hurt. Stop pushing yourself!”

Welp, apparently she knows.

Nevertheless, he lifts his arms and tries to forcefully make her put on the oxygen mask. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand, have inhaled an unidentified amount of poisonous gas. Use this mask.”

But she swats his hands away, and scoops him on her arms. “Concussion and broken ribs are not to be taken lightly. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Loid stammers while ripping his latex mask from his face. “I’m… I’m fine. Yor, put me down.”

Yor glances at him and raises her brows. “Oh! Your face reverts back to normal….”

He feels his face getting hotter by the second. “It’s called a disguise. But seriously, put me down, Yor. I can walk by myself.”

“Nope. It will be faster this way.” She strides towards the exit.

“Yor, come on…..” He now tries to wiggle himself free.

“Hold still will you?” She begs.

He manages to dangle one leg down when she abruptly stops.

Loid notices her tensed features and follows her gaze.

His eyes widen when he sees Handler standing at the exit, aiming her gun towards them.

“Put him down slowly.” Handler orders sternly. “Any funny business, and I’ll shoot.”

Loid practically jumps off from Yor’s arm, and struggles to stand on wobbly legs. He manages to push himself upright with Yor’s help.

“Lift your hands and step away from him.” She repeats the order firmly.

But Loid grips Yor’s arm and pushes her behind him to shield her. “Handler wait, I can explain–...”

Sylvia's face darkens and Loid is sure he’s going to hear an earful later. “Step. Away. From her.”

But Twilight stays where he is. “No. She saved my life.”

Sylvia narrows her eyes. “She saved your life?” She eyes Yor coldly, her voice even colder. “We did get an anonymous tip regarding our agent being trapped. Was that you?”

He glances at his wife who suddenly stiffens. Her gaze locks on something behind Handler.

He tenses, instinctively tries to lift his gun, but Yor’s grip on his arm tightens.

“It was us, indeed.” A monotonous voice of a man comes from behind Sylvia.

Sylvia whirls around, only for the man to disarm her in seconds, gripping her arm firmly.

“Director!” Yor calls in worry.

Twilight keyed up seeing Handler recovers quickly, her eyes narrowing, “Where are my other agents?”

“They are sleeping peacefully in your getaway car.” The man, whom Yor addresses as ‘Director,’ responds calmly. “We came in peace, offering a proposal.”

“And why should I trust you?” Handler retorts.

The Director gestures to Yor and he, and elaborates, “Hopefully our display of action speaks volumes of our intention.”

Handler chuckles darkly. “Blackmail?”

“Will you come into our place peacefully if we didn’t?” He asks matter of factly.

“Touché.” She scoffs.

The Director releases Handler’s arm and returns her gun. “If you’ll come with us–...”

Loid immediately interrupts, “Sir!! Just take me–..”

“Stand down, Agent!” Handler orders firmly. “You’ve caused enough trouble. Go home and wait for further instruction.”

“But–...” He tries to protest, but the director cuts him off. “Same goes for you, Thorn Princess. Your job is done. Go home.”

Loid watches helplessly as both their leaders leave the warehouse.

As soon as they enter their apartment, Yor urges Loid to lay down at their couch.

She swiftly grabs an ice pack from the refrigerator, guiding his hand to hold it carefully against his bruised temple.

“Yor…” he tries to speak, but she’s already darting into the bathroom.

Bond, sensing his distress, nuzzles his hand with his nose, offering a quiet comfort. Loid pats the dog’s head. “I’m okay, boy.”

Before long Yor returns with a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, and a first aid kit.

“Yor,” Loid says softly, “I think it’ll be better if I sit in the bathroom. Don’t you think?”

“No, Loid,” She insists, “Your head is concussed, and your ribs are broken. You have to lay down as comfortably as possible.” She frets.

Loid, wincing slightly, probes her. “What about you? Do you feel any dizziness, abdominal discomfort, or anything? That was a lot of poisonous gas.”

“I’m fine.” She mutters, brushing off his concern. “No poison works on me. I’m trained that way.”

“Trained.” He muses under his breath.

Right, his wife is a bonafide assassin. She is physically strong for sure, but the idea of her enduring such poison training fills him with a deep, unsettling unease.

He feels her at his clothes and forces himself to refocus on the present.

He sees her face reddening as she stammers, “ A-... anyway, I–... I need to remove this.”

Loid chuckles before unbuttoning his own shirts. “Let me help.” He moves to sit up, allowing her to assist in removing his shirt, his bulletproof vest, and undershirt before he lays back down.

Both of their faces redden, the air thick with unspoken tension.

“See? It’s not so bad.” Loid tries to lighten the moment with a dry chuckle, but winces as she gently touches the tender parts of his fractured ribs.

“You wore the vest, but you’re still this injured?” she murmurs, cleaning his cuts with a warm washcloth. “We don’t know yet if your lung is bruised.”

Loid attempts to reassure her. “I can breathe fine. I think my lungs are alright.” But the frown on her face doesn’t waver.

“The cuts are not deep though, tapes will do.” She continues to work in silence.

He should say something—explain, apologize, or ask. But instead, he lets the silence sit between them.

Despite the warm lighting in their living room, the atmosphere feels heavy, overshadowed by the weight of their unspoken realities that both are unwilling to speak about.

Yor is about to apply gauze when her eyes light up with an idea. “Oh! I can use that!”

Loid watches as she rushes to her room and returns with a pot in hand, the lid open to reveal a dark, pungent concoction. She proudly presents it to him.

Loid eyes twitch when he sees the ominous coloring substance that emanates awful odors inside the pot.

Yor explains, “This is the special concoction made by my organization. It will speed up the recovery process and you’ll be back on your feet in no time!”

Despite her reassurance, he instinctively recoils when she is about to apply the zalf on his tender wounds.

His mind races with doubts. An assassin’s medicine—made by an assassin’s organization—being applied by his assassin wife? It’s hard not to feel suspicious.

But, he regrets it so much right after though. Especially since he notices the flash of hurt on her face.

“Yor, I-....” Loid clenches his teeth in frustration.

“It’s … effective. I can attest to that.” She mumbles.

Way to go, Twilight! He kicks himself. She has taken the first initiative in addressing the stalemate and you have the audacity stomp on it.

Unbeknownst to his internal conflict, Yor takes a portion of the zalf and spreads it on her bruised shoulder herself. “It’s made by extracting several herbs, so of course it smells bad. And it stings so much too. But they say bitter medicines work best.”

Her somber smile stirs something in him. He watches her for a moment before speaking. “Will it really stings that much?”

Yor’s features soften, and she nods. “It does.”

Loid’s internal debate lasts only a moment before he finally says, “Do it quickly?” He grimaces when he can’t hide the waver of hesitation in his voice.

“Okay.” Yor’s smile brightens.

As soon as the zalf makes contact with his open wounds, Loid grits his teeth, doing his best to hold back his grunts of pain..

‘Stings’ is severely an understatement. It burns!!!

The sting is overwhelming, but she works quickly, trying to soothe the pain by blowing gently on each area after application.

The burning sensation makes him dizzy, but the relief is swift as she finishes.

By the time she has finished applying the gauzes, he feels so exhausted.

She carefully cleans the rest of his body, wiping him down with a fresh towel, before dressing him in comfortable clothes and tucking him into a soft blanket.

“Rest now, Loid.” She whispers. “I’ll go clean up and be back soon.”

“Mm…” He can’t fight the sleepy hum in his voice as his eyes flutter shut.

He doesn’t know how long he has taken the unintended nap, but when a soft hand caresses his forehead, most likely checking his temperature, he blinks awake and finds Yor standing over him.

She has her hair down and already in her comfortable night gown.

“How are you feeling, Loid?” Yor asks gently.

Loid assesses his body and is surprised to find himself feeling much better. “So much better,” he says in awe. The medication does work wonders.

Yor smiles, her relief palpable. “I’m glad to hear that.” She then gestures towards the kitchen. “I’ve reheated yesterday’s soup. Do you have any appetite?”

“Sure.” He replies, slowly sitting up.

She grins and goes to their kitchen, and soon returns with two bowls of hot soups.

They settle at their sofa, and start eating in silence.

The clink of their spoon against the bowl is the only sound in the room, but for some reason the silence this time isn't uncomfortable.

Loid cannot help but think that, for all the craziness that has happened earlier today, to be able to bask in the normalcy of having a light dinner with his wife, in his living room, with his dog asking for some scraps, somehow feels right.

After finishing their meal, Yor continues with their nightly routine tea, and serves them at the usual place.

“Thank you, Yor.” His voice soft.

He inhales the calming wift of chamomile and sips at his tea.

He feels the quiet weight of everything—his mission, the danger still looming—but for now, he chooses to stay present, just for a moment. He takes a deep breath, ready to finally address the lingering question between them.

Taking a deep breath, he asks. “Your supervisor can be trusted, can’t he?”

Yor nods, her expression serious. “The Director always keeps his word. Their discussion might be tense, but your Handler will be safe.”

Relief washes over him, but his curiosity leads him to ask another question, “How did you know it was me?”

She glances at him, her eyes soft but knowing., “I was given information that you were there. And even with the disguise, your eyes… they recognized me.”

Oh.

He is so compromised Handler is going to kill him for sure.

Yor shifts, her voice quieter now. “So… what do we do now?”

He exhales, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. “You heard them. We stay put, continue with our daily living, until they give us the next order.”

What is the definition of ‘daily living’ anyway? He really doesn’t know for sure.

He has his mission to continue for sure.

And it still involves the Forgers for sure.

She nods, but there’s a hesitant pause before she speaks again. “If it’s possible… I don’t want to clash with you. Maybe it would be better if I go–..”

“NO!!” The word escapes Loid before he can stop it.

That… comes out a little be too strident, if he has to admit it.

He clears his throat and repeat it faintly, “I mean…no, don’t go. You… you are needed for … for my mission.”

She blinks looking at him as though she’s trying to process his words.

Slowly, she turns her gaze downward, staring at the cup of tea in her hands. She whispers, “For your mission.”

He nods. “Yes.”

Her voice is soft, almost pained when she asks, “Does Anya is also needed for your mission?”

“... Yes.” Loid answers quietly.

“How about Bond?”

“Anya wants him, and it helps maintain the perfect family facade.” He explains, his tone flat.

“Hmm.” She nods and seems to think for a moment before speaking again. “So, as part of your mission… you also have to take care of us? Cook our meals? Arrange family outings?”

He answers without a beat. “It’s the most logical course of action. To ensure the continuation of the mission, all components must remains in their peak health.”

“Even offering encouragement or giving necessary scolding whenever one of us need it?”

He nods and elaborates, “Maintaining a balanced mental health is just as important.”

“What about yours?” she asks, tilting her head with a knowing look.

He stiffens, caught off guard. “It’s not part of the equation. I’m the one orchestrating this operation after all.”

“Hmm?” She studies him with a curious expression.

Suddenly, Loid feels incredibly self-conscious. “Wh-... what?”

“They say spies are trained to lie convincingly, to withstand any interrogation.”

“That’s true.” Loid replies, though he’s unsure where this is going.

“And they say you’re one of the best,” she continues, her tone teasing.

“Debatable,” Loid mutters, trying not to flush.

She smiles mischievously. “But you don’t seem that good at lying, do you?”

Loid blinks, caught off guard. “Huh?”

She giggles, and the sound sends a warmth through his chest.

“Okay then. I’ll stay and I’ll try my best to help you. In your mission, I mean.” She says certain.

Loid blinks, surprised at the sudden change in her tone.

Knowing Yor for the past year didn’t make it easy for him to read her.

Nevertheless, her sincerity radiates from her, and Loid can’t help but relax. He exhales a breath of relief. “Thank you, Yor.”

“No,” she smiles, “Thank you, Loid. For making this…,” she gestures between them, “easier.”

He smiles in return, touched by her words. “It’s because it’s you. You always make everything easier.”

She widens her eyes as her cheek turns adorably pink.

“Flaterer.” She hurries to take their dirty dishes to the kitchen sink, sending him an adorably flustered look.

He grins, warmth blooming inside him.

As she heads toward the kitchen, Loid slowly gets to his feet, moving toward the hallway where their rooms meet, waiting until she come near.

“Well, it’s getting late,” he says, “We should get as much rest as we can.”

“Okay then,” she answers, a softness in her voice. “Good night, Loid.”

“Good night, Yor.”

As he reaches the door to his room, she calls out, “Oh, by the way, Loid. Can you write with your left hand?”

He pauses at the unexpected question. “Well, sometimes I have to disguise as lefties, so yeah, I can.”

Her smile brightens. “I knew it.”

“Why do you ask?”

She fidgets with her finger. “Well, for some reason, my employer favors those who are ambidextrous. And they ask me to report whether you are.”

Loid furrows his brow. “Ambidextrous? Why?”

She shrugs, a little sheepish. “Maybe for agility. They don’t explain these things.”

“I see…” he mutters, still unsure of the logic. “Well, have a nice rest, Yor.”

“You too, Loid.”

Entering his room, he lies down, his mind still swirling with everything that’s happened.

Tomorrow remains uncertain.

Their unconventional arrangement will undoubtedly complicate his mission—and he's sure to get a heavy beating from Handler.

But with Yor by his side, he is positively sure that he can come up with contingency plans for whatever comes their way.

For now, though, he closes his eyes, letting sleep take over.

-------------------------------

<<Previous Chapter

Next Chapter>>

AN:

I love TwiYor identity reveal so much so that I’ve created: One, Two, Three, Four scenarios, and still created another one 😂 And as always, it expands until it became such a long chapter. I apologize.

In case I didn’t make it clear, I want to emphasize that while the Shopkeeper has a soft spot for Yor and truly appreciate her hard work, The Garden is still a shady organization. We can trust Mc.Mahon though.

I’m trying to show how the Shopkeeper initially wanted Yor to expedite the process of taking out the drug dealer, which would have ruined Twilight’s carefully planned operation, causing them to clash. But, of course, the universe (a.k.a. me) had other plans. Twilight got trapped, and McMahon saw an opportunity to propose a partnership with WISE. In doing so, he helped Yor keep her family together. After all, he’s like a father figure to her, so it makes sense that he wants what’s best for her. 🥰

13 notes · View notes