Chapter 91: The Taste of Considerations

Cyrus studied Kane’s face, reading the tension there.

"What aren’t you telling me?"

Kane hesitated, then pulled up Ginsei’s text thread on his phone.

"My colleague Rina, the forensics specialist, has been missing for two days."

Cyrus moved closer, his presence suddenly more alert.

"Missing how?"

"She hasn’t shown up to work, isn’t answering her phone, and isn’t at her apartment." Kane pocketed his phone.

"The last time I saw her, she was running tests on samples from my break-in and the incident at Hoshino’s shop."

Cyrus’s expression darkened, but his voice remained measured.

"We’ll investigate after lunch."

"After lunch?" Kane’s voice pitched higher.

"Cyrus, she could be in real danger—"

"Which is exactly why you need to eat first." Cyrus’s tone brooked no argument.

Kane opened his mouth to protest, but his stomach chose that moment to emit a thunderous growl that echoed through the office.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"As I was saying."

"Fine," Kane muttered, grabbing his jacket. "But we’re making this quick."

Twenty minutes later, they sat in the pristine interior of an upscale bistro, surrounded by glass walls and sleek marble surfaces.

The lunch crowd consisted entirely of suited executives speaking in hushed tones over artisanal salads.

Kane fidgeted with his napkin, scanning the menu’s astronomical prices.

"This place probably charges fifty dollars for a sandwich."

"Sixty-two actually," Cyrus corrected without looking up from his menu.

"The duck confit is excellent."

Cyrus signaled the waiter with a subtle gesture.

"The filet mignon, rare, and the duck confit for my companion. Also, bring us a bottle of the 2018 Bordeaux."

"Excellent choices, sir." The waiter bowed and disappeared with their orders.

Kane stared at Cyrus.

"You just ordered for me."

"You were taking too long."

"I hadn’t even decided—"

"Duck confit. You’ll like it."

Kane crossed his arms, but before he could argue further, their wine arrived.

The waiter poured the rich Bordeaux into crystal glasses, then returned with their plates.

Kane’s duck confit arrived golden and fragrant, accompanied by perfectly roasted vegetables.

Cyrus’s filet mignon was so rare it was nearly purple in the center.

Kane stabbed at his duck confit, watching Cyrus methodically slice his rare steak into perfect geometric squares.

Each cut followed the same pattern—horizontal, vertical, then diagonal.

"You’re doing it again."

"Doing what?" Cyrus didn’t look up from his plate.

"Distracting me." Kane gestured with his fork. "Look at how you eat. It’s like watching a ritual sacrifice."

Cyrus paused mid-cut, then smoothly transferred a perfectly cubed piece of wagyu onto Kane’s plate.

"I’m simply ensuring you’re well-fed."

Kane nearly choked on his wine, caught between wanting to snap at Cyrus and an unsettling warmth spreading through his chest.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" But Cyrus’s eyes held that familiar glint of amusement.

Kane set down his fork, meeting Cyrus’s gaze directly.

"You know, I used to think you were just some cold corporate dragon when we first met. All business suits and intimidation tactics."

"And now?"

"Now? You’re still exactly the same ice-cold corporate dragon."

Cyrus’s knife paused mid-slice, but his face remained neutral.

"However," Kane continued, gesturing between them, "now you’re acting completely different."

"I don’t follow."

Kane leaned back in his chair, amber eyes narrowing with realization.

"Before the bond, you dismissed me like I was some annoying insect buzzing around your penthouse.

’The door is that way, Agent Ashwood. Don’t steal anything on your way out.’"

Cyrus’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Now you’re feeding me duck confit and making sure I eat breakfast." Kane’s voice dropped to something softer.

"You bought me an entire wardrobe, took me to an amusement park, and caught me when I fell off a building."

"The bond requires—"

"No." Kane shook his head.

"The bond doesn’t require you to put wagyu on my plate."

Cyrus carefully set down his knife, meeting Kane’s gaze with those inscrutable red-gold eyes.

"Perhaps proximity breeds... consideration."

Kane’s fox ears would have flattened if they weren’t hidden by his illusion.

"Right. Consideration."

Cyrus’s expression shifted, becoming even more remote.

"If you prefer the previous arrangement, I can certainly accommodate that."

His voice carried that familiar edge of dismissal, the same tone he’d used when Kane first woke up in his penthouse.

"I can treat you exactly as I did before—professionally distant, nothing more than a necessary inconvenience."

Kane felt something twist in his chest at the offer.

"That’s not what I meant."

Kane pushed his fork around his plate, gathering his thoughts.

"Look, I appreciate what you do for me. The clothes, the food, making sure I’m safe." He looked up, meeting Cyrus’s guarded gaze.

"But I resent being treated like some helpless kid who can’t make his own decisions."

Cyrus set down his knife. Kane’s words stirred something uncomfortable in his chest—a recognition he couldn’t voice aloud.

The fox was right, of course.

Cyrus had been treating him exactly like the plush toy he’d clutched the night before: something precious to be protected, fed, and kept close.

His dragon instincts didn’t differentiate between Kane and any other treasure worth hoarding.

The realization should have been humiliating. Instead, it only made the protective urges stronger.

"I’ll take note of that," Cyrus said quietly, his voice carefully neutral.

Kane’s ears would have flattened if they were visible.

"That’s it? You’ll take note?"

"You’ve made your position clear." Cyrus signaled for the check with a subtle gesture. "I’ll adjust accordingly."

Kane opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it.

They finished their meal in relative silence, the earlier warmth between them cooling to something more guarded.

The waiter appeared with the check, which Cyrus settled without glancing at the total.

They stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk, the autumn air crisp against their faces.

Kane scanned the crowded sidewalk, his investigator instincts still sharp despite lunch’s tension.

A flash of dark fabric caught his eye—the same hooded figure from yesterday, lurking near the corner newsstand.

"There." Kane pointed, but the figure was already moving, weaving through pedestrians.

This time, Kane didn’t hesitate.

"Kane, wait—"

But Kane was already sprinting across the street, dodging honking cars and startled pedestrians.

The figure glanced back once, then bolted down a narrow alley between two office buildings.

Kane pursued, his heart pounding as he plunged into the dimly lit passage.