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She wasn’t sure just when her allegiance changed, wasn’t sure if there was one specific instance that made her cross that line of no return. All she knew was that at some point, without her noticing it, Astra had slipped into her heart and put down roots.
She had been cautious at the beginning, a feral cat hissing at her rescuer, trying her best to adjust to a new, unfamiliar name.
“Please, Evelyn?”
Wide, warm puppy-dog eyes, far too innocent to be trusted. A foolish, almost childish request, one that would surely get her in trouble with practically everyone pulling her strings, from Odeum to Fugue to the shadowy “Organization”.
She was cold, almost dismissive. “We have to follow the schedule, Miss Yao.”
Astra pouted, but seemed to accept defeat. It made her almost guilty to put such an expression on the other woman’s face, but that might have been her intention. She had met her fair share of emotional manipulators in the underworld, and knew better than to trust the expressions on another’s face.
There was more than one way to skin a cat, and psychological wounds often left far deeper scars than physical ones. She knew how the game was played, and she didn’t intend to lose that easily.
Eventually, Astra’s kindness managed to worm under her skin. She found herself smiling a little, tempted to give in to the idol’s whining just to make her happy. In those moments, she would catch herself, give herself a mental shakedown.
Don’t forget who you are.
She was not Evelyn Chevalier, she was hardly even a person. On paper, she had no name, no past, no fixed address – she was but one of many abandoned by the world, a tool to be auctioned off as the Organization desired. There was no heart in her chest to be moved, especially not for her target.
Even so, she couldn’t help but long for the slivers of warmth she was shown, a partially-tamed cat hesitantly baring its teeth even as it enjoyed the feeling of gentle fingers between its ears.
Maybe she’s different. Maybe she won’t hurt me. Maybe I can trust her.
They were dangerous thoughts, ones that she fought to swallow down. There was no other life for her than this, no way for her to escape the shadows she had grown up in.
“Evelyn!”
“Yes, Miss Yao?”
It was getting easier and easier to respond to her new name. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but she supposed it wouldn’t harm the mission for her to grow accustomed to her false identity. As long as she could still take it off at the end, discard Evelyn Chevalier as easily as she had discarded other women before her, there would be no consequences.
“My fans will be organizing an event for my birthday next week. I want to join them, will you please talk to the higher-ups for me?”
Next week? Organizing Astra’s appearance on such short notice would probably be a logistical nightmare. She would have to stake out the location in preparation for a potential green light, organize security for Astra, discuss crowd density and control measures with Public Security, obtain as accurate a list of attendees as possible and examine their backgrounds for potential threats…
But Astra wanted to do it.
She knew how happy it would make her fans for her to surprise them like that, and she was always trying to make her fans happy. It was a little suspicious, how she seemed to always be trying to cheer other people up. It was either a really good act, a perfectly manufactured pure, sweet personality New Eridu would lovingly throw money at, or Astra was about as real as a protagonist from one of the manga an old acquaintance used to try to get her to read.
No one was that nice. No one. Astra had to be doing this for publicity’s sake. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down around the idol. Not now, not ever.
“I will speak to Mr Hobson.”
Astra smiled at her. It was, strangely, more piercing than a bullet through the chest.
“Thank you so much, Eve! I can call you Eve, right?”
It was at that moment, she found herself almost hating Evelyn Chevalier.
“You can call me whatever you want, Miss Yao.”
A slight flush spread across Astra’s cheeks, an adorable pink.
“I didn’t know you were that good of a flirt, Eve.”
Flirt?
She stared at Astra, stone-faced despite her frantic heart.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Yao.”
What Evelyn Chevalier has is not yours to have. You are not her, and you will never be her.
The feral cat bristled, lost and lonely, but too afraid to seek out the warmth it desired. With pleading, suspicious eyes, it could only watch as the hand retreated, too kind and patient to push any further.
It took a surprising amount of self-control not to whimper as Astra turned away from her, excitedly scrolling through the myriad of posts about the upcoming fan event.
Do not forget who you are.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up her own phone and accessed the Inter-Knot. She would have to study the location of this fan event as thoroughly as possible, map out every possible entrance and exit before Astra stepped foot in that place. She would also have to take note of all security cameras, ensure Odeum entered some sort of contract with the venue to prevent them from selling the footage to the press or something.
She had to focus. Evelyn existed for the sake of this mission, and this mission only. Whatever Evelyn had, whatever she went on to obtain, she would have to throw away when it came to an end.
She could not afford to get too attached.
But she did anyway.
“Miss Yao, it’s time to wake up.”
Huddled beneath a heap of blankets, Astra stubbornly refused to show her face. It didn’t help that there were no windows in her bedroom – a security measure that made it feel worse than a jail cell – and there was no natural light to fall across the idol’s face and force her out of bed.
“Five more minutes,” she groaned, her voice somehow still beautiful despite being heavy with sleep.
Evelyn rolled her eyes fondly.
“You’re going to be late for your first interview.”
“Mm,” an adorable whine, the lump beneath the blankets shifting. “One more minute?”
“Fine,” she surrendered, far too readily, “Just one.”
Evelyn gave her five anyway. Astra had been up late working through writer’s block last night, and wasted a good two hours trying to wheedle Evelyn into singing a backing melody for her to “get a better sense of how the whole thing fits together”. In the end, Evelyn gave up and sang when Astra promised to go to bed right after, but she ended up getting some epiphany and continued writing til 3AM.
It was just how Astra operated, Evelyn had come to learn, a ball of spontaneous energy that caused heart attacks for those around her. At least she didn’t sneak out into the city and get herself cornered by over a hundred fans this time…
“Miss Yao,” she called again, unable to stop fondness from coloring her tone.
“I’m up,” Astra mumbled, untangling herself from the sheets. There was a small smile playing at her lips, warm and affectionate in a way that made Evelyn’s heart skip. “Is breakfast ready, too?”
“Coffee with milk and two sugars, and french toast with caramelized apples.”
“You’re an angel, Eve.”
Evelyn melted, averting her gaze in a desperate attempt to control the heat rushing to her face.
“I’ll be waiting in the kitchen, Miss Yao.”
With that, she made a quick exit from the bedroom, casting a quick glance over at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that formed a large part of the living room wall. Evelyn had never liked them, far too exposed, an open invitation to the paparazzi to set up camp in the neighboring buildings, but Astra loved them. She liked looking down over the city, especially at night, watching the bright lights of New Eridu glitter before her.
Evelyn always stood a little too close to her when she did that, ready to throw herself in front of Astra should an assassin attempt to put a bullet through the glass. It was double-layered and bulletproof, but just to be on the safe side, Evelyn preferred to have her own body as an additional option.
“Good morning, Eve.”
Freshened up, Astra was back to her usual, bubbly self, one hand brushing against Evelyn’s shoulder as she passed. She clapped her hands in delight at the food – those years of culinary training for an undercover mission in the restaurant industry had paid off quite well – hopping into her chair like an excited child.
“It looks amazing,” she said, but her face had fallen slightly.
Evelyn mentally kicked herself, wondering what she had done wrong to make Astra look like that. As far as she remembered, Astra wasn’t on too restrictive a diet, and she had complimented Evelyn’s french toast the last time she made it. Had she forgotten something, maybe, did Astra prefer a different type of apple, or had she burned the toast somewhere without noticing it…?
Astra spoke again, saving her from her spiral. “There’s only one serving. Are you not going to join me, Eve?”
Ah.
“I’ve already eaten, Miss Yao.”
Astra pouted. “Will you at least sit with me, then?”
Evelyn gave in. She’d been doing that more often lately, didn’t really see the harm in sharing a table with her charge. As long as it made Astra get ready faster, it would be beneficial to Odeum, give them a reason to continue employing her as Astra’s manager-slash-bodyguard, which played right into Fugue’s hands, and hence, benefited the Organization.
That was all this was, right…?
Astra pressed their ankles together beneath the table. Evelyn jumped, just barely managing to swallow down a squeak of surprise. Falsely innocent, Astra was tucking into her breakfast as if the touch had been accidental, but Evelyn knew otherwise.
How was she supposed to react to this? The feral part of her wanted to hiss, to pull away, to say something sharp and curt so that Astra would never do this again. But a bigger part of her, completely and utterly tamed, longed to savor this momentary contact, to behave so that Astra would touch her again.
Wait.
Since when had she thought of herself as Evelyn?
Panic ripped through her, a bolt of lightning strong enough to stop her heart. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, fear creeping its way up her spine.
She was an assassin. No, because an assassin was a person, and she wasn’t. She was a blade for hire, wielded by the highest bidder against whatever they pleased. And now, she was in Fugue’s hand, the sharp edge of her blade resting against Odeum’s throat.
And Odeum’s throat happened to be Astra.
One day, an order would come for her to kill Astra. Perhaps not with her own hands, perhaps indirectly, where she would be too far away to witness the idol’s final moments, but she would have to kill Astra just the same.
There was no point in getting attached. Evelyn would live only for as long as she was needed, and then she would die with Astra, cast off like an old coat, never to see the light of day again.
“Eve?”
Astra’s voice was gentle, so painfully gentle, like an outstretched hand a good distance away from a frightened cat.
I’m here for you, Astra was saying, but it’s up to you to close the distance.
She knew that she should reject it, turn her head. Astra was not hers to have – worse than that, Astra was hers to destroy. She could not, in good faith, accept any of the warmth that was being offered to her.
But she wanted to.
More than anything, she wanted to be Evelyn. She wanted to be someone worthy of the affection in Astra’s eyes, to be worthy of the light and warmth that spilled from the idol everywhere she went.
Don’t forget who you are.
But she couldn’t. She knew what the Organization did to traitors. But… would it really be that bad, to be killed for Astra’s sake? Could she really steel her heart enough to live with Astra’s blood on her hands, to continue serving as a tool when she had accidentally had a taste of what it meant to be human?
“Eve, what’s wrong?”
A hand on her shoulder, skin soft and smooth. An idol’s hands, ones that did not know physical labor, betrayal and bloodshed. Hands that she wanted to press herself into forever, purring in contentment like a pampered house cat.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
“It’s nothing. Please eat, we have to leave in ten minutes and there will not be time to stop for food until 3:30.”
Astra frowned and retreated, perhaps thinking that her physical contact had been unwelcome. Evelyn wanted to whimper, to chase after her, but she managed to stop herself from horribly embarrassing herself.
It felt like a sort of crossroads, a turning point, yet she knew that the choice had been made for her long ago.
She had not been born lucky, dragged into the depths of the criminal underworld at a young age. Her talent and determination made her an effective weapon, and her lack of ties to anyone or anything made her the perfect tool. Calm, cool and deadly, she had no heart to sway, no loyalties that could be bought, no ambitions that might interfere with the Organization’s goals.
She had been hired to tail Astra Yao, to keep an eye on Odeum’s rising star, to cut her out of the sky when Fugue decided it was time. She was given a lie to live, a life to take, and that was all she needed.
Until now.
She had been successfully tamed, a feral cat taken out of the cold. She had accepted her new name, dissolving the boundary that existed between who she was, and who Evelyn was. She had grown accustomed to kindness, to warmth, to touch, and she would do anything to protect her master.
At some point, she had become Evelyn Chevalier, Astra Yao’s talented manager and loyal bodyguard. The shadows of her past, the sharp edge of her upbringing, the fear they had instilled into her – none of it mattered anymore.
She had a name now, an owner, a home to return to.
With a surge of foolish confidence, she pressed her own leg against Astra’s, their knees brushing. Astra made the most adorable, high-pitched noise in surprise, her cheeks coloring as she nervously pressed back.
It was a nice pressure, warm and welcoming. Something warm and sticky flooded through her chest, spilling into the spaces between her ribs, strangely comfortable.
There was still an uneasy stirring in the pit of her stomach, a cold terror of what might happen should she get found out. She had no idea if she could protect Astra from the forces that wanted to harm her, no idea if she could protect Evelyn from the consequences of her betrayal.
Worst of all, she had no idea how Astra would react should she discover the truth, that their entire relationship had been built on lies.
Betrayed and hurt, Astra might push her away, cut her off, never want to speak to her again. Evelyn might lose everything that made her Evelyn, might have betrayed the Organization for nothing, might have doomed herself to a painful, drawn-out death just for a handful of soft words and gentle touches.
But that didn’t matter. She knew who she was now, and nothing could ever take that away from her.
She was Eve, Astra’s Eve.
Everything else could wait until later.