TEMPTATION & JEALOUSY IN THE URBAN ART MARKET
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
A few minutes after leaving the street mural, Shyblance tugged on Broxtler's arm.
"Hey, let's stop by the art market. I heard someone's selling paintings using inner voices..."
"How do they even hear inner voices?" Broxtler asked.
"You think I know? That's what makes it fun!"
They entered the urban art market alley — colorful tents, swinging hanging lights, and people in eccentric outfits. A woman with metallic purple hair and a synthetic leather dress open at the shoulders immediately approached them.
"Are you two a couple? Or... are you alone, handsome?" she said to Broxtler with a hungry stare.
Shyblance froze in her tracks.
Broxtler tilted his head. "I'm... scanning neural sound maps," he answered flatly.
"Ohh... smart guy. I like that."
The woman moved in closer, just inches from his face. "You know, a man like you should be held, not guarded."
Shyblance narrowed her eyes.
"You know, someone who flirts with taken men should be escorted, not embraced."
"Oops. No offense. I just appreciate men with... hidden potential."
"I've already explored that potential quite thoroughly," Shyblance replied, now with a thin smile that basically said: 'leave before I plant you in an abstract sculpture pot.'
Broxtler simply stared calmly — as usual. But once the woman finally left with one last flirty glance, Shyblance turned to him.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
"No."
"You looked calm."
"Reflex. I've trained to suppress reactions since I was five."
"But... you didn't resist either."
"I didn't know\... the protocol for public flirting."
"Unbelievable."
Shyblance turned and walked faster.
Broxtler let out a slow breath and followed.
"Shy—"
"You know what? I'd rather be chased by bullets than compete with flirty women."
Broxtler stayed silent. Then...
"But bullets don't wear lipstick or smell like strawberries."
"Huh?"
"Honestly... I almost gagged. Her perfume was way too sweet."
Shyblance stopped. Glanced sideways. Slowly... a smile crept back.
"So... you were tempted?"
"I was... disturbed."
"Difference?"
"Tempted means I'd want to get closer. Disturbed means I want to call the city's perfume sanitation unit."
Shyblance laughed. Then hooked her arm with Broxtler's.
"Okay. Accepted."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
They continued walking through the art market, closer now. The three-step gap was gone — replaced by shared breath.
And among the swinging lights,
the buzzing market...
their absurd love grew like a painting — slow, unexpected, unforgettable.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
NIGHT STREET — SMALL CAFE AT THE EDGE OF DISTRICT ASCADRA
It was 8:15 PM. City lights glowed softly, reflecting warm tones on the puddles scattered along the sidewalk. The air was cool, but not uncomfortable. The vibe was peaceful. Serene. At least, for now.
Adilof Broxtler and Shyblance strolled leisurely from the murals, heading toward a small café tucked in the corner of the district. They had walked far, their steps slowing as time passed.
But in front of the café, a young woman suddenly waved with excitement. Her hair flowed freely, wearing a short leather jacket and high-waist skirt. Her smile beamed, eyes squinting flirtatiously.
"Broxtler? Seriously? You? Here?"
Shyblance snapped her head toward the voice.
Broxtler furrowed his brows, slightly puzzled, then recognized the face.
"Diana... So you're still alive," he said casually, with a hint of laughter in his tone.
Diana immediately hugged Broxtler from the side. Shyblance stopped, eyeing the scene with a narrowed gaze, one hand crossed, the other holding a plastic cup of hot chocolate.
"Alive — and still curious about this man," Diana said, nudging Broxtler playfully.
Broxtler offered a faint smile. Not nervous. Not surprised. Just... neutral.
"Still a level-two hacker?"
"Upgraded. Now I'm a city-level disruptor. And part-time hologram model, when I'm bored."
Diana looked Broxtler up and down.
"And you... still cold, but more... hmm... refined. I like it."
Shyblance remained silent. But her breathing got heavier.
Broxtler chuckled lightly.
"I just help manage clean air and logistics flow now. Nothing sexy about that."
"Sexy is relative," Diana replied, twirling a strand of hair.
Broxtler turned toward Shyblance.
"This is Shyblance. My partner."
Diana grinned wide — with a slightly wicked tone.
"Oh, partner? Partner... in what, exactly?"
Shyblance replied with a fake smile.
"Partner in all missions."
"Wow\... so you two sleep in the same base then?"
"Yes. But not with the same thoughts," Shyblance replied, eyes sharp.
Broxtler still hadn't sensed the temperature drop.
Diana laughed and pinched Broxtler's arm.
"You're still funny, Brox. Even more charming tonight."
Shyblance rolled her eyes.
"I think the night's cold enough. We don't need extra chill from a walking ice cube."
Diana raised an eyebrow, smiling sharply.
"Relax, I'm done. Just wanted to greet my old favorite guy."
She kissed Broxtler's cheek.
"See you around, darling."
Diana walked off, waved goodbye, and vanished around the corner.
Broxtler stood still for a moment.
"She's always like that."
Shyblance stared at him. Her face calm. But her eyes could incinerate an AI core.
"You... smiled earlier."
"Yeah. So?"
"You SMILED... when she called you refined and sexy."
Broxtler frowned.
"I smiled because... it felt weird."
"Yeah. Weird — like how I feel wanting to rip that hologram's head off."
Broxtler still didn't get it.
Shyblance walked faster, leaving him behind slightly.
"You mad?"
"No. Just... want to sleep early. Before another woman calls you a sexy abstract artist or something."
Broxtler stared at her back.
"Shy..."
"Shhh. Quiet. I'm trying not to freeze the street with my jealou— ughhh."
Broxtler smiled in confusion. This time... the smile was genuine. Because finally, he realized something:
Shyblance cared. And... maybe he needed to be just a little more sensitive.