SYLUS X NON-MC (oneshot)
Slow dancing with Sylus ft the language of flowers
It was the time of the auction.
The grand hall was already buzzing with anticipation; voices softened into murmurs, blending with the soft clink of crystal glasses and the quiet rustle of tailored suits.
It was common for the Onychinus Leader.
He had excused himself only briefly to deal with a handful of insufferable businessmen whose persistence bordered on desperation. The discussion had been unpleasant, but expected.
By the time he returned, there was already a notice of 100 million spent on his card. A smile found his lips, knowingly. There was only one person audacious enough to spend that amount without the slightest hesitation.
His crimson eyes swept across the crowded hall and found her almost immediately. His gaze found her immediately.
A young Hunter from Linkon and the one who used his black card like it was a gift card, and the one whom he had taken a particular interest in, though she clearly harboured a sharp disdain for him, was speaking with another man.
Instead, he remained where he was, watching with quiet composure. His expression betrayed nothing, and to anyone observing him, he appeared perfectly patient, perfectly in control.
Patience had never truly been his virtue; he simply excelled at pretending it was.
She was blending perfectly with the crowd. If anything, he was proud. Confidence looks so good on her.
He should convince her to be a part of Onychinus, which would make her a great addition. Sylus was walking to her, but she ended up accompanying that man to the dance floor, Sylus arriving too late to intervene or claim her attention.
Was he irritated? Visibly.
It did not show in any crude way, though. Again, Sylus was not a man who allowed emotion to spill carelessly into the open. That was when his gaze shifted.
Across the hall, he saw another.
Without the slightest hint of urgency, Sylus made his way through the crowd. He moved closer, stopping beside you. "Not interested in the protocores?" he asked calmly, as though he hadn't crossed the entire auction hall solely to stand at your side.
You didn’t look at him at first, your attention still anchored to the display of oversized blooms arranged near the auction items. Towering crimson blooms rose from polished crystal vases, their velvety petals unfurling in impossibly lush layers.
They dwarfed ordinary roses, each blossom nearly the size of a dinner plate.
“I do,” you replied absently. “But, right now...more interested in these flowers,” you titled your head slightly, studying them. “How did they manage to grow them so large? I’ve never seen roses of that size before.”
Only after speaking did you briefly acknowledge his presence.
His gaze drifted from you to the extravagant arrangement on display. Those towering roses, impossibly full, and their petals layered beautifully.
"It's a rare cultivar," he said evenly. "They're called Red Dime."
Then his eyes returned to you, studying your expression rather than the flowers.
“Not many people notice that,” he added, quieter now, as if the observation interested him.
Lately, a lot of things... seem to interest him.
“Breeding roses is one of the more humbling acts,” you said. “And to achieve something like this… perfect growth to the point it reaches its size capacity, while still retaining such a rich fragrance.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly, analytical. “It’s rare to see both form and scent preserved so well. Most cultivations lose one in pursuit of the other.”
“Ah,” Sylus said lightly, “you know your way around horticulture. I assume you must have a garden of your own, then?” He studied you for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.
“Amateur botanist...you could say”.
“That's quite impressive.”
Sylus shifted his weight, leaning casually against the edge of the display table until he was facing you directly as his smirk widened. A sense of smugness exudes from him as he speaks.
"I must say, I'm impressed.” He pauses, studying you before continuing. "I never expected a pretty thing like you among criminals...to be into botany."
You scoffed softly, “Flattering.” You met his gaze without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "But you'll have to try harder than that."
Before he could answer, your eyes drifted beyond his shoulder toward the ballroom floor.
The elegant woman who had arrived on his arm earlier was now gliding across the dance floor with another gentleman, her laughter carrying effortlessly through the music.
You looked back at Sylus, amusement glimmering in your eyes.
"I noticed you came here with a lady, Mr Sylus."
Your tone remained perfectly innocent. "And now she's dancing with someone else." You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "So, tell me..." You let the question hang for a heartbeat.
"Are you looking for a rebound?"
He chuckles at your directness, finding it quite refreshing. He takes in your question with amusement in his gaze, tilting his head slightly as he responds.
"Ah, you're observant.” His gaze drifted briefly toward the dance floor, where his companion was still laughing in another man’s arms, wholly unconcerned with him.
He looked almost... pleased.
"I did come with someone," he admitted. "Though it appears my date has found more engaging company." Then his attention returned to you. Then the corner of his mouth curved into a slow, self-assured smile.
“And as for your suggestion of a rebound…” He paused, his smirk widening, arrogant in an almost playful way.
“Are you offering, sweetheart?”
You smiled, “Would you entertain my rambling about these gigantic roses while we are doing so?”
"Oh, who am I to deny a request from such a lovely lady?" He gestured for you to continue, leaning against the table next to you, his attention fully focused on you.
He offered his hand without a word, leading you to the dance floor, his hand warm and firm around yours as he gently pulled you closer into a dance position. As the orchestral music swells, he guides you into the rhythm with effortless grace, his gentle smile never fading. His voice is low, laced with amusement.
“You’re awfully quiet, sweetheart.”
A soft chuckle. “Thinking? While I was holding you in my arms?” He guided you through a slow turn, his touch steady as the two of you glided effortlessly between the other dancers.
"You do know how to wound a gentleman's pride." The amusement in his voice made it impossible to take the complaint seriously. "Indulge me, darling..." His thumb shifted almost imperceptibly against your gloved hand. "What's occupying that little thought of yours?"
His hand at your back applied the slightest pressure. The movement seemed almost deliberately slow, inviting conversation as much as the dance itself.
“Those thorns...they’re incredibly sharp to look at.” Your voice carried a thoughtful cadence. "But if you actually touch them..."
A faint smile curved your lips.
"They're rubbery. They're designed to appear dangerous," you continued. "Every thorn is perfectly shaped to discourage anyone from reaching out, yet they're completely harmless. Nothing more than decoration."
You tilted your head, studying one of the towering crimson blooms as you drifted across the dance floor.
"I find that rather fascinating."
As the orchestra carried the waltz forward, Sylus guided you across the ballroom. His steps never faltered. Though his attention should have been on the dance, it lingered on you instead, quietly captivated by the way your mind worked.
"Almost like people... don't you think?" you said, your gaze drifting back toward the towering roses.
His head tilted ever so slightly. "How so?" His grip on you remains firm but not too tight as you continue to dance, his eyes flickering between yours, studying your face while you talk.
"It's not unlike you to compare things to people, Mr Sylus."
He raises an eyebrow at your comparison. "Oh, now we're getting philosophical, are we? Are you implying that just like these deceitful roses with their fake thorns...people also pretend to be something they're not?"
He pauses, his gaze fixed on your face, waiting for your next words.
"They pretend to be dangerous. As if they were born a monster," you answered quietly. "However, it was all about a harmless creature borrowing the appearance of a predator so no one dares test it."
“Does the disguise work?”
“Until they actually become a predator.”
“Interesting.” His brows furrowed at what you were trying to imply.
"...While remaining beautiful," you added, your eyes returning to the towering crimson roses. "Like those roses."
He hummed thoughtfully at your words, his gaze drifting down from your eyes to take in your features before looking back up. There's a soft glimmer of sincerity in his gaze.
"Indeed.” His hand tightens gently on your waist, holding you even closer into another slow spin, his body warm against yours in the dance.
This was an unfamiliar territory.
Sylus had spent years mastering every room he entered. Control came as naturally to him as breathing. He never allowed anyone close enough to see beneath the carefully crafted façade.
Yet somehow, with nothing more than a conversation about roses, he felt it, the layers he hadn't realised were there.
The realisation unsettled him in equal measure. He inclined his head, his voice lowering until it was scarcely more than a whisper, meant only for you. He didn’t want to look you in the eyes.
As the music reached its crescendo, he smoothly spun you into a graceful twirl.
One arm supported your back with unwavering confidence while the other kept your hand securely in his. Every movement was precise, leaving no room for uncertainty as he held you effortlessly above the polished floor.
For a suspended heartbeat, the ballroom seemed to disappear.
His face hovered only inches from yours.
The familiar smirk was still there, but softer now—tempered by something almost contemplative.
"Tell me," he murmured, his crimson eyes searching yours with quiet intensity.
"When the last layer is stripped away..."
His thumb shifted ever so slightly against your hand.
"...do you believe people become who they truly are?"
A beat of silence. "Or merely reveal who they've been all along?"
You shrugged, “I don’t know. I never allowed myself to explore that. That’s a dangerous territory to venture.”
For a moment, everything else fades except for the soft sound of the music and the sensation of his body pressed to yours. His gaze locks onto yours, the look in his eyes intense and focused, keeping you close to him as the dance continues.
"You know, sweetheart...there's a saying I once heard that I've always found quite poignant… A thing of beauty is a delight for the eyes. No one can truly be blamed for wanting to possess something beautiful."
He brings you closer as the dance continues, his body almost moulding against yours as he leads the movements. His hand on your waist is warm, his fingers pressing ever so slightly into your clothes.
"But what's your opinion, sweetheart…?" He leans closer, almost as if sharing another secret, his voice soft as his head dips just a fraction so that his lips brush lightly against your ear.
“You know...this small white...bell-shaped flower...” you began, slowly.
“Lily of the Valley?” he tried.
“Such a delicate flower. People often associate it with innocence...”
“Yeah, and that’s what makes it fascinating.”
“Because no one expects it to be dangerous. They see something beautiful. They don't realise that something so gentle-looking can still harm them.”
“Maybe it’s just hard to possess.”
"No one tries to possess a lily of the valley," you said softly. "Not once they learn it's poisonous."
He halted mid-step, freezing for just a second before pulling back slightly to look directly at you.
There’s a flicker of yearning in his eyes.
“So, if someone still chooses it...then their choice has little to do with its beauty.” Your hand gently held onto his face. “They do understand its nature and choose it anyway.”
He smiled, "Would you choose the lily, then? Knowing exactly what it is." His gaze sharpened, searching your face. The question was no longer about the flower; neither of you pretended otherwise.
"Hm…?" His voice was quiet, his eyes never leaving yours.
As the final notes of the song faded into the grand hall, you stepped closer and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.
You gently let go of each other.
His breath hitches at the feeling of your kiss on his cheek, the action catching him off-guard yet making his heart skip a beat all the same. As you pull back, he releases you, the dance coming to an end.
He lifts a hand to touch the place where your lips made contact, a mix of surprise and… something else he can’t quite name, flickering in his gaze as your words echo in his head.
You smiled as you disappeared into the crowd.
He watched as you melted into the crowd, vanishing from sight. Sylus remained standing there, his hand still resting on his cheek where your kiss had landed, a bewildered expression on his face.
He was used to smooth flirtation, to banter, to banter.
You—it was almost… intimate. Almost.
His trance of silence was interrupted by hurried footsteps.
“Bossman!” Luke called as he rushed over. “We need to get back to the base. There was an infiltration. The entire imported metal shipment was stolen. Every last bit of it. That's a supply worth 500 million.”
Sylus took it. Resting between the pages was a single lily of the valley.
A slow smirk spread across his face. “Leave it to me,” he said, slipping the postcard into his coat. “I'll handle it.”
Now, he understood your question.
"Would you choose the lily, then? Knowing exactly what it is?"
"Oh, darling..." A small smile tugged at his lips, amused that someone played him under his nose while being in his embrace. "I would."
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