MISSION TO SEDUCE THAT GAY

‎ ‎Sabi nila, delikado daw ang mga babaeng kagaya ko. ‎ ‎But what they always forget is—we weren’t born this way. We were built. ‎ ‎Sanay na ako matawag ng kung anu-ano. Halimaw. Ahas. Malandi. Puta. As if using your body to manipulate is something to be ashamed of. As if I had a choice. ‎ ‎The truth is… I never had the luxury of innocence. ‎ ‎I was trained for this. ‎ ‎Trained to smile with a loaded gun behind my teeth. ‎ ‎My name is Mai Sakuhachi. ‎Twenty-six. Half-Japanese, half-Filipina. ‎Agent for Division Black—an organization that technically doesn’t exist. Secretly funded by governments that deny our existence. Controlled by men who’ll kill you for spelling their names wrong. ‎ ‎Seduction is my specialty. ‎ ‎And I’m damn good at it. ‎ ‎Too good, maybe. ‎ ‎ ‎&.& ‎ ‎ ‎I woke up that morning in Venice, naked under silk sheets. The scent of last night’s conquest still clung to my skin. ‎ ‎The man beside me? Wala akong idea kung sino siya. Just another name in a file. Another body I used to get what I needed. ‎ ‎I stood up, walked to the mirror, and stared at my reflection. ‎ ‎Same face. Same lips. Same hollow eyes. ‎ ‎But tonight, everything would change. ‎ ‎Tumawag ang HQ. ‎ ‎And they only call when it’s something no one else can do.. ‎ ‎ ‎| 11:34 PM | Division Black HQ | Underground Base – Italy | ‎ ‎ ‎“You’re not going to like this one.” ‎ ‎That was the first thing Cain said the moment I entered the briefing room. Director Cain. My handler. The coldest man I know. Kalbo. Nasa edad na para tawagin na “Sir,” pero hindi pa gano’n katanda para excuse ang sapakin. ‎ ‎He slid a folder across the table. ‎ ‎Plain black. Unmarked. Sealed. ‎ ‎Confidential. Top-level. Dangerous. ‎ ‎“Open it,” he ordered. ‎ ‎I did. ‎ ‎One name was written inside in bold, heavy ink. ‎ ‎LOGAN SCRIVENER ‎ ‎And under it... a photo. ‎ ‎I paused. ‎ ‎Just for a second. ‎ ‎Because he was— ‎ ‎Beautiful. ‎ ‎Not the soft, delicate kind of beautiful. No. His face was sharp. Striking. Painful to look at, but impossible to ignore. ‎ ‎Jawline like it could cut glass. High cheekbones. Thick lashes. Dusky skin that made you want to touch it just to know if it was real. ‎ ‎A face that made you forget to blink. ‎ ‎Feminine sa symmetry, pero 'yung aura niya? ‎Cold. Dominant. Detached. ‎ ‎He looked like the kind of man who saw the world as his playground—at lahat ng laruan, sirang-sira na. ‎ ‎“Is he gay?” I asked, eyes still fixed on the photo. ‎ ‎“Unconfirmed,” Cain replied. “But all intel suggests he’s never been seen with a woman. Ever.” ‎ ‎I flipped the page. ‎ ‎More photos. More data. ‎ ‎Mugshots of dead men. Classified documents. Bloodied suits. European arms smuggling trails. ‎ ‎Logan Scrivener. ‎Mafia lord. CEO. Underworld phantom. Ghost king. ‎ ‎And now… my target. ‎ ‎“What do you want me to do?” I asked flatly. ‎ ‎Cain leaned back, his smile colder than steel. ‎ ‎“Simple. Seduce him. Make him fall for you. Get close. Destroy him from the inside.” ‎ ‎I raised a brow. “That’s not simple. You just said he doesn’t sleep with women.” ‎ ‎“That’s why we chose you, Mai,” he said. “You’re not like other women. You know how to make people want what they thought they never would.” ‎ ‎I laughed, dry and amused. “So you want me to confuse his sexuality?” ‎ ‎“No,” he said calmly. “I want you to confuse *him*.” ‎ ‎He pushed another document toward me. ‎ ‎MISSION CODE NAME: SILK TRAP ‎ ‎OBJECTIVE: Get close to Logan Scrivener. ‎ ‎ Gain his trust. Locate the vault keys. Ruin his control. Destroy his inner circle. ‎ ‎Deadline: 90 days. ‎ ‎Consequence of failure: Termination. ‎ ‎Nakatitig lang ako sa papel. Ninety days. ‎ ‎Three months to dismantle a man untouched by weakness. ‎A man who may never have known love. ‎Or worse—doesn’t believe in it. ‎ ‎“Mai,” Cain said, voice low. “If you pull this off, we won’t just bring him down. We’ll own everything he’s built.” ‎ ‎I closed the folder. ‎ ‎Lit a cigarette. ‎ ‎And smiled. ‎ ‎“Then let’s burn it down… beautifully.” ‎ ‎LATER THAT NIGHT, I'M HERE sat alone in the dark, overlooking the city from the balcony. Half a glass of champagne on the table. One photo in my hand. ‎ ‎Logan’s face stared back at me. ‎ ‎I traced his lips with my finger. ‎ ‎“Logan Scrivener,” I whispered ‎ ‎ ‎...