Chapter 282: Too Smart For Lies

Anya blinked several times, disbelief flashing through her tired eyes as reality slowly sank in.

The hallucination standing before her wasn’t dissolving, wasn’t fading, wasn’t some caffeine-fueled mirage.

Her lips parted slightly.

"M-Mika?" She stammered, her voice trembling. "What are you—what are you doing here? Why are you in my room?"

"And why are you not a hallucination like I thought you were?"

Mika chuckled softly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of her desk.

"Because, dear Anya, I was never a hallucination to begin with." He said with a grin. "I came here with your mom and I’m staying over."

"And right now, I was just checking in to see what you were up to. I was going to greet you properly, but then you started...well, talking to me like I was some sort of phantom."

He smirked at her trembling, flustered figure.

"And don’t worry, I’m not mad about you fantasizing about me, or...entertaining yourself with your little imaginary version of me. If anything, I’m flattered."

Anya gulped, while Mika continued shamelessly, his grin widening.

"Though, I’ll admit, it’s a bit strange. Most people greet me with a hello, a hug, maybe even a kiss—but you? You went straight into...let’s say...a full splashdown."

He winked.

"That’s a pretty strange way of saying hi."

For someone usually so calm and composed, Anya’s face turned red so fast it was almost impressive.

She blinked rapidly, stuttering incoherently—until her gaze flicked to the small mirror sitting on the corner of her desk.

And the moment she saw her reflection, she let out a shriek.

"Ahhh—no, no, no, no!"

In a panic, she spun around on her chair, curling up into a tight ball, burying her face between her knees. Her entire body trembled as she covered her head with both hands.

"No, Mika, don’t look at me! Please don’t look at me right now! I beg you!"

Mika blinked in surprise.

"What?...What’s wrong with you, Anya?" He asked, puzzled. "You’re not exactly the type to get embarrassed so easily."

"Usually, if someone catches you doing something weird, you’d probably laugh it off—or double down just to make them uncomfortable."

"You’re honestly one of the most shameless, bold person I know. You don’t care what anyone thinks, and that’s what makes you...you."

He tilted his head, half-amused.

"So what’s this? Why are you hiding your face like you just got caught stealing secrets?"

Her voice, muffled against her knees, came out small, soft and trembling.

"It’s...not what I did that I’m embarrassed about."

That made Mika pause and Anya took a shaky breath before continuing.

"If it were that, I’d probably just tease you for being a peeping tom, honestly..."

That got a small laugh out of Mika.

"Yeah, that sounds more like the Anya I know."

But her next words came quieter, fragile.

"It’s...It’s just my appearance right now."

That caught him off guard.

"I haven’t slept in days." She admitted softly. "I have dark circles under my eyes. I don’t even remember the last time I showered. I probably smell like stale coffee and paper ink."

Her voice trembled as she pulled her knees closer.

"My hair’s also mess. I haven’t brushed it as well and my skin feels gross. I’ve been sitting here for so long that even my clothes feel musty."

She covered her face even tighter.

"I just...don’t want you to see me like this. I probably look horrible. Ugly. Worn out."

She then hesitated before peeking out from between her knees, her eyes shimmering with embarrassment.

"You probably think I’m wierd for acting like this when I normally do whatever I want without caring about anyone’s opinion."

".But you don’t understand Mika"

"I already have to compete with all those perfect women in your life, and now you’re seeing me looking like this?" Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. "I can’t even show my face right now—I’ll ruin your image of me completely!"

"So please, just look away right now before before you start thinking I’m some swamp creature who crawled out of a pile of paperwork." She cried out. "The last thing I want is for you to look at me and lose whatever image you had of me !"

Mika stared at her for a long moment, his expression softening as realization settled in.

He hadn’t expected this kind of vulnerability from her—not from the perfectionist prodigy who faced world leaders without blinking, who argued down entire committees single-handedly.

But right now, she wasn’t the formidable parliamentarian or the brilliant strategist.

She was just a tired young woman, buried in paperwork, afraid of being seen as less than perfect by someone she cared about.

And seeing her curled up and hiding her face like that, Mika couldn’t help but feel a faint warmth bloom in his chest.

There was something adorable about it—this girl, who was usually so composed, so frighteningly intelligent, so in control of every situation, now reduced to a flustered mess, hugging her knees like a shy child.

She rarely showed weakness, and even when she did, she usually hid it behind sarcasm or a teasing smile.

But now, stripped of all that composure, she looked real. Human. Soft.

Still, he didn’t like how she talked about herself—like she was something ugly, unworthy of being seen. It didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to change that.

But instead of doing the predictable thing, saying something like "You’re beautiful" or "You’re fine." He decided to tease her first, lightly patting her head.

"So..." He murmured, fingers brushing through her hair. "Do you really look that ugly right now, Anya? So ugly that I can’t even look at your face?"

Anya didn’t even hesitate and nodded her head.

"I do. I most definitely do."

She said with conviction. Then, lifting her head just a bit, she declared with pride.

"Normally, my face is perfect, you know. I have the face of a goddess. They could paint entire murals of me and call them divine masterpieces. But right now..." She sighed dramatically. "...right now, it’s a disaster. I don’t want you to see it."

Mika couldn’t help but laugh softly at the seriousness in her tone.

"A goddess, huh? I see." He ruffled her hair lightly, ignoring her halfhearted protests. "Well then, I’d like to confirm for myself just how terrible this so-called ’disaster’ is."

"Let me see. I promise I won’t laugh."

Her shoulders tensed.

"You really won’t laugh?" She asked nervously.

"Promise." He said with a grin.

She peeked at him from behind her knees.

"If you do laugh, I’ll be really angry, Mika. You don’t want to see that side of me—the only people who’ve seen it are those who made me cry, or who’ve lost a limb. And trust me, you don’t want to join that list."

"Noted. No laughter." Mika raised both hands in mock, smiling. "I’d rather keep all my limbs attached, thank you."

After a long pause, Anya finally exhaled and slowly lifted her head. Her hair fell messily around her face, and her eyes—normally glowing with confidence—were slightly dull, rimmed with faint shadows.

But she was still beautiful, in a raw, unguarded way.

There was something almost fragile about her in that moment, and that fragility made her all the more captivating.

Seeing that she revealed herself, Mika leaned closer, brushing his thumb across her cheek and along the bridge of her nose, studying her face as if it were a piece of art.

"Yeah..." He said at last, nodding seriously. "You’re right."

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief, not expecting such a response. But he just continued without hesitation.

"You’re definitely not as pretty as usual." He said casually, pointing lightly at her face. "You’ve got some dark patches under your eyes—not too bad, but noticeable."

"Your eyes aren’t sparkling like they normally do."

"Your skin’s lost a bit of its glow, and your lips...well, they’re cracked."

"Honestly, it’s obvious you’ve been overworking yourself."

Hearing these cruel words, Anya just stared at him, her stunned silence quickly turning into a cold, narrowing glare.

"Mika..." Her tone was sharp and dangerously calm. "It’s one thing for me to say that...But you?"

"You’re supposed to deny it. You’re supposed to tell me I’m beautiful, no matter what. That’s what you’re supposed to say."

Her composed smile returned, but it was tight and twitching.

"Not list every single flaw like you’re conducting a medical evaluation."

Mika couldn’t help laughing softly.

"That’s true. But it’d be pointless for me to lie, wouldn’t it?" He leaned a bit closer, his expression softening. "You’re smart enough to see through it right away. You’d know I was just saying what you wanted to hear."

"And that’s not what you deserve from me."

"Unbelievable." Anya groaned softly, dragging her palm down her face. "You really have no sense of delicacy sometimes. I wonder just why you’re so popular with women but then I realise how handsome you are and it makes"

She was about to launch into another round of quiet scolding when Mika gently placed his hands on either side of her face, leaning down so their eyes met.

"But even if you’re not as perfect-looking as you usually are..." He said with all the sincerity he could muster. "...and even if you look like you haven’t slept in a month, it doesn’t change how much I love you. Not even a little."

Anya’s breath caught.

"In my eyes..." He continued. "...you’ll always be the same Anya. The one who smiles even when she’s tired, who works herself half to death just to make sure everyone else can rest easy."

"The one who never stops, even when she should."

"And of course, I do appreciate the effort you put into dolling yourself up every time I see you." He smiled faintly. "I know every time you pick a shade of lipstick, or blush your cheeks, you’re doing it because you want to look good for me."

"And I’ll admit, I love that you care that much."

His tone softened even further, almost like a whisper.

"But don’t you ever think that being tired, or messy, or unpolished makes you any less beautiful to me. Don’t you ever feel ashamed of letting me see you like this. You don’t have to hide behind that perfection all the time."

Anya’s composure faltered again, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came.

Mika smiled tenderly.

"And let me just tell you, that if the day ever comes when your face is covered in dust, or dirt, or even shit...I’ll still hold you the same way."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"And I’ll still kiss you on these same lips I’ve kissed so many times before, so don’t you ever try to hide yourself away from me."

Hearing those words, Anya couldn’t speak. Her throat tightened, her heart thrummed violently in her chest, and for a long, fragile moment, the entire world seemed to fade away.

What remained was the fluttering of her heart and the quiet gratitude that swelled inside her.

Gratitude for this boy who could make her feel seen, loved, and human again, with just a few simple words.

She then let out a quiet laugh—soft, trembling, but genuine. The corners of her lips curved into a teasing smile as she lifted her gaze toward him.

"Then tell me, Mika..." She said lightly, though her voice wavered faintly with emotion. "...would you still kiss me even right now?"

"Even when I’m running purely on coffee and energy drinks, when I probably smell like a stink bug and look like one too? Would you kiss these chapped up lips of mine?"

Her tone was playful, but her eyes carried that vulnerable shimmer that came from somewhere deep inside her.

And in response, Mika didn’t even hesitate. His answer came with a steady smile and quiet confidence.

"Of course...I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Before she could even react, he leaned in—his hand sliding to the back of her neck, his thumb brushing against her jaw—and captured her lips with his.

"Mmm!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mmm!♡~ Slurp!♡~"

The kiss was deep and unhurried, filled with the tenderness of a promise and the heat of unspoken feeling.

Anya gasped softly against him, her fingers clutching at his shirt before she gave in completely, melting into the kiss. Her arms wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him closer as if afraid that the warmth would fade if she didn’t hold him tight enough.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an affirmation. A wordless exchange between two people who didn’t need to explain anything more.

And for that moment, amidst the quiet hum of papers and the faint scent of coffee in the air, the world stood still for the two.