System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]-Chapter 34: I’ll kill you, Spoon...

"Huh?"

Blake blinked at the message, certain he’d misread it the first time. He pushed himself upright from the bed, shoulders stiff, and read it again, slower this time, as if the words might rearrange into something less absurd.

They didn’t.

"Spoon," he called, voice already tight with disbelief, "what does that mean?"

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another.

His fingers curled into his sheets.

"Spoon!"

The response came, as impersonal as ever.

[ Dear Host, it means you will be forcibly kept away from Myles. ]

"...What?"

For a second, he genuinely thought his brain had short-circuited. The words didn’t register as reality. They hovered somewhere outside of it, like a bad joke that hadn’t landed.

Then it sank in.

And his stomach dropped.

"That’s..." He swallowed hard, horror creeping into his voice. "That’s too much."

He stood abruptly, pacing once, twice, like a caged animal trying to find an opening.

"I’d rather take physical pain. Anything else. Just... don’t do this."

There was no hesitation in the reply.

[ Dear Host, the penalty will not be changed. ]

Blake froze.

For a long moment, he didn’t move at all.

Then, slowly, like his body had forgotten how to function properly, he sat back down. His hands came up to clutch at his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as if pressure alone could steady the storm building inside his chest.

Like something was squeezing his ribs from the inside.

’If the favorability drops even a single point...’

His jaw clenched.

’I’ll fix it. No matter what it takes.’

The thought came easily.

Was he going crazy?

And yet, he forced himself to breathe.

’It’s not like I need much,’ he tried to reason, clinging to logic. ’Even a minute is enough. Just one interaction. That’s all it takes.’

So what was the problem?

What could possibly go wrong?

***

The next day answered that question immediately.

"Fuck!"

Blake slammed his hand against his phone, staring at the blank screen in disbelief.

The alarm hadn’t gone off.

Or maybe it had, and he’d slept through it.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

He was late.

He scrambled out of bed, throwing on clothes with none of his usual care, skipping breakfast entirely as he bolted out the door. The cold morning air hit him like a slap, but he didn’t slow down, sprinting toward the bus stop with a growing sense of dread.

By the time he got there, it was empty.

The bus was already gone.

Blake bent over slightly, hands on his knees, breathing hard. A bitter laugh escaped him.

’So this is how Spoon wants to play it?’

He straightened, pulling out his phone, half-expecting, half-hoping, for some kind of message.

There was nothing.

No notifications.

No explanations.

’I mean... it’s not like he’d text me about something this small,’ Blake muttered internally. ’I’ve missed school before.’

But the only problem was that this wasn’t a coincidence.

By the time the next bus arrived, his mood had already soured beyond repair.

***

School didn’t make it any better.

Blake stepped into the classroom, eyes immediately scanning for one person.

Myles.

There he was, same as always.

Except, the seat next to him was occupied.

Actually, not just that, every seat around Myles was taken.

Every single one.

Except, the front row. On the opposite side of the room.

Blake stared at it.

Then back at Myles.

Then back at the seat.

’...You’ve got to be kidding me.’

There was no choice.

By the time class started, Blake was seated as far away from Myles as physically possible.

***

Lunch didn’t go any better.

If anything, it got worse.

"Blake Ashford, come with me. We need to talk."

Blake froze mid-step.

His eyes flicked toward Myles instinctively, he’d just started to move in his direction, but the moment shattered as he turned toward the voice instead.

"Uh... okay, Ms. Renie."

As he followed her, he couldn’t help it, he looked back.

Myles was already disappearing into the crowd.

He was gone, of course.

Blake almost let out a soft laugh.

’I should train my eyes, so that I can spot him at all times.’

The teacher’s office door closed behind them with a soft click.

"Your parents need to come in for a meeting."

Blake blinked.

"...What?"

Another problem.

Of course, because why not?

He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a strained smile.

"Do they have to? They’re... really busy."

Ms. Renie sighed, sitting on the edge of her desk.

"You always say that. I’ve tried contacting them myself, Blake. This is becoming disrespectful."

He winced slightly.

"I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you," she continued, her tone softening, "but discussions about your future require parental involvement. Why won’t they come?"

Blake hesitated.

There were a hundred ways he could answer that.

None of them felt worth the effort.

"...They don’t really care," he said finally.

It was way too blunt.

Ms. Renie studied him for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

"...I see."

A pause.

"Alright. Go back before lunch ends—"

The bell rang.

Perfect timing.

"Don’t worry," she added, scribbling something on a slip of paper. "You have permission to eat."

She handed it to him.

"Thanks, Ms. Renie."

Blake stepped out of the office, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

For a second, he just stood there.

’Hahaha...’

A dry, humorless sound escaped him.

His jaw tightened.

’This fucking system is really committed, huh?’

***

The rest of the week followed the same pattern.

Every time Blake tried to get close, something went wrong.

On Tuesday, he managed to arrive early, determined to intercept Myles before class.

He waited by the entrance.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Fifteen.

No sign of him.

Only to find out later that Myles had come in through a different gate, for the first time ever.

On Wednesday, Blake tried staying after class, pretending to organize his notes while keeping an eye on Myles.

It almost worked.

Almost.

Until a group of students crowded around Myles for some kind of project, dragging him into a conversation that stretched just long enough for Blake to be called away by another teacher.

By the time he got back, there was only an empty classroom.

On Thursday, he tried something simpler.

He walked up.

Closed the distance.

Step by step.

No interruptions.

No obstacles.

For once... it seemed like it would work.

"Myl—"

"Hey, Blake!"

Someone grabbed his shoulder from behind.

He turned instinctively.

It was Anthony, who had been sick for a week.

And in that one second, that one tiny, insignificant second, Myles was gone.

By Friday, frustration had built into something sharper.

Something that made his patience feel paper-thin.

Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t reach him.

—

The final blow came after school.

Blake exited the building faster than usual, already spotting the bus in the distance.

Myles was probably there, in between the crowd, like always.

The whole week, Blake has been kept at school more than necessary, so he went with the other one.

But now it was still there.

’This is it!’

Blake broke into a run.

"Wait—!"

The bus doors hissed shut.

"No—"

It pulled away.

Right in front of him.

Blake skidded to a stop, staring as it drove off, probably taking Myles with it.

For a moment, everything went quiet.

"Fuck!"

His voice cracked through the empty street, raw and unfiltered. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before kicking at the ground in frustration.

"This is bullshit!"

[ Penalty period has ended. ]

Then, a hand grabbed his.

"Blake."

The world seemed to snap back into place.

Blake’s breath hitched.

And just like that, everything he’d been holding in all week surged to the surface.