A Heart in the Machine (Serial Designation V x Reader)

Chapter 11: Between Fear and Trust

The tentacle tightens, and your vision begins to blur. You thrash against its grip, but your strength feels like it's draining away.

As the pressure builds, the edges of your vision fade to black. Just as you feel the last breath slip away, you jolt awake.

Your chest heaves as you gasp for air, your hands flying to your neck instinctively. The cool sheets beneath you and the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains ground you in reality, but the weight of the dream lingers.

You sit up slowly, running a shaky hand over your face. Cyn's voice echoes in your head, her question reverberating in the silence of your room.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss it as just a nightmare. But the pit in your stomach tells you otherwise. Something about it felt too vivid, too deliberate. You can't help but wonder if this was more than just a dream.

You remain seated in bed, your heart still pounding as the remnants of the nightmare weigh heavily on your mind. It was just a dream... wasn't it? Cyn's voice, her question, her piercing gaze—it all felt so real. You press a hand to your forehead, trying to shake off the lingering dread.

Taking a deep breath, you glance toward the faint sunlight spilling in through the window. The soft glow brings a measure of calm, but it doesn't completely dispel the unease curling in your chest.

Maybe you're just stressed. It's been a long week, after all. With the gala looming, there's been no shortage of tasks to complete, expectations to meet, and tempers to navigate. James and Louisa's scrutiny, the drones' struggles, Cyn's unsettling energy—it's enough to wear anyone down.

You lie back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. When the gala is over, things will settle down. Surely. The house will quiet, the tension will ease, and you might even have a moment to breathe.

You tell yourself this repeatedly, like a mantra. Once the gala is over, everything will be fine.

And yet... Cyn's words linger in your thoughts, unwelcome and persistent.

"Will you protect the ones who matter most?"

You shake your head firmly, trying to banish the thought. It was just a dream. Nothing more. Today is a new day. You'll face it like you always do. After all, what choice do you have?

The early morning quiet is shattered as your bedroom door creaks open, revealing Cyn standing in the doorway. You let out a startled yelp, your heart leaping into your throat.

Her figure is backlit by the dim light of the hallway, one arm glinting faintly with streaks of oil that drip onto the floor. Cyn's expression is unreadable, calm, and entirely unfazed by your reaction.

"Good morning," she says smoothly, stepping into the room with an air of casualness. Her gaze sweeps over you briefly before focusing on your workbench. "I seem to be leaking. Thought you might like to fix it."

You blink, struggling to process the situation as she walks past you and climbs onto your workbench. Cyn's movements are slow and deliberate, each action carrying a strange fluidity despite the obvious state of disrepair in her arm.

You sit there for a moment, mouth slightly agape, before shaking yourself out of your stupor. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Just give me a second."

"Take your time," Cyn replies airily, swinging her legs back and forth as though this were all perfectly normal.

You sigh and get up, trying to bury the lingering unease from your nightmare as you gather your tools. As strange as Cyn's behavior is, there's no reason to turn this into a bigger deal than it already is. You force yourself to put on a good mood, plastering on a small smile.