Chapter 112: Chapter 112
Welp, Kim as a roommate was gonna be wild. She was spending her last night at her place, packing up, blissfully unaware of my lifestyle. Breakfast? Smoke and a beer. Dinner? Smoke and two beers—three if I was feeling generous. Tomorrow, she’d move in, and I could already imagine her face when she saw my fridge stocked with cans and not much else.
I stood outside Delilah’s door, the evening air cool against my skin, a box of croissants in my hand—her favorite, a small gesture to not show up empty-handed.
I knocked and waited. A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. There she was—Delilah, in a crimson dress that hugged her curves like it was painted on. The neckline plunged, showing off cleavage that made my brain short-circuit, and the hem barely reached mid-thigh, her bare legs smooth and endless. Holy shit, she was smoking hot.
"Hey, Ms. Komb," I said, nodding, trying to keep my eyes on her face. "I, uh, didn’t want to come empty-handed. Got you some croissants. Know you love ’em."
"Why, thank you," she said, her voice warm, a smile lighting up her face as she took the box. "Come in, don’t just stand there."
"Yup," I said, stepping inside, the scent of her perfume, something floral and sweet, hitting me as I crossed the threshold.
"I just finished making pizza," she said, closing the door behind me. "Wasn’t gonna do soup, but knowing you love my chicken soup, I made it anyway."
"Thank you," I said, following her into the living room. "Where’s Ivy?"
"With her friends," Delilah replied, setting the croissant box on the counter. "Probably out causing trouble."
"Oh... okay."
Alone with Delilah? Fuck. I’d been banking on Ivy’s presence to keep my head straight, to stop me from doing something stupid like lusting after her mom. Delilah had always been a tease—back in uni, she’d handed me her panties like it was nothing, a memory that still made my pulse race. Now, with her in that dress, no Ivy to ground me, I was in dangerous territory.
The living room was cozy, warm light spilling from a lamp in the corner, the dinner table set with a steaming pizza on a wooden board, its edges crispy, pepperoni glistening. I exhaled, trying to focus on the food, not the way her dress clung to her hips as she moved.
"So, soup first?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen. "I’m starting with that."
"Sounds good," I said, settling into a chair at the table. "Soup, then pizza."
"I mean, it’s not the best meal in the world," she said, shrugging, her dress shifting slightly, revealing more of her thigh. "But what can you do, huh?"
"What’s wrong with soup and pizza?" I said, grinning. "I’m just happy to eat handmade food, Ms. Komb."
She chuckled, a low, warm sound, and disappeared into the kitchen. I leaned back, the wooden chair creaking, my eyes drifting to the pizza, its steam curling upward. The table was set simply—two plates, a couple of spoons, a stack of napkins.
Delilah returned, carrying two bowls of chicken soup, the golden broth steaming, flecks of parsley floating on top. She set one in front of me, the warmth radiating from the bowl, then sat across from me, her own bowl in hand. Her crimson dress caught the light, the fabric stretching as she leaned forward, her cleavage impossible to ignore. I forced my eyes to the soup, grabbing my spoon.
We started sipping, the broth rich and savory, warming me from the inside. "Damn, this is good," I said, glancing at her. "You’ve still got the magic touch."
She smiled, spoon halfway to her mouth. "Glad you think so. Been a while since I cooked for you."
I glanced up, catching Delilah’s eyes as she ate, her crimson dress hugging her curves, the low neckline drawing my gaze before I forced it back to her face. She looked... off. A little sad, her shoulders slightly hunched, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Probably the work drama the system had flagged.
"So," I began, setting my spoon down, my voice casual but probing. "How’s... work, Ms. Komb?"
She froze for a split second, her spoon hovering, before flashing a strained smile. "It’s... you know," she said, her tone vague, her eyes flicking to her bowl.
Time to test Honeyed Words. With a +30% boost to persuasion, I could maybe get her to open up. "Please," I said, leaning forward slightly, keeping my voice soft, reassuring. "You can trust me, Ms. Komb. Just tell me what’s happening."
╭────────────────────╮
- Honeyed Words: Activated
==========================
+30% to persuasion or bluff
checks in social settings.
╰────────────────────╯
A small UI box appeared above Delilah’s head—three empty checkboxes, tied to Honeyed Words. Another box popped up beside it.
╭────────────────────╮
- Persuasion Attempt: Delilah
==========================
☐☐☐
==========================
Remaining Chances: 0/2
╰────────────────────╯
Text noted I needed two checked boxes to succeed. A game, huh? I could play that. Another box flashed in my vision.
╭────────────────────╮
- Attempting Persuasion
==========================
"I’m here to listen, Ms. Komb. You
can trust me."
==========================
Base Chance: 45%
Honeyed Words: +30%
Delilah Star Rating: 12/20 (0%)
==========================
Final Chance: 75%
Upon Succeeding: ☑
▶ Proceed with Persuasion? [Y/N]
╰────────────────────╯
A second option appeared, riskier but with a bigger payoff.
╭────────────────────╮
- Attempting Persuasion
==========================
"You’ve always been there for me, Ms. Komb.
Let me return the favor—just talk to me."
==========================
Base Chance: 30%
Honeyed Words: +30%
Delilah Star Rating: 12/20 (0%)
==========================
Final Chance: 60%
Upon Succeeding: ☑☑
▶ Proceed with Persuasion? [Y/N]
╰────────────────────╯
The second option tempted me—two boxes checked in one go—but 60% was dicey compared to 75%. A third option flickered, even lower odds, probably not worth a glance. I stuck with the safe bet.
"I’m here to listen, Ms. Komb," I said, my voice steady, eyes locked on hers. "You can trust me."
╭────────────────────╮
- Persuasion Attempt: Delilah
==========================
☑☐☐
==========================
Remaining Chances: 1/2
╰────────────────────╯
It worked. One box checked, one chance left. I had to make it count.
"I know," Delilah said, her voice softer, her fingers tightening around her spoon. "I just... look, Evan, I really don’t know."
Another UI box appeared, a new persuasion option, the stakes higher.
╭────────────────────╮
- Attempting Persuasion
==========================
"I can see something’s weighing on you, Ms. Komb.
You don’t have to carry it alone—let me help."
==========================
Base Chance: 56%
Honeyed Words: +30%
Delilah Star Rating: 12/20 (0%)
==========================
Final Chance: 86%
Upon Succeeding: ☑
▶ Proceed with Persuasion? [Y/N]
╰────────────────────╯
86% was solid, and the dialogue felt right—empathetic, not pushy. I leaned forward, my voice gentle but firm. "I can see something’s weighing on you, Ms. Komb. You don’t have to carry it alone—let me help."
╭────────────────────╮
- Persuasion Attempt: Delilah
==========================
☑☑☐
==========================
Remaining Chances: 2/2-Success!
╰────────────────────╯
The second box checked, the UI flashing success. Delilah’s shoulders relaxed slightly, her eyes softening as she set her spoon down, the soup barely touched.
Her crimson dress clung to her curves, the low neckline shifting as she leaned back, her eyes heavy with a sadness that hit me hard. Her strained smile faded, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her soup bowl.
"It’s the office," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I’m a project coordinator at BrightWave, a digital marketing agency. I manage client campaigns, keep the creative team on track, make sure deadlines are met. It’s chaotic, but I’m good at it—or I thought I was."
"Hmm," I said, watching her closely, the soup warm in my hands.
She paused, her gaze dropping to the table, her shoulders hunching slightly. "It’s Sarah from the creative team and Mike in operations. They’ve been making my days hell for months. Sarah’s got this clique, and since I’m newer, they treat me like I don’t belong. They ignore my input, spread rumors I’m incompetent, blame me for their screw-ups."
I nodded, locking the names in my head—Sarah, Mike. Mental note: BrightWave digital marketing agency. "What are they doing, exactly?" I asked, keeping my tone gentle, leaning forward. "Like, specific stuff to mess with you?"
Delilah sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her crimson dress catching the light. "Sarah’s the worst. She’ll undermine me in meetings, cut me off, act like my ideas are garbage. Last month, she ’forgot’ to include me on a client revision email, then told everyone I dropped the ball when the campaign tanked. Mike’s no better—he delays my resource requests, makes it impossible to hit deadlines, then smirks when I get called out. It’s like they’re trying to push me out."
"That’s messed up," I said, my jaw tightening. "Why are they targeting you? You just started, right?"
She shrugged, her fingers twisting a napkin. "I got hired eight months ago, and I think they’re threatened. Sarah’s been there forever, thinks she owns the creative team. Mike just follows her lead, kissing up to her. They see me as an outsider, maybe because I came in with strong client feedback. They’re making it personal."
"How long’s this been going on?" I asked, setting my spoon down, the soup cooling in my bowl.
"Since I started," she said, her voice tightening. "It was subtle at first—snide comments, cold shoulders—but now it’s every day. I’m staying late, fixing their mistakes, second-guessing myself. It’s draining, Evan. I love the work, but I dread going in."
I took a sip of soup, the warmth doing little to cool the anger rising in my chest. Sarah, the territorial creative; Mike, her smug sidekick. Fucking vultures ganging up on Delilah for no reason other than their own insecurity.
"Have you told your boss what’s happening?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"I tried," she said, her eyes flickering with frustration. "Ms. Carter, my manager, is fair but overwhelmed. She tells me to ’work it out,’ but Sarah’s got seniority, and Mike’s tight with the ops team. I’m stuck."
"You don’t deserve this shit," I said, my tone firm. "You’re too good for them to treat you like that."
She gave a small, tired smile, her eyes softening. "Thanks, Evan. That means a lot."
"Don’t even mention it."
╭───────────╮
EVENT
===============
Delilah’s Interest +4
╰───────────╯
A silence. Then, she cleared her throat.
"Yeah, that’s the situation I’m in," Delilah exhaled, her voice heavy as she leaned back, the crimson dress shifting, her fingers still twisting the napkin. The warm lamp glow caught the sadness in her eyes, the untouched pizza cooling on the table. "Kinda stuck. I don’t know what to do."
"I’m sure you can figure out something, Ms. Komb."
"Sorry, I bothered you with my personal problems," she said, her smile weak. "Not the best spice for dinner, huh?"
"I’m actually glad you told me," I said, flashing a warm smile. "That means you trust me. Makes me happy, Ms. Komb."
╭───────────╮
EVENT
===============
Delilah’s Interest +2
╰───────────╯
She smiled, a bit of warmth returning to her eyes. "Thank you for being here, Evan."
"Always, Ms. Komb," I replied. "Whenever you need to talk—I’ll be there."
❤︎❤︎❤︎