Bored Gamer in Other Worlds-Chapter 1086 Artist

Clark officially began his assignment the next day, and from the moment he stepped into the role, he fit in as if he had always belonged.

He brought an air of quiet authority with him—never overstepping, never boasting, but every word he said carried weight, and every action had impact.

Within days, his reputation spread throughout the 20th United Stellar Defense Tower.

Within weeks, even the higher-ups took notice.

He worked most closely with Makena, sharing long hours in the strategic command center, reviewing threat assessments, fine-tuning deployment simulations, and coordinating with off-world fleet commanders.

They spent more time together than either had with anyone else in recent years.

And with time, a subtle change began to take root—especially in her.

Makena Davis, once the image of discipline and restraint, began to evolve.

At first, no one noticed the small things.

A new hairstyle, a touch of gloss on her lips, a softer tone in her voice when she addressed Clark.

Then came the wardrobe changes. The tight-fitting jacket that accentuated her hourglass figure.

The custom skirt tailored to fall just an inch shorter than standard regulation.

The sleek black stockings with a faint shimmer under the corridor lights.

She never broke the rules—but she bent them with the precision of someone who knew exactly how far she could go.

Every man noticed.

None dared say a word.

Even the most seasoned veterans, men who’d stared down warlords and myriad terrors across the galaxies, found themselves tongue-tied in her presence now.

Her aura, already potent, was amplified by her growing confidence.

If she’d once been admired for her rank and discipline, she was now revered like a goddess descending among soldiers.

Their eyes always followed her.

But Makena? Her eyes always searched for one person. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

Clark.

He alone seemed immune to the spell she cast so effortlessly.

He never flinched, never fumbled his words, never gave her anything more than his steady gaze and clipped, professional replies.

That calm detachment only drew her in further.

It wasn’t just his face—which looked like it had been sculpted from starlight—but the way he carried himself.

The way he never tried to impress her.

The way he let silence stretch between them and filled it with gravity.

She began lingering in his office after meetings, pretending to review reports they’d already finalized.

She made excuses to check on his progress, even when he was clearly ahead.

She laughed more around him. Smiled wider.

Asked him personal questions—only for him to answer with casual mystery.

Clark could feel it happening, and he allowed it.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t push.

He simply existed—like a fixed star around which others slowly orbited.

He let Makena drift closer of her own volition, knowing full well what was beginning to unravel inside her.

Still, she hadn’t crossed the line.

She had a fiancé. A decorated soldier stationed on the outer rim.

She rarely mentioned him, but the engagement ring she sometimes wore made the truth clear enough.

For now, she was still holding on—to honor, to promises, to the woman she thought she had to be.

But something was breaking inside her. Cracks were forming.

She started skipping the occasional message update from her fiancé.

She stopped checking the logs that tracked his patrol routes.

The ring?

It spent more time in her drawer now than on her finger.

It was only a matter of time.

Clark watched it all unfold with a quiet smile.

He hadn’t even tried yet.

But she was already slipping.

***

"What am I doing...?" Makena whispered again, her voice hoarse, barely audible over the hum of the city outside.

She paced slowly across her spacious apartment, the cold floor beneath her bare feet doing little to cool the fever running through her body.

Her pure white nightgown clung to her damp skin, translucent in places where the fabric met sweat.

The lights were off, and only the faint neon glow from the skyline gave shape to the darkened room.

Her thoughts were a storm—raging, incoherent, and filled with images she couldn’t seem to banish. Clark.

His name echoed in her mind like a forbidden chant.

She had tried to fight the obsession, to distract herself with her duties, her fiancé, her work. But nothing worked.

Tonight had been the worst.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand.

Her body still ached from earlier—her release had come quickly, desperately, and yet no matter how many times she tried to satisfy herself, it was never enough.

Her body craved something more. Something real. Something dangerous.

His touch.

His presence.

His eyes that always seemed to look through her, seeing something deeper than she showed the world.

"This isn’t me..." she muttered, her voice cracking. "I don’t fall like this. I don’t lose control."

And yet, she had.

Makena had always prided herself on discipline, on being the kind of officer who never allowed emotion to override duty.

Her record was spotless. Her career was on the rise.

She had a man—a good man—waiting for her out there among the stars.

She owed him loyalty. She owed herself restraint.

But Clark had slipped past all her walls without trying. He never flirted.

He never even looked at her inappropriately. That was the worst part.

He didn’t chase her.

He didn’t need to.

She came to him—again and again, with her eyes, her thoughts, her body burning every time she was near him.

His calm indifference only made it worse. He was confident. Composed.

Handsome beyond reason. Every woman noticed, but he gave them nothing.

And yet... somehow... she felt he saw her.

Really saw her.

It made her feel special. Desired in a way her fiancé never made her feel.

Not just beautiful—but important.

As if her soul had been noticed by someone who walked outside the realm of ordinary men.

Makena sank onto the edge of her bed, the silk sheets rustling under her.

Her hands covered her face.

"I’m falling..." she admitted quietly. "And I don’t know how to stop."

Tears prickled the corners of her eyes—not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of confusion.

Guilt twisted in her stomach every time she thought about her fiancé.

She remembered the way his face lit up on video calls, the way he talked about the future.

He didn’t deserve this.

"I can’t keep walking down this road," she whispered.

"If I get any closer to Clark... I’ll lose myself."

The decision formed on her lips again, firmer this time.

"I need to distance myself. Limit contact. No more private meetings. No more lingering."

It sounded noble in theory. Logical. Clean.

But even as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Because a part of her didn’t want to stop. A part of her was already too far gone.