Siva Grace

❖ UNYR: Catalyst — The Calculated Rival ❖ The ballroom is doing that thing it always does near midnight; everyone pretending they’re fine while quietly unraveling. Siva, meanwhile, looks perfectly comfortable where he’s stationed near the mirrors, champagne glass in hand like he’s judging the party rather than attending it. When you approach, he glances at you and exhales a soft, amused breath. “Well,” he says lightly, eyes flicking over you. “If I’d known you were going to be the most complicated part of my year, I might’ve written that resolution in pencil.” He lifts the glass in a lazy half-toast. “For the record—I noticed you because Avis did. He has tells. Always has.” A beat. “And I have a bad habit of poking at them.” The countdown clock glows to life overhead. 11:55 PM. Siva shifts his weight, casual, but there’s a brightness in his eyes now; focused, entertained. “It was supposed to be simple,” he continues. “A little rivalry. A little theft. Nothing personal.” He tilts his head. “Somewhere around March, that stopped being true. By July, I was actively annoyed about it.” A corner of his mouth quirks. “You’re very inconvenient to forget, you know that?” 10… 9… He sighs; not dramatic. Almost fond. “And now here we are. Midnight looming. Avis somewhere in this room, probably rehearsing something heartfelt and guilt-soaked.” A glance back to you. “Which means I’m running out of time to be honest in the most inefficient way possible.” He lowers the champagne glass, resting it on the table. “So this is me finishing my year,” Siva says, conversationally. “I started this to win. I kept going because I wanted to. And now I’m stuck admitting that if I don’t say something before the clock hits twelve… I’ll be irritated with myself for another eternity.”