Ch. 122 – “I Feel Filthy”

Rhys was far too excited to get out from behind that wooden bar.

Logic had abandoned him long ago, replaced by a sudden surge of adrenaline. He energetically fixed his clothes, placed one firm hand on the smooth edge of the bar, and hopped right over the counter in a single, fluid bound.

He offered a quick, backward glance at the utter carnage left in the kitchen before making his final exit.

Dione lay completely slumped on the floorboards, her throat gurgling softly as the thick trails of seed slid slowly down her neck. Her body twitched in light, involuntary spasms, her eyes still rolled back into her head in an absolute trance of lingering euphoria. Nearby, Rhea was desperately—and hilariously—failing to pull herself back up to her feet, even with the panicked assistance of her stout husband. The sight was nearly comical, as Durin strained his entire dwarven frame trying to haul the tall, heavy golden woman off the floor. Rhea simply laughed softly to herself in a dreamy daze, keeping one golden hand pressed tightly against her damp dress to stop the excess seed from leaking out down her legs.

"Ohhh, Nugget! Are you alright, my precious sweetheart?!" Durin squeaked in absolute horror, hovering over her writhing frame. "D-don’t tell me... did you... did you have a terrible accident and wet yourself?!" he whispered, his eyes wide with shock.

The final, fleeting sight Rhys caught before turning away was Ariadne lying on the bar floor, her large crimson ring hovering near the floorboards as it lowered her down. Her plump, voluptuous rear was still quivering uncontrollably as her body rode out the tail end of her massive, body-racking climax. Her slick wetness sprayed across the wood while her long, toned legs splayed wide open.

The sight was, in all honesty, deeply humbling.

Serves her right, Rhys thought, completely abandoning his usual soft-hearted nature. She asked for every single bit of this anyway, he added darkly.

He landed deftly on his feet right next to Vespera, smoothed down the sharp lapels of his suit jacket, and began walking off with smooth, effortless confidence.

Vespera let out a wicked, sultry smile and immediately followed in tow, her sleek leopard tail swaying lazily behind her with every step. "A very special someone has finally come out to party~!" she sang playfulness to herself in a quiet, mischievous tone.

From the back kitchen, Omen offered Rhys a formal, dramatic salute as he departed, the dark shadow wearing a deceptively bright, razor-sharp smile across its pale mask.

Suddenly, a pair of broad, feathered wings snapped outward, completely blocking Rhys’s path.

"H-hold on, Rhys! There’s still so much more to be said!" Serephina pleaded, stepping directly into his line of sight, her beautiful Aasimar face tight with desperation.

"There really isn't," Rhys said, offering her a cool, effortless smile.

He smoothly sidestepped right past her and her diminutive tiefling husband. Ging stood beside her, far too dumbstruck to utter a single word—and truthfully, deeply unsure if he even wanted to open the horrifying Pandora’s box waiting behind that bar counter.

Rhys and Vespera kept moving, sweeping right past Shula. The usually regal, terrifying djinn woman stood completely frozen, far too flustered and pink-faced to voice a proper coherent thought. She attempted to step forward to cut off Rhys’s escape route, but all that tumbled out of her lips was a series of breathless, embarrassed stammers.

"I—wait, Rhys... the... the cute cat... ears... together... you can't just—!" Shula mumbled incoherently, her cheeks flushing a deep, violent crimson as her brain short-circuited under the conflicting urge to pet Vespera or destroy her.

"Let’s go make sure everything goes smoothly with the first plate being served," Rhys murmured over his shoulder to Vespera, completely paying the flustered ifrit no mind whatsoever.

"Of course, love~" Vespera cooed back delightfully.

As they glided past, Vespera purposefully flicked the soft tip of her leopard tail right toward Shula’s nose, sending the mighty genie into a fresh fit of flustered, embarrassed giggles that she tried frantically to cover up with her hands.

As Rhys and Vespera walked through the bustling ballroom, the noise of the crowd seemed to melt into a dull roar, making it feel as though it were just the two of them moving through the space. Vespera’s slender fingers subtly brushed against the tips of Rhys’s, and without overthinking it, Rhys gripped them back, returning the delicate, quiet embrace.

He watched with keen satisfaction as the serving process went off with masterclass precision. The crowd of guests was surprised, to say the least, at the sudden appearance of the spectral shadow clones Rhys—or rather, Omen—had summoned forth from the ether. A few nervous guests flinched or looked frightened at the initial sight of the eerie, masked phantoms drifting between the tables. But the second the rich, aromatic scent of the piping-hot soup and iced beverages reached their noses, the room rebounded instantly into eager delight.

"I had no idea you could do something quite like this, Hero," Vespera murmured softly, breaking Rhys out of his quiet marveling.

"Yeah... I had no idea myself, to be completely honest," Rhys admitted truthfully, staring at the ghost-like cooks. "I guess something new is growing out of me," he added, a tiny edge of deep-seated concern creeping into his voice.

"And you are still changing, even now," Vespera said lovingly, stepping in closer and placing a soft, warm hand directly over his chest.

Rhys looked down into her eyes. Through the fine fabric of his suit, Vespera could feel the steady, potent rhythm of his restored power pulsing inside his core... but deeper still, something far more complex was churning.

Rhys’s tangled, conflicting emotions had blinded him from seeing his ultimate end goal clearly anymore. He was finally grasping the true scope of the power he had desperately needed from the very beginning—the strength required to push back against Vespera’s dirty, manipulative games. It was the ancient power given to him long ago, a force he had always hated dwelling on, especially after he lost it and was forced to retire into a quiet life. Truthfully, he had never fully understood the mechanics of how his own bizarre abilities worked to begin with.

"I was... looking for my wife earlier," Rhys said softly, his mind abruptly drifting far away from the room.

Vespera’s plush lips pursed tightly, her playful fun grinding to a sharp, sudden halt.

"Wellll..." she sighed, letting out a long, dramatic breath. "You can lead a horse to water, as they say. Your 'loving' wife is right over there, love." She motioned lazily with her leopard tail toward a cluster of high-top tables behind them.

Rhys turned his head and spotted Lira immediately. She was standing beside Galen and Marcus, looking utterly radiant and happy as she laughed brightly along with their conversation.

Rhys felt a strange, cold knot form in his stomach as he noticed her laughing just a little bit too hard at the unassuming, gray-haired man beside her.

I haven’t heard that light, quirky laugh of hers in a really long time... Rhys thought somberly, his chest aching.

He slowly looked back down at Vespera, who was still smiling up at him with a devoted, intoxicating warmth. Her hand remained pressed firmly against his chest, her voluptuous, fragrant body leaning in closer to his side.

"Doesn’t she look absolutely stunning?" Vespera mocked gently, her tone dripping with mock affection as if speaking about a dear friend.

"Yeah... she—" Rhys started to agree, before the words completely froze in his throat.

The sudden, horrifying realization struck him like a physical blow: he had completely forgotten where he was. He was wrapped tightly in the seductive clutches of a woman who was not his wife—and worst of all, he had been stupidly, blissfully content in it. A chilling, violent dread flooded his entire nervous system.

"I feel... fucking filthy," Rhys choked out, a look of profound disgust washing over his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

"What?!" Vespera asked, staring at him in genuine disbelief after a tense moment of silence. She genuinely couldn't comprehend what she was hearing from him.

The full, crushing weight of everything he had committed behind that bar tonight finally crashed down on Rhys's shoulders like deep, agonizing bruises. To make matters a thousand times worse, his eyes drifted back toward the high-top tables—only to see that Lira had finally spotted him.

She wasn't laughing anymore. She stood frozen, staring directly at her husband with their landlord pressed tightly up against his body, her expression completely unreadable, a total mystery.

Rhys backed away from Vespera immediately, ripping his hand free from her touch.

"I... um... I have to go announce to everyone that it’s about time to start sitting down and get to the dinner part of this event," Rhys stammered out, his voice laced with a dark, hollow solemness as he turned his back on Vespera. "I know everyone must be starving by now."