Ch. 127 – I Was the One

Lira started off in a quiet lull. Rhys could barely hear her when she spoke over the ambient hum of the room.

"It’s really nothing, Rhys," she said with a wavering smile. "I told you earlier that what I have to say right now has nothing to do with where we are right now."

She said the last part as if bracing before setting off a detonator. She steeled herself and pressed the switch.

"When we first started dating... back when I first met you, you remember how amazing it was!" she said, her tone hopeful, yet sounding as if she were already pleading a guilty case.

Rhys’s face offered her no comfort. The impassive mask of Omen was firmly in place—an unyielding judge sitting over her worries.

"I was the one to ask you out first, one night when it was late in the Spire," she continued, still trying to sound cheery. "Looking back, I’m more than happy that I took that leap! I mean, look at us now... more than happy." She uttered the last phrase like a dying wish.

"Hahahahhh~!" a sharp, unhinged giggle burst through the air.

It was Shula. The Ifrit woman was thoroughly loving the tragedy unfolding right in front of her. Her usually burgundy skin was shifting constantly, darkening from a deep purple closer to a dark, void-like blue.

Rhys ignored her completely, keeping his focus locked on his wife. I know she’s not saying everything, he thought, his spirit turning sullen.

Vespera let out a low chuckle that sounded nearly like a feline purr. "Come now, 'Astraea'... I heard from a little Hyperion-birdy that the story you just told isn’t the REAL love story! That one was far too bland," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Marcus squirmed uncomfortably in his chair across the table, staring straight down at his lap.

"Go ahead and tell the table the extended-cut version! I loved hearing that one much more than the sanitized edition," Vespera urged, taking another slow sip of her wine.

There are truly no thoughts left when you realize you can't dodge the impact that's already coming. Rhys simply braced himself for the blow.

Lira shot Vespera a lethal glare, but forced herself to spill the raw truth. "I-I... uhhh, I don’t really know how to put this the right way!" she said, closing her eyes in sheer frustration.

It hurt Rhys deeply to see her like this, but he remained silent.

"It really doesn’t make a damn difference," Lira said, letting out a breathless laugh to steady herself. "It was a bet the whole time. When I first came up to you that night and asked you on our first date... I was bet by someone else to do it."

She finished, finally raising her eyes to look at Rhys. Her weak smile vanished instantly when she saw the dark, suffocating shadow covering his entire face.

"W-wait... Rhys, it’s not like that!" she stammered, desperately trying to pick up the shattered pieces. "It’s just like I said, right?! It’s just a dumb, old joke that means nothing to us... especially now, right?"

Yet, unfortunately for both of them, it meant everything.

Rhys remembered that exact night vividly. It was one of the core memories he still held most dear from that era. He had just finished one of the absolute hardest, most brutal nights of his hero career, sitting alone and licking his physical and mental wounds. And then in walked THE Astraea, shining like the stars themselves. He couldn't even describe to another living soul what it had felt like to be asked out—to be given a real chance—by someone as breathtaking and amazing as Lira.

The crushing realization that it was never pure—that it was merely a cruel farce brought about by a petty wager—snatched the very foundation out from under him. The foundation of their entire marriage.

"Who?"

The word finally rasped out of his throat. Rhys spoke low and gravelly. He stared in Lira's direction, needing the full truth before he could pass any verdict on this.

"Tell me who, right now. Who bet you to ask me out on a date?"

Lira looked extremely distraught, drowning in the sudden wave of shared grief. "I-I don’t really... remember, but that shouldn’t matter either, Rhys! All that matters is that I truly do love you, and that our marriage is stronger than some stupid little bet!" She smiled weakly, her eyes pleading.

Rhys became acutely aware of the pairs of eyes glued to the two of them around the dining table. The other bystanders couldn't bring themselves to look away, like witnesses trapped watching a slow-motion explosion go off.

I’m starting to get really... tired, Rhys thought somberly. I don’t think I have the capacity for this right now.

You need to, came the deep, commanding voice of Omen echoing from his core.

Rhys raised a single hand. A dead hush instantly fell over everyone, even silencing the crazed, blue-tinted genie across the table.

"I’m actually very uncomfortable right now," he said, his voice completely blank. "And I don’t like how nobody is being straight with me. I get that this might be fun for SOME people right now," he added, firing a cold shot straight at Vespera, "but I don’t appreciate being the one paying for it."

Rhys tensed his muscles, preparing to stand up and walk away from the table.

"Oh! If you really want to know, darling... I know exactly who it was that made the bet!" Vespera purred.

Rhys paused. Every single time. Without fail, he thought bitterly to himself about the manipulative Tabaxi-elf.

"Hey! Um... it’s all good if you need to go do your thing, man," Marcus cut in, finally trying to act like a hero. "I can tell that this conversation is really starting to ruin the good mood here," he added, looking around the table for support. He found absolutely none.

Rhys picked up on the attempt, making a mental note to thank Marcus for that later.

Lira placed her hand over Rhys’s again, still desperately trying to make him understand her side. "Rhys, it really doesn’t matter... right?" she whispered softly, for his ears only. "You can tell my love for you is real and true... right?"

Rhys tried to listen to her, but at that exact moment, he felt the warm, snaking tail of Vespera coil tightly around his thigh beneath the table cloth. He jerked backward in his seat, making the entire table jump.

"Woah!" shouted Arthur, the old retired knight. "Don’t you know to never make the COOK mad?!" he added, trying to crack a joke.

Nobody laughed in response—nobody except Shula.

"I was the one that told her to make the bet," came a smooth, angelic voice.

Rhys turned sharply to face Serephina. The Aasimar woman had been watching the debris fall the entire time, and as it turned out, she was the one who had set the explosive charge in the first place.

Rhys looked her up and down, truly taking in what she was now. She smiled back at him with a sickening, possessive love gleaming in her eyes.

She was never an angel, Rhys thought, the realization cutting through him with raw cruelty. She was sent straight from hell itself.