Ch. 98 – A Conversation That Never Happened

Navigating the brief, crowded distance back to her husband was far from easy for Lira. Rhys remained seated at the center of the living room, but he seemed to have an angel and a genie still hovering intently at his flanks, their lingering presences casting an unseen, suffocating weight over the furniture.

Inside his own skull, Rhys was operating on a completely alien frequency. If a person had ever stayed awake for three straight nights, only to chug a high-powered energy drink in a desperate attempt to stay functional—falling asleep for a split second, only to wake up drenched in a cold sweat and violently, hyperactively wired—that was precisely the sensation coursing through Rhys’s veins. He felt strangely, almost terrifyingly giddy, a surging current of raw magic and kinetic energy humming beneath his skin.

I blame it on this coffee, he joked silently to himself, looking down with a hazy, vacant smile at the mug balanced in his lap.

His eyes drifted upward, finally noticing Lira creeping cautiously into the room like someone stepping onto thin ice. Reaching over to the coffee table, Rhys offered her a neat little plate bearing a piece of the gourmet dessert that had finally been brought out.

This is just right, Rhys thought, floating in a surreal, tranquil daze. I get to sit here and enjoy this with Lira, surrounded by all my good friends.

He was completely blind to how rigidly tense Lira’s shoulders locked as she reluctantly took the small plate from his hands.

"I'm glad I waited," Lira murmured softly, taking a tiny, slow bite. Her voice carried a guarded edge as she added, "I heard you all had to make an entire second batch."

Lira’s sharp, analytical eyes locked onto Rhys’s face, searching his features with desperate intensity. She was hunting for any subtle cry for help—any sign that something horrific, coercive, or traumatic had just transpired in the dark corners of the mansion. But as she stared into his eyes, she found nothing. There was no visible trauma, no hidden distress—only an expression of pure, unadulterated, disturbing contentment. It looked entirely, fundamentally wrong on his face.

Rhys smiled back at her, his head tilting slightly to the side with an eerie, placid warmth. He didn't have to spend a single drop of energy trying to hide the truth from her anymore, simply because he was entirely disconnected from the gravity of it. What Rhys couldn't see—and what sent a phantom chill straight down Lira's spine—was that the cold, unyielding mask of Omen was still seamlessly superimposed over his features.

Rhys turned his head back toward the center table as the board game reached a chaotic, screeching climax. Ging was inching closer to an unexpected victory, practically bouncing up and down in his oversized armchair as he gestured wildly at the map.

"This is my house!" the small tiefling shouted, completely drunk on the game's competitive high. "I'm not gonna let any of you take what's mine in my own house!"

Rhys burst into a loud, sudden fit of laughter at the outburst. He leaned back against the deep cushions of the couch, watching the board. Beside him, Shula shifted, growing entirely too comfortable as she slid noticeably closer to his frame. On Rhys's other side, Seraphina—who was supposed to be standing beside her triumphant husband—seemed to drift like a moth to a flame, naturally gravitating toward Rhys's immediate space.

Lira’s patience snapped. Refusing to stand by and watch the silent boundary violations unfold, she forcefully wedged her body into the narrow space between Seraphina and Rhys before the subtle window of opportunity closed.

"The dessert is absolutely incredible, Seraphina," Lira declared, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp, protective tone as she turned to face the fallen angel. "You'll really have to teach me the exact recipe. I'd just love to make it for our own house parties."

She emphasized the word with an undeniable, defensive venom. But Rhys was entirely deaf to the subtle jab; the high-voltage divine magic absorbed during his encounter on the roof was still firing off rapid neurons in his brain.

Ignoring the silent war happening on either side of him, Rhys began playfully pestering Ging, tossing out tactical game advice that was aggressively, spectacularly terrible.

"Hey, Ging, man, I think you've got this whole layout wrong," Rhys chuckled, reaching out to point completely at random toward a distant, irrelevant corner of the board. "You gotta just take your entire main city... and push it way over there."

Ging froze, staring at Rhys in absolute, gobsmacked bewilderment. "What? What the hell are you even talking about?" he sputtered out, blinking furiously. "Do you... do you even know how this game actually works?!"

"Not one bit," Rhys declared with a broad, sly grin, breaking into a delighted laugh right in the former hero's stunned face.

Ging sat there completely at a loss for words, utterly unaccustomed to Rhys displaying such brazen, unbothered nonchalance.

Before Ging could recalibrate his strategy, Darius struck from the shadows, initiating his long-planned, ruthless counter-offensive. "I think you should have been paying a little more attention to the actual board, my man," Darius purred with a dark, triumphant grin. He laid down his final sequence of cards, efficiently dismantling and seizing every single territory Ging had spent the entire evening building up.

Ging slumped backward into his leather seat, his jaw hanging open in sheer, speechlessly hollow astonishment.

With Ging eliminated, the match narrowed down to Marcus and Darius—and Lira, who had almost entirely forgotten she was still an active player after her tense trip to the hallway.

"I guess I'm up next," Lira sighed, unenthusiastically picking up her remaining hand while cozying up tightly against Rhys's side for comfort.

From Rhys's other flank, Shula watched Lira with a quiet, lingering glint in her eyes. Even though the Djinn wasn't physically touching Rhys in front of the group, her posture radiated the smug, deeply satisfied aura of a woman who had spent the evening completely wrapped around the man she desired most.

Ging, still stewing in the bitter ashes of his sudden defeat, looked over at Seraphina. Seeking a moment of marital comfort, he reached his hand across the space to rest it on his wife's thigh.

Seraphina flinched violently at his touch, pulling her leg away as if she had been burned by hot iron. Ignoring her husband entirely, she leaned in even closer toward the safety of Lira and Rhys, already fiercely honoring the sacred vow she had whispered on the roof—that she would never allow another man to lay a hand on her again.

"You can still pull off the win, Lira," Seraphina purred softly, a light, almost deceptive giggle escaping her lips as her shoulder brushed against Rhys's arm. "If you play the right sequence, that is."

Lira physically had to nudge Seraphina back an inch as she placed her cards onto the glass table. "I have it handled just fine, thanks," Lira said coolly. Finishing her turn, she reached down, threading her fingers firmly into Rhys's hand before leaning her weight back into his chest.

Rhys remained completely oblivious to the tangled web of hostility surrounding his body.

It’s funny... I haven't heard a single peep from either the angel or the little devil on my shoulder in a while, Rhys thought, floating in a serene mental void. It's honestly so peaceful and quiet in my head right now. He let out a quiet, internal laugh. Admitting that probably makes me officially Looney Tunes... but honestly, maybe that's totally okay for tonight.

"That was a great move, baby," Rhys said aloud, squeezing Lira's hand affectionately. Truthfully, he had no idea if the move was good or bad—he still wasn't paying an ounce of actual attention to the rules of the game. He was just riding the high of the moment.

And the entity sharing his mind was enjoying the ride just as much. While Rhys floated peacefully in the passenger seat, the shadow still held one firm, silent hand on the steering wheel, navigating this surreal joyride toward its own calculated destination.

"Ay, Marcus, you look like you're struggling over there, man," Rhys blurted out playfully, breaking the silence.

Across the table, Marcus was hunched over his cards, frantically muttering mathematical probabilities under his breath, sweating over his final decision. "I have to finish it with this exact next play," Marcus muttered, his eyes glued to the board, completely unable to look up.

Rhys’s masked smile broadened as he glanced down at the colorful game pieces. "I think you're just trying to force your way into what you think is a good play, bro," Rhys said with a soft, knowing laugh.

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked, his head snapping up to stare at the layout. A sudden lightbulb went off behind Marcus's eyes, a massive smile spreading across his face as he looked at Rhys. "Oh... man, I see exactly what you mean now!"

Without hesitation, Marcus slammed his final hand onto the table for the entire room to see, executing a brilliant, sweeping maneuver that completely wiped Darius off the map and claimed absolute victory. Instead of grinding against Darius's defensive wall, Marcus had instinctively taken the subtle, alternative path Rhys had casually hinted at—going entirely with the flow rather than fighting against it.

The living room erupted as the game officially ended. The men exchanged good-natured respect, nursing their bruised ego wounds, while Marcus stood up, practically floating on cloud nine from his unexpected triumph.

Alright bro, it was a pretty decent game, I guess, Rhys thought to himself with a touch of fond sarcasm.

"You did awesome, man," Rhys said, standing up to give Marcus a firm dap.

Beside him, Lira remained utterly silent. Her quietness had nothing to do with losing a board game; it was rooted in the chilling realization that something deeply profound had been lost tonight. Something inside her husband's spirit had been disturbingly, unnaturally tilted, and she didn't know how to pull him back.

Rhys gently took Lira's hand again just as Seraphina abruptly stood up. Ging immediately moved to take his wife's hand to walk out as a couple, but Seraphina smoothly pulled her arm out of his reach, completely ignoring his existence.

"I had a truly wonderful time tonight," Seraphina announced, her glowing eyes lingering heavily on Rhys for a fraction of a second longer than was polite.

With the game finished, the gathering began its natural, lazy drift toward the front entrance as everyone gathered their coats and belongings. Marcus was the first to take his leave, being the only guest who had arrived solo.

"Goodnight, everyone! Thanks for having me," Marcus called out, turning to Rhys with a grin. "Great hanging out with you today, Rhys—and good luck with that corporate interview pitch in the city!"

Rhys blinked, the memory feeling like an artifact from a completely different lifetime. The soul-crushing boardroom failure, the humiliation, the mysterious Isha—it all felt so distant and insignificant now, drowned out by the roaring divine energy buzzing in his core.

Shula and Darius were the next to head for the door, somehow managing to exit ahead of Lira, who was actively trying to pull Rhys away from a distinctly hungry-looking Seraphina.

As they gathered under the archway of the front entrance to say their final goodbyes, Shula paused on the threshold. She turned back, casting a dark, deeply knowing gaze directly over Rhys’s face.

"Before we head out, there's just one last thing," Shula purred smoothly, a wicked, lingering smile gracing her lips. "I really think you two couples should thoroughly sit down and discuss what we were all talking about back in the kitchen."

The word hung heavily in the air—referring to a conversation that, officially, had never actually happened.

Instantly, the placid, joyful haze evaporated from Rhys’s expression. The shadow shifted behind his eyes, and the mask of Omen darkened to a cold, predatory pitch as he stared back at the Djinn.

She just couldn't let the night end well.