Chapter 253 Entanglement.

Chapter 253: 253 Entanglement.

"Do you two think you can figure out the ritual required to drag Legion out of his hole, or are you just going to stand here and kill each other?" I asked, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, Milesy, of course we can! We are going to be absolute besties!" Lilith chirped, completely ignoring personal boundaries as she looped her arm tightly around Vanessa’s shoulders.

The young heroine jolted in shock, her spine locking up. She grimaced in absolute, visceral distaste as the succubus pulled her close.

"Come on, sweetie!" Lilith squealed, practically dragging the stiff magic-user across the room. "Let me show you some of my absolute favorite grimoires! They make the Necronomicon look like a toddler’s pop-up book. You are going to totally love them, I promise!"

"Do you actually trust her?" Mystic asked quietly, watching Lilith forcibly maneuver a deeply horrified Vanessa toward the heavy stone table and a stack of open, ominous-looking tomes.

"Of course I do," I said.

"To do what, exactly?" Mystic asked, shooting me a flat, sideways look.

"Usually, it is drastically safer for my blood pressure if I don’t think about that too hard," I admitted.

Mystic gave a microscopic nod, keeping her keen eyes on the pair as Lilith enthusiastically flipped open a massive book bound in what looked suspiciously like screaming faces. "Shall we leave them to their work?"

"We shall?" I asked, catching the slight shift in her tone.

Mystic gave me another sidelong glance. "I would like to speak with you regarding certain other matters." She cast a brief, deliberate look back over her shoulder at Glacia, who was standing like a sentinel in the hallway. "In private."

That didn’t sound promising.

"Uh... alright then. Lilith?" I called out, taking a step backward toward the corridor. "Do not summon anything with a pulse until I get back."

"I wouldn’t dream of it, Milesy!" Lilith sang out cheerfully, not even bothering to look up from the archaic pages. "Not when we could have so much more fun with you in the room!"

That was absolutely the best reassurance I was going to get out of her today. I looked at my second-in-command. "Keep a strict watch on them," I murmured.

"Of course, sir," Glacia replied smoothly. She shot Mystic another blistering, sub-zero glare as I stepped out and led the veteran hero away from the guest suite.

"Your ice princess does not care for me," Mystic noted calmly as we walked down the polished corridor.

"She is just highly protective." I said. "And you have tried to kill me."

It was definitely time to change the subject. We were approaching my primary briefing room—freshly repaired and swept clean of demon ash by Rhea’s automated drones.

I pushed the heavy oak doors open and gestured her inside.

"So..." I said, shutting the doors firmly behind us to ensure absolute privacy. "What exactly did you want to discuss?"

Mystic took a slow, calculated look around the room. Her eyes lingered on the massive, multi-screen display dominating the far wall, tracking the various feeds.

She stepped fully inside, trailing her fingertips lightly across the polished surface of the boardroom table, before stopping to give me a highly appraising look.

What was her angle here? I reflexively squared my shoulders, my heavy armor shifting slightly under her searching gaze.

She let out a soft sigh and shook her head. "It truly is a waste that you are not a registered hero," she murmured.

Ugh. This lecture again.

"Like I told you during the gala," I said, crossing my arms over my chest plate. "I don’t do the whole ’righteous crusader’ routine. The margins are terrible, the public scrutiny is a nightmare, and the lifestyle just isn’t for me."

"And yet, you act heroically when pushed," she noted, her voice steady. "You have dismantled several rival leagues in the city. And ending the creeping influence of this demonic parasite will unequivocally put good into the world."

"Well, maybe. But that is entirely incidental," I argued, leaning back against the doorframe. "Look, I am not out to save the world. It doesn’t suit my skill set. I don’t actively hunt for good deeds to do, and I don’t battle evil out of a sense of deep moral obligation. Sure," I said, giving a careless shrug. "I will drop a rival villain if he steps onto my property and threatens my bottom line. But I’ll drop a hero just as fast if the contract pays out. At best, I operate in the neutral zone. But my tax bracket firmly says ’villain’."

"A remarkably unusual classification," Mystic mused.

"Maybe in your circles," I replied. "But this is my chosen industry, and I happen to like my job."

"So I have observed," Mystic said. She looked around the boardroom again, her eyes tracking the heavy leather executive chairs. "So, this is where all the grand, evil scheming is formally conducted?"

"Yep," I said dryly. "This is where all the HR paperwork, zoning permits, and nefarious machinations come together. Just a barrel of laughs had by all."

"Of course," she murmured.

She turned around and casually hopped up, taking a seat directly on the edge of the table. She crossed her arms beneath her chest, fixing me with an intense, unblinking stare.

"Do you find me annoying, Polaris?"

Well, that came completely out of left field. "Excuse me?"

"Do you find my continued interest in you... burdensome?"

That was a heavily loaded question. I ran the math in my head before answering, trying to figure out where she was driving the conversation.

"Well... not excessively, I suppose. Outside of the friction with the Bureau, I actually like your assistance with Vanessa’s staging. It makes the things much smoother."

"Vanessa is remarkably young, and currently filled with the blinding vigor of absolute truth and righteousness," Mystic said smoothly. "But she must eventually learn that justice is rarely a simple binary of black and white. True justice lives in the gray. And I believe you are uniquely positioned to teach it to her."

"I’m just a hired contractor. Anything to help the production," I deflected.

"It is a genuine shame that you insist on remaining a villain," Mystic continued softly.

She uncrossed her arms and slowly crossed her long legs, leaning back slightly. She tilted her head, looking at me directly through half-lidded lashes.

"But then again..." she mused, her voice dropping. "There is a certain undeniable appeal in that, as well."

I stopped breathing for a second. I just stared at her.

Hold up.

Was Mystic actually giving the signals I thought she was?

Seriously? Mystic? One of The Five?

I mean, sure, the bad-boy aesthetic was a known commodity, and heroines carrying a torch for a villain was an established industry trope.

The allure of forbidden fruit was a massive, highly documented motivator, as I knew entirely too well from my own roster.

But was a foundational pillar of the cape community actually hitting on me in the middle of my own boardroom?

Then again, it was hardly unprecedented for costumed rivals to hook up off the clock.

Hate-sex was practically a recognized subgenre in the superhuman ecosystem.

Usually, it ended up splashed across the front page of the tabloids as a massive, career-ending scandal.

Occasionally, it caused a hero to flip alignments or a villain to seek a high-profile redemption arc, depending on who had the stronger personality in the bedroom.

It was also a highly effective narrative pivot when a hero’s merchandise numbers started to tank—a brief, scandalous corruption arc always moved units. The public devoured the drama of love crossing battle lines.

But her? Really?

"Yeah," I said slowly, letting my eyes drag deliberately up and down her athletic frame. "The tactical armor and the heavy metal do tend to attract a very specific demographic."

"Very true," Mystic agreed, her lips curving into a faint, dangerous smile. "I would be lying if I said the heavy steel spikes and the aura of menace weren’t physically appealing on a baseline level. But I would never dare to formally cavort with the forces of evil."

"Of course not," I replied, my voice dropping an octave. I pushed off the wooden doorframe and took a slow, deliberate step toward the table. "That would be a severe violation of your ethical guidelines. And I’d have to be legally insane to start an entanglement with a frontline heroine. It would be a nightmare. It never works out."

"Not for long, anyway," Mystic countered. Her voice grew incredibly soft. Breathy, even.