Chapter 181: Chapter : 181 : Personal Space!

Behind them, Lazira dragged her feet, frowning as if the world personally offended her. Meyla walked right beside her, tilting her head in concern.

“Lazira… you still thinking about your Onee-Chan?” Meyla whispered.

Lazira’s ears drooped further. “Mmm…”

Meyla gently nudged her with her shoulder. Lazira didn’t respond—but she didn’t pull away either.

—

At the next intersection, Vorrak and Esyra turned left, still arguing in low, irritated and amused tones.

Thyria and Kaelith took a right, their voices fading with teasing back-and-forth.

Lazira and Meyla slipped down the lower hall.

And Drastic and Morvath continued forward.

—

Drastic stretched his arms lazily behind his head as they walked. “Hey, Morvath… you think the Child of Prophecy might actually be the bridge? You know, between us demons and humans?”

Morvath didn’t slow, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his arm. “That remains uncertain.”

Drastic tilted his head. “So you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“A possibility,” Morvath corrected. “But also a danger. The same bridge can burn both sides.”

Drastic let out a low whistle. “Huh. Look at you, thinking about hope and doom in the same breath. I’m impressed.”

Morvath glared at him without changing pace. “Shut up.”

—

Then Drastic stopped.

Morvath took two extra steps before noticing. He turned back, eyebrows raising.

Drastic’s eyes were locked on a demon woman standing near a pillar. One of the low ranking member.

Her skin shimmered a smooth shade of royal violet, long hair cascading in soft, wild waves down to her lower back.

Two elegant purple horns curved from her forehead, glowing faintly in the dim corridor. Her lavender eyes brightened the moment she noticed him.

And the rest of her—well, her generous breasts and wide hips made her pale-hands uniform stretch just a little too perfectly.

Drastic smiled.

Morvath sighed. “Oh no.”

“Wait for me,” Drastic said, already walking away.

“No.”

Drastic didn’t hear him. Or pretended not to.

The woman looked up, her face lighting with recognition—and something else. Something warm.

“Master Drastic,” She said quietly, almost breathlessly.

Drastic’s grin widened as he reached her, brushing a single thick lock of her hair away from her face.

His fingers lingered just long enough to deepen the blush across her cheeks.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” He murmured. “But I’m thrilled the universe decided to spoil me.”

Her breath hitched. “I… I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

He leaned in slightly. “Hard to forget someone who looks at me like that.”

Her lavender eyes widened—and softened.

He stepped closer. “Wanna come to my room?”

Her nod was immediate. Eager. “Of course, Master Drastic.”

“Good girl,” He said with a wink. “Wait here for a moment.”

Drastic walked back to Morvath, who stared at him like one stares at a natural disaster they’ve accepted but not forgiven.

“You can go on your own,” Drastic announced proudly.

Morvath exhaled sharply. “I see you with different women every morning.”

“Not different,” Drastic corrected, pointing a finger up. “Fans. I only sleep with my fans. Who love me. And I have twenty fans. So you see some same faces sometimes, but you don’t remember.”

Morvath stared at him for three long seconds.

“…You exhaust me.”

“That’s why you love me,” Drastic grinned.

“I do not.”

“Sure you do.”

Morvath walked away without answering.

Drastic watched him go, amused.

Then he turned back toward the waiting woman.

A slow, confident smile curved his lips as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him immediately, warmth and excitement radiating from her.

“Shall we?” Drastic murmured.

“Yes,” she whispered.

And together, they disappeared into the dim corridor, her body pressed close, his smirk never fading.

—

Thyria and Kaelith walked down the dim corridor, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone.

The corridor lit only by the soft glow of enchanted crystals embedded in the walls

Thyria rolled her shoulders again, letting out a low groan. “Seriously… if meetings lasted any longer, I’d chew my own arm off for entertainment.”

Kaelith chuckled. “I thought I was your entertainment.”

“You are,” She said easily. “But even you can’t save a six-hour lecture from hell.”

“I totally could,” Kaelith declared, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “You just need to let me stand on the table next time. Maybe juggle something. Preferably something sharp.”

Thyria snorted. “Yeah, until Vorrak impales you for breathing too loudly.”

“Please. He already wants to impale me. Might as well give him a performance worth the trouble.”

She gave him a side-eye, amused. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back instantly.

She elbowed him—hard enough to make him stumble. “Don’t get cocky, Kae.”

“I was born cocky.”

“I noticed.”

He grinned at her, bright and unbothered. “Besides, you keep looking at me like you enjoy it.”

Thyria scoffed, folding her arms behind her head. “I look at you like you’re a clown juggling knives.”

“Which is attractive.”

She barked a laugh. “To who?!”

“To you,” He said confidently.

She stopped walking for half a second. Just a heartbeat. Then she shoved his shoulder. “Kae, you’re delusional.”

“But you’re smiling,” He pointed out.

“Because you’re stupid.”

“Conveniently stupid,” Kaelith corrected, wagging a finger. “Specifically stupid in the way that brightens your day.”

Thyria tilted her head, examining him as if deciding whether to smack him or praise him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He blinked. “…Did you just call me cute?”

“Nope.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Shut up, Kae.”

He didn’t shut up. “Say it again.”

“No.”

“Thyr—”

She slapped a hand over his mouth. “I will break your ribs.”

He smiled beneath her palm, eyes curving slyly. She realized then—too late—that she had leaned in close. Their faces were inches apart.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Kaelith pulled her hand away, gently, fingers lingering just long enough to make the air between them shift. “Because you look better annoyed.”

She stared at him.

Then, abruptly, she laughed. Loud, sharp, unrestrained.

“You’re actually insane.”

“But you’re still walking with me,” He said.

“I haven’t kicked you yet,” She corrected. “There’s a difference.”

A silence settled, warm rather than awkward. Their steps naturally aligned. Their shoulders brushed every few paces, neither pulling away.

As they approached the hallway where their rooms split, Thyria stretched again, arms flexing. “Well, this is my stop. Try not to burn down the place while I’m asleep.”

Kaelith smirked. “No promises.”

She jabbed a finger at him. “If I wake up to fire—”

“I’ll protect you,” He said lightly.

Thyria blinked. Then, softer: “Idiot.”

He lifted a hand in a lazy wave as she turned toward her room. “Goodnight, Thyr.”

She paused, glancing back with a grin that held more warmth than she’d admit.

“Goodnight, Kae.”

She disappeared into her room.

Kaelith stood there a moment longer, smiling to himself—playful, yes, but a hint of something quieter lingering in his eyes.

Something that said their teasing wasn’t just teasing.

—

Lazira and Meyla walked in silence for a while, the corridor long and dim, lit only by the soft glow of enchanted crystals embedded in the walls. Lazira’s movements sluggish and lifeless. Every few steps, she muttered something under her breath—always the same word.

“Onee-Chan…”

Meyla glanced at her again, her smile soft, eyes warm—the kind of gentle expression that simply did not belong in a place like this. She shifted closer, brushing her arm against Lazira’s lightly, almost like a timid attempt at comfort.

“You know,” Meyla said quietly, “we could… um… do something fun tonight. Get your mind off things.”

Lazira didn’t even look up. “Fun?”

“Yeah,” Meyla brightened. “We could go out and smash a few buildings. Or maybe go down to the basement and kill some of the humans we’re storing. You always feel better after that.”

Lazira halted mid-step and glared. “Shut up.”

Meyla blinked, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I just thought it’d help.”

“It won’t,” Lazira muttered, hugging her arms to herself. “Nothing will.”

They continued walking, their footsteps soft.

The silence stretched.

Then Meyla’s voice came even softer—barely above a whisper.

“Lazira… do you like Boss?”

Lazira stopped.

Completely.

Her eyes widened, glowing faintly in shock, and her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. “W–Wha… what are you even talking about?”

Meyla tilted her head sweetly. “Well… you did let him stay in your room that night.”

Lazira flinched. “That—! That was—! I was pinching the wall! It was collapsing! He just— He stayed to make sure I didn’t break the fortress!”

Meyla giggled. “You don’t usually let anyone stay with you when you’re doing that. You throw people out.”

“I didn’t throw him out because—because—!” Lazira stumbled over her own words, desperately trying to regain composure. “Because he’s the leader! I couldn’t kick him!”

Meyla’s eyes sparkled. “Did you two… do anything?”

“N–Nothing happened!” Lazira snapped instantly, face burning hotter. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Don’t even think something happened!”

Meyla slowed her pace to match her, smiling like a patient older sister. “You can tell me if you like him, you know. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t like him,” Lazira muttered, voice shrinking into something small and embarrassed. “I just… respect him. A lot.”

“No one lets someone stay in their room all night just because they respect someone,” Meyla teased, giggling into her hand.

Lazira turned away sharply. “Shut up.”

Her voice was soft though—flustered, not angry.

Meyla leaned closer. “Your wings is fluttering.”

Lazira froze, looking back at it in horror. She stomped the floor and hissed, “It is not fluttering!”

Meyla grinned. “It is absolutely wagging.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Meyla just smiled wider—delighted to see even the smallest bit of life returning to Lazira’s face.

When they reached the branching hallway to their rooms, Lazira stopped again, still blushing furiously.

Meyla touched her arm gently. “Feel a little better?”

Lazira turned away, crossing her arms. “…Maybe.”

Meyla’s smile softened again. “Good. I like seeing you like this more.”

Lazira blinked, caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Alive,” Meyla said simply. “And not drowning in sadness.”

Lazira looked down, her blush lingering… but her steps a little lighter than before.

“Goodnight, Lazira.”

“…Night.”

They parted ways—one smiling softly, the other pretending not to.

—

END OF Chapter : 181 : PERSONAL SPACE!

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