Chapter 410: Chapter 410: Report

[Third Person Pov]

When they arrived back at the camp by late afternoon, the warm golden glow of the descending sun stretched across the cabins and walkways, casting long shadows that swayed gently with the breeze. Lucian slowed his steps before turning toward Annabeth, his expression calm but thoughtful. “I have something to do, so I’ll be gone,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I don’t know for how long exactly, but I should be back around dinner time.”

Annabeth accepted his words without hesitation. She had grown used to the mysterious nature of his comings and goings. She stepped closer and kissed him softly on the cheek, her lips warm against his skin. Pulling back, she looked at him with clear affection and smiled in adoration, her gray eyes shining with sincerity. “Okay. Thanks for the date, it was fun despite how things turned out. We should do it more often.”

Lucian smirked contently at her words and kiss, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet satisfaction. He gave a small nod, silently agreeing, his eyes softening in a way few people ever saw.

“And don’t worry,” Annabeth continued, folding her arms loosely as her smile shifted into something more teasing. “I also have something to do, so I don’t mind that you’re going out. Just don’t stay out too late.” She narrowed her eyes slightly, giving him a mock glare that held no real threat behind it.

“Yes ma’am,” Lucian replied immediately, straightening his posture as he gave her a playful salute. Without another word, his form began to dissolve, his body sinking seamlessly into his own shadow as if it were liquid, vanishing completely and leaving no trace behind.

Lucian traveled swiftly through the interconnected darkness, moving between shadows with effortless familiarity. A faint smirk rested on his face the entire time, his destination already set in his mind. When he finally emerged, he stepped out onto the rooftop of an elegant restaurant in Queens. The space was beautiful and serene, decorated with an abundance of lush green plants, delicate flowers, and soft ambient lighting that gave the entire rooftop an almost dreamlike atmosphere. It was clear the entire venue had been rented out, as there were no other guests, no staff moving about, and no sound beyond the faint whisper of wind brushing past leaves.

At the center of it all was a single table.

Two beautiful women sat across from each other.

Lucian’s smirk deepened as his eyes landed on them. The woman wearing a flowing green dress, her wheat-colored hair shining softly in the light, was none other than his aunt, Demeter. Her posture was upright and refined, radiating quiet authority and pride.

Sitting across from her was Persephone, her beauty ethereal and impossible to ignore. She wore a dark purple dress that complemented her perfectly, her presence gentle yet powerful in a way that could not be described with simple words.

Lucian’s expression shifted instantly.

“Mother—” he cried out pitifully, his voice trembling with exaggerated emotion as tears appeared instantly at the corners of his eyes.

“Lucian?” Persephone called out in disbelief, her eyes widening in surprise as she immediately stood up from her seat.

“What is that brat doing here?” Demeter hissed under her breath, glaring daggers at Lucian. Her peaceful time alone with her daughter was something she rarely got, and his sudden intrusion irritated her to no end.

Lucian wasted no time. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Persephone, clinging to her tightly as if he had nowhere else to go. He looked up at her with watery eyes, his expression pitiful and vulnerable, like a mistreated child seeking comfort. “You have to help me, mother. It’s father. He’s bullying me.”

“Wha—” Persephone began, caught completely off guard by his dramatic declaration. But the moment she saw his face, heard his tone, and felt the absurdity of the situation, she couldn’t help herself.

She laughed. It was soft at first, then grew into quiet, uncontrollable laughter as she reached up and gently patted his head, consoling him while hugging him back. “There, there. It’s all going to be alright,” she said soothingly, though her voice betrayed her amusement as she snickered.

Demeter watched the scene with undisguised disgust, her face tightening slightly as she slowly lifted her teacup and took a long, deliberate sip, choosing not to involve herself in whatever nonsense Lucian was bringing with him.

Persephone leaned down slightly, her lips close to Lucian’s ear as she whispered in a voice only he could hear. “Thank the gods of the Underworld that you’ve arrived. I swear I was going to lose my mind.” Her tone was calm, but the relief beneath it was unmistakable.

She pulled back slightly and looked at him again, her expression shifting into something gentler, more motherly. Her fingers moved through his hair as she caressed his head affectionately. “Now tell me,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth, “what did that grumpy old man do to you?”

Demeter, watching the interaction, couldn’t help but cringe. Her mouth twitched faintly, and she scoffed under her breath before returning her attention to her tea, refusing to acknowledge the ridiculous display any longer.

Persephone, however, secretly furrowed her brow as she looked down at Lucian. Beneath the playful act, she could feel something deeper. Their intimate connection had strengthened, if only slightly, but enough for her to notice. It was subtle, almost impossible to define, yet undeniably present. She didn’t understand why, and more importantly, she didn’t question it.

When he called her “Mother,” it felt right.

Natural.

As if it had always been that way.

Lucian himself didn’t even realize what he had done. Normally, he would call her stepmother, or use something more intimate and affectionate, but never outright “Mother.” Yet this time, the word had come naturally to him, without hesitation or thought, as if some unseen bond between them had quietly grown stronger.

Lucian pretended to sniffle pathetically, his shoulders trembling slightly as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. His performance was flawless, every small movement carefully calculated to sell the image he wanted her to see.

Still clinging lightly to Persephone, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a subtle pulse of illusion magic flowing through his fingers, he recreated the scene from the diner. On the phone’s screen, it appeared exactly like a recorded video, complete with sound, expressions, and timing. There was no distortion or indication it was fake; it was perfect in every detail.

Persephone raised a delicate brow as she took the phone from him, her curiosity immediately piqued. Her eyes scanned the screen as she watched the exchange between Lucian and Hades unfold. She saw Hades’ stern expression, heard his harsh tone, and watched Lucian’s equally stubborn response. Her lips trembled slightly, and she quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth, doing her best to suppress the laughter threatening to escape.

“How could he?!” Persephone suddenly shouted, her voice filled with righteous indignation.

Her fist clenched tightly at her side, her expression transforming into pure rage so convincing that it would have fooled anyone unfamiliar with her. Her aura flared faintly with emotion, and before Lucian could even react, she grabbed him firmly by the wrist.

“Come on, Lucy!” she declared boldly. “Let’s give that bastard a piece of my mind.”

Lucian blinked in mild surprise, though internally he was already grinning in victory as she dragged him along without resistance.

Demeter, meanwhile, sat frozen in place, her teacup halfway to her lips as she watched Persephone storm off while dragging Lucian behind her. She blinked once. Then twice.

The door slammed shut behind them.

“…Wait,” Demeter said slowly, her mind catching up to what had just happened. Her eyes widened in realization as she carefully lowered her teacup onto the table. “Did she just use this as an opportunity to return back to the Underworld?”

Her expression darkened instantly.

“Hey!!” Demeter shouted, shooting up from her seat in outrage as she realized she had been completely played. She rushed after them without hesitation, her dignity forgotten in favor of chasing down her scheming daughter.

…

Meanwhile, deep within the Underworld, Hades was not seated upon his throne.

Instead, he was in his private office, surrounded by towering stacks of documents, folders, and endless paperwork that demanded his attention. The room was dimly lit, illuminated by faint ghostly flames that cast flickering shadows across the walls. Hades sat behind his massive desk, hunched slightly forward as he reviewed yet another report, his expression growing darker with every passing second.

Beside him stood the ghost of Medea, her translucent form calm and composed as she held several additional folders in her arms.

“These are from all your employees requesting a raise in pay,” Medea said respectfully, handing him the documents. “There was even a petition. The majority of them signed it.”

“They’re dead!” Hades suddenly roared, slamming his fist against the desk with enough force to shake the surrounding papers. His voice echoed throughout the office, filled with pure agitation. “Why in the name of the Three Fields do they need money?! They have no use for it! I’m only paying them out of virtue!”

His eyes red from rage glared at the petition as if it had personally insulted him. His hair was disheveled, and he ran his hands through it in frustration, gripping the strands tightly.

“I bet it was Charon, wasn’t it?!” he continued angrily. “I’m sure it was that greedy bastard who started the petition! Denied! I’m not signing that. To Tartarus with that petition!”

Medea turned her head slightly, suppressing her laughter behind a polite expression as she gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

Hades exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, but then suddenly paused.

His brow furrowed.

He could feel something.

Presences that absolutely should not be inside his castle.

He slowly raised his head and looked toward Medea, confusion written clearly across his face.

“Have I been locked in here for so long,” he asked slowly, “that it’s September already?”

Medea blinked in confusion at the strange question. “Ah, no. It hasn’t even been three hours.”

Hades’ confusion deepened.

Then, without warning, the door to his office burst open.

“Hades!” Persephone’s voice rang out sharply as she stormed inside.

She crossed her arms and fixed him with a mock glare, her posture radiating indignation. “Explain yourself!”

“Huh?” Hades blinked, immediately shrinking slightly in his seat. His mind raced as he tried to recall what he could have possibly done wrong. He instinctively prepared himself to apologize despite not knowing the offense. However, just as he was about to speak, he noticed something strange.

There was amusement in her eyes. Her lips twitched ever so slightly, as if she were suppressing a smile.

And then he saw him.

Lucian stood behind Persephone, using her as a shield. The moment their eyes met, Lucian slowly pulled down on his lower eyelid with one finger and stuck out his tongue in childish mockery.

Hades stared at him.

His expression went completely flat.

One of his brows twitched.

“Medea,” Hades said calmly.

“Yes, Lord Hades?” Medea responded immediately, her tone respectful and attentive.

“Go and grab me the belt.”

“Certainly,” Medea replied without hesitation, bowing slightly before turning to carry out the order.

Lucian’s entire face fell.

His confident, smug expression shattered instantly, replaced by pure, unfiltered horror. “Wait—What?”

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