He sighed and shut the door behind him.
When he turned, she was already comfortable—bag tossed aside, legs crossed on the couch, remote in hand like she owned the place. Perfect domestic peace.
"Seems you've made yourself at home."
"Mm-hmm." Her eyes stayed glued to the TV. "Know what would be good?" A pause. Then a soft, exaggerated moan. "A cup of your tea… uhh. That would make my day."
Sebastian's face went red so fast it could've powered the national grid.
For a split second, he genuinely considered drop-kicking her into the nearest garbage bin.
His gaze flicked—subtle, quick—to the camera tucked in the corner of the ceiling. Please tell me security didn't just hear that.
"Look at your face." She grinned without even looking at him. "It's so red. What? You've never had a woman moan for you before?"
Seb tasted copper.
If he opened his mouth right now, he might actually choke on his own blood.
This was beyond embarrassing. It was degrading. His breathing came out in short, miserable bursts like his lungs were protesting existence.
"Keep talking nonsense," he muttered, "and you won't even smell that tea."
"Mm." She smirked.
"Now tell me what you did this time." he asked while dropping into the chair, jaw tight, face still flushed. "you didn't answer when I asked earlier."
She sighed dramatically. "Seriously, I thought you'd just run away embarrassed. Seems you've grown thick-skinned."
Seb nearly inhaled wrong.
Thick-skinned?
"You're one to talk"
She knew about the cameras. She knew people could be watching. And she still acted like this.
Thick-skinned, No what she has was a full battle armor.
The remote slipped gently from her hand. Her expression souring.
"He caught me drinking again." she finally spoke
Seb stared at her in disbelieve.
He searched her face for a punchline. There wasn't one.
"…Why?" His voice went flat. "Why the hell would you do that?"
He couldn't believe it, she had drank again.
"Fuck wasn't this just lack of sense"
Drinking wasn't an issue. Science even said a bit of alcohol could even be healthy.
The problem was overdrinking.
The bigger problem was not knowing your limit.
His aunt had shattered both.
She was a lightweight who drank like a heavyweight champion.
And the last time? That disaster still felt fresh.
Her fiancé—Michael—was the textbook definition of rags to riches. Smart, disciplined, borderline terrifying with money. When a wealthy client gave him the opportunity, he'd pooled everything to buy a limited-edition BMW 3.0 CSL. The Batmobile.
Seb had practically drooled when he saw it.
He wasn't even going to talk about the performance.
He was going to talk about its funeral.
She'd begged to take it for a ride. Promised she'd be careful.
She came back drunk.
The accident report read like a horror script.
The only reason she survived without permanent damage was because Michael had modified the car with absurd safety upgrades. Reinforced frame. Impact dampeners. Systems that could probably survive a small war. It even refused to move unless the seatbelt clicked in.
Safety. Pleasure. Power.
She destroyed all three.
The surgery alone cost nearly three hundred thousand bronze coins. The main family refused to pay—"not life-saving," they said. So Michael covered most of it. His mom scraped together twenty percent.
In addition to that, the money used had been initially set aside for an investment. A big one. Timing-sensitive. Selling the wrecked car wouldn't help—as it would take to long.
He lost the deal.
All because she couldn't stop drinking.
Seb felt genuine pity for the man. If it were him? Jail. Divorce. Emotional damages invoice included.
But Michael hadn't left her side at the hospital once.
And this half-brained goat sitting in front of him had sworn she'd never repeat it.
Yet here they were.
"What did he do?" Seb asked coldly. "Divorce you? Kick you out? Or did you run away before he could?"
She shot him a nasty look.
"I don't want to talk about it. If you don't want to make tea, don't."
She turned back to the TV.
Seb shook his head, he noted that her eyes was reddish and filling up quickly with tears
Maybe he did shout.
Maybe worse—maybe he didn't.
Sometimes silence was scarier.
Seb exhaled slowly and stood. "I'm going to my room."
watching her cry was a drama he did not pay to watch. As for the rest of the juicy details, well he will just have to wait for his mom.
Until she was back, he'd be left guessing.
In his room, he powered up his PC.
The download seemed to be complete.
On screen, bold letters burned:
Paragon: Wars of the Fallen.
He leaned back.
Alright. Let's see if you're worth my storage space.
If it sucked? Delete.
If it was mid? Play, but no in-game spending.
If it was good?
His mom might have to drag him downstairs for meals.
He adjusted his headset and reached to log in—
Brnnnng.
Unknown number.
Scammer? he questioned.
He then grinned.
He hoped it was one, they where after all free entertainment.
"Hello. Who am I speaking to?"
Silence.
Background noise—shouting, chaos, what sounded like someone dropping a metal chair.
Then—
"Bro, you serious? You forgot me?"
Seb blinked.
Oh, interesting. Long-lost friend strategy.
"Your name would help."
"Wow. So the so-called brother forgot me."
An audible sigh.
"Your voice is kinda familiar," Seb admitted carefully. "But you know how it is. Voices change. A name would speed this up."
"It's David bro. David Maxwell. The one you collaborated with."
"…Oh shit. David?"
Seb sat upright.
The same David he'd tried calling three times a few days ago? The number had been dead.
"Sorry, man. My bad."
"Hmph. 'My bad.' That's it? Three years of friendship down the drain?"
"Well," Seb coughed, "your voice is deeper now. Hard to recognize."
"Oh, obviously. More manly now."
"Yeah, bro. Not like mine that still sounds like a girl squealing."
"HAHA. True, it does."
Seb went silent.
That was supposed to be self-deprecating humor.
Not confirmation.
They caught up quickly. David was already in college, preparing to move into university—if his current project worked out.
"What project?" Seb asked.
Shouting erupted again on David's side. "Shut up!" he yelled away from the phone. "Sorry. Bit rowdy here."
Dorm room, probably.
"So the project?"
"It's about checking video authenticity using newer tech. Kind of building on the last thing you and I made."
Seb froze for half a second.
That small side project? It was evolving?
"The project's big," David added. "So I'm working with someone else too. She's here. Let me put her on."
Seb frowned.
Why was she in his dorm room?
Were they coding on the bed? The floor? Shared desk?
His imagination was already judging.
A new voice came through.
Clear. Calm. Young.
A girl with brown hair stepped into view on the video call when David walked back. Her hair framed a face that was both soft and striking, falling in gentle waves around her high cheekbones.
Brown eyes, warm and intelligent, glimmered with curiosity, their depth making her look far from generic. She had a smooth, luminous complexion, a straight nose, and full lips that hinted at a natural smile. Subtle freckles dusted across her cheeks, adding a touch of playfulness to her sharp, well-defined features.
She wore a loose jumper that looked suspiciously like it belonged to David, its cozy fabric contrasting with the elegance of her face.
She waved,
"Hiii"
Seb adjusted in his chair.
Well.
This just got interesting.