Chapter 630: What Happens When You’re Not Looking
Her eyes went glassy, a dangerous sheen forming over those emerald irises that always saw too much. She blinked hard. Once. Twice. Fighting against whatever emotion was trying to claw its way out from behind her carefully maintained walls.
"You actually believe that?" The question came out rough, like her vocal cords didn’t quite remember how to form words without armor wrapped around them.
"I know it." I reached up, catching a stray lock of that vibrant crimson hair—the color she’d chosen specifically to differentiate herself from Veronica’s brand—and tucked it carefully behind her ear.
My fingers lingered for just a moment against the shell of her ear, feeling her pulse hammering beneath skin that was still too warm from overexertion.
"I spent eighteen years completely powerless. I know exactly what it feels like to have your entire identity reduced to a list of things you can’t do. Everything you’re not. Every door that’s permanently closed."
My thumb traced the line of her jaw. "And I also know that the people who actually give a damn about you? They’ll stay regardless of whether you can split mountains or can barely hold a coffee cup without shaking."
She kissed me.
No warning. No gradual lean-in. Just a sudden closing of the distance between us, right there in the middle of the park under the afternoon sun where any passing jogger or gossip blogger could capture the moment.
It wasn’t like the night before—that desperate, consuming passion fueled by fear and adrenaline and the terror of what she’d almost lost. This was something gentler.
Sweeter in a way that felt almost dangerous because of how genuine it was. Her lips moved against mine with a tenderness that suggested she was trying to communicate something her words couldn’t quite capture.
When she finally pulled back, twin tracks of moisture glistened on her cheeks, catching the light like liquid gold against her tan skin.
"You’re way too good at this," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion she wasn’t quite managing to suppress anymore. "At making people fall for you. It’s actually unfair."
"What can I say? Natural talent." I kept my tone light, teasing, even as my thumb moved to brush away one of those tears.
"Jackass." But the word came wrapped in a smile that made her whole face transform, breaking through the tears like sunlight through storm clouds.
My phone erupted into a rapid-fire series of vibrations in my pocket. I ignored it. The buzzing continued, insistent. Then again. And again. A whole drumbeat of notifications demanding attention.
"You should probably check that," Reyna said, pulling back slightly but not letting go of my hand.
With a sigh, I fished the device out. The lock screen was absolutely flooded—seventeen separate notifications from various news apps and social media platforms, all competing for attention. My thumb swiped across the screen, and I watched the headlines scroll past in increasingly sensationalist variations of the same basic story:
VALORIA’S NEW HEARTTHROB: STRAY DOG SPOTTED WITH LA SIRENA AFTER CELESTE VANCE RUMORS
THE LOVE TRIANGLE EVERYONE’S TALKING ABOUT
NAKANO SATORI: HUNTER OR HEARTBREAKER?
There were photos. The two of us leaving Olympus Rising. My hand on the small of her back. Her looking up at me with that soft expression.
The comment sections were already exploding.
"Well," Reyna said, reading over my shoulder. "Looks like you’re famous now."
"Great. Just what I needed."
"Veronica’s going to want to capitalize on this. Press releases. Joint appearances. Maybe a magazine spread."
"Absolutely not."
"She’s very persuasive."
"I’m very stubborn."
Reyna laughed. "This is going to be interesting."
We spent another hour in the park. Talking. Kissing. Pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.
But eventually, reality intruded. Reyna started looking tired. The dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced. Her grip on my hand weakened.
"Time to head back," I said. Not a question.
"I’m fine."
"You’re exhausted. Your body is trying to rebuild complex energy channels while you’re gallivanting around the city. You need rest."
"I hate it when you’re right."
"Get used to it."
We walked back toward the compound. Slower this time. Reyna leaned on me more than she probably wanted to admit.
The cameras found us again about a block from our destination. More questions. More flashes. More speculation about our relationship status.
I handled it the same way as before. Cryptic answers. Charming smiles. Strategic non-responses that would keep the tabloids guessing for weeks.
"Last question," a reporter called out. "Nakano-san, what would you say to people who claim you’re just using these relationships for publicity?"
I stopped. Turned to face the camera directly.
"I’d say that the people in my life know exactly who I am and what I want." I let my expression go serious for just a moment. "And anyone who thinks they can reduce real human connections to PR strategies doesn’t understand what it means to actually care about someone."
Silence. Then more camera flashes.
I took Reyna’s hand and led her through the compound entrance before anyone could ask follow-up questions.
In the elevator, she sagged against the wall.
"That was smooth," she murmured. "The whole ’real human connections’ bit. Very romantic."
"I meant it."
"I know." She smiled tiredly. "That’s what makes it work."
I walked her to the medical wing. The doctors fussed over her immediately, checking vitals and running scans and muttering about recovery rates.
Before they wheeled her away for more tests, Reyna grabbed my hand.
"Thank you," she said. "For today. For everything."
"Get some sleep. I’ll see you before I leave tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She let them take her. I watched until the door closed behind her.
Then I pulled out my phone and checked the messages I’d been ignoring.
Seventeen from Natalia. The pendant had been pulsing warm all day, her awareness constant in the back of my mind. She’d felt everything. The cameras. The crowds. The kisses in the park.
Her texts were a mix of exasperation, jealousy, and grudging acceptance.
"I see you’re having fun."
"The media coverage is actually impressive. Veronica must be thrilled."
"If you kiss her one more time in public I’m going to lose my mind."
"I love you. I hate this. Both things are true."
"Come home soon."
I typed back: "Tomorrow. One more day."
Her response was immediate: "I’m counting the hours."
The pendant warmed against my chest. Love and frustration and longing all tangled together in that supernatural thread that connected us across hundreds of miles.
Tomorrow. Thursday.
The meeting with Seraphina.
The folder in my bag felt heavier than paper should.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, I had a hot shower and an empty bed and the memory of Reyna’s tears on my shoulder.
Not a bad day, all things considered.
Nel’s voice drifted through my mind as I headed back to my room. "The Audience is very pleased with today’s content. Romantic development, public drama, emotional vulnerability. Your entertainment rating has increased another eight percent."
"Glad someone’s enjoying themselves."
"The gods find your love life endlessly fascinating. Apollo has started taking bets on how many women you’ll accumulate by the end of the year."
"What’s the current over/under?"
"Twelve."
I actually laughed out loud. A security guard gave me a strange look.
Twelve women. Like I was building some kind of collection.
Although, if I was being honest with myself, the current count was already at six. Seven if you counted Maki, which I wasn’t sure I should.
Maybe the gods were onto something.
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