I stood in front of the massive, floor-to-ceiling mirror in my Arkum district penthouse, aggressively trying to tame my hair. Since my repeated encounters with death had triggered my reality-breaking evolutionary leaps, my hair had grown significantly longer, the dark, silky strands now falling all the way down my back. It looked undeniably cool in a brooding, dark-fantasy sort of way, but practically speaking, it was constantly getting in my eyes.
After finally tying it back into a loose, stylish half-ponytail, I adjusted the cuffs of my tailored charcoal-grey shirt. In a few minutes, I had an official "date" with Stella.
I grabbed my keys, headed down to the private garage, and slid into the plush leather seat of my two-million-dollar sports car. Thanks to the ridiculously overpriced, yet highly effective magical restoration from the pixie cleaning crew, the jet-black vehicle looked like it had just rolled off the showroom floor, completely free of werewolf dents.
I revved the engine and hit the streets. However, the fact that I had to drive out and physically pick Stella up from her house was highly unpleasant for one very specific, terrifying reason: she lived with that creepy, overpowered mage, Atticus, and his psychopathic, head-reaping son, Luke.
I still wasn't entirely convinced that Luke wasn't the absolute bastard who had hired that discount werewolf pack to ambush me two days ago. But when I texted Stella about it, she assured me that Atticus seemed completely engrossed in his work these days, rarely emerging from his private laboratory. As for Luke, he apparently hadn't even come home for the past three days.
As I navigated the smooth evening traffic, steering out of the bustling city limits, I casually pulled out my phone. I know, texting and driving is terrible road etiquette. But considering my superhuman reflexes, my enhanced perception, and my literal inability to die permanently, I highly doubted a fender bender was going to be a fatal issue.
I dialed her number, and she picked up on the very first ring.
"Hi," her bubbly voice chimed through the car's speakers.
"Hey. You're coming?" I asked, keeping one eye on the winding road.
"Yeah, I'm getting ready. How far out are you?"
"I'll be there in about twenty-five minutes," I replied.
Stella lived far outside the city limits, out in the sprawling, forested hills where Atticus maintained his gigantic, secluded manor. I guessed the supreme head of the Magic Council wanted peace and quiet, hence the highly remote location. Stella had told me recently that most elite mages preferred to live in entirely deserted, isolated places to avoid prying mundane eyes when conducting their volatile magical studies and experiments. They only ventured into the city for Magic Council meetings or, for those who bothered with mundane society, their cover jobs.
"Alright, I'll be ready when you're there. Just holla at me," she said cheerfully before hanging up.
Thanks to the sparse traffic on the mountain road, I arrived slightly earlier than expected. I pulled my sleek sports car up to a stop in front of a massive, towering set of wrought-iron gates. The heavy metal was intricately decorated with mysterious, glowing runic markings and complex magical circles.
Peering through the iron bars, the property looked staggeringly huge. There was a sprawling, meticulously manicured garden labyrinth stretching out before the actual house. And the manor itself? It looked like it had been plucked straight out of the 1800s—a looming, gothic structure of dark stone and steep rooftops that practically screamed "haunted wizard castle."
I sent a quick text to Stella, letting her know I was waiting outside.
Soon enough, I spotted her walking down the long, cobblestone driveway toward the gates. She was dressed in a stunning, baby-blue one-piece dress that perfectly complimented her devilish, generous curves. The soft color beautifully contrasted with her cascading blonde hair and glowing purple eyes. She offered a bright, dazzling smile when she spotted my car, slipping through a smaller pedestrian door situated right next to the massive main gates.
I stepped out of the driver's seat and tried to walk toward her to meet her halfway. But after taking exactly two steps, I slammed face-first into something completely solid.
"Oof," I grunted, rubbing my nose.
Stella giggled, gesturing toward me by pushing her hands forward like a mime trapped in a box. The space between us was blocked by a completely invisible, impenetrable wall. As I focused my upgraded senses on the space, my vision shifted slightly. I could finally see it—a massive, shimmering, translucent dome of magical energy covering the entire estate, acting as a highly advanced, supernatural security system.
I was genuinely amazed by the sheer scale and density of the mage's barrier. But as I was marveling at the magical engineering, a small, human-sized hole perfectly materialized in the dome right in front of the gate, seamlessly allowing Stella to pass through after she muttered an obscure, guttural incantation under her breath.
As she stepped out onto the sidewalk next to me, the cool evening breeze carried her fragrant, intoxicating perfume. Her blonde hair drifted softly in the wind, and standing this close, I was once again made acutely aware of her exquisite, otherworldly facial features. She was so breathtakingly gorgeous it briefly left me breathless.
Regaining my clarity, I cleared my throat and opened the passenger door for her. "So, where are we going?"
She stopped, placing a hand on her hip, and looked at me with mock anger. "You're not charming at all, you know? Completely forgetting to compliment a lady on her outfit."
She knew perfectly well how her appearance affected me. She was a succubus, after all; she could literally sense the ambient lust and attraction she passively generated. And yet, she still wanted to hear me say it out loud.
I rolled my eyes playfully at her antics, but I was more than happy to comply. I leaned against the open car door, looking directly into her vivid purple eyes.
"You look absolutely stunning, Stella," I said, my voice dropping slightly, laced with genuine sincerity.
Despite practically begging for the compliment, her reaction completely caught me off guard. A deep, highly visible blush crept across her fair cheeks. She immediately broke eye contact, looking sideways at the pavement before muttering something entirely inaudible and quickly sliding into the passenger seat.
I stood there for a second, completely perplexed and highly intrigued. I had naturally assumed that with her demonic nature and her literal affinity for lust, a little light flirting wouldn't affect her in the slightest. I thought she would be an untouchable master at this game. But that sudden, bashful look on her face was incredibly cute, revealing a surprisingly innocent side to the terrifying half-demon.
Shaking those amusing thoughts from my head, I rounded the car, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
As I navigated the winding roads back toward the city, the sun was already beginning to set, casting a warm, golden-orange glow over the passing scenery. The comfortable silence stretched for a few miles before I decided to break it.
"So, Atticus didn't notice you sneaking out of the house?" I asked, glancing at her.
"He did," Stella replied, adjusting her seatbelt. "But Chloe had called him earlier today, explicitly saying she was coming to get me for a girls' night out."
"Ah, I see," I nodded. "But won't he notice that it definitely wasn't Chloe who pulled up to the gates to pick you up?"
"Even if he did, he would just assume Chloe sent a driver or a friend," she shrugged dismissively. "He's always been incredibly soft when it comes to her. The absolute proof is that despite Chloe basically throwing your entire 'boyfriend' status directly in his face at the banquet, he didn't lose his temper at all."
She paused, her expression turning slightly darker. "Before, I genuinely thought his patience was just because he desperately wanted his son to have a harmonious relationship with his fiancée. But it seems entirely untrue now. It's like Atticus has some kind of special, underlying design in mind when it comes to Chloe. Of course, Chloe noticed it too, and she's been actively using his leniency to get me out of that suffocating house as often as possible."
"Is that so?" I muttered, my hands tightening slightly on the steering wheel.
I had also found it incredibly weird that at the grand party, Atticus had simply stared at me with that creepy, analytical gaze and hadn't tried to instantly vaporize me. Even when Luke was on the verge of a psychotic break, Atticus calmly restrained him.
His overall attitude made me deeply uneasy. With Luke, I could at least predict his actions up to a certain point—he was an arrogant, hot-headed brat. But Atticus? He was like a vast, dark forest completely covered in thick mist. I had a really bad feeling about all of the political maneuvering happening in the shadows.
"Anyway, he isn't going to be a problem tonight," Stella said, waving her hand to physically brush away the gloomy topic. "To answer your earlier question about our itinerary, we are first going to a brand-new restaurant I discovered online. Rumor has it their chocolate cake is absolutely to die for."
Because she was essentially kept on house arrest by her terrifying father, Stella spent a massive amount of time surfing the internet. It was what allowed her to keep her sanity while living with a man who didn't want her and a brother who actively ignored her existence. So, every single time she managed to get out of the manor, she was determined to visit all the trendy places she had bookmarked.
Her bright, bubbly enthusiasm was entirely contagious. It quickly elevated the heavy mood in the car, forcing me to focus on the simple, highly enjoyable fact that I was on a date with a beautiful woman.
"And after dinner? What's next on the program?" I asked.
"After that, we're going to the Drunken Moon Club."
"What's that?"
"It's a highly exclusive supernatural club," she smiled proudly. "It's Chloe's."
"Wait, Chloe owns a nightclub?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"She doesn't look like it, but she has an incredibly sharp business mind," Stella explained. "She personally owns dozens of commercial buildings, luxury houses, and other prime properties that she rents out. Despite the fact that her father is loaded—and I mean, even your newly acquired billionaire family can't compare to the absurd riches accumulated over 5,000 years by that old vampire king—she still absolutely refuses to spend her immortal life purely in leisure like most supernaturals of her status."
I got to learn yet another fascinating side to the icy beauty. Yes, she definitely seems like the type to build her own empire from the shadows, I thought, smiling as Chloe's image flickered in my mind.
After a smooth drive, we reached the glittering heart of Nebula City and pulled up to the restaurant. A valet promptly took my keys and drove the sports car toward the private parking lot.
Written above the elegant glass doors in bold, golden characters was The Golden Tongue. We walked inside and were instantly greeted by a stunning hostess dressed in a sharp, tailored uniform.
"Welcome, dear clients. Do you have a reservation?"
"Yes, it's under the name White," Stella answered smoothly.
The woman checked her tablet and offered a polite bow. "Certainly. Right this way, please."
She led us to a secluded, beautifully decorated table by a large window overlooking the city lights. After we sat down and perused the menu, a waiter approached to take our orders. We requested our meals and asked for a bottle of their finest wine before he scurried away.
"It looks really nice in here," I told Stella, admiring the ambient lighting and tasteful decor.
"I told you so," she grinned. "But what I really want to know is if the cake is as good as the reviews say."
"Speaking of reviews and businesses," I started, leaning forward slightly, "the other night, the cleaning team you sent over was quite... special."
"Ah! What did you think of Clarice?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.
"She seems nice enough," I replied, my face involuntarily twisting into a pained grimace.
Stella caught the expression instantly and let out a knowing laugh. "Ah. It seems she hit you with a rather large fee."
"Yes! I didn't think sweeping up a few werewolf corpses and fixing some asphalt would require $70,000!" I complained, the phantom pain in my wallet flaring up again.
"In fact, it's perfectly normal that the cleaning of a highly destructive supernatural incident is expensive," Stella explained, resting her chin on her hands. "But as most supernaturals are obscenely rich, and she holds an absolute monopoly on this highly specialized business in the entire region, they can't exactly complain."
"Wait, the entire region? Did nobody ever think about trying to start their own rival cleaning business to undercut her prices?"
"Oh, they absolutely did," Stella laughed. "But they were promptly scared out of their wits by Clarice."
"Clarice? You mean the tiny pixie? Not Shawn, the giant bear-shifter?"
"It's true that she possesses a lot of massive, intimidating employees like Shawn, but they aren't the actual deterring force. Clarice by herself is the deterrent."
"She is that powerful?" I asked, highly intrigued.
"To a ridiculous degree," Stella nodded, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Don't be fooled by that sweet, bite-sized appearance. She's rumored to be significantly older than Atticus and Thorn combined. Her age is somewhere in the tens of thousands. Even I don't know her precise age."
My jaw dropped slightly. Most supernatural races accumulated power exponentially as they aged. If her age correlated directly with her combat prowess, then that tiny pixie was scary powerful.
"But that's not all," Stella continued, leaning in closer. "She has an extremely shocking identity. She's a literal demigoddess."
What?!
Gods were existences that I previously thought were entirely intangible myths, cosmic entities never to be seen or understood by mere mortals. And yet, who would have thought that I had casually paid a seventy-grand invoice to a literal demigod just two days ago?
"If that's the case, why does she waste her time running a glorified mafia cleanup crew?" I asked, utterly baffled. "With her divine status, she shouldn't be in any need of money."
Before Stella could answer, the waiter returned, seamlessly placing our gourmet dishes and the bottle of wine on the table. When he finally retreated, we dug in. The food was absolutely exquisite. With my system-improved senses, I could perfectly isolate and appreciate every single complex flavor profile. The spices didn't clash; they harmonized, turning the meal into a literal symphony on my tongue.
Once the initial distraction of the incredible food passed, Stella answered my question.
"Nobody knows for sure," she said, taking a delicate sip of her wine. "She used to inhabit the Faerie Realm, but she seems to have been permanently banned because she heavily offended one of the powers-that-be."
"The person she offended must be monstrously strong to be able to casually banish a demigoddess," I pointed out.
"True. But the most astonishing thing about Clarice isn't her lineage, it's her specific innate power," Stella said, her purple eyes glowing faintly in the dim restaurant light. "Her father is the actual God of Time in the Faerie Realm. Clarice can literally manipulate time to a certain extent. That's exactly how she can make a destroyed street or a totaled car effortlessly revert back to its pristine, previous state after a supernatural battle."
So that's how she did it... I thought, absolutely amazed by the sheer scale of the magic I had witnessed. She hadn't cast a mending spell; she had literally reversed time on my sports car.
For the rest of the dinner, we talked about a myriad of lighter topics—her childhood growing up with Chloe, my newly discovered billionaire family, and other random mundane stuff. And, of course, we managed to taste the legendary chocolate cake.
Just seeing the absolutely delighted, euphoric expression on Stella's face made the entire trip entirely worth it. She looked genuinely ecstatic from the very first bite. Her slightly flushed cheeks and the soft, entirely enticing look of pure culinary bliss on her face put me in a complete daze.
After dinner, I paid the bill, and we headed back to the car to make our way to the Drunken Moon.
As I navigated the bustling, neon-lit streets toward the supernatural club, I glanced over at her.
"I have a feeling you originally wanted to ask me something specific, and that's the real reason we're on a date tonight," I said, finally voicing the thought that had been nagging at the back of my mind. "Not that I didn't appreciate it, obviously. But we're already good friends, Stella. So don't stand on ceremony. Be candid with me."
She looked visibly surprised by my bluntness before letting out a soft, appreciative sigh.
"You're sharp," she admitted, her bubbly demeanor fading into something far more serious. "Yes. I have a massive request to ask of you. I actually talked about it extensively with Chloe beforehand, and she fully agreed that given your... unique abilities, you were the absolute only person I could safely ask right now."
She seemed incredibly tense.
"But let's wait until we actually arrive at the club," she said mysteriously, looking out the window at the passing city lights. "The walls have ears."
"Okay," I agreed, my mind now racing with a million different questions.
What kind of highly dangerous request required an immortal, indestructible meat-shield? And more importantly, why did Chloe—who usually kept everyone at an icy distance—agree that I was the only one who could do it?
Full of questions and a creeping sense of impending supernatural dread, I stepped heavily on the accelerator, speeding toward the Drunken Moon.