"red wine would be perfect, and a glass for two," Lance replied, his tone effortless and polished.
"Certainly. I will be back in just a moment," Ken said with a polite nod before turning toward the cellar.
Hades watched the boy retreat, his gaze lingering a second too long. Lance, observing the rare flicker of interest in his master's eyes, leaned in slightly. "Lord Hades, are you acquainted with him?"
Hades shifted his focus back to the stack of legal documents. "No. His resilience… it captured my interest, that is all. It is of no consequence." He paused, his expression hardening. "Regardless, Lance, I need you to discard the name 'Hades' in public settings. I have chosen the identity of Lucien Luther; address me as such."
"As you wish, Lord Lucien," he replied.
"And discard the title as well," Hades countered, his voice like grinding ice. "It is entirely unnecessary and invites curiosity I have no patience to satisfy."
"Would 'Sir Lucien' suffice?" he ventured.
"That will do." He snapped the file shut.
Moments later, Ken returned with the wine. He moved with a practiced, hurried efficiency, pouring the glasses to the perfect level before leaving the bottle and slipping away. Hades didn't look up this time, his attention seemingly consumed by the identity papers.
Across the room, at the service counter, Ken's colleagues, Amy and Laura, were watching him with knowing smirks.
"Didn't you notice how he looked at you?" Amy whispered, nudging Ken's shoulder.
"Who?" Ken asked, genuinely puzzled as he polished a wine glass.
"The man in black," Laura replied, gesturing toward the table. "The one you just served."
Ken turned, glancing back at hades table. "Oh, him? He barely glanced at me. He was far more interested in that file."
"No," Amy insisted, her eyes gleaming. "Not that time. I meant the moment you first approached the table. He looked at you as if you were the only light in this entire room."
Ken let out a short, scoffing laugh. "You two are delusional. Look at him—he's wearing a suit that probably costs more than my tuition. We live in two different worlds. He's looking at a waiter; he's probably just calculating the price of the wine."
"Stop downplaying yourself, Ken," Amy giggled, falling deep into her favorite fantasy. "This is exactly how those billionaire romance novels start. The cold, powerful CEO finds a struggling soul, falls in love, and sweeps him away from his hardships. It's a classic."
Ken placed the glass back on the counter, his expression weary. "You read too many tropes, Amy. This is real life. I don't have time for a relationship, let alone a fairy tale. I have exams, a hospitalized mother, and three jobs. A romance is a luxury I cannot afford."
"That's the point!" Laura interjected, her eyes bright. "If a man like that took an interest in you, you wouldn't have to work. You could focus on your studies, pay for your mother's care, and finally breathe. It would be a win-win."
"Miracles don't exist in our reality," Ken muttered, but his words lacked conviction as he glanced at the table.
"Look, your mystery man is leaving," Amy whispered.
Ken stood up. Lucien was already heading for the door with Lance in tow. They had barely touched their wine. Ken hurried to the table to clear it. As he gathered the glasses, he froze. A single, crisp bill sat on the tray.
One thousand dollars tip.
His breath hitched. That was more than his entire monthly salary from his newspaper route. He looked toward the door, then back at the money. Don't be ridiculous, he told himself, though his heart hammered against his ribs. You're worlds apart.
"You won't believe this," Ken whispered, rushing back to the counter. "He tipped me a thousand dollars and paid fifty thousand dollars cash for the wine they barely touched."
Amy and Laura shrieked, then quickly muffled their voices as the patrons nearby turned to stare.
"Keep it down!" Ken hissed, his face flushing. "It's probably just a mistake. Or maybe he's just… a very eccentric rich guy."
Laura reached out, grabbing Ken's hand. "Kenny, maybe it's time you stop fighting fate. That wasn't a mistake. I know what love looks like, and I know what obsession looks like. This? This is the start of something."
Ken pulled his hand away, frustration bubbling up. "Laura, you are officially delusional." He grabbed his tray and retreated to the kitchen, leaving the two women to their theories.
"One year," Laura mused, watching him go. "I bet you one hundred dollars he'll be dating that man within a year."
"You're on," Amy laughed. "Though I hope for your sake you're right."
Later that night, the penthouse was a tomb of silence. The rain lashed against the soundproof glass, turning the city lights into blurred smears of neon. Lucien stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the abyss of the city. He was monumentally bored.
Sylvia stepped into the room, bowing low. "Lord Hades, We have a meeting with the board tomorrow. They expect to be introduced to their new CEO. Will you attend?"
"I suppose," he replied, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "My apartment has become suffocating."
When she left, Lucien felt an itch he hadn't felt in centuries. He wandered to his dressing room, pulling a long, black umbrella from a collection he rarely touched. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, stepping out into the deluge.
He walked for hours, a ghost moving through the rain-slicked streets. He sought something like a thrill, a challenge, a sign of life but found only the mundane rhythm of the city. He turned to head back when he saw him.
Ken was huddled under the thin awning of a shuttered shop, shivering violently. He had finished his final shift, it was past midnight, and the cold rain had sapped the last of his energy. He looked smaller, weaker, and undeniably tired.
Lucien stopped. He should have kept walking. He had no reason to intervene in the life of a mortal. Yet, the same dark curiosity from the restaurant pulled at him like a gravity well. He approached the boy, his silhouette looming large against the storm.
Without a word, Lucien pulled off his heavy, expensive coat. He draped it over Ken's shoulders, the fabric warm and dry against Ken's soaked skin. Then, he pressed the handle of the umbrella into the boy's trembling hands.
Ken looked up, his silver-grey eyes wide with shock, but before he could speak, Lucien had already turned, walking back into the rain without a backward glance.