The morning light spilled into the small apartment, and Ken jolted awake at the sound of his alarm. His heart hammered in his chest until his eyes landed on the dark figure sitting perfectly still on his couch, a book resting in his lap. Ken scrambled back against the headboard before memory rushed in—he had invited Lucien here.
"Did you have another nightmare?" Lucien asked, closing the book with a soft thud.
"No... no. I... I thought you were the figure from the dream for a second," Ken panted, clutching his blanket. Then, his eyes widened. "Wait. I didn't. I didn't have the dream! What did you do? How did you stop it?"
Lucien stood up, his expression unreadable as he smoothed out his coat, completely ignoring the questions. "You should not worry about it. You will not see it again."
He headed for the door without another word.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Ken called out, scrambling toward the center of the room.
Hades didn't answer. He stepped out into the hallway, and Ken rushed to the window to watch him. He saw the black SUV purr to life as Lucien drove off into the morning mist.
"I don't get this guy sometimes," Ken muttered, a small, weary smile tugging at his lips. "But I'm grateful. Whatever he did... I actually slept."
Lucien didn't head to the university. Instead, he returned to the Dark Tower and sent a cold, psychic pulse through the veil to Sylvia. Gather the twelve. Emergency meeting. Now.
By the time he stepped out of the elevator into his penthouse, the air was already thick with the presence of the twelve Patrons of Death. They stood in a semi-circle, their auras flickering with power and ancient fear. But Hades' presence was a suffocating weight that silenced them all. It was the heavy, vile stench of True Death.
He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He walked directly toward one man: Delvon El Lucil. He could sense the difference presence in their aura and delvon's matched the one from Ken's apartment.
Before the mafia boss could blink, Hades' hand shot out, gripping Delvon's face with crushing force.
"How dare you," Hades hissed, his eyes bleeding into a bottomless, terrifying black. "How dare you defile what is mine. You made an unforgivable mistake."
Delvon's cool, arrogant exterior shattered. He gasped for air, his feet nearly leaving the floor. "Lord Hades... please... I can explain. I never knew you had him on your list. I was just... playing around."
The other eleven patrons remained frozen. None dared to breathe, let alone plead for their comrade.
"Tell me," Hades whispered, his voice vibrating with a frequency that cracked the nearby glass windows. "Do you threaten him as a Reaper, or as a gang leader?"
"As a gang leader, Lord Hades!" Delvon choked out. "I didn't mean to interfere with your plan. I will stay off... I won't hunt him ever again. I swear it!"
Hades stared into Delvon's soul for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he let go. Before Delvon could steady himself, Hades delivered a backhanded strike across the Patron's face. A searing line appeared on Delvon's cheek—a permanent scar etched by the King of the Underworld himself.
"That is the consequence of your greed," Hades stated coldly. "You are all dismissed. Except you, Delvon. You will make it up to him. I don't care how you do it, but you have one week. Do not dare me again."
Hades turned and walked toward his bedroom, his presence lingering like a dark cloud even after he vanished. One by one, the Patrons teleported away until only Delvon remained, trembling with rage and pain.
Back in his "Red Room" at the club, Delvon erupted. He smashed his mahogany desk, sending glass and papers flying. "That brat! How is he connected to the King? And now I have to grovel?"
He stopped suddenly, a jagged, manic smile spreading across his face as he touched the stinging scar on his cheek. "Ken... you won this round. But I promise you... you'll pay for this humiliation."
At school, Ken was in a daze of relief. When Lucien walked into the lecture hall later that morning, appearing as composed as ever, Ken decided to be brave. He walked up to Lucien's desk.
Lucien tilted his book down slightly. "What do you want this time?"
"Ehh... hmmm... I just wanted to say thank you," Ken stammered. "For saving me last night. I don't know what you did, but thanks a lot."
"It is fine," Lucien said, returning to his page.
"And also... I wanted to apologize for falsely accusing you yesterday. Please forgive my ignorance."
"As I said earlier," Hades replied immediately, "it is fine."
"And also, I—"
"It's fine!" Lucien countered, his voice sharp enough to cut the air.
Ken took a hasty step back, nodded, and retreated to his seat.
When the final bell rang, Ken went to his locker to swap his books for his waiter's vest. As he opened the door, a single red rose fell out, glued to a cream-colored envelope.
"Dear Kenny," was written on the front in elegant, sweeping script.
A love letter? Ken stared at it, confused. He didn't have time to process it, so he shoved it into his pocket and sprinted to the restaurant.
During his shift, he caught Amy and Laura at the counter. "Have you girls ever gotten a love letter before? What are you supposed to do with it?"
The girls instantly perked up. "Who's it from?" Amy asked.
"Is it Mr. Black? Did he finally confess?" Laura added with a smirk.
"I don't know who it's from, and I doubt it's him," Ken replied. "I don't think he moves that way."
"Did you read it?" Amy asked.
"No, I found it in my locker and I was late for work. I'll read it after the shift."
"I bet my money it's Mr. Black," Laura insisted. "He looks old school. Letter writing was his generation's thing."
"He looks too reserved for that," Amy countered. "Maybe it's a 'she'?"
The trio fell silent at that possibility. Before they could debate further, the manager's bell rang. "We'll talk later!" Ken said, rushing back to his tables.
As soon as the restaurant closed, the three of them walked to a large, gnarled tree in a nearby field. They sat in the grass, the moon hanging low in the sky.
Ken pulled the letter out, the rose still tucked in the fold. He took a deep breath, his heart racing with a strange mix of hope and anxiety, and broke the seal.