Chapter 6: The Unscheduled Arrival of a Mischievous God

Min was gone—vanished in a puff of purple magic. But Rheon wasn’t. And the thread between them pulled taut—like I was the knot they both pretended not to untie, even as the tension hummed beneath my skin. If Min was the shield, Rheon was the spark—the kind that danced on the edge of a blade, laughing like a Norse god with too many secrets. The silence he left behind wasn’t empty—it buzzed, low and electric, like the room remembered him better than I did. Rheon didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His gaze was already halfway through a sentence I hadn’t agreed to read, let alone finish.

I shifted, just enough to break the line of sight. Just enough to pretend I wasn’t waiting for him to say something dangerous. Or kind. Or both.

“I don’t play the villain. I play the part that makes heroes flinch and other gods reconsider—and I do it in style.” Rheon drawled, like mischief was a language he’d mastered. Other Gods? He's a......God? God. The word felt too big for the room, too sharp for the way he looked at me—like I was something he’d already claimed. I wanted to laugh. Or run. Or kneel. Instead, I stared, waiting for the punchline. “Heroes curse my name. Gods whisper it. I don’t mind—I was born to be the story they can’t stop telling." Suddenly, he vanished, but I felt a hot breath on my neck, and a voice whispered low but existing, hoping to make a lasting impression. "It's inevitable, darlin" The voice whispered seductively. "You think you’re destiny?”  I asked. His eyes sparkled with something ancient and amused. “Oh, darlin’, I’m the wildcard fate keeps under the table—until the game’s already mine.” His voice carried heavy burdens like he had a Glorious Purpose. "W-Who are you?" My voice trembled as the silence answered my question until the tension was finally broken. "Rōki...." The word echoed as he spoke it like a secret that had been hidden for thousands of years. Everyone paused and stared as green magic engulfed Rheon's hands, followed by a bitterly sweet laugh that echoed. Rōki......I should've known. That God....... His touch barely kissed my skin, but it bloomed like a secret I’d sworn I didn’t have. Then he vanished—of course he did.

But the heat stayed. So did the pull. And the knowing—that I’d been claimed by something older than prophecy and far less polite. Not a lover. Not just a villain. Just the kind of god who rewrites endings and signs his name in green fire. One vanished in green fire, the other in silence and purple. And me? I stood there, unsure which myth I belonged to.