CHAPTER 22: CHAPTER 022: HUG PHOTO EXPOSED! STEPHEN’S SHOCK!

Late at night.

Lorien drove his Ferrari into the building’s underground parking lot.

Taking the private elevator up to his apartment, he slipped off his shoes, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the wine rack, and strolled to the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking a slow drink.

"Hoo..."

To be honest, as he sipped the whiskey, his mind wandered back to the heat of that moment in the dark corner.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it.

For those few brief moments, if not for the sound of their breathing, he might have forgotten that time was even passing.

And when happiness makes you lose track of time—that’s the best kind of happiness there is.

He glanced toward Stark Tower.

Then toward Oscorp Tower.

Taking another swig, he sighed to himself.

"Heroes? Wealth? Power? Ability? Fame?

Which of these makes people truly happy?

None of them.

When all of those are just extras in your life—that’s when you’re happiest.

Doing whatever you want isn’t the greatest power.

The real power is not having to do what you don’t want to do."

Yes. That was true happiness and freedom.

Lorien had no desire to be a superhero, nor to join something like the Avengers.

That wasn’t real happiness.

And it certainly wasn’t true freedom.

Only when he could act on his own will—and refuse when he chose—could he call it freedom and joy.

And his bottom line? That wasn’t set by anyone else.

It came from his own self-respect and personal morals.

He lived with himself at the center of everything.

The life he longed for was simple:

Peaceful, happy days of coasting through life—and the company of the women he liked.

...

The next morning, just past eight, Lorien woke naturally, took a quick shower, and headed to work.

He had barely settled into his chair when, at 9:10 a.m., the door to his office swung open and a surgeon walked in.

Leaning back in his recliner with his legs propped on the desk, eyes on the 3D projection TV to the side, Lorien didn’t even glance over.

"It’s 9:10. Don’t tell me you came here to drag me to a party."

"Of course not."

Stephen stepped inside, quickly crossed over to Lorien, gave him a once-over, and said, "I saw yesterday’s New York report. In one of the photos, you’re standing right next to a superhero. You were actually on-site in a situation that dangerous? You’re not hurt, are you?"

Lorien nodded calmly. "Yeah, I was there. Nothing happened. Slept like a baby last night."

Stephen let out a long breath. "Good."

Then, without warning, he pulled out his phone and held up a screenshot.

"But what’s the deal with this photo?"

Lorien turned his head—and paused. "They even got that on camera."

Well, look at that. It was a shot of him and Wanda in an embrace.

Just as he’d expected, someone had caught the moment overnight. Now even Stephen had seen it.

At least the kiss had happened tucked away in a corner. Otherwise, Lorien might already be bracing for a Scarlet Witch fanbase meltdown.

"Let me see that."

Taking Stephen’s phone, Lorien studied the picture. Wanda’s posture was irresistibly soft—despite her statuesque, mature figure, she looked like a delicate little bird resting against his chest.

The two of them together, with their perfectly matched builds, looked almost... meant to be.

"Not bad. I’m satisfied with that one."

He handed the phone back with an approving nod. "Got any others?"

"No." Stephen pocketed his phone. "The rest are just normal shots, nothing interesting.

But seriously—how long has it even been? A month? No, right?

No wonder you’re not into ordinary girls. Turns out you go for superheroes!"

Stephen’s expression was equal parts helpless and exasperated, as if he’d known this was Lorien’s game from the start.

Lorien wanted to argue.

But then he thought about it—and realized... ever since arriving in the Marvel Universe, his first instinct had been to chase after its women.

Well. When you put it that way... Stephen wasn’t wrong.

Tsk. Fine. You win.

Lorien opened his mouth to reply, but decided to keep watching TV instead.

Stephen, however, wasn’t done.

"Actually," he continued, thinking of the ridiculous rumors he’d heard lately, "I don’t think it’s just superheroes. At this rate, you might even end up with gods."

Gods?

...Okay, sure, there were some goddesses worth noting.

Wait, no. Not the time for that.

"No, no, no." Lorien cut him off, shaking his head.

"I’m not thinking that far ahead. I’m a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, you know?

If I meet a truly great woman, I won’t let her slip away. But if I’m not into someone, I’m just not into them—I’m not out here daydreaming about every name on the list."

He patted Stephen’s shoulder.

"How about you? How’s it going with Christine?"

The moment Lorien mentioned her name, Stephen’s expression shifted to something... complicated.

"Uh..."

Because truthfully, he didn’t know what to call whatever was going on between him and Christine.

That thin layer separating "more than friends" from "not quite lovers" could be paper-thin and easy to pierce—or impossibly hard to cross.

As anyone who’s read enough romance manga knows, plenty of people stay stuck there their whole lives.

Stephen was one of them.

In Doctor Strange 2, he’d ended up regretting Christine for an entire lifetime.