CHAPTER 45: OF ALL THE WORDS

Definitely not Riley.

He was definitely not laughing.

If anyone asked who would become the centerpiece of supernatural gossip in under twelve hours, it certainly wasn’t supposed to be him.

Because while he’d faced many flavors of fear since starting this job—physical danger, social embarrassment, magical combustion, the usual—nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for this.

This was new.

This was worse.

There were eyes. So many eyes. Eyes glowing, blinking, some even squinting like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing. Most were fixed on him with a mixture of awe, alarm, and... yes. There it was.

Pity.

Pure, heartfelt pity.

And Riley had no idea why. Not until he stepped foot into the lobby.

Not until the realization smacked him like a celestial frying pan.

Because, unknown to him, just moments before his perfectly innocent attempt to check in for attendance, something... unprecedented happened.

The Treant representative, normally masters of calm, composed hive-mind diplomacy, had broken formation.

He was too stunned to contain the broadcast. The moment the bomb dropped, his mental barrier flickered so hard it cracked.

And when one Treant’s thoughts slipped—every connected Treant across the continent saw it.

The memory.

The moment.

The "Honey."

Riley Hale, aide to Dragon Lord Kael Dravaryn, was no longer just an unfortunate mortal with a death wish and a fragile spine.

He was the "Honey."

And thanks to hive-mind recall, all Treants saw it happen as if they’d been sitting in front of Kael in that meeting room.

As if they’d all witnessed the universe shift.

The secret of the millennia revealed.

And they could not shut up about it.

So it spread.

It spread like enchanted pollen during spring festival sales.

And Riley—poor, clueless Riley—walked straight into the aftermath.

He had only just crossed the threshold of the Ministry’s lobby when the room shifted.

Literally.

Heads turned. Slowly. Mechanically. Like ancient trees creaking toward sunlight.

Roots that had been spreading leisurely across the polished floors froze in place and pulled back like someone caught with their hands in the dirt.

Even magical beings who didn’t usually bat an eye at anything stopped mid-task. The kraken’s distant cousin, who had been mid-plop toward the information desk, froze mid-air. Suspended. Wide-eyed.

Every. Single. Being.

Paused.

Then, as if choreographed by some unholy force of timing, they turned to face him in eerie, unified silence.

Riley blinked.

Then—

They bowed.

Not a nod. Not a polite incline of the head.

A full-on, spine-cracking, ceremonial bow.

And from somewhere near the information desk, a voice rang out:

"Greetings, Lord Riley."

"..."

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

Because Riley—who now felt his soul evacuate through the soles of his shoes—knew exactly what had happened.

This was not a greeting.

This was a funeral march.

A slow, reverent, root-twisting procession to his doom.

He was going to die.

Today.

Right here.

In the Ministry lobby.

By public humiliation.

His hands trembled. His vision blurred. And somewhere inside, he could already hear the eulogy being written.

Here lies Riley Hale. Survivor of magical attacks, paperwork disasters, and Kael’s mood swings—defeated not by violence, but by the title ’Honey’ spoken aloud before an audience of interspecies diplomats.

He could already see the tombstone.

And he wasn’t even dead yet.

Riley bolted toward the levitator like a man on the run.

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t want to stay in that lobby a second longer, not when everyone was staring at him like he’d just been offered up as the Ministry’s newest sacrificial maiden.

He practically punched the levitator button.

Then paused.

Now what?

Was he really going up? Into the belly of the beast?

Could he fake a cough? Claim a sudden illness? Spontaneous magical plague?

Not that it would be a lie. He did feel like he was going to break out in a full-body fever any second now.

In all his years of working here—in all his years of existing—never had he imagined he’d become this kind of headline.

He used to judge people for getting themselves into messy rumors.

Used to think, How careless must you be?

And now?

He was the walking scandal.

The levitator dinged.

Too late to run now.

Riley dragged his feet out and immediately ran into Lyra.

The receptionist looked like she’d just emerged from the other side of a cosmic revelation. Her pupils were dilated. Her expression blank with wonder and dread.

Well, how could she not be when she’d just gotten the news from her sisters? To think she had been waiting just outside the very room where it all happened, and yet it seemed like she was the last to know!

Which made sense. She had been stationed just outside the sound-protected meeting room earlier. And with no one else around, she could only wait to hear this news from someone who bothered to inform her.

To think she was on the same floor where everything happened.

Where the projection echoed.

Where the two uncanniest beings in Eryndra said, "Honey."

For a moment, they stared at each other like survivors of the same explosion.

Then Lyra vanished from her desk and reappeared right in front of him.

Riley flinched. He was ready to duck or scream.

Instead, Lyra patted his back like he’d just returned from a ten-year war.

"Riley," she whispered gently, "you’ve worked really hard."

"...Huh?"

"Now we understand."

Understand what?

Lyra had that look. The one people got when they made peace with the mysteries of the universe. Or watched a tragic romance unfold in real time.

"But just in case..." she added, eyes narrowing in subtle concern. "If you’re being threatened, please blink three times. Or five, because with you humans, we can never be sure, you all blink too much."

Then she leaned in.

"Not that we can save you. But we could at least sympathize."

Riley opened his mouth to respond, but Lyra cheerfully continued like that wasn’t the most terrifying thing anyone had ever said to him.

"Oh! Right! The boss had been looking for you since earlier. Something about a missing contract? For the restoration of the living wall?"

That snapped him right back to reality.

"Missing?" Riley echoed, voice rising.

"What do you mean by missing? I left the red folders by the—"

"There! Red folder!" Lyra pointed in alarm as Riley turned and also pointed at the same damn thing like it had personally offended him.

His hand trembled.

This?!

This folder was the reason he almost became merfolk bait?! If he was correct, then Kael must have contacted him for these.

"What? Wasn’t that from the earlier meeting?" Lyra asked innocently, her eyes widening in horror.

"No! I placed all the copies there. In preparation!" Riley’s voice cracked.

"Oh. The others who used the room for that emergency meeting probably mistook them. I only saw this one left. Didn’t think it was yours since it was just lying there. I’m so sorry!"

Riley facepalmed.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Technically, this wasn’t Lyra’s fault.

So he managed to keep his voice steady as he said, "No, it’s okay... But could you do me a favor? Please check if the other folders are still around. We need to recover as many as we can. I’ll just... go prep new ones."

Lyra nodded, thinking he was trying very hard to be professional despite being annoyed. She even felt bad because it was also her mistake for not checking the contents right away. She’d been too preoccupied with cleaning everything to avoid angering their boss.

What she didn’t realize was that Riley was internally screaming with joy.

Because if he had to prepare new contracts... that meant he didn’t need to face Kael right away!

This was a gift. A divine delay!

He could taste temporary freedom!

He turned, ready to throw himself into blessed, dragon-free paperwork—

—and the meeting room door opened.

No.

At the far end of the room sat Kael.

Majestic. Silent. On fire with unspoken judgment.

His eyes zeroed in.

Not on the folders.

Not on the room.

But on Riley’s hand.

Which was still sitting gently, comfortingly, on Lyra’s shoulder.

"..."

The silence that followed could’ve curdled milk.

The people inside shifted. Their eyes moved from Kael to Riley, then to Lyra, then back to Kael again.

Then Kael spoke.

"Care to join us, or do you need more time?"

The fire in the hearth behind him flickered with menace.

Riley, ironically, was frozen.

Trapped.

Dead.

And Riley, who was pretty sure he hadn’t sinned that badly in this life, could not, for the life of him, understand why Lyra thought the best possible response was to blurt out, "My Lord! I swear he’s not my type!"