CHAPTER 100: YOU LIKE MY GIRL

Where would you find Hades and his bunch of henchmen in an evening if not in a room with blueprints, updating information, or scheming?

They had been deep in a serious conversation. Clarisse also had to fill them in on information she had gathered, the details of which were grim, involving shadowy figures and dangerous transactions.

No one quite knew how the topic had veered.

Hades, who had been unusually quiet, sat up with the sudden precision of someone struck by divine revelation. Or psychosis. Possibly both.

"Am I scary?" he asked, out of nowhere, his voice flat, devoid of its usual gravel.

Silence.

They all froze. Milo looked up from his tablet. Gavin paused his glass halfway to his mouth. Rowan blinked. Clarisse, the only woman in the room, looked like she’d just stumbled into the wrong movie.

There was silence. Not heavy. Just... confused.

Hades’s patience, thin at the best of times, snapped. "Answer me!" he barked, the command echoing with sudden, familiar menace.

Well, would you look at that?

Gavin exhaled slowly, a faint sigh of exasperation. "Cut it out, Boss." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "It’s your brand."

Hades ignored him, his gaze sweeping over the strategic board at the center of the room. Dawin’s photo stared back at them from under a few red markers and yellow sticky notes. It was supposed to be for surveillance planning, but now it felt like a silent, infuriating challenge.

"Who’s better?" Hades asked suddenly, his voice sharper this time.

That made heads turn, all eyes on him.

"...Better at what?" Milo asked, cautiously.

"In general," Hades said, vaguely, his eyes still fixed on Dawin’s image. "Me or him?"

They stared at him. The silence returned, thicker now, laced with an uncomfortable dread.

Clarisse blinked, her perfectly composed façade slipping for a fraction of a second. She looked utterly lost, as if she’d suddenly stumbled into a bizarre, high-stakes, confusing movie plot. What the hell was happening?

Rowan, unfortunately, took the bait. He leaned forward, clearing his throat with all the dignity of a condemned man.

"Permission to be honest, Boss?"

Hades shrugged, a dismissive gesture. "Go ahead."

Rowan took a deep breath. "Let’s analyze Dawin’s profile from well... outside perspective." He started, his voice adopting a formal, almost academic tone. "First of all, Dawin Wildfire is, as you know, practically the nation’s husband. Handsome, the undisputed heir to the Wildfire empire, a politician, potential president if all goes well. He’s a perfect A-lister. A gentleman. Educated. Classy. Likely to help an old lady cross the street and then launch a clean energy initiative in her name. No scandal. The internet loves him. Now..." Rowan paused, perhaps considering his next words a little too cavalierly. "As for Boss... well, you’re good-looking, yes. But you’re not an heir. Not a politician. You’re a perfect F. And you are not a gentleman. So how else would you want to measure yourself to—"

It was like thousands of crows suddenly erupted outside, their caws filling the sudden, thick silence in the room. Rowan paused mid-sentence, the realization of his grave error dawning on him. His eyes flickered to Hades’s face, which had become utterly still, dangerously blank.

Milo was suddenly looking at the ceiling like it was a precious gem. Clarisse looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but there. Gavin had subtly shifted his weight, ready for the inevitable eruption.

"Are you courting death, Rowan?" Hades asked, his voice a low, terrifying whisper that promised a slow, painful demise.

Rowan’s eyes widened. "I was asked to be honest, Boss!" he squeaked, his voice cracking slightly.

Milo, seizing the opportunity to save his comrade, quickly interjected. "Boss, Boss! Even if I don’t exactly agree with some... language Rowan used, he’s got a point. Dawin’s the whole package if you look at it like that. And from the look of things... he was a little too nice to the little miss today." Milo emphasized "too nice" with a pointed look at the photo of Dawin.

Hades let out a dry, humorless laugh that grated on their nerves. He stood up, his gaze still fixed on Dawin’s perfect face on the strategic board.

"Where are you going, Boss?" Milo asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

Hades turned, his dark eyes colder than the depths of the underworld. "I don’t like to beat around the bush." His voice was low, laced with a chilling resolve. "He will explain himself."

"To you?" Clarisse asked, her voice a surprised squeak. "Now?!" She turned to look at Gavin, expecting him to at least say something, but Gavin looked like he could not be bothered by anything. He merely took another sip of wine, his thoughts already miles away.

And with that, Hades strode out of the study, leaving behind two bewildered men, one utterly lost woman, and one unbothered man, all staring at the empty doorway.

"Can someone explain what the hell is going on?" Clarisse said, looking at the three, her confusion palpable.

Milo hit his hand on the table. Dramatically. For no reason at all. "It’s simple," he started, a wide. "Boss has a tiny unknown crush on little miss. And it seemed like Dawin is crushing on her. And Boss doesn’t like it—"

"Wait..." Clarisse looked stunned, her eyes widening. "For real?" She looked at the three men, seeking confirmation.

Rowan shrugged. Gavin ignored them, staring into his wine glass. Milo nodded vigorously.

"A love triangle?" Clarisse muttered, then a new thought struck her. "So... who does the lady like?"

Milo snorted. "If you were her, would you like any of them? They both are weird."

"Yeah. So it’s not a triangle. Just maybe a cone with a naked bum?" Rowan said to Clarisse, grinning, clearly amused by his own absurd analogy.

The three looked at Rowan. Like they were trying to cringe at the kind of meaningless things he says but too exhausted to even do that.

"I never thought I’d get to see the day the boss would be fighting over a lady. Ah!" As soon as Clarisse said that, it was as if the angel of death passed and they all thought the same thing.

He... wasn’t going to fight with Dawin right?

----

Block A

Roasted duck. Veggies. Pasta. Salads. Bright lights. Wine. Juice.

The vast dining hall had all that, arranged with exquisite precision on a table long enough to host a small army.

Yet...

Dawin sat alone at the end of the long table, clad in a black silk shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. He was eating, slow, deliberate, with the calm grace of someone who knew the world would wait for him to finish chewing. Every movement was a study in practiced control.

Not even a single attendant hovered near him. The usual retinue of servants was conspicuously absent, leaving him in solitary grandeur, a king in his quiet castle.

That was the sight Hades met when he entered.

He entered like a devilish energy that seemed to absorb the light from the chandeliers. His presence was an immediate, jarring intrusion on the serene tableau.

Dawin didn’t look up immediately. He seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to ignore the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

He cut a piece of duck.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Then finally, slowly, raised his eyes. "You came." It wasn’t a question. It was an acknowledgement. A simple one.

Hades didn’t bother with greetings. He didn’t ask for permission. He simply moved, his steps deliberate, echoing faintly on the polished floor. "Everyone?"

Dawin gestured casually with his fork towards the empty seats. "Father’s ’working.’ Van’s vanished, as always. Mother—well. Hard to tell with her." His tone was light, dismissive.

Hades approached, hands in pockets, his gaze sweeping over the room, missing nothing of its quiet, calculated power. He stopped beside a dining chair directly across from Dawin.

Dawin tilted his head slightly, "Do you want dinner? There’s a lot for two. Or more." His eyes flickered to the empty chairs.

Hades paused, his gaze locking with Dawin’s. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement that was itself an act of quiet aggression, he pulled out the chair and sat down. The scrape of wood on marble was the loudest sound in the room.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I didn’t know you enjoyed sports," Hades said finally, his voice flat, his dark eyes never leaving Dawin’s.

Dawin looked at him, his gaze without any hostility. Just plain. Nice. Like typical Dawin. A perfect, unruffled gentleman.

"Fair we don’t know much about each other. You’ve been away for a while. But I am open to having bonding times." His tone was infuriatingly cordial, almost patronizing.

"Are you sure? You’ve been really... busy..." Hades’s eyes fell, almost inadvertently, on Dawin’s right hand. His knuckles. Slightly bruised.

Dawin followed his gaze, a fleeting flicker of something unreadable in his blue eyes, before he picked up a glass of water and drank slowly, deliberately. His eyes first on Hades, then inside the glass, as if inspecting the clarity of the water.

Hades’s voice cut through the stillness, cold and precise. "You like my girl."

Dawin slowly stopped drinking, the glass still at his lips, but he didn’t lower it. He leaned back, studying Hades over the rim. His gaze was now shrewd, analytical. "You look unsettled, brother. That’s new."