Phei
flat-out
refused.
Same as always. Same as every other time the universe tried to drop a grand piano made of cosmic horror onto his shoulders and expected him to catch it while
grinning
like an idiot.
He simply... declined the invitation to panic.
Phei walked out of that restaurant with calm, deliberate strides, as though he had decided the apocalypse could kindly fuck off until after dessert.
Eira floated beside him in perfect silence. Wings folded, with none of her usual chirps or sarcastic commentaryânone of her ancient wisdom delivered in that deceptively sweet voice that always had razor blades hidden underneath.
She knew this quiet. Ten years she had watched him, and in the time she had spent actually speaking with him, she had learned the signs.
When Phei went silent like this, it wasnât emptiness.
It was
pressure.
The slow, subterranean buildup of a volcano deciding exactly where and how violently it was going to erupt. And when it finally did, the blast would be surgical, devastating, and utterly non-negotiable.
This particular silence mattered.
He knew what was coming. The
Destined Day
. The enslavement mission. The Legacy boys who had spent years torturing him now suddenly needing to be collared like
feral
dogs before they tore his throat out.
The main Legacy families probably didnât know yetâthey couldnât read the strings of fate, didnât have anyone who could.
If they did, they would already be sharpening knives and drafting wills... make sure he accidentally killed one of them or more!
And that was the part that made Pheiâs stomach twist into cold knots. Because in this world, nobody passed up an advantage they could see. Nobody hesitated. The Maxtons hadnât hesitated to plot against his father. Before that, they hadnât hesitated to murder an infantâa helpless baby who couldnât even crawlâsimply to awaken the first
Jörmungandr Prince
and hijack dragon power for themselves.
If they ever learned about the Destined Day ruleâif the Heavenchilds, the Prices, or any of those bloodlines discovered that killing their own sons at Pheiâs hands would trigger
Supreme Immortal
resurrectionâthey wouldnât blink. Not a pause, a dramatic gasp, not even a token
"are we the villains?"
moment.
Theyâd sacrifice their children like pawns on a chessboard, except with worse parenting reviews.
Feed them to him like
sacrificial lambs
with a complimentary side of generational trauma.
Let their heirs die screaming, because the version that came back would be a dragon-killing weapon pointed straight at the boy whoâd dared crawl out of the gutter and not stay there like he was supposed to.
Theyâd kill their own for the head start. Then enslave or erase Phei before he could return the favorâbecause nothing says
"elite legacy family"
quite like committing
atrocities
first and asking moral questions
never.
It would cost themâsame way it had cost the Maxtons when they sent Cassiopeia in blindâbut theyâd pay it.
Of course they would.
These families had been spending children like pocket change for centuries. One more wouldnât even make them flinch.
Honestly, at this point, if they
did
hesitate, itâd be
out of character.
Phei wasnât stupid.
He knew how lucky he was to have this information first.
Knew the difference between knowing and not knowing was literally the difference between
breathing
and being
buried
âbetween walking away and being zipped into a very expensive coffin not many would cry over for long.
He also had zero illusions about himselfâabout how cruel and hollow he became when survival was on the line, how fast the warmth in him could freeze into something that didnât negotiate, didnât hesitate, didnât feel.
A
version
of him that would absolutely ruin someoneâs bloodline and sleep just fine afterward.
Heâd act first. Always. Never let them get close the way Cassiopeia almost had.
But
today?
Today he was allowing himself silence.
And a little fun.
Because the universe deciding to serve him existential dread on a silver platter didnât mean the
newly rich
young dragon had to stop living.
Heâd spent ten years poor, powerless, and miserableâbasically the universeâs favorite punching bag. Heâd had powers for one week. One. Seven days.
Barely enough time to enjoy it before fate came knocking with a bill.
He was going to enjoy the week, thank you very much, and the cosmic horror could wait its damn turn behind the dinner reservations like everyone else.
Speaking of funâ
Tonight he had the Montgomery dinner. With Melissa and Sierraâs parents. The conversation that would decide whether the girl he loved got torn in half between him and her familyâor somehow walked away with
both
women which honestly felt like trying to win a war and a peace treaty at the same time.
But someone was calling dibs.
His phone buzzed.
Maddie.
She wanted him to meet someone. Of course she did. Because clearly his schedule wasnât already trying to kill him. But since today was already shaping up to be a full-contact marathon, sheâd postponed it for tomorrow. A rare moment of mercy. Heâd take it.
Phei thumbed a quick reply:
Tomorrow I want all of you to clear your schedules for a few days. I have a surprise.
Sent.
Then he copy-pasted the same message into the harem group chatâbecause efficiency mattered, and also because
chaos was more fun in
bulk.
The replies detonated like fireworks:
Maya:
a string of incomprehensible emojis followed by three question marks and a screaming faceâtranslation unclear, but energy unmistakable.
Sierra:
typing... deleting... typing again... clearly overthinking it... finally just a single ?
!âwhich
somehow conveyed an entire emotional crisis.
Melissa:
Noted. somehow managing to make two syllables sound like a royal decree and a boardroom decision at the same time.
Delilah:
already flooding the chat with planning memes, calendar screenshots, and heart-eyes emojis like sheâd been waiting her whole life for this exact moment.
Phei pocketed the phone.
The car was waiting. Melissa behind the wheel, Sienna in shotgun scrolling like her life depended on itâVictoria and Delilah in the back already whispering like conspirators who absolutely could not be trusted.
**
"Melissaâthe shoot schedule?" Phei asked a few minutes in the drive.
"Starts two day from now in evening."
He nodded. "Good. Tell the others about the surprise. Donât tell them what it is. And if anyoneâs not in the group yet, loop them in."
Delilahâs thumbs were already a blur with speed and fangirl enthusiasm levels, which was honestly a terrifying combination.
"Drop me at the
Tanaka Estate
," Phei said. "You lot go prep for tomorrow. Like, actual time-away prep. Not
âI packed vibes and forgot everything elseâ
prep."
Melissa glanced at him in the rearview. "What are you doing at the
Tanakas?
Thanking them? Congratulating them for
buying
Maxton Tech?"
He laughedâshort, sharp, genuine. "No. Iâm meeting a certain
princess.
Overdue. Havenât properly thanked her for helping me and the
Simps
on game day."
Victoria scoffed from the back seat. "A meeting thatâll probably end with Paradise losing another
princess
to you."
Phei shrugged, completely unbothered, like this was just another Tuesday in his increasingly ridiculous life. "What can I say? The universe has become
suspiciously generous
lately. Alsoâhow does one
resist
a princessâs desires?
Feels rude, honestly."
Victoria opened her mouthâthen closed it. Swallowed whatever retort had been loaded and filed it neatly in the mental drawer labeled
Later
. She remembered the last time sheâd pushed him. Remembered how close sheâd come to dying for it.
She wanted to say heâd refused her.
Some lessons didnât need repeating.
And some people didnât need a second warning.
Sienna didnât even look up from her phone.
"While youâre at it,"
she said, her voice flat as a flatline,
"buy a fucking car.
We canât keep chauffeuring your ass around and waiting for you to finish your little royal audiences like weâre your personal Uber Black fleet. You have millions. Stop being
stingy
as fuck."
Melissa glanced at Sienna. Then at the rest of the girls. A silent ripple passed between themâshared understanding, shared suffering, shared
finally someone said it
.
Then they laughedâloud, bright, genuine and it carried just a little bit of long-overdue vindication.
Phei leaned toward Sienna. Close. Then closer than necessary, like he was deliberately testing the boundaries of both
space
and
patience.
His presence pressed in, warm and deliberate, his mouth near her ear.
"Seems like my money hurts you more than the others," he whispered, voice low and teasing, threaded with amusement that bordered on reckless.
"The robot has feelings for money, huh?"
Sienna closed her phone.
Slowly. Calmly like she was closing a book right before deciding violence might be a reasonable next Chapter.
"If you whisper in my ear that close again," she said quietly, her tone controlled with surgical precision, "I will
retaliate."
There was no rise in her voice. No dramatics. Just a statement, clean and absolute, like a contract waiting to be signed in blood.
Phei opened his mouth, curiosity already sharpening into mischief, ready to test exactly how serious she wasâbecause of course he would.
Self-preservation
had always been more of a
suggestion
than a rule with him.
"Weâve arrived at the Tanaka residence,"
Melissa announced, her voice perfectly neutral, cutting through the moment like a blade through silk.
The car stopped.
The retaliation would have to wait.