Ch. 79 – I Always Knew

Rhys stepped deeper into the role of the master operative, weaving seamlessly through the floating display of ancient power. He marvelled aloud at the breathtaking artifacts, pressing for details on their histories, laying down layer after layer of false security. Then, with pristine, practiced nonchalance, he pointed toward the unassuming dark mahogany cat drifting in its faint golden orb and played dumb.

"What about this little thing?" Rhys asked, tilting his head with innocent curiosity. "Seems pretty modest compared to planetary war-hammers and stellar cores."

Shula visibly tensed. Her bronze skin paled slightly, and her golden eyes flashed with sudden, tight alarm.

Rhys inwardly relished the hit; he absolutely loved that he could strike a nerve so clean and deep. But as he savored the momentum, the shadowy, looming figure of Omen materialized directly in front of him in his mind's eye, blocking his view with an imposing, impatient darkness.

“Quit stalling already! We don’t have the luxury to wait anymore!” the dark reflection bellowed, its voice echoing like thunder across Rhys's conscious thought.

Shula quickly tried to smooth her features, opening her mouth to play it off like the figurine was an insignificant trinket. But Rhys didn't give her the chance. He cut her off mid-breath, springing his trap with cold, surgical precision.

Rhys’s face darkened, the charming guest mask slipping away to reveal the rigid, calculating hero beneath.

"I remember a story from back when Darius and I were still running active league missions together," Rhys began, his baritone voice carrying a sharp, quiet weight that filled the subterranean vault. "I remember when he first met you. He came to me completely smitten, talking about this breathtaking Ifrit socialite. He raved for hours, calling you the most perfect woman in existence, desperate to know how a guy like him could ever hope to win your heart."

Shula stood frozen, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as Rhys stepped closer.

"So, I looked into it for my friend," Rhys continued evenly, eyeing the wooden cat. "I did some digging across the underground networks to find out what you were searching for most at the time. And I found it: this exact little cat figurine. A magical relic, sure, but with only one ridiculously niche function—it charms any feline in existence to come right to you for pets."

Rhys let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Darius and I spent weeks tracking it down through the black markets. The endeavor was ten times harder than it had any right to be, but we got it. I handed it over to him, wished him luck, and explicitly told him never to mention my part in it—to take full credit so he could sweep you off your feet."

“Quit stalling and finish it!” the voice in his head roared from the shadows.

Rhys’s expression turned completely stony as he locked eyes with Shula. "And now, for some odd reason... I've decided I want my relic back. After all, I was the one who actually secured it."

The moment the claim left his lips, the ambient atmosphere inside the vault felt like it was about to violently implode. The surrounding, apocalyptic weapons floating in their forcefields hummed in erratic, chaotic resonance, reacting to the sudden, overwhelming strain on the vault’s magical balance.

Shula flinched as if struck, looking deeply, rawly hurt.

Rhys’s complete tactical trap was sprung. By sacred Djinn guest-law, a favor or claim regarding a prized possession—especially one tied to an unacknowledged debt of acquisition—granted the guest a legitimate right to demand its return. He had her completely cornered by her own ancient rules. He waited for her anger, her rage, her fiery refusal.

Instead, what happened next blew his entire tactical plan out of the water.

Shula didn't yell. She didn't fight back. With a gentle, fluid wave of her hand, she brought the floating orb down between them.

POP.

The golden bubble burst softly, releasing the dark mahogany figurine into her delicate bronze hand. She didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. She reached out and placed the wooden cat gently into Rhys’s palm.

When she lifted her face to look up at him, there was no anger in her golden eyes. There was no resentment. Instead, she looked up at him with pure, completely unreserved, heartbreaking devotion.

"Oh, my sweet donor..." Shula whispered, a soft, radiant smile gracing her lips as her warm fingers lingered over his hand. "Did you really think that was a surprise? I have always known you played a part in getting it for me all those years ago."