CHAPTER 447: DON’T CANCEL ME

Chapter 447 – Don’t Cancel Me

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small flask.

"Tea," she said, handing it to him.

He took it. Blinked. "You carry tea in a flask?"

"It’s enchanted," she replied. "Stays hot for eight hours. Jasmine with honey."

He opened the lid, took a sip, then let out a quiet breath.

"Oh, wow," he muttered. "You taste good."

"Excuse me—"

"I mean your tea," he corrected with a grin. "Don’t cancel me yet."

She rolled her eyes. "You’re the worst."

"But still invited to your café, right?"

"...Maybe."

They sat together for a while.

Just watching the sky.

The building.

The quiet.

And for once?

Neither of them had to fake anything.

Not smiles.

Not silence.

Not the way their knees brushed once.

Then didn’t move apart.

Not the way Ely found herself glancing at him again.

Not the way Lux, when she wasn’t looking, did the same.

And not the way both of them wondered...

If maybe, just maybe—

This was the kind of evening that could become something more.

Elyndra hadn’t felt this calm in months. Not since her cousin tried to undercut her zoning rights in the northern forest preserve. Not since the elven court sent her another invitation to another pointless bloodline reunion.

And certainly not since Lux had last popped into her life with that smug grin and chaos tucked in his collar.

But now...

Now, he wasn’t smirking.

Now, he was just... sitting beside her. Sharing tea. Saying too little. Thinking too much.

And somehow?

That felt more intimate than any flirtation ever could.

The sky was dipped in violet now, sunset giving way to twilight. The streetlamps in the park buzzed quietly to life, flickering golden halos over the cracked concrete paths. Kids were gone. The breeze had turned cool, brushing over Ely’s skin in little shivers.

She glanced sideways again, just to sneak one more look at his profile—at the way the light caught on his lashes, at the subtle tension still woven into his jaw.

And then—

The caw.

A sharp, crackling sound that pierced through the quiet like a thrown blade.

Ely flinched. "What was—"

A crow.

It flew in fast, cutting through the branches like a shadow with wings, its black feathers glossy in the streetlight.

It didn’t hesitate.

It landed straight on Lux’s arm.

Not his shoulder. His arm. Like it knew. Like it had done this a thousand times.

Ely blinked, staring. "Um. Lux?"

The bird stared at her once, red-eyed, then turned back to him and let out another sharp caw.

Lux didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But she saw it—his entire body shifted.

Not visibly. Not dramatically.

Just... energy.

Like the warmth drained from the air around him. Like the gravity of the moment cracked beneath his feet.

His eyes.

They weren’t soft anymore.

They weren’t calm.

They were cold.

And dangerous.

She sat straighter. "What’s going on?"

The crow flapped once, hopped off his arm, and vanished into the dark like it had never been there.

Lux said nothing for a beat.

Then he gently handed her the flask.

"Thanks for the tea," he said.

His voice had changed.

Lower.

Tighter.

Professional.

Deadly.

Ely’s fingers curled around the flask, confused. "Lux?"

He stood. Smoothed out his suit.

Then, as if by muscle memory, he pulled the celestial robe, folded it once in his palm—

—and stored it.

Not in a bag. Not a pocket.

Just gone in his inner jacket’s pocket.

Ely blinked. "Wait, what—where did it go?"

He didn’t answer. Only smiled. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

She stood too, instincts flaring. "Where are you going?"

He turned to her.

His eyes—still the same color, but now filled with intent. With fire. With purpose.

And she shivered.

Not from the cold.

From the feeling that this man, right now, wasn’t walking home.

He was walking to war.

"I’m going to do some PR," he said.

Then, with that same too-calm smile, he added, "We’ll continue this later. Maybe somewhere I can seduce some MILFs with their daughters too. Like last time. I like the attention."

The grin was there—Lux’s trademark grin. Smooth. Crooked. Unbothered.

But his eyes...

Cold.

Empty.

Ely’s breath hitched. "You’re not serious."

He chuckled, soft and almost tender. "I’m always serious. That’s the curse of a man who jokes too well."

The words hit harder than they should have.

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His focus was somewhere far beyond this park—beyond her, beyond the moment, beyond anything human.

That grin? It wasn’t flirting now. It was armor.

Flat. Smooth. Final.

And then he walked.

No flourish. No exit spell. No teleport.

Just his back retreating into the streetlamp glow, shoulders squared, footsteps steady—

the kind of walk that made the night itself lean out of his way.

Ely stood frozen.

The flask still warm in her hand.

And a question—hot and bitter—rose up in her throat.

’Who are you really, Lux?’

She didn’t ask it out loud.

She just watched him go.

And she knew—deep in her bones—something had shifted.

The peace was over.

And whatever came next...

Would not be quiet.

Lux’s eyes turned cold the moment he left the last patch of lamplight.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t sigh. Just walked, each step heavier with a silence that didn’t belong to someone casually leaving a park.

He waited until he was far enough—just past the overgrown lot behind the closed convenience store, where no eyes lingered and no aura sensors pinged.

Then he stopped.

No dramatic chant. No showy symbols.

He just flicked two fingers outward.

A ripple in the air.

A slight warping of heat and light.

And he was gone.

He reappeared in the shadow of a broken lamp post.

The wind here carried soot. Smoke. Ash. The thick smell of charred wood and melting plastic and burned paper still clung to the ruins.

Lux didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

Because there it was.

The orphanage.

Or what used to be.