CHAPTER 173: A LOVE STORY BUILT ON LIES

Somner was the first to crack. A sharp sound escaped him, a muffled snicker behind his hand as he tried and failed to look composed.

The corners of his lips trembled, eyes bright with the kind of laughter he was struggling desperately to keep down.

"Haha... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

The rest of the squad wasn’t far behind. Cam smirked openly, Vera hid her mouth behind her hand but her shoulders shook, Victorina and Fiero both guffawed loudly and obnoxiously. Even Eris, who normally treated everything with that cold, detached air of hers, raised one brow in disbelief.

"Ok, ok, enough." Hermes covered his face. "Who the fuck wrote this script!?"

But it’s far from over.

On the screen, Hermes’ "love story" with Paragon had officially begun.

Actors, dressed up in spandex mockery of their costumes, reenacted what was supposedly the ’first meeting’ between Copy Cat and Paragon.

"Apparently, they met when Paragon was still a rogue hero," Vera muttered, almost whispering, though her voice still carried across the lounge. "Not under any guild. Freelancing."

Victorina rolled her eyes, though the amused curl on her lips betrayed her. "Gurl! We don’t even have any idea that ’Paragon’ existed at that time, much less that he was the one who stole our kill! Bitch, please."

The scene showed Raphael’s actor swooping down from the sky with laser eyes, obliterating a massive CGI Void chicken in one hit. The ’Cloud Nine Squad’ was also there. Actors with bad wigs, cheaper uniforms, and bad direction looked on in awe.

And then, of course, the camera cut to Hermes’ actor, who narrowed his eyes like some discount soap opera villain. He spun dramatically, as if catching Paragon in his peripherals, before sprinting alone to chase this ’mysterious hero.’

The room filled with a mix of laughter and groans.

Finally, the two actors stood face to face. The Raphael stand-in was tall enough, but his features were too soft, his posture awkward.

"Not at all as attractive as the real dude." Fiero murmured, and Somner burst out into unrestrained laughter.

Hermes stayed silent, but his expression said everything. His lips twitched, his brows furrowed. He was not amused.

On screen, they began trading quips, each line crafted to sound like thinly veiled flirting.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Hermes’ actor demanded. "Some kind of sun-themed hero? Or a club dancer?"

"Calm down, kitty cat. The name’s Paragon. And I know the costume is hot, but please keep your eyes up here." Raphael’s actor retorted with a smirk.

The narrator’s voice swelled again, framing it as the start of a rivalry destined to turn into something greater.

["From adversaries to allies, from rivals to lovers. These two had a rough start, but they just can’t stop meeting each other. As if they were destined partners."]

Hermes wanted to sink into the chair and never come back up.

The reenactments kept coming. The next scene was pulled from his first live interview, the same day Paragon revealed himself to the public.

Hermes remembered that day all too clearly. Charlotte Freeman, with her mad genius hair and sharper tongue, had humiliated him in front of the world. She painted him as a second-rate hero, a knockoff of the real deal. She made him look like a playboy too, feeding off gossip rather than achievements. He had stood there, squirming under the weight of her smirk, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity.

But the video told an entirely different story.

Instead of humiliation, Charlotte was made out to be some sort of wingwoman. She giggled knowingly at the "banter" between Hermes and Raphael, nudging them toward each other. Hermes’ actor flushed with fake bashfulness, Raphael’s actor smirked with romantic confidence.

At one point, the video showed them sitting side by side. And in a moment meant to tug at heartstrings, the camera zoomed in on their hands...

Hermes’ actor sliding his fingers into Raphael’s actor’s hand, the two of them squeezing as if secretly declaring their bond.

"That never happened," Hermes muttered. His tone was flat, but his stomach twisted with disgust.

The squad snorted, but no one argued. The video pressed forward into its climax.

The masquerade ball of the Fiery Cross. The Heroes’ Gala.

On screen, actors in gaudy masks and gowns danced across a glittering ballroom. And in the middle of it, under painted chandeliers, Hermes and Raphael’s stand-ins swirled together in an over-the-top waltz, exchanging quips and flirtations with every turn.

And then, because subtlety had no place here... chaos erupted. A CGI Night Cyclops crashed through the ballroom window, roaring with cheap sound design and exaggerated movements.

The actors screamed.

Hermes’ actor, standing gallantly in front of Raphael’s, yelled: "Kiss me!"

Raphael’s actor blinked. "What? Why?"

"Because I can absorb powers from heroes! Not just food... You!"

And without hesitation, Hermes’ actor dipped Raphael’s into a dramatic, sweeping kiss. Lights exploded across the ballroom, golden beams surging through Hermes’ eyes as he suddenly gained Paragon’s powers.

Together, the two actors clasped hands and fired identical sunbeam eyes at the Night Cyclops, vaporizing it in a triumphant display.

The music swelled, the camera zoomed in, their foreheads touched tenderly as they stood amidst the wreckage.

Hermes pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shutting tight.

"We didn’t kiss," he muttered. "We drank each other’s blood."

"That’s less romantic," Cam snorted. "And probably too graphic for the sponsors."

Hermes rolled his eyes.

The narrator’s voice returned, rich and triumphant.

["With their bond revealed, there was no going back. Paragon could not hide Copy Cat’s gift any longer. He spoke his truth to the world. And Hermes, empowered by that devotion, embraced his heart’s desire... and revealed their love."]

The video’s final sequence played... a fabricated press conference. Hermes’ actor stood at a podium, crying openly, his voice trembling as he confessed.

"Paragon... is my shining light. My inspiration to be true to myself. A proud gay man with the ability to become anything!"

The audience on screen applauded, dramatic music swelling.

Hermes grimaced so hard his jaw ached. His real press conference had been measured, factual, stripped of all dramatics. No crying, no trembling. Just statements of truth. He didn’t bare his soul to the cameras. He didn’t romanticize Paragon in flowery speeches.

But here he was, in fabricated form, crying out his love like the star of a soap opera.

The trailer ended there, fading into the Golden Apple’s logo.

The lounge fell silent, broken only by a couple of snickers.

"I’ve seen enough." Hermes muttered, rising from his seat. "I’m gonna go digest whatever the hell that is."

No one stopped him.

He walked quickly, each step heavier than the last, his chest hot and tight. The polished halls of the Ninth Department blurred around him until he finally pushed through the rooftop doors.

Cool air rushed into his lungs. The city spread out below in flickering lights and shifting haze, endless and suffocating.

And there, standing at the edge, framed by the glow of the skyline, was Raphael.

He had his phone in hand, the screen lighting his face. And Hermes could hear it faintly....

The same promotional trailer, the same fabricated romance, playing from the tiny speakers.

Raphael’s lips curled into a teasing smile as he turned to face him.

"I’ve watched the whole thing," he said. His voice was smooth, amused, cutting through the rooftop silence. "It’s great, isn’t it? Our love story is bound to get viral."

"A love story built on lies." Hermes countered.

"True..."

Raphael went closer, placing his hand on Hermes’ chest.

"But who’s to say it will just be a lie in the future?"