CHAPTER 230: SHE WAS WAITING

The decision made, Adam rose from the plush sanctuary of the vip booth. The descent to the dance floor felt like shedding a skin—the muffled, sophisticated world of the lounge giving way to the raw, pulsating heart of the club. He moved through the crowd not with Lux’s fluid grace, but with a dwarven prince’s inherent, unshakeable authority; people simply seemed to part before him.

He found them dancing. Nero had shed another layer of his inhibition, his movements less a structured kata and more a genuine, if still slightly clumsy, response to the beat. Lux was a whirlwind of silver and energy, laughing as he circled his friend.

Adam didn’t announce his arrival. He simply stepped into their space, and the atmosphere shifted. Where Lux was a free-flowing current, Adam was a tectonic plate—grounded, powerful, and deliberate. He began to move, and it was nothing like either of them.

This wasn’t the frantic, limb-flailing of the crowd, nor was it Lux’s ethereal flow. It was a display of pure, controlled power. His steps were heavy and precise, each stomp a punctuation mark in the rhythm. His shoulders rolled with a miner’s strength, his movements speaking of deep earth and forge-fire rather than air and lightning. It was a dance born from a different kind of rhythm—the hammer on the anvil, the march of armored boots.

Lux’s eyes widened in delight. "Wow dear Adam have decided to grace the common folk?" he shouted over the music, his grin widening.

"The view from the throne grew tedious," Adam rumbled back.

He turned to Nero, who had paused, momentarily stunned by the transformation.

"Don’t stop on my account. You were just beginning to look less like a startled deer, little Nero."

Spurred by the challenge and the bizarre sight of the composed dwarven prince moving with such raw power, Nero found a new surge of confidence. The three of them fell into a strange, tripartite harmony. Lux weaved between them, a ribbon of light. Nero found a solid, steady rhythm beside Adam’s formidable presence. And Adam, for the first time all night, seemed to be truly enjoying himself, a low chuckle escaping him as Lux tried and failed to mimic his heavy, grounded stomps.

They played until the music became a part of their bloodstream, until the sweat on their brows was a badge of honor. The world outside the club ceased to exist. It was just the three of them in a universe of light and sound—the scholar, the socialite, and the prince, united in a moment of unguarded, exhausting joy.

When they finally stumbled out into the pre-dawn stillness, the silence was deafening. The cool air of 3 a.m. was a shock to their systems. Angel’s City was quiet, the neon signs dimmed, the only sound the distant hum of a street sweeper.

The journey back to the Leclair main estate was a quiet, communal exhaustion. They leaned on each other, not speaking, the shared experience a bond stronger than words. Nero was half-asleep on his feet, a tired but content smile on his face. Lux was humming a remnant of the club’s melody, his energy finally, blissfully spent. Adam walked with a quiet, satisfied dignity, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

They slipped into the grand, silent estate like ghosts, the only light coming from the moon through the tall windows. They moved on instinct, the familiar halls guiding them toward their respective rooms. As they reached the point where their paths would diverge, a single, soft voice cut through the silence.

"Did you have fun?"

Khione stood in the doorway of her room, wrapped in a silken robe. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze sweeping over the three disheveled figures. Nero froze, suddenly looking very awake. Lux offered a sheepish, charming smile. Adam merely met her gaze, his own expression neutral while he was sweating inside.

Nero was the first to find his voice. "Khione! We, uh... we just..."

She held up a hand, silencing him. Her eyes lingered on Adam for a moment longer, a knowing glint in their icy depths that made the chill from earlier return tenfold. Then, her gaze softened as she looked back at her boyfriend.

"I’m glad you enjoyed your night," she said, her voice quiet but clear. "We’ll talk about your fun night... in the morning."

With that, she turned and disappeared into her room, closing the door with a soft, yet definitive, click. The three of them were left standing in the hallway, an awkward silence settling between them until Lux slipping away.

A heavy silence lingered in the hallway after Khione’s door closed. Adam cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. He scratched his cheek, a rare gesture of unease, before clapping a hand on Nero’s shoulder.

"Good luck, Nero," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Nero’s brow furrowed. "With what?"

"Well," Adam began, the confession tumbling out with a bluntness that was all his own. "While you were... enthusiastically articulating your limbs on the dance floor, Khione messaged you. I may have... facilitated a reply."

Nero’s ominous red eyes, usually so calm, narrowed into slits. The pieces clicked into place with terrifying speed—the mysterious chill Adam had felt, Khione’s knowing look. A slow, dark chuckle escaped Nero’s lips, devoid of any real humor.

"I see," Nero said, his voice dangerously soft. He offered a perfectly neutral smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Don’t worry. We’ll... discuss this later. During a friendly match. You understand?"

Confronted with that serene yet utterly chilling expression, Adam found himself nodding. It was an involuntary response, a primal acknowledgement of a threat. "Understood," he grunted.

Without another word, the dwarven prince turned and retreated into his own room, the movement uncharacteristically swift—less a strategic withdrawal and more a tactical escape.

Watching the usually unflappable Adam flee like a startled rabbit, Nero could only shake his head in amused exasperation. The fatigue of the night finally crashed over him like a wave. He stumbled into his own room, collapsing onto the bed without even bothering to remove his boots.

Morning training, he decided as consciousness faded, was unequivocally cancelled. And judging by the state of his two companions, he knew he wouldn’t be the only one sleeping in.

•••

Five hours later, consciousness returned to Nero not as a jarring shock, but as a gentle tide. He awoke feeling refreshed, the deep, satisfying exhaustion of the night having been washed away by a tide of profound rest. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he sank into a familiar meditation. The ambient prana of the world responded to his silent call, flowing into him like a clear, cool river. He guided this energy through his system, a meticulous internal cleansing that sought out and neutralized the last lingering traces of alcohol, purifying his body from within until only clarity remained.

Rising, he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower. A cascade of steaming water sluiced over him, a welcome shock that fully roused his senses. He tipped his head back, letting the stream plaster his dark blue hair to his scalp and run in rivulets down the strong lines of his back. There, the water traced the intricate, mysterious patterns of the tattoo etched into his skin, making the ancient design gleam for a moment before the flow continued its journey downward.

After dressing, Nero picked up his smartphone, the weight of the previous night’s omission settling on him. He typed out a message to Khione, his thumbs moving with deliberate care.

[Good morning, my sweetheart. I’m sorry for not telling you about our plans last night. I meant to, but I hesitated, and that was my mistake. I’ll be more considerate in the future and talk things through with you. Can we meet?]

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply. The phone vibrated, and a long message appeared—unusually verbose for her, which spoke volumes in itself.

[I see. I trust you to keep your word. Please don’t let those two lead you astray. I know your character is stronger than that, but consider this a reminder. I understand you want to enjoy time with your friends; I would never refuse you that. Just... share it with me. You don’t have to share every single detail, but I want to be a part of your life. We are together in this, after all.]

Nero read her words, feeling a pang of fondness and guilt. Her message was a clear window into her heart—a blend of quiet concern, unwavering trust, and a sincere desire to be close to him, even if their relationship was still unspoken to the world.

A soft smile touched his lips as he typed his response.

[Thank you, my lovely Ice Queen. Your words mean more than you know. Let’s discuss this properly over dinner, just the two of us.]

Her reply was swift and characteristically succinct, yet it carried a world of understanding and anticipation.

[I understand.]