Author's Note:
Every myth needs a witness. Every storm has an eye.
This chapter is about what happens when chaos returns home—and finds something stranger than itself. It's banter, comfort, kimchi fusion… and the slow, creeping quiet that says something's off.
Welcome back, Ethan.
The door slammed open.Like a man trying to re-enter his own life.
"Niv?!"
Ethan McAllister's voice echoed down the hall—trailing airport grime, upper-class trauma, and too much volume for 9 a.m.
"Yo! I had no signal in the whole goddamn countryside. Do you know what it's like to be cut off from Discord, Netflix, and civilization for ten straight days? I think I blacked out. I think I wrote a haiku."
Niv emerged from his room slowly. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair mussed. Phone in hand. Barely awake.
Ethan stumbled in like chaos incarnate—dragging two designer duffel bags like they owed him money. His hair looked like it had been trimmed with garden shears. One sock was missing. His hoodie probably cost more than most students' tuition.
Niv blinked.
"You look like a depressed raccoon."
"And you look like you've been in a sleep coma for ten years," Ethan shot back, already pushing past him like this was still his place.
He dropped his bags. Collapsed on the couch.
Then froze.
Slippers by the door. Not Niv's.A lipstick-stained mug.A folded towel on the armrest.
"…Dude," Ethan said slowly. "Are you hosting ghosts now, or—"
The bathroom door opened.
Sera Marino stepped out.Hair still damp. Wearing Niv's hoodie.Composed. Radiant. Lethal.
Ethan's soul left his body.
"You're—dating?" he croaked.
Niv, sipping coffee, didn't blink."Yeah."
"Since when?!"
"You were in England."
Ethan stared. Processing. Buffering. Crashing.
"Did you win her in a duel? Did she hit her head?"
Sera passed by with a calm nod."Good morning, Ethan."
She knew his name.Ethan turned to Niv like he'd just discovered gravity was optional.
"She knows my name, Niv. What the fuck."
She floated past them like royalty. Barefoot. Unbothered.
"You absolute lunatic," Ethan muttered. "You're dating the Ice Queen and didn't tell me?!"
"It's not that dramatic," Niv said.
"She makes warlords cry and now she's doing meal prep in your kitchen!"
Niv just smirked.
Ethan slowly stood and gave a solemn salute."Respect."
Later – Niv's Apartment
"Don't all cheer at once," Ethan announced, entering with a flourish."Your food god has returned."
He kicked the door shut, bags dangling from one arm, a cola bottle tucked under his chin.
Niv, already on the couch with his laptop, didn't look up."You're late."
"You're lucky I came back at all. Do you know how many people would've kidnapped me for this chimichurri bulgogi?"He dropped the bag. "It smells like international relations and bad decisions."
Sera was perched on the armrest, sipping peach soda Ethan definitely didn't buy.
She eyed the takeout."That smells… illegal."
"You would know," Ethan muttered—then winced."Sorry. That was—"
She raised an eyebrow.
"—a joke. A stupid one. Not a threat. Just, uh, food sarcasm."
Niv finally looked up."Breathe."
Ethan did. Loudly.
Sera smirked. "Relax. I don't kill people over jokes."
"That's oddly specific."
"I kill people over worse."
"Cool, cool. Love this dynamic. Threats and food. Very Tarantino brunch."
They gathered around the coffee table.Ethan turned on lo-fi beats.Niv handed out napkins with monk-like discipline.
They ate.
It was… comfortable.
Sera bit into a kimchi quesadilla.
"…Goddamn."
Ethan beamed. "Told you."
"This is cursed food magic."
"That's the best kind."
"So," Ethan said, chopsticks drumming the table, "should we talk about the elephant in the room?"
"You have an elephant?" Sera blinked.
"No. But I do have a best friend who's dating the scariest person in North America."
"Technically South America—"
"Don't correct me. I'm having an existential crisis."
He turned to Niv."You just casually didn't mention any of this?"
Niv: "Didn't come up."
Ethan gawked. "She came out of your bedroom."
"I don't understand it either," Sera added, leaning back and resting her head on Niv's shoulder.
"I'm just saying," Ethan muttered, "this is how secret societies start. One minute we're watching anime, the next your girlfriend's having lunch with arms dealers."
"We don't do lunch," Sera said.
"You know what, I don't want to know."
A few minutes passed.
Lo-fi hums. Neon on glass. Quiet chewing.
Then—Ethan glanced over.
Niv had stopped eating.
Elbows on knees.Staring at the floor.Still. Too still.
Sera noticed it too.
"You good?" she asked.
He didn't answer. Not immediately.
"…Yeah," he mumbled. "Just tired."
Sera leaned over slightly, her leg brushing his.No questions. Just contact.
Ethan watched. Something in his smile faded.
Later.
Sera curled in the armchair, hoodie sleeves over her hands, sipping something green and suspicious from a steel bottle.
"You sure you're not poisoning yourself?" Ethan asked.
"It's celery, ginger, spirulina, and competence."
"Ah. That explains the lack of taste."
"You're one donut away from a coronary."
"Fair."
From the kitchen—Running water. Clinking dishes.
Niv, doing dishes. Voluntarily.
"Is he always this domestic?" Ethan asked.
"He's… efficient," Sera said. "Worryingly so."
"He alphabetizes his spice rack."
"He forgets to eat for 17 hours."
"…That's not quirky. That's sad."
"It's Niv," she said.
And maybe… it was.
The laughter faded.
Ethan followed her gaze.
Niv stood at the sink, scrubbing something, motion slow.
Not his usual quiet.Not thinking.Not masking.
This one was drawn tight.Like something holding itself together.
And Sera… watched.Silent. Still.
The storm hadn't passed.
It was waiting.