"I decided I wouldn't let so random guy exploit her misery. You know why...? Because she deserves better."
Nadia's jaw dropped.
He placed a hand over his heart like he was swearing an oath.
"We're not blood-related, okay? We've never even been that close. But I've realized sothing: I owe her. She looked after when no one else did, and now? Now it's my turn. And you, Nadia…"
He turned to her, eyes blazing with determination,
"…I thought I can get your help. Help her. She trusts you, and we're family—or at least, we could be a very close one."
Nadia's lip quivered as her eyes filled with tears.
"I-If all of us could just be happy together... then we wouldn't need anyone else. We only need each other. But I guess... I was a fucking idiot. I should've talked to you first..."
Artis's eyes brimd with tears, and before she could process it, the man broke into sobs. Not just sniffles—full-blown, ugly crying.
The kind that shakes your shoulders and makes you sound like a dying walrus. Nadia clutched her chest, feeling like she'd just been stabbed by her own selfishness.
"Art... I..."
She reached out, but he held up a trembling hand to stop her.
"No, Nadia," he whimpered, his voice cracking like a pubescent choir boy. "I don't wanna hear it. You broke my heart..."
He turned his head away dramatically, the tears dripping down his face like he was auditioning for the saddest soap opera in existence.
The sight made her chest tighten painfully. The happy, mischievous pervert she knew—the one who could crack a dick joke in the middle of a sermon—was now reduced to this blubbering ss of despair.
'It's my fault.'
Nadia thought, her inner monologue hitting peak lodrama.
'I was selfish. I didn't think about his feelings. I didn't think about us. Fuck, I'm an idiot.'
"Please go."
He whispered, his voice barely audible but steeped in heartbreak.
"Ar—"
"Just go," he barked, his voice suddenly firm, like a dad catching his kid trying to smuggle candy out of the pantry.
Nadia froze, her hand halfway to his shoulder. The sharpness in his tone sliced through her like a knife, leaving her standing there, stunned and overwheld.
"P-please... just leave..."
His voice cracked like a teenager caught stealing porn, and the sheer desperation in it ripped through Nadia like a chainsaw to a waterlon.
'What have I done? Oh, fuck, what have I done?'
Her brain was stuck on a loop of self-loathing as tears cascaded down her face, turning her into a soggy ss of regret and mascara streaks.
She bit her lip so hard it felt like she might draw blood, her trembling legs carrying her to the door like a condemned woman walking to the gallows.
Each step felt heavier than the last, but she kept going, her fingers finally wrapping around the doorknob.
Sliding the door open, she hesitated, stealing one last glance over her shoulder.
Artis was still there, his back to her like so tragic Greek statue, except instead of holding the world on his shoulders, he looked like he was carrying the weight of a bad breakup and a raging boner.
'It's not too late.'
She told herself, her nails digging into the wood of the door.
'I can fix this... I can still make this right!'
Her inner monologue hyped her up, but her feet betrayed her as they carried her over the threshold. She stepped outside, her head hanging low, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
"Goodbye," she mumbled, the syllables cracking under the weight of her guilt.
Then she shut the door, the finality of the sound slamming into her chest like a goddamn freight train.
The silence on the other side felt deafening, but there was one lingering thought in her head: Fuck, I'm an idiot.
"Finally… took her long enough. Drama queen."
Artis muttered, flopping onto his bed with the enthusiasm of a man whose entire ego was overcompensating for sothing dangerously close to common sense.
His cock was already at attention, twitching like it was auditioning for the lead role in "Big Dreams, Bigger Sches."
Grinning like the cartoon villain he probably secretly aspired to be, he wrapped his hand around his dick and started stroking.
A low chuckle escaped his lips, which quickly escalated into a full-blown evil laugh that would make a B-movie director weep tears of pride.
"Soon, both Nadia and Juliana will be kneeling before , worshiping my cock like it's the Holy Grail. Just you wait!"
His strokes quickened as his deranged monologue reached its peak.
"I'll have my harem. They'll be begging to please . Begging! I'll turn them into my toys, my bitches, my—" He paused, lips curling into a sly smirk— "my personal porn queens. Oh, they won't even know what hit them."
And with that final, delusional flourish, he climaxed, hot spurts of cum shooting out like a firehose that had zero regard for his dignity—or his bedsheets.
Panting, he glanced at the sticky ss splattered across his stomach and the floor, completely unfazed.
"Yeah, you're all mine. Just you wait, ladies."
He let out another laugh, wiping his forehead like he'd just conquered a mountain, not jerked off to his own fantasies.
But then, in the shadow of his hubris, he missed sothing important.
From the open window, a pair of erald-green eyes glared at him with a mixture of shock, rage, and the kind of judgnt that could make the devil blush.
Unbeknownst to Artis, soone had seen the whole goddamn show. And let's just say, it wasn't going to end with a standing ovation.
...
At the sa ti, elsewhere in the world, five stunning figures stood before a map, their eyes burning with purpose—one was a petite, flawless priestess whose beauty could stop traffic, and whose dium was definitely premium.
She tapped a spot on the map with a delicate finger, as if making a life-altering decision about where to get lunch.
"The nearest church is near the Fire Sothing Sothing Clan. We should visit there."
Her companion, equally breathtaking and sohow more beautiful than the priestess, nodded in unison with a grace that only gods would understand.
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