Chapter 54: Chapter 54
Richard slowed the car to a stop, gravel crunching under the tires as we rolled up by the curb. A puff of smoke left my lips, curling against the glass before the breeze sucked it out through the crack of the passenger window. I flicked the ash, watching it scatter, then dragged my hand down my face.
"Fingers crossed, man." Richard muttered, half a sigh, half a prayer.
"Yeah." I nodded. "If you make up with her... no cheating next ti, okay?"
"Fuck no," he shot back instantly, shaking his head. "Never."
"Good."
We bumped fists, quick and solid, and then he opened the door and stepped out. The slam echoed against the quiet street. I leaned back in the seat, watching him cross the little strip of cracked sidewalk. Guess this was it—the big mont. Would ndy forgive him for being a dickhead? Would this whole stupid "quest" actually count as completed? Honestly, I half-expected Kayla to backpedal, twist her words, and screw
over, but she hadn’t. Props to her.
This place itself was... peaceful. Rural, almost. Rows of two-story houses lined up like they’d been copy-pasted, each with their little porch, a yard half-wild with green. So had laundry lines stretched out, others just small gardens overrun with weeds. Trees swayed gently, their leaves whispering in the breeze, and the whole block slled faintly of grass after a fresh cut.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping
out of it. I pulled it out, saw the na, and answered.
"Ivy?"
"Hey," she said, voice light, curious. "So... how did it go?"
"What go?"
"The massage with Kayla?" Her tone tightened. "God, Evan, she was so pissed about . Saying I tricked her and shit."
I chuckled under my breath. "It went well. Don’t worry. I didn’t see you there, though."
"Because I booked it," she replied flatly.
"Sheesh. Could’ve said hello at least."
"Yeah, yeah." She brushed it off, clearly not caring. "Say, is she your, you know, girlfriend?"
"Fuck no." I barked a laugh. "That... arrogant woman? No, no, no, no. Nope. Nuh-uh. Naah."
"Huh," she humd, like she knew sothing I didn’t. "Got it."
"What?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Then... why did you wanna et her?"
"To talk," I answered, keeping my voice even. "Look, it’s best if you let this go. It’s complicated, I’ll tell you about it soti."
"Fine," she relented after a beat. "How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow works. After my morning shift ends. We et at Burney’s at six?"
"Yep." She smiled through the line—I could almost hear it. "See you when I see you."
"Hmm. Bye. And thanks again."
I ended the call and let the silence return, leaning my head back against the seat. The smoke in my lungs felt heavier now. I turned to my left.
There they were. Richard and ndy, standing in the front garden of one of the houses. Her house.
ndy looked like the kind of girl who didn’t need much to shine—long dark hair tied back in a ssy bun, skin smooth with just a natural glow, wearing nothing fancier than a soft sweater and leggings. Pretty in that effortless, girl-next-door kind of way.
They were hugging. No yelling, no slapping, no storming off. Just... hugging. Her arms locked around his shoulders, his face buried in her neck. They made up.
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Quest Completed
Title: Peace
Reward: 25 EXP
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"Good," I muttered, watching them sway slightly in each other’s arms. "Quest completed. And that puts ..."
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Na: Evan Marlowe
Age: 21
Height: 179 cm
Weight: 73 kg
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Level: 4
EXP: 80 / 311
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"Nice," I breathed out with a grin. "Getting closer to level five."
Richard turned, calling back over his shoulder with a big, sloppy wave. I half-raised my hand and gave him one in return.
"No, you idiot!" he shouted, louder than he needed to. "This is a ’co here’ gesture. Not wave."
"Oh..." I said, lowering my hand and trying not to laugh.
I stepped out and stretched my arms. The evening air hit like a cold slap—grass and wood smoke, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel smaller. I flicked the butt to the gravel and crushed it with the toe of my shoe, grinding the ember out until it went dead. Then I walked up the cracked path toward them.
They were on the little front lawn—Richard with his hands shoved in his pockets, ndy standing there with her arms crossed.
"Hey," I said. "ndy, right? I’m Evan."
She gave
a that-again look, like she was trying to place . "We... already t," she replied slowly. "When you were drunk."
"Oh..."
"You ca into my house and drank with Richard," she continued, eyes narrowing slightly as she rembered.
"Oh..."
"Then you threw up onto my TV." Her tone was flat but amused.
"Oh..."
"And headbutted my window. Cracked it." She actually looked
over like she expected to see a scar. "How’s that wound, by the way? It didn’t leave a scar, right? I an it didn’t bleed?"
Shit. A mory of the headache hit
full force. "That’s why I felt a nasty one two weeks ago," I muttered. "Shit, you’re right."
Richard laughed, a loud, proud chortle. "We were... drunk off our minds. LET’S DO IT AGAIN, BABY!"
"Nope," ndy said flatly, deadpan as anything. "We eat. That’s why I told Richard to get you."
"Eat?" I brightened instantly. "Perfect. I was hungry as a wolf. What’s on dinner?"
She smiled. "Mom made spaghetti."
Richard elbowed ndy and grinned. "And your knees get weak when you’re with
in your bedroom, rember?"
I arched an eyebrow at him, so did ndy. Richard coughed, embarrassed by the bit of intimacy he’d just put on display.
"You know which song I was referencing," he said, sheepish.
I folded my arms and adopted my best fake-serious voice. "You can still break up with him, ndy." I nodded like a dad reminding a kid to eat their greens. "It’s not too late."
"You’re right," she said finally, softer. "I’m having second doubts now."
Richard grinned like he’d won the lottery. "Ah, bite , you two. I’m happy, and no one can break that. Co on—let’s eat."
ndy sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing as she let a small smile slip. Richard took her hand like he ant it, tugged her gently toward the porch, and I hung back a second longer, watching them move inside. The little dostic picture—two ssy people trying to make good on sothing—felt oddly satisfying.
I nodded to myself, flicked my jacket straight, and followed them up the path.
The three of us walked up the narrow steps and Richard swung the door open like he owned the place. The sll hit
first—tomato sauce, garlic, fresh bread—and then the sight of a lived-in ho that scread family.
The living room spread out in front of us, cozy in that rural, mismatched-furniture kind of way. A two-seater sofa that had seen better years sat angled toward a fat old TV perched on a cabinet with doilies under the flower vases. Next to that, a dinner table already set, plates stacked, silverware shining under the yellow ceiling light. A couple of family photos lined the walls, smiling faces, so Polaroids pinned beside them, and a cross hanging above the door fra. The kind of place you couldn’t fake, it had history in the wood.
Before I could take more in, a figure moved into the scene. She was setting a plate down on the table, bending slightly forward, and that was when my brain hit the brakes.
Her tits. Jesus Christ. I’d seen big, I’d seen heavy, I’d even seen the kind of size that makes you question gravity—but these? These were bigger than my fucking head. Each one. Perfectly round, taut under the thin tank top she wore, nipples pressing faintly against the fabric as if daring anyone not to notice. They dominated her fra, like her body had been built around them. Short brown hair cut to just under her jawline frad a face that was oddly soft, almost cute if you ignored the engineering miracle hanging off her chest. She was shorter than
by a few inches, toned thighs sticking out from tiny hotpants that didn’t leave much to imagination.
Richard didn’t even blink. Just walked past like it was Tuesday. Which ant he knew her. He had to know her. No way he hadn’t noticed those.
"Yes," the stranger said dryly, glancing up at
as she set the plate down. "My tits are fake."
I opened my mouth, maybe to deny staring, maybe to apologize—but nothing ca out.
"Penelope!" A sharp voice cut through the room. An older woman shuffled in from the hallway, gray hair tied back in a bun, her steps sure even if her body looked worn thin. Her face had lines of both sternness and worry, the kind you get from raising kids while working too many jobs. She wore a simple cardigan over a flower-print dress, apron tied around her waist. Arms crossed, she gave the girl a withering look. "What are you saying!"
Penelope barely flinched, muttering, "Sorry, Ms. Olel," before ducking back toward the kitchen.
Richard, of course, took charge of introductions like he was the local tour guide. "Ms. Olel," he said respectfully, then turned to . "This is my friend Evan. Evan, Ms. Olel—ndy’s mother."
Her eyes snapped toward
like a hawk’s, narrowing into imdiate suspicion. "Why is this... this ’gaping man’ in our house, ndy? Get out of here!"
I froze mid-step. "’Gaping man’?"
"It was AI, mother," ndy said quickly, her tone clipped, like she’d rehearsed this one. "That woman tricked . Told
she was in love with him and tried to... play so tricks."
Richard’s head whipped toward her, voice rising. "Did you make your mother watch that video!"
"Yes," ndy shot back without hesitation. "She took my phone and saw it. But anyway, it was fake. I’m glad she actually didn’t see you... that way."
If only she knew.
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