Chapter 62: Slight Deviation, Part 2

I leaned on the vertical rails, one knee tucked up my chest while the other was extended on the staircase below. I looked at my newfound companion, someone who has shared a portion of the burden I carried for many years. Although calling Dylan a friend would be an exaggeration, since this was the second time we met, I knew we'd get along just fine. After all, Connor was a pain in both of our elbows.

"So, how is it?"

Dylan, who was resting at the other end of the stairs, peered at me and asked: "What are you talking about?"

"Working for the Blakes."

He was only a few years older than me, so I was curious. Despite not being a hunter, he managed to become a host within the restaurant within a large guild's headquarters. To do so, I assumed he must be highly competent.

"I'm grateful for the opportunity I've been provided with," Dylan replied, a tiny smile spreading across his face as he stared at something I couldn't perceive. "Being able to work in that restaurant means a lot to me."

Of course, the jeep he drove indicated that his income was substantially bigger than the one I received from Ava at the grocery store. Not that I have anything to complain about. Working for her is a privilege I wouldn't trade for anything.

Aside from the salary, I felt compelled to mention something else: "Well, that restaurant's surprisingly nice..."

"It not just that, Gray," he grumbled and swung his head in my direction, which made me slightly open my eyes. In his gaze, something was burning as bright as the flames Reyna could muster. "It is far more than just a gorgeous restaurant. I'm not sure how I should express it... Gray, think about living your dream life; that's how I feel working there."

Faced with his zeal, I rose my hands slightly, protecting myself from the beam of light surrounding him. "That's great. I get that you love working there, but don't act as though you're going to marry it..."

Now I was convinced. If that underwater restaurant had a tangible form, Dylan would go to any lengths to ensure his love would thrive. He's practically married to his job, which is rather admirable.

"Sorry. I got a little carried away there..."

Thinking about it, I doubt I've ever felt that way about anything in particular. I wasn't referring to a decision made out of necessity, but to pursue something I genuinely had an interest in.

Attending Artemis with those siblings was my wish, but I wasn't sure if I'd ever be capable of declaring that aloud the same way Dylan had. I simply couldn't do it. If I just thought about it, my throat would tighten.

"I'm back," Connor grumbled as he finally came into view. He held two bottles of sugary drinks in one hand and only water in the other. "I can't believe you're treating me like I'm a slave..."

"Perhaps he's right, Gray," Dylan grumbled, feeling a little bad that Connor had brought him a drink. While he was the heir to the Blake Guild, our chauffeur for the day was merely another employee whose position might be replaced at any time with the flick of a finger. It was easy to see why he was nervous.

"Don't worry," I reassured him. "Connor's been my errand boy since I defeated him at a game a few years back."

As his friend, it was up to me to humble him. No, it was my sworn duty. I couldn't turn a blind eye after he ordered Dylan around on his day off. If I didn't intervene now, he'd turn into a tyrant who'll torture his employees as easily as blinking. I could even argue that by giving Connor the slap on the wrist now, I'm making the Blake Guild a better place. No one shall ever find out about it, though. My kind deeds were bound to fade as time passed. A hero whose name and merits shall never reach the light...

"You didn't have to bring that up!" he cried, hurling the water bottle at me. I managed to catch it, barely keeping it from slipping between my fingers due to the force with which Connor flung it. I stared at it for a bit, my entire hand growing numb.

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I was conscious of my quick reflexes. I had to admit it was convenient to have them, but in comparison to what a hunter possessed, they meant nothing.

He doesn't seem to be aware of it, but the power he could muster... It was incredible. Almost enviable. Worse, Connor doesn't even seem to be aware of it. And I'd prefer to keep my lips shut on the matter. If I were to raise any complaints, and if he were to consciously try to hold back out of concern because I was a 'fragile human' as a result of it, I doubt I'd be able to handle it...

Not showing much of a reaction, I opened the bottle of water and complained, "That's harsh. Did you forget the bet we made? 'The loser of this competition shall serve the other for the rest—'"

"For the rest of eternity," he completed the sentence, a vein popping on his forehead as he heard me bringing up our deal again. Even his jaw tensed, giving me the impression that he might bite my head off (which I knew he wouldn't). "We were kids, Gray! Kids! You can't possibly hold me accountable for something that happened so long ago."

"That's exactly what I'm doing," I said, taking an exaggerated swig from the bottle. The water was cold, having just been removed from the refrigerator. Quite refreshing if you were to ask me. It tasted like victory. "And I intend to continue doing so. We'll have to gamble on it if you actually want to make me forget about it."

"But you might refuse to participate in the wager!"

"That sounds like your problem."

"You little—" he sighed, then approached Dylan and handed him the juice. "I'm sorry for calling you on your day off... It's just, you're the only one other than Ben I actually get along with. Well, you aren't the 'only one' per se, but—come on, I don't know how to put it, but I know you get it!"

The other employees obviously had some other goals in mind when they hung out with him. Because of the position he was born in, Connor has found it challenging to form genuine connections with others. That of the heir to one of the most powerful guilds in our city, Cernasea.

Dylan merely stood there staring at his extended hand. A moment later, he grabbed the bottle. "No worries. Hanging out was... enjoyable..."

"Good. Because you should expect this to happen a bit more often from now on," Connor remarked, chuckling slightly before swinging his sugary drink and resting his hand on his hip.

"You should just choke on it," I muttered.

"There's no way I'd—mm!" he yelped, tapping his chest and coughing repeatedly. "H-help. I-I'm dying here."

I shifted my gaze to the steps going to the back entrance of the building where we were resting.

"Gray," Dylan said, visibly concerned. Or so it appeared from the small frown on his face, which indicated he was serious. "Shouldn't we help Master—Connor! I meant just Connor..."

I returned my gaze to our dying man, tears welling up in his eyes. I said with a click of my tongue, "He's a hunter, so he'll be alright."

He's not going to choke to death because of some juice, am I right?

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