Chương 55: A Place to Return To

Ch 55 - A Place to Return To Toma let out a quiet laugh as he reached over and stole a snack from Zetia's lap. She was sitting right beside him, while Lina, seated on Zetia's other side with a glass in her hand, grabbed a snack of her own a moment later. The conversation kept flowing, and Lina continued tossing out one story after another, each one earning another burst of laughter from Zetia.

"When Toma was little, he used to climb walls like he thought he was some kind of superhero. One day he slipped, fell face-first onto the ground, and chipped one of his front teeth. He was always so careless, but honestly, he had way too much energy to stay out of trouble," she said, laughing again. Zetia laughed so hard that she had to catch her breath.

"Wait, that's it? Tell me more. Did he cry? Did he throw a tantrum? Or did he pretend he was completely fine?"

"Well, that's the strange part. He almost never cried in front of other people. Instead, he'd lock himself inside his room and cry where no one could see him. Then he'd come back out with swollen eyes, pretending nothing had happened. I think he was simply too proud to let anyone see him cry. Even back then, he cared way too much about keeping up a brave face." Toma could only let out a quiet sigh before giving them an awkward smile.

By now, he was certain this was already the tenth childhood story they had shared that night, and every single one of them somehow managed to make him sound ridiculous. At this rate, he was convinced Zetia would leave this dinner believing he had spent his entire childhood doing nothing but embarrassing himself.

"Tell her about my cool moments instead, Lina," he said.

"Why? There's no need. You've already secured her. She's your wife. I can just tell her the funny stories because she clearly enjoys them."

"I do enjoy them," Zetia admitted with a warm smile, letting out a soft laugh. Without even realizing it, she reached for Toma's hand. Naturally, Toma responded by holding hers back, and before either of them noticed, their fingers had already slipped together into a comfortable interlocking hold. Zetia laughed again, covering her mouth as she listened to Lina. There was something so graceful and genuine about the way she reacted to every story, as if she genuinely loved learning every little piece of Toma's past.

"Now have a drink, Zetia. Don't be a coward like Toma." The young woman shook her head with a bright smile.

"Lina, I have to follow my husband, you know. If he isn't drinking, then neither am I. He told me alcohol isn't good for your body, that it affects your sleep, and that once you get used to drinking it, it becomes an unhealthy habit. So if he isn't drinking, I won't either."

"Ah, I think you've already been infected by this healthy little man too, huh? Look at you now. You're even starting to sound exactly like him," she said with another laugh. The conversation carried on for a while longer, though somehow the laughter was no longer as loud as it had been before. Lina had clearly reached her limit. Her cheeks were flushed from the drinks, and she had slumped against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh.

"Ah... I can't do this anymore," she said with a lazy laugh. Only then did Toma realize that the young woman beside him had also fallen asleep. Zetia had drifted off without anyone noticing, her head resting gently against his shoulder. Her breathing was slow and even, completely at peace.

"She worked so hard around the house today. You saw for yourself how much she managed to get done in just one day," Lina murmured. Toma gave a small nod. Without disturbing Zetia, he carefully shifted more of her weight onto his left arm. Then he slowly slipped his right arm beneath the back of her knees before lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Her head naturally settled against his chest, and she instinctively leaned a little closer in her sleep. Lina had already pushed herself to her feet.

"Don't worry. I'll clean everything up in the morning. Just leave it." Toma shook his head.

"I'll take care of it after this. You should get some sleep, Lina," he replied. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. But Lina had already waved him off with a tired hand before disappearing toward her bedroom. Cradling Zetia in his arms, Toma made his way toward his room. What surprised him wasn't how light she felt, but what greeted him the moment he stepped inside. Why didn't this room feel like his anymore? It was far too clean. Far too organized. Far too warm.

A neatly folded blanket at the foot of the bed. Fresh flowers resting in a small vase by the window. A faint, calming scent lingering in the air. Even the books on the shelf had been arranged with care. Toma slowly walked to the bed before gently lowering Zetia onto the mattress. He made sure her head rested comfortably on the pillow, then adjusted her position so she could sleep without straining her neck. She didn't stir even once. She was completely asleep. His gaze lingered on her peaceful face.

"Do deities in the Heavenly Realm sleep too?" If they did... then what really separated a deity from a mortal? Mortals slept because their bodies grew tired. Or… Was it simply because she was living in the human world now? Toma quietly let out a slow breath as he remained standing beside the bed for another moment. He reached for the remote, making sure the air conditioner was running at a comfortable temperature.

After that, he carefully pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around her shoulders so she wouldn't get cold during the night.

"I..." he whispered so softly.

"I'll come back in the morning." For a brief second, his fingers lingered on the edge of the blanket before he quietly turned toward the door, doing his best not to make a single sound that might wake her. ** There were far more players than usual. A long line stretched outside the auction house in the city that most people considered nothing more than a dry, lifeless wasteland. It wasn't just the city's native residents, the Necrotons, who had noticed the unusual crowd.

Even the small number of players who normally stayed in the city to hunt in the surrounding areas had gathered to see what was happening. The queue outside the auction house barely moved. From inside, loud shouting echoed through the building, and it was obvious from the tone alone that someone had completely lost their temper.

"Are you kidding me?!" a player with spiky black hair shouted.

"I came here to reclaim my own sword! I dropped it by accident during a hunt, and now you're telling me I have to pay the full market price to get it back? That's completely ridiculous! It's my weapon! My name is practically engraved on it! You're taking advantage of players and calling it business. This is daylight robbery! Give me back my sword!" Standing calmly across from him was a man dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.

He wore dark glasses despite being indoors, and his thinning hair was neatly combed back.

"Sir, I understand your frustration. However, every item legally registered with this auction house is processed under the same regulations, without exception. Once an item has entered our inventory, it is scheduled for public auction. If the original owner wishes to recover the item, they must still purchase it through our established payment system. The item will remain available only until another customer places a successful bid. These policies exist to ensure fairness and transparency for every participant.

We appreciate your cooperation."

"Fairness?" the player barked, stepping closer until they were nearly face-to-face.

"Don't feed me that bullshit. I don't care about your rules. Hand me my sword right now, or I swear I'll tear this entire place apart. I'll smash every display case in here, burn this building to the ground, and make sure nobody ever does business with this scam of an auction house again!" The host didn't move an inch.

"Sir," he replied in the same composed voice, "I strongly advise you to reconsider your next action. The moment you damage auction property, threaten our staff, or interfere with business operations, your purchasing privileges will be permanently revoked."

"In addition, your name will be placed on our blacklist and circulated to every affiliated auction house under our network. You will lose the opportunity to participate in future transactions, regardless of the value of the item involved. I recommend that you follow the established procedures. They are considerably more forgiving than the consequences of ignoring them." The player laughed coldly.

"You think I'm scared of that? I'll kill you. I'll kill your family too. Every single person running this crooked auction house deserves to die. You're nothing but thieves hiding behind fancy rules while you rob people blind!" The player unleashed his warrior aura, and a crimson glow erupted around his body. The floor beneath his boots cracked as he lunged forward, his fist aimed straight at the auction host. Before the punch could land, something caught his wrist. His body came to a complete stop.

"What the hell is this?" The player whipped his head around, only to find a tall man standing behind him. His long gray hair was tied neatly behind his back.

"What the fuck? Let go of me! Who the hell are you?" The man answered without raising his voice.

"My name is Igrio, personal attendant to His Highness, the Eighth Prince, Caelan. I have also been entrusted with acting on His Highness's behalf in maintaining law and justice within the City of Necroton." His grip tightened ever so slightly.

"You are hereby charged with initiating an unlawful assault, issuing death threats against civilians, disrupting the lawful operation of a licensed auction house, and participating in last night's attack against the City of Necroton." His expression never changed.

"Under the authority granted by His Highness, you are sentenced to one week of imprisonment within the Necroton Detention Facility and fined one gold coin for your actions. Should you continue to resist arrest, additional charges and penalties will be imposed." The player tried to break free, but it felt as though his wrist had been trapped inside solid steel. No matter how much strength he poured into it, Igrio's grip never budged.

Without another word, Igrio dragged him toward the exit of the auction house as effortlessly as if he were pulling an empty sack. Standing just outside the entrance was another figure. A giant orc warrior. And his mere presence made the surrounding players instinctively step backward. Compared to the towering orc, the average player looked no bigger than a child standing beside a fully grown adult. No one dared get in his way as Igrio escorted the struggling prisoner outside.