The DuskHavenCafé glowed softly under fairy lights, windows slightly fogged from the evening chill. The café was closed to customers, chairs turned in, but one table in the center gleamed with candles, a small cake, and a bouquet of white camellias — Alric's favorite. Kyrell was adjusting the lighting while Mackiah finished writing on a blackboard with gold chalk.
Kyrell (grinning at Mackiah):
"He's gonna pretend it's too much, but you'll see… his ears always go pink when he's happy."
Mackiah (chuckling):
"Well, Ivan almost burned the kitchen trying to bake this cake."
Ivan (walking in dramatically with a bottle of sparkling rosewater):
"Excuse you, I was making art. There's a difference between almost burning something and... adding flair."
Kyrell:
"Uh-huh, tell that to the smoke alarm."
Alric adjusted his shirt as he stepped up to the café's entrance, frowning at the quiet. The windows were dim, the Closed sign still hanging.
"Ivan… are you sure they're open?" he asked, phone pressed to his ear.
"You've been working your royal ass off all week, Mr. CEO — consider this mandatory relaxation." came Ivan's sly voice.
Alric chuckled to himself, shaking his head. This better not be another one of his "surprise latte art challenges."
Alric sighed but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at his lips.
"Ivan, I told you I only have ten minutes, I have another board—"
As soon as his hand touched the café door, the lights burst on with a sudden warm glow — soft amber and gold hues flooding the interior. Streamers sparkled. Tiny stars hung from the ceiling. A small banner read:
"Congratulations, Alric – Our Brilliant CEO!"
Confetti popped in the air with a light snap!
Kyrell grinned from behind the counter.
Mackiah gave a two-finger salute from the side booth, eyes glowing with warmth.
And from the kitchen door emerged Ivan, carrying a small, elegant cake decorated in white and gold, topped with dark chocolate shards and a tiny Avenar Corp. logo made of fondant.
"Surprise!" they all called in chorus.
Alric blinked, momentarily frozen. "You guys…"
"Did you really think we wouldn't celebrate our genius heir taking over a global empire?" Kyrell said with a wink.
"Not to mention how absurdly attractive you looked in that press conference," Ivan added, sauntering toward him with the cake. "Though, admittedly, I was a little jealous of your suit."
"And the cameraman," Mackiah muttered, earning a playful elbow from Kyrell.
Alric let out a breathy laugh, shoulders relaxing as he took it all in. "I… didn't think I'd miss this place so much."
Ivan handed him the cake and leaned in, voice low but teasing.
"Admit it — you missed me."
Alric flushed just slightly but played along. "Only a little."
"Liar," Ivan whispered with a wink.
They settled into the warm glow of the booth, the scent of cinnamon and cocoa floating in the air. A slow playlist hummed in the background — not loud enough to distract, just enough to wrap around them like a memory.
Alric took a small bite of the cake and set his fork down. "This…" he said, eyes softening. "It reminds me of the first time we all had dinner together here. Remember? The pasta was overcooked, the lights flickered… but it was the first time I felt—"
He stopped.
Ivan, noticing the sudden shift in his expression, reached across and lightly took his hand. "Felt what?"
Alric smiled gently. "Like I wasn't alone. Like I wasn't just someone with a famous last name and a broken past. That night, I found something I didn't know I needed."
He looked at each of them — Kyrell with his quiet strength, Mackiah with his disarming smile, and Ivan, whose eyes held far more than flirtation tonight.
"I found my family. I didn't know I could still have one.
Back then… I never imagined I'd find something like this. A place, people… who'd feel like home."
Ivan quietly placed his plate on the table and reached out, brushing his fingers against Alric's.
Ivan (gently):
"You found us. And we're not letting go."
Kyrell lit the candles. Alric leaned in to blow them out. They all raised their glasses — non-alcoholic, of course — and clinked softly.
Kyrell:
"To new beginnings."
Mackiah:
"To peace, while it lasts."
Ivan (looking meaningfully at Alric):
"To finding the family we choose."
Alric (smiling through tears):
"To all of you. Thank you… for reminding me who I am outside the suit."
They all drank.
And for one perfect moment, time stood still.
A few days passed. Mackiah pushed open the café door, the familiar tinkle of the bell above greeting him like an old friend. The scent of espresso and sugar hung in the air — comforting, warm, and utterly Kyrell.
But something was missing.
He glanced toward the counter, expecting to see Ivan's usual cheery grin and exaggerated hand wave. Instead, only Kyrell stood there, sleeves rolled up, hair half-tied, focused on swirling whipped cream atop a hot drink.
"Morning," Mackiah greeted as he approached, quirking an eyebrow. "Where's the overly dramatic sunshine? He owes me a cappuccino heart."
Kyrell let out a long sigh, setting the mug down gently before leaning on the counter. "He's with Alric. Again." His lips twitched. "He said he wants to be with him all the time now... so the café is kind of part-time for him."
Mackiah chuckled, voice low and fond. "Well, that's probably for the better. At least now we'll get more privacy."
Kyrell blinked, glancing up at him — a quiet flutter in his chest. "Privacy, huh?"
Mackiah smirked, resting his elbows on the counter. "Don't tell me you didn't miss our little stolen moments."
Kyrell tried to look away, but his cheeks betrayed him — pink blooming over porcelain skin. "You really are impossible when you're smug."
"Only when you're this easy to fluster," Mackiah replied, a quiet laugh threading through his words. He leaned closer across the counter, voice dropping. "Though, I do miss those moments… especially the ones where you'd get all shy and pretend you weren't falling for me."
Kyrell's breath hitched. His hands, previously so steady with the drink, fidgeted slightly as he wiped down the counter — just to give them something to do. "I wasn't pretending…"
The words came out softer than he intended.
Mackiah's teasing faded for a moment, his gaze sharpening slightly. "Yeah?"
Kyrell met his eyes — slowly, carefully, like it was still a fragile thing to do. "Yeah," he echoed, quieter. "I was scared… but I wasn't pretending."
A pause.
Outside, wind stirred a chime by the café window. Inside, the silence pressed sweetly between them.
Mackiah stepped around the counter, his boots slow against the wooden floor, his eyes never leaving Kyrell's.
When he reached him, he didn't rush. He just lifted one hand, brushing a thumb over Kyrell's cheek, just beneath his eye — as if he was learning the shape of his expression.
"You don't have to be scared anymore, Kyrell," he murmured. "Not of me. Not of this."
Kyrell closed his eyes. "I don't want to be," he whispered. "I just… never thought I'd get something like this. Not after everything."
Mackiah gently tilted Kyrell's chin up, their foreheads nearly touching. "Neither did I. But here we are."
Then he kissed him. Followed by a warm, tight hug.
Not like the fireworks night — wild and urgent.
This kiss was quiet. Slow. Reverent.
Like a promise carved into the spaces they used to leave hollow.
Alric stood by the tall window of his office, shirt slightly wrinkled, mug of tea cradled between his hands. The light cast a glow across his pale hair and made the faint circles under his eyes more visible. He wasn't tired — not exactly. Just… overwhelmed.
The takeover was done. Evelyn and Lucien had been exposed. Halovex was his again.
But the silence after victory? That was louder than the noise during the war.
"You're brooding again."
Ivan's voice slipped in like sunlight through clouds — warm, teasing, familiar.
Alric turned as Ivan walked in. His curls were slightly damp, sticking to his forehead, and a smug smile curved his lips.
"Brooding is productive," Alric muttered, sipping his tea.
"Brooding is boring," Ivan replied, walking over. "And also bad for your skin."
He plucked the cup from Alric's hands, set it down on the side table, and kissed his cheek.
"I never asked you this," he said quietly, not looking up, "but why are you still here, Ivan?"
Ivan blinked. "You mean why haven't I run off to hide in the Alps with a cat and an espresso machine?"
Alric gave a short laugh — surprised, and real.
Ivan's expression grew gentle, and his fingers curled tighter around Alric's.
"I'm here because I want to be," he said. "Because when I'm with you, I'm not pretending. I don't have to hide the broken parts. And because I think… maybe you need someone to remind you that you're more than your past."
Alric's throat tightened.
He didn't speak.
Instead, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Ivan's.
They stood there, still. Breathing the same air. Heartbeats syncing.
Until Ivan whispered, "...Also, you make a killer honey latte."
Alric snorted and pulled him close, burying his face in the curve of Ivan's neck. "You're ridiculous."
"But you like it."
"I do," Alricadmitted, just above a whisper. "Too much, maybe."
And somewhere in the back of Ivan's mind, a flicker of guilt stirred — the kind that grows when love meets secrets.
Later that evening-
The café was quiet — too quiet.
Kyrell stood in the middle of the room, tension laced into every breath. The café had closed early. No festive music. No clinking cups. Just silence… and dread.
Ivan pushed through the door, breathless. He saw Kyrell and immediately froze.
"You said it was urgent?"
Kyrell didn't waste a second. He turned the phone around and handed it over, screen already lit — a decrypted transmission still glitching slightly as if it had come from beneath the earth itself.
Ivan took it. And as his eyes scanned the message… all traces of warmth vanished.
[ENCRYPTED MESSAGE — ORIGIN: VIRELLAN 099R9]
> TO THE LOST SONS OF STARS AND ASH
The shadows of VIRELLAN writhe.
Our syndicate bleeds. Our leaders conspire.
JOKER is alive. He has returned. Not as a man. As a message. As madness reborn.
He walks beneath our fractured council.
And he is not alone.
A pact was made. With something deeper than loyalty.
The war is no longer cold. The waters will boil.
Clans are aligning. Some fall to Joker. Others prepare to resist.
The name "ZERO" has reappeared. But it is not ours.
Not Serpent. Not Star. Not sanctioned.
The kingdom Zeus established, not as Zeus but as himself- Kaelus Velzareth Valkherion, now bleeds with no heir. A war is inevitable.
The one Kaelus had feared all along.
If you still breathe under oath, come.
The Lantern Ruins still remember your names.
Bring fire.
— C
[Ghostfire of Virellan | Last True Watcher]
Ivan stared at it. "...This is from Cyrien, isn't it? Cyrien was never supposed to reach out," Ivan murmured. "Not unless everything had already begun falling apart."
Kyrell nodded, throat dry. "It came from a dead channel. One only Virellan command ever used. No contact for a year, and now this. Joker is alive, and someone else is using the codename Zero."
Ivan's was a whisper."You believe it?"
"I believe it because Joker doesn't leave traces unless he wants to be found."Kyrell's voice dropped, almost a growl. "And because the Lantern Ruins… that's a place only we know."
Ivan took a shaky breath. "You think… he's coming here?"
Kyrell didn't answer.
Ivan's jaw clenched. "Zero was erased. No one's allowed to take that name."
Kyrell moved closer, tension in his shoulders. "Which means someone's trying to claim authority over what's left of the Virellan elite. If Joker is back... if he made a deal—"
Ivan cut in, voice low and sharp. "Then everything we buried in Virellan's shadows is coming back to haunt us."
Silence fell again, thick and heavy.
"The clans are rising. The alliance of the underworld is splintering. If Joker's behind it… it's not just about Virellan." Kyrell said breaking the silence.
Kyrell's eyes widened with realization. "Ivan…"
Then suddenly, the lights flickered. A static buzz raced through the café speakers.
CRASH.
The front windows shattered inward, shards exploding across the floor like diamond rain.
Six figures stepped in, wearing tactical black suits, sleek, silent, and clearly not from any known faction. Their armor shimmered unnaturally, pieces of tech laced into every inch — shoulder-mounted sensory arrays, gloves with pulse-displacement tech, visors glowing like ghostlight.
Ivan instinctively stepped forward.
"No insignia," he whispered.
"No…" Kyrell said slowly. Then his eyes narrowed.
His gaze dropped to the small emblem on their shoulders.
A crooked, grinning white smile. Tilted. Painted.
Kyrell's breath hitched.
"Don't," he said sharply, placing a hand on Ivan's arm.
Ivan halted.
Kyrell looked up at him, eyes wide, haunted. "That's not a mercenary tag. That's his mark."
Ivan's expression darkened instantly.
They exchanged a single look — an unspoken confirmation.
Joker.
One of the soldiers stepped forward silently. From a compartment in his wristguard, a small speaker device projected a low hum.
Then it crackled.
And a voice poured into the café — smooth as velvet, venom-laced, and intimate.
"Missed me?"
A low, amused chuckle followed. The sound dragging like a knife across the glass.
The past crawling up back again.
"Long time no see, my dearest old buddies...
Zayden.
Darian."
Demonic laugh echoed through the café announcing the beginning of
Joker's Mayhem x‿x