Chapter 42 – Who Hurt You?
He didn’t expect anything from it. Just another cup. Another fix. Something to keep the ache in his chest distracted and his system’s emotional monitor from blaring again.
But when the cup arrived—
It wasn’t a waiter who brought it.
It was Elyndra Vireleth.
She slid the coffee in front of him and sat across the table like she owned it.
Lux blinked.
Then arched a brow, letting his tone drop into something dry and amused.
"I thought you were gone."
She smoothed her skirt, eyes calm. "I was about to go."
She paused. "But then... I decided to stay."
Lux let out a lazy smile, the kind that looked like it belonged on a devil lounging on a throne made of contracts and regrets.
"Oh? What changed your mind? Saw me looking broken-hearted and decided to tease me while I’m emotionally compromised?"
Elyndra raised a brow, but her voice stayed calm. "No. You ordered your third coffee."
Lux blinked again. "...That’s what stopped you?"
She nodded once. "I got worried. That much caffeine in a short window—it’s not good for your health."
He chuckled, lips curling into something crooked. "This is my fourth."
She gave him a look.
Lux waved a hand. "Don’t worry. I used to drink twenty cups a day. Almost one for every hour."
That part was true. What he didn’t say was that in Hell’s finance department, caffeine tolerance wasn’t just encouraged—it was required for survival. His coffee mugs had once been classified as blunt weapons.
Elyndra narrowed her eyes. "That’s... too much."
Lux huffed a breath, dragging a finger along the side of the cup. The warmth radiated into his fingertips, but didn’t quite reach his bones.
"I needed to stay awake," he said quietly. "Too much work."
He took a sip. Then added under his breath, "...And it numbs me."
That part slipped out before he could catch it.
Elyndra tilted her head. "What are you—"
She stopped.
Her gaze sharpened, just slightly.
She didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t speak. But something about her changed. Her presence. Her focus.
She was studying him now.
Lux didn’t say anything. He just drank his coffee again. Same speed. Same casual expression.
But she felt it.
Not with her ears.
Not with her eyes.
Something else.
Something old.
Her family built vacation homes for the wealthy in magical zones—sanctuaries, retreats, luxury memory palaces.
To close those deals?
You needed more than sales talk.
You needed to see people.
And Elyndra?
Had been trained to see.
Not visions. Not auras.
But problems.
And right now, the man across from her was drowning in something sharp and invisible.
His body was still.
His face? Composed.
His voice? Flawless.
But inside?
There was something growling.
Not loudly.
Not wildly.
Just a low, ceaseless pressure. Like a great beast chained in velvet. Invisible to most.
But not to her.
"...Who hurt you?" she asked, quietly.
Lux paused mid-sip.
Then slowly set the cup down.
He didn’t speak right away.
He looked at her instead.
Really looked.
And tilted his head, that lazy smirk returning like muscle memory.
"Do I look hurt?"
"You know what I mean, Mr. Vaelthorn."
He huffed, leaning back. "Is this about Naomi? Because if so, you’re overanalyzing. She just left for some paperwork. I’m not spiraling or crying into my croissant or—"
She shook her head. "It’s not about her."
She leaned forward slightly. "I saw more than that."
Lux exhaled. Long. Bitter.
Then he smiled again.
That thin, hollow version. The kind you wear when everything inside you’s coming undone, but you’ve got a meeting in five.
"Too much work," he said. "Less self-care. Too many contracts. Not enough people who see me as anything more than a walking clause."
Elyndra’s expression didn’t change.
But something in her eyes softened.
"I see."
He looked at her for a moment.
Then nodded slowly. "I’m shocked you could see through me."
She gave a small smile. "My family runs a real estate group. We specialize in magical properties. Retirement homes for the ultra-wealthy. Retreat mansions. Healing sanctuaries. Places people go to pretend they’re not broken."
Lux arched a brow. "Sounds... lucrative."
"It is," she said. "But to market to those people, to reach them, we developed subtle enchantments. Nothing invasive. Just... sensory enhancements. Empathic perception fields. Let’s us sense surface emotions. Distortions. Restlessness."
Lux blinked.
"Real estate with trauma-detection," he muttered. "Now that’s capitalism."
She shrugged, unbothered. "It works."
He tilted his cup toward her. "Well, your enchantments are good. Too good."
She said nothing for a beat.
Then "Yours feels rooted in something... old."
He didn’t reply.
"Something that never quite healed. Not heartbreak. Not love. Something deeper."
Lux looked down into his coffee.
"You’re not wrong."
She hesitated, then asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
He smirked again.
Not the sharp one.
Not the seductive one.
The tired one.
The kind he only used when no one was looking.
"I was abandoned," he said simply. "Left with responsibilities I didn’t choose. Roles I wasn’t ready for. Told to be perfect. Told to not complain. Told to deliver."
He took another sip.
"And I did. Alone."
Elyndra didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
The silence wrapped around them like an understanding too old to name.
Lux leaned back, looking out the glass window.
"I thought I got over it," he said. "Then Naomi walked away—just for work, mind you—and suddenly, I felt it again. That sting. That echo. That voice that says ’you’re going to be alone again’. I hate it."
She nodded slowly.
"You’re not, though."
He gave her a look.
"You really believe that?"
"I wouldn’t sit here if I didn’t."
Lux looked at her.
He smiled.
Soft. Honest. Quiet.
Not for charm.
Not for defense.
Just... human.
"Thanks," he said, almost sheepishly.
Elyndra stood.
Picked up the now-empty coffee cup and her purse.
Before she left, she glanced back.
"Don’t overdose on caffeine," she said. "It won’t fix what’s inside you."
"Noted."
"Oh—and Mr. Vaelthorn?"
"Yeah?"
She smiled faintly. "You don’t have to be a fortress all the time. Not with the right people."
Then she walked away.