Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

"Uncle, is that Reality Master—I mean, the Spirit with Good Luck—really strong?"

Reves asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. If this were a storybook, there'd be sparkles dancing in them.

Ivaim smirked, leaning against the counter as if settling in for a good story.

"Do you think being strong is what makes someone great?" he countered, arching a brow.

Reves tilted his head, considering the question.

"Well… yeah, kind of? You can't be great if you're weak, right?"

Ivaim chuckled, a low, knowing sound.

"The Reality Master we serve is more than strong," he said, his tone carrying a weight that made Reves lean in closer.

"He can never be killed."

Reves gasped, his face lighting up with awe. "Whoa! So he's immortal?"

A sly grin tugged at the corner of Ivaim's lips.

'No, it's because he's a cockroach with way too much luck. The kind that always slips away at the last second'

He thought, biting back the urge to say it aloud. Instead, he simply smiled at Reves, letting the boy's imagination run wild.

"So," Ivaim said, steering the conversation, "what brings you here anyway? What kind of 'private' goods is your father trading downstairs?"

His tone was light, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity behind his words.

'Hopefully, it's nothing that would get me tangled up in something illegal,' he added silently.

Reves shrugged, looking unsure.

"I don't really know. Father said the times are getting more dangerous, and now I'm not allowed to go anywhere more than twenty meters from him. Apparently, I have to stick to him like glue until he finds 'trustworthy bodyguards.'"

Ivaim raised an eyebrow.

"Trustworthy bodyguards? Sounds serious. What's he so worried about?"

Reves hesitated, biting his lip.

"I… I think it's because of the threats. Some people don't like him very much. He never talks about it with me, though," he said, his voice dipping into a softer, more uncertain tone.

Ivaim nodded, filing that piece of information away.

"And you're okay with being stuck to him like that?"

Reves wrinkled his nose.

"Not really. It's kind of annoying. I can't even go outside without him watching like a hawk. But…" He hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Ivaim before darting away.

"I was going to tell him that you and Uncle Kalisto would make great bodyguards for me."

Ivaim blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Hm? Me again?"

Reves nodded quickly, his face flushing a little. "Y-Yeah! You're strong, you're smart, and you're kind of scary when you want to be. Father would totally listen if I told him!"@@novelbin@@

"And yet," Ivaim said, a teasing edge creeping into his voice, "you haven't said a word to him, have you?"

Reves fidgeted, looking sheepish. "I don't have the courage to tell him… He'd just brush me off anyway."

Ivaim studied the boy for a moment, his expression softening.

"You think too much, kid. If you believe in something, say it. Worst thing that happens? You get ignored. But at least you tried."

Reves looked up at him, his eyes wide with something like admiration. "You really think so?"

Ivaim shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen? Besides, if you don't speak up for what you want, who will?"

Reves smiled shyly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he shuffled his feet. "Thanks, Uncle—"

"Don't," Ivaim interrupted, raising a hand to cut him off. His glare was playful but firm. "Call me that again, and I'm charging you for advice."

Reves laughed softly, the sound brightening the heavy atmosphere. "Fine, fine. How about 'mentor extraordinaire'? Or maybe 'wise overseer'?"

Ivaim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're lucky you're a kid, or I'd make you sweep the shop for that."

Reves opened his mouth to retort, but a sudden, deafening BOOM from below cut through the lighthearted moment like a blade. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet, and the walls seemed to shudder in protest.

Ivaim's expression darkened immediately. His head snapped toward the door leading to the basement, his brows furrowing as he processed the unexpected explosion.

"What was that?" Reves asked, his voice trembling as he instinctively took a step closer to Ivaim.

Ivaim held up a hand, his voice calm but commanding.

"Stay here. Don't move."

Without hesitation, Ivaim moved swiftly toward the door, descending the creaking staircase. The air grew heavier with every step, thick with tension and the sharp, acrid scent of smoke mixed with something metallic. His pulse quickened, but he kept his mind steady.

At the bottom of the stairs, a dimly lit basement came into view. Dust swirled in the weak light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling.

Broken shelves lay toppled, their contents scattered across the floor like forgotten relics. In the center of the chaos stood Harvin, coughing and swatting at the dust cloud around him.

"What the hell happened here?" Ivaim demanded, his voice cutting through the uneasy quiet as his sharp eyes swept the room.

Harvin turned, his face flushed with anger and frustration.

"You shouldn't be here, kid. Go back upstairs. Better yet, take that man's son and get as far away from this building as you can. Two blocks, minimum."

Ivaim's brow furrowed, his stance unmoving.

"I'm not going anywhere. What's going on?"

Before Harvin could respond, the tall, stern man—Nathan—spoke up, his voice calm but laced with irritation.

"Harvin is overreacting. This situation is under control."

"Under control?" Harvin snapped, his glare fierce. "You've practically declared war on the other Nine Thrones, and you think this is under control?"

Ivaim's eyes narrowed, his curiosity sharpening.

"Other Nine Thrones?"

Harvin shot Ivaim a warning glance but continued, his frustration spilling over.

"Nathan here seems to think he can shield himself—and his son—from the other Throne Holders wrath just because he's got our Master's protection."

Nathan's jaw tightened. "I'm not just thinking it—I know it. Our Master has ensured my safety."

"Your safety, sure," Harvin said, his tone biting.

"But what about your son? The other Thrones won't play nice just because you're under our Master's wing. Reves is still vulnerable, and you know it."

Nathan's expression remained stoic, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, perhaps, or guilt.

"Reves will be fine."