NOVPUB
Chapter 51: What the—?!
Bang!
Confetti erupted in a colorful shower as Rhea pushed open the Haven’s door, the sharp pop jolting her into a fighting stance—fists raised into combat mode.
"What the—?!" she snapped, only to freeze as Kael’s grinning face emerged from the glittery haze.
"Congratulations, Flame-Lantern!" he cheered, waving the spent confetti can like a trophy. "New hero in the house!"
Rhea’s tense shoulders slumped, her amber eyes narrowed.
"You idiot," she muttered, calming down.
The collar around her neck beeped faintly—the superpower suppressor Harris had slapped on her before she’d left the car.
Kael peeked past her through the door’s gap, spotting Harris in the driver’s seat. He flashed a thumbs-up; Harris nodded curtly and peeled away, tires crunching on gravel.
"Why do I still have to wear this collar. Don’t you trust me yet?" Rhea grumbled, tugging at the collar with an annoyed scowl. "I’m here, aren’t I?"
Kael’s green eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, I trust you—mostly. But after seeing those flames today? I’d rather not risk you turning this place into a barbecue joint by accident." He stepped aside, gesturing her in with a flourish.
"Whatever," she huffed, shutting the door behind her. The Haven’s cozy warmth hit her instantly, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted chicken, buttery vegetables, and—best of all—chocolate puddings.
Her stomach growled despite her sour mood.
"Bath first, or dinner?" Kael asked, already bustling toward the kitchen nook.
Rhea shot him a half-lidded stare, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do I look like I’m in the mood to take a shower right now?"
"Fair enough. Dig in, then." Kael pulled out a chair with a playful bow, revealing a table laden with a feast: golden-brown chicken, flaky grilled fish, steamed carrots glazed with honey, and a towering stack of chocolate puddings—ten, by her quick count.
Her mouth watered, a drip of drool escaping before she could catch it.
"Careful—you’re dripping," Kael teased, smirking as he slid into his own seat.
"Shut up," she retorted, swiping her arm across her face. She grabbed a spoon and fork, eyes darting over the spread, torn between options.
Kael didn’t wait—he snagged a chicken drumstick and took a bite, chewing with exaggerated relish. "Might eat it all before you pick," he said, grinning around a mouthful.
"Hey!" Rhea’s glare sharpened, possessive fire flaring in her chest. "That’s mine!" She dove in, spearing a chunk of fish and shoveling it into her mouth, her pace bordering on feral.
A moment passed. They ate silently. Rhea didn’t even look at him so far. She was just eating the food as if it was going to run away.
Kael watched, amused. It looked like Rhea was in an emotional turn moil.
Was it the fight? The collar? Or something deeper—shame, maybe, at stepping into the hero spotlight?
He nudged the quiet aside. "Saw the news," he said casually, spooning pudding. Rhea nodded, mid-bite. "Mhmm."
"At first, I freaked when your name popped up," he continued, leaning back. "Thought you’d torched your teammates." Another nod from Rhea, her fork moving faster than seemed humanly possible. "But then I read it—’New Hero: Flame-Lantern.’ You’re a hero now."
She stopped, fork hovering, and fixed him with a scowl. "Don’t spoil the mood, Kael. I’m trying to eat here."
"What? You don’t like it?" he pressed, tilting his head.
"Hated every damn second," she snapped, stabbing a carrot with more force than necessary.
Kael raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Are you sure about that?" He tapped a remote, and the TV flickered on, replaying her post-fight interview. The reporter’s voice filled the room: "Those were one hell of moves! You’re stronger than you look—pure fire out there!" On-screen, Rhea smirked faintly, nodding.
Kael grinned. "Look at that—blushing already. Thought you hated it?"
Rhea’s head dipped, her cheeks reddening as she muttered, "Shut it." But her glare softened, and she glanced away, voice dropping to a feeble mumble. "
It... wasn’t bad, okay?" The admission slipped out, her blush deepening as she tilted her head, avoiding his gaze.
Kael didn’t push, just watched her with a quiet smile, letting her stew in her own reluctant pride.
----
He had already served Freya dinner a while ago, setting her plate down with a little more flair than usual. When she didn’t ask what was special—even though it was obvious—Kael cleared his throat and decided to tell her anyway.
"It’s Rhea," he said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "She made her hero debut today. Took down a rampaging bot practically solo. They even caught it on camera—look."
He pulled out his tablet, queuing up the clip and turning it toward her, his eyes shining as the footage played. Flames danced across the screen, Rhea flipping through fire and debris, landing in that final dramatic crouch as the robot’s wreckage rained around her.
Kael watched Freya’s face eagerly, waiting for some kind of reaction.
Her expression stayed neutral as she chewed, then finally, she spoke.
"Her costume’s funny."
-----
Kael and Rhea ate in companionable silence, the clink of utensils against plates mingling with the Haven’s soft hum. Rhea savored the pudding, scraping the bowl clean.
"These are good," she said, licking her spoon. "Where’d you get ’em?"
"Secret," Kael replied, winking. "Special occasions only—like your big hero moment."
She narrowed her eyes, scraping the last smear of chocolate. Another pause settled, then she smirked. "Found out your last name’s Drayce."
"Yeah, so?" Kael shrugged, taking a sip of water.
"It’s funny—way cooler than ’Kael.’ Pale, snail, fail..." She chuckled, teasing, her mood lifting. Kael laughed too, the sound light and easy. "Guess it suits me, huh?" 𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒑𝒖𝒃.𝙘𝙤𝒎
Dinner wrapped up, and Rhea stashed her leftover puddings in the fridge, slamming the door with a warning glare.
"Touch these, and I’ll break your bones, got it?" She flopped onto the sofa, snatching the TV remote from his hand. "Gimme that—I wanna watch something."
Kael leaned against the table, curious. "What’s on your mind?"
She hesitated, fingers tapping the remote, then sighed. "The news—my fight with that robot. Wanna see the footage, figure out where I screwed up." Her voice was gruff, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of eagerness.
"Got you covered," Kael said, grabbing the remote. "Uncut fight and interview—I have got the full deal for you."
He plopped down beside her, and hit play.
Rhea’s eyes lit up the moment the screen flared to life—there she was, a blazing silhouette darting through smoke, dodging bullets, and setting Timmy ablaze with raw firepower. Her breath hitched. She rewound it. Watched again. Then again.
Once. Twice. A dozen times.
Each time, her eyes tracked every movement, every frame. Her lips moved in a whisper, muttering to herself as she watched—critiques, notes, maybe just disbelief.
At the sight of her own fist slamming into the robot’s chest, she leaned in unconsciously, tension coiled in her shoulders.
But then the clip shifted—post-battle, her soot-smudged mask on camera, reporters shouting her name, praises tumbling over each other. Rhea’s expression shifted instantly.
"Oh god..." she mumbled, face flushing bright red, as her on-screen self spoke into the mic.
Kael chuckled beside her, nudging her with an elbow. "You sound like such a dork."
Rhea didn’t mind him, she was just too focused on herself.
Hours ticked by, and her muttering faded. Her head drooped, settling onto Kael’s shoulder, her breathing slowing to a soft rhythm.
Exhaustion had claimed her, the day’s weight finally crashing down.
Kael glanced at her, careful not to jostle her, and smiled faintly. He eased out from under her, sliding a cushion beneath her head and draping a blanket over her sprawled form.
