She glared at the host.
A hint of confusion seeped through. She took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling, then glared at Victor—who gave her the stage with little to no fight, only showing a hint of annoyance in the twitch of his jaw.
"Fine. It seems we're doing this." Nicole sighed, looking at the host, who was smiling—completely forgetting he'd taken his audience's lunch away from them.
The audience was forced to give her their attention again.
She gave them an annoyed glance, eyes rolling.
"It's the same. No appreciation. Doesn't matter where I am." She took a breath, then looked at the host. "What do you want? He's been talking nonsense for quite a while now. What exactly do you want? Because unlike that moron, I don't like skipping details, so I would appreciate if we got to the point."
Her expression went blank.
"Everything, if possible. It's your story, after all, and I'm here to help the stage holder share it the right way." The host's reply came simply, hands spreading.
"No, you don't." Her head shook. "It isn't worth going over again. Not with him. Let's just finish the story he started."
She shot daggers at Victor's polite smile.
"All you really need to know to understand why I would ever consider saving him—bringing him was an accident. A really bad one at that. The goal was to break through a barrier that surrounded our island since the Cataclysm. Something that no one in the six cities should know about, for historical reasons."
She held up the cube. It glowed, projecting scenes of the lab in the air before the audience—details, explanations, pictures of the events she was talking about unfolding like a hologram. "Pictures help get lessons across better. It's how I learned."
"Isn't that a bit too much boring info at once, my dear?" The host broke through her long mumbling. Several sighs rippled through the audience.
"I never did the whole show thing before, so if you want to understand even the basics—shut up and listen."
She ignored him as he fell dramatically, clutching his heart in exaggerated pain, drawing attention away from her.
Her eyes rolled. The dismissal annoyed her further—getting that much of a reaction from her.
"Just give up already. She was never good at this, even when one of her most loyal yesmen—or in this case, yeswoman—was on the line." Victor's voice came out calm as his gaze wandered to a gloomy girl sitting next to Nicole in the audience.
The girl looked away, fingers gripping the chair until her knuckles went white.
"Oh, you fucking brute bastard! You mention one of your bravest and most human moments—the one time you weren't a complete selfish bastard, where you—"
"I did what I had to do for myself at the moment. Sorry that's not always convenient for you." Victor's words came out cold, cutting her off.
"Convenient?" Her voice rose. "You saved her only to force her to protect the city she loved—from you! The peace she got from you, you took from her! You killed one of her best friends in front of her, for fuck's sake! So don't show off that moment like a privilege or to prove a point. You left it all behind in the flames, right, Your Highness?"
Her voice grew louder with each word. Victor's frown deepened. A hint of emotion he hated seeped through as he heard her.
"As you wish." Victor finally broke the silence. No smile. Just a calm response, as if he'd come to peace with something.
"Really? That's it? Nothing?" She moved her hand down in a cutting gesture. "I expected that, but come on—try saying anything. Make it make sense what you did, Blake."
A hint of pleading seeped through her voice. She hated it—always did when things happened and they didn't make sense.
"What's the point? I made my choice, and I stand by it. It hurt people. So what? Everything we do hurts someone." Victor's voice was calm and steady, as if reading from a report. "And you do blame me for weird things. Your city, while way more prosperous and advanced than my home, wasn't that stable. Even a sheltered prince could tell that much."
"Abuse a five-decades-old feud to start a civil war to get that gate opened to your burned place? Yeah, very logical."
Nicole looked for anything around her to rest her hand against. After a moment of finding nothing, she pressed her palm against the floating cube.
"But what I don't understand at all—who leaves a good life for war? Who forces himself on a place that hates him? Why? You had a life here. Rights. Even luxury. A bit more time and you might have become one of the most important people in the city. We loved you. The city loved you, for fuck's sake! You didn't seem like you loved power, so why?"
She kept spewing paragraphs worth of questions, like a researcher trying to understand something completely unknown.
Victor stood uncharacteristically still, taking it all in. He sighed, not bothering to reply. His eyes hardened, as if forcing himself to come to terms with something.
Eventually Nicole took a long breath, trying to control herself—
Victor was about to say something—
The host snapped.
Drinks materialized instantly in front of the audience, along with notes to write what they wanted. The host pulled popcorn from thin air and started eating.
They both glared at him.
"While I do understand that some reunions are heart-wrenching, my sweet lovebirds, some context would be appreciated." He gestured to the audience, who had food in front of them and were paying attention with confused looks—but surprisingly, a hint of intrigue.
Both Victor and Nicole agreed on something for the first time.
They glared at him. All the emotions they had—the anger, the hate, the guilt, the regret—were directed at the poor host. If glares could cut stone, he would have been a very fancy potato chip by now.
They both felt that weird power again in their bodies, compelling them to talk in a certain direction.
Nicole finally got a grip on her composure. She relaxed a bit and smiled—a surprisingly genuine smile, almost polite—as she recalled an event and glared at the host.
"Fine. You want an explanation? I'll give it. Just wear a clown costume with 'I will be polite' written on it, and you get the tape you love giving people. You said it yourself—no interruptions."
"Sweetheart, that isn't how this works." The host smiled wearily.
The spotlight focused on him.
All he got to say was "Oh—"
His suit was replaced by jester's cloth. Tape appeared above his mask. Yet somehow it had the intended effect—even the music calmed down. Below his neck, hanging like a necklace, a sign board read: I WILL BE POLITE.
Victor's smile turned mischievous. Nicole struggled to hold back a laugh. The host's eyes rolled.
A couple of laughs erupted from the audience. His eyes wandered until they landed on a certain succubus, who was held in her chair. She flipped him off as she hungrily munched on food.
He thanked the tavern for the tape—otherwise he would have said things unbefitting a host.
He snapped his fingers.
The sound of a fork hitting a table echoed, followed by a lot of insults flying his way, then someone getting tied to their chair again.
Happy on the inside, he got back to work—a tear in his eye.