Arias and I sat at a ridiculously fancy restaurant, the kind where they fold your napkin for you and act like water is a rare delicacy sourced from an enchanted spring.
I hadn’t wanted to come here.
Arias had insisted.
“Come on, brother,” he had said. “Let’s enjoy some fine dining.”
Now, I regretted it.
Not because of the restaurant.
But because of the waiter.
The waiter approached with the eagerness of a man who had already written an entire romance novel in his head.
He was tall, well-dressed, and smirking like he knew all my secrets.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “Date night?”
I blinked.
Arias, without missing a beat, smirked. “Every meal with me is an experience.”
The waiter nodded approvingly. “A charming one, I’m sure.”
I sighed. “We’re not a couple.”
The waiter’s smirk only deepened.
“Oh,” he said, “of course.”
He didn’t believe me.
Arias was loving every second of this.
“Would you like to start with a wine selection?” the waiter continued, flipping open a leather-bound menu the size of a grimoire.
Arias leaned back, eyes twinkling. “I’ll let my partner decide.”
I turned to glare at him.
The waiter’s smirk evolved into something borderline diabolical.
“Oh, how sweet.”
I exhaled slowly. “We’re not—”
Arias cut in. “We’ll take the red.”
The waiter winked at me.
WINKED.
“An excellent choice, sir,” he said, “for a man with such refined tastes.”
Arias was internally combusting with laughter.
I considered flipping the table.
By the time our meals arrived, it was clear that the waiter had decided we were the restaurant’s main event.
He lit a candle and placed it between us.
Arias picked up his wine and swirled it like he was at a noble’s gala. “To us,” he said, lifting his glass.
The waiter visibly swooned.
I stared at him.
Arias raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to toast me?”
I grabbed my glass with the weight of a man accepting his fate.
“To your inevitable demise.”
The waiter gasped. “Oh! You two have a playful dynamic. That’s adorable.”
Arias grinned. “Isn’t it?”
I took a very long sip of wine.
Every few minutes, the waiter returned.
To check in.
To adjust the candle.
To "make sure we were having a magical evening."
At one point, he brought a violinist.
“Sir,” I said, as the musician started playing something obnoxiously romantic, “I am begging you to stop.”
The waiter smiled sympathetically. “Oh, I understand. Not everyone is comfortable with public displays of affection.”
I rubbed my temples. “That is NOT what’s happening.”
Arias, looking far too pleased with himself, leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand.
“Oh, darling,” he purred, “you always get so grumpy when people acknowledge our love.”
The violinist played louder.
The table next to us sighed dreamily.
I considered burning the restaurant to the ground.
When it was time for dessert, I prayed for a swift and merciful end.
I was so wrong.
The waiter arrived with a flourish.
And in his hands—
A heart-shaped cake.
With “TO MANY YEARS OF LOVE” written in chocolate.
Arias burst into uncontrollable laughter.
I stared at the cake.
I stared at the waiter.
I stared at Arias, who was literally wiping away tears of joy.
I inhaled deeply.
“Check, please.”
As we left the restaurant, Arias patted my shoulder.
“That,” he said, grinning like a devil, “was magnificent.”
I sighed. “I despise you.”
A group of bystanders watched us leave, whispering excitedly about how romantic we were.
Arias threw an arm around my shoulders.
“Shall we go home, my love?”
I shoved him into traffic.
I should have known this was going to be a mistake the moment Arias walked in with that smirk.
“Brother,” he said, dropping onto my couch like he was announcing a royal decree, “we’re going on a blind double date.”
I didn’t even look up from my book. “No.”
Arias continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Two incredibly gorgeous women. Mysterious. Exotic. The kind of beauty that could launch a thousand ships.”
I turned a page. “No.”
“They’re also supernatural,” he added.
I paused.
He grinned. “I knew that would get your attention.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
I sighed, finally closing my book. “What kind of supernatural?”
Arias stretched. “One’s an ancient vampiress with a killer accent. The other is a sorceress who can set things on fire with a wink.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Arias. You absolute fool.”
He smirked. “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”
I stared at him. “I am the adventure. I don’t need to go looking for more.”
Arias clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Too bad. We’re meeting them in an hour.”
The restaurant was high-end, candlelit, unnecessarily dramatic.
The kind of place where mortals whispered rumors about strange, wealthy patrons who never quite looked human.
I sighed as I adjusted my black dress shirt. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
Arias, looking too confident in his tailored suit, grinned. “Because fate demands it.”
“Fate is going to demand your funeral.”
Then, I sensed them.
Powerful. Old. Dangerous.
And, unfortunately, gorgeous.
They arrived like royalty, their presence shifting the air.
The vampiress, tall, elegant, dark hair cascading like silk, walked with a grace that could hypnotize armies.
The sorceress, golden eyes flickering with mischievous fire, smirked like she had already won the game.
Arias, the bastard, smirked right back. “Ah, our lovely companions have arrived.”
The vampiress tilted her head, her accent thick and intoxicating. “You must be the charming war god.”
Arias took her hand and kissed it. “Guilty as charged.”
I resisted the urge to leave.
The sorceress slid into the seat across from me, her golden eyes gleaming. “And you,” she purred, “are… fascinating.”
I sighed. “I hear that a lot.”
At first, it was polite.
Pleasantries. Compliments. Flirty glances.
Then things got… weird.
“So,” the vampiress said, sipping her very red wine, “do you prefer to hunt monsters or command them?”
Arias grinned. “A little of both, darling.”
I frowned. “You say that like it’s a hobby.”
The sorceress smirked. “And what about you, Darian? What’s your darkest sin?”
I took a slow sip of my drink. “I once threw a man into a volcano.”
She leaned forward, intrigued. “Sexy.”
Arias grinned. “I told you he’s interesting.”
I exhaled. “I wasn’t trying to be interesting.”
At some point, our poor human waiter approached.
Nervous. Sweating.
He clearly sensed something was off.
“Uh, c-can I… get you more wine?” he asked, eyes darting between the sorceress and vampiress, who were very much not mortal.
The vampiress smiled just enough to show fangs. “Yes, please.”
The sorceress grinned. “Bring something strong.”
The waiter nodded too quickly. “Of course, ma’am!”
Then Arias, the walking disaster, smirked at me and said, “My partner will have the same.”
The waiter’s eyes widened.
The vampiress raised an eyebrow.
The sorceress smirked.
I glared. “We’re not a couple.”
The waiter nodded rapidly. “R-right! Sorry! I’ll be right back!”
He ran.
Arias chuckled. “They always assume.”
I stared at him. “You’re the reason they assume.”
The conversation somehow spiraled into "who has the most impressive abilities."
Arias, the cocky fool, challenged the sorceress to a magic trick duel.
The entire restaurant watched in horror.
She snapped her fingers—the candles exploded into blue fire.
Arias, not to be outdone, flicked his wrist—the fire turned golden and shaped itself into a lion.
The crowd gasped.
The vampiress sipped her wine. “Men and their flame-measuring contests.”
I sighed.
Then, because I am a fool, I casually lifted my hand and extinguished both flames instantly.
The sorceress and Arias both turned to me.
Arias pouted. “Really?”
The sorceress leaned in, suddenly very interested. “Oh, you’re no fun, but you’re powerful. I like that.”
I exhaled. Why did I come here?
Things were going well enough—until a rival suitor appeared.
A werewolf lord, massive, gruff, and arrogant, suddenly interrupted the date.
“I see you ladies are keeping unworthy company.”
Arias immediately grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
The werewolf scowled. “Step aside.”
I stayed seated. “No.”
The werewolf sneered. “What are you, their bodyguard?”
I finished my drink. “No.”
Arias smirked. “We’re on a date.”
The entire restaurant gasped.
The sorceress laughed.
The werewolf’s face twisted in confusion.
The vampiress licked her lips, amused. “Oh, now this is interesting.”
The werewolf growled. “You expect me to believe that?”
Arias grinned. “Believe what you want, but she’s coming home with me.”
The sorceress grinned. “Or me.”
The vampiress chuckled. “Or both.”
The werewolf short-circuited.
I sighed. “I’m leaving.”
As we walked out, Arias patted my back.
“That went well.”
I glared. “A werewolf almost challenged me to a death match.”
Arias smirked. “Yeah, but look on the bright side.”
Behind us, the sorceress and vampiress watched us leave.
“We should see them again.”
I knew this wasn’t over.
2:37 AM.
The burglar had planned this perfectly.
He had done his research. The penthouse apartment belonged to two eccentric billionaires, the kind who threw lavish parties, drove the fastest cars, and probably didn’t lock their doors because rich people never expected to get robbed.
Easy money.
He slipped in through the balcony, silent as a shadow. The place was ridiculously extravagant—vaulted ceilings, priceless art, furniture that looked expensive and uncomfortable.
His target? The jewel-encrusted watch collection he’d read about in some celebrity gossip column. Should be an easy grab.
But before he could take another step—
The lights flipped on.
The burglar froze.
Across the massive living room, sitting casually on a ridiculously luxurious couch, was Darian.
And he was not what the burglar expected.
Barefoot, shirtless, with golden eyes glowing like an angry sunrise, Darian looked more like a vengeful war god than a billionaire playboy. His arms were scarred, muscular, and very visibly covered in runes.
The burglar, to his credit, did not immediately scream.
But then he noticed the massive sword leaning against the couch.
Darian slowly set down his book—a worn-out grimoire that smelled faintly of fire and brimstone.
“…Who the hell are you?” he asked, voice low and far too calm.
The burglar had two options.
- Run.
- Explain himself and hope for the best.
He went with Option 3: Stand there and quietly regret every life decision leading up to this moment.
Before the burglar could react, Arias strolled in from the kitchen.
Unlike his brother, Arias was fully dressed. And by fully dressed, that meant a silk robe, no shirt, and a glass of expensive wine in one hand.
He took one look at the situation and grinned.
“Well, well, well,” Arias said. “Did we order a midnight intruder? Darian, you really should tell me when we’re expecting guests.”
The burglar finally found his voice. “I—I’m robbing you?”
It came out as a question.
Arias sighed dramatically. “Oh, sweetheart. No, you’re not.”
Darian stood up.
And suddenly, the room felt much smaller.
The burglar turned to run.
He did not make it very far.
The moment he reached the balcony, the doors slammed shut on their own.
The burglar blinked.
Then he turned to see Darian lifting one hand, fingers glowing with eldritch power.
“Oh, gods,” the burglar whispered. “You have magic?”
Arias took a slow sip of wine. “Oh, honey. We have so much worse.”
Darian tilted his head. “You thought you were robbing rich idiots, didn’t you?”
The burglar nodded frantically.
“Well,” Arias said cheerfully, “you did technically get the ‘rich’ part right.”
The burglar, officially panicking, tried one last desperate attempt at escape.
He grabbed a priceless golden vase off the table, hoping to throw it—maybe as a distraction, maybe as a weapon, maybe just out of pure panic.
Before he could so much as lift it—
The vase grew eyes.
And then it hissed.
The burglar dropped it immediately as the vase scuttled away on tiny legs.
“…What the hell was that?” he gasped.
Darian shrugged. “Sentient treasure.”
Arias waved a hand. “You get used to it.”
The burglar looked around the penthouse again. This time, he noticed the little details he had missed before:
- The floating bookshelf that moved when Darian glanced at it.
- The whispering shadows pooling around Arias’s feet.
- The massive hellhound now sitting in the doorway, watching him with glowing red eyes.
“…Okay,” the burglar said, swallowing hard. “Maybe I should go.”
Darian folded his arms. “Maybe.”
The burglar took a slow step toward the door.
Arias beamed. “Before you do, tell me—what was the plan, exactly? Break in, steal some gold, sell it for petty cash?”
The burglar nodded.
Arias shook his head. “Sweetheart. Half the things in here are cursed.”
Darian nodded. “He’s not wrong. You almost stole an eldritch ring that would’ve fused with your soul.”
The burglar paled. “Oh, gods.”
Arias smirked. “And that vase? If you’d taken it outside, it would’ve grown legs and hunted you down.”
Darian shrugged. “We would’ve found you in a few days, probably a broken man.”
“…Oh, gods.”
The burglar dropped to his knees.
“Listen,” he said, voice shaking. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to leave. Please.”
Darian considered this.
Arias looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, Darian. What do we think? Do we let him go, or do we curse him so he’ll never try this again?”
The burglar whimpered.
Darian sighed. “Arias, stop scaring him.”
Arias pouted. “Fine.”
Darian turned back to the burglar. “You can go. But if you ever try something like this again…”
The hellhound behind him growled.
The burglar nodded frantically. “Nope. Never. Not happening.”
Darian snapped his fingers.
The balcony doors swung open.
The burglar sprinted for his life.
Arias watched him disappear into the night.
“Well,” he mused, sipping his wine. “That was fun.”
Darian rubbed his temples. “You encourage this nonsense.”
Arias grinned. “I absolutely do.”
Darian sighed. “Next time, I’m just summoning a demon to scare them off.”
Arias gasped. “But that would be mean.”
Darian stared at him. “Arias. I literally just stopped you from cursing him.”
Arias waved a hand. “Details.”
Darian collapsed back onto the couch.
Arias flopped down beside him.
The hellhound, satisfied, curled up at their feet.
And across the city, a burglar questioned all of his life choices.