Chapter 85: Look at me, sister. Do I look like I struggle with attracting lovers

Chapter 85: Chapter 85: Look at me, sister. Do I look like I struggle with attracting lovers Zyran sighed internally. He already knew where this was going. Violet was about to throw a fit, twist the story to her advantage, and frame him—like she always did. And the worst part? His parents would believe her. His fondness for mortals was no secret. It was practically legendary. He spent more time in their realm than he did in the underworld. He even owned a city there—though no one knew about it. If his father, Anubis, ever found out, he’d be permanently banned from setting foot in the mortal world. Which meant he needed to handle this carefully. So, Zyran turned to his little sister, studying her closely. She looked like she was seconds away from bursting into tears, her lip wobbling, eyes shimmering with unshed frustration. He groaned. Not this again. "Violet," he said, voice slow and measured, "before you start crying and ruining my peace, consider this—what exactly would I gain from stealing your clothes for a lover?" Violet sniffed dramatically. "You tell me, thief!" Zyran pinched the bridge of his nose. "You think I, son of Anubis, need your handiwork to impress a woman?" He spread his arms. "Look at me, sister. Do I look like I struggle with attracting lovers?" Violet scowled, crossing her arms. "That’s not the point!" He smirked. "No, I think it is the point. You just want an excuse to tattle." Violet’s frustration peaked. "I worked on those! It’s not easy sewing with mortal materials as a goddess! You don’t understand the effort I put in!" Zyran finally sighed, his amusement fading slightly. He did understand. He did know how much Violet struggled with proving herself. That’s why he had taken her to the mortal realm in the first place—to let her feel like she belonged somewhere. But he wasn’t about to admit he actually felt bad. So instead, he patted her head. "Alright, alright. I may have borrowed them." Violet’s eyes flashed. "You stole them!" Zyran shrugged, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Details." Violet huffed, glaring up at him. "Well?! Where are they?!" Zyran chuckled. "Let’s just say... they’re in good hands." Violet gasped. "So you did give them to a woman!" Zyran turned away, tail swishing as he reached for his goblet. "Maybe." Violet screamed. Zyran watched as Violet’s frustration reached dangerous levels. Her little fists clenched at her sides, her breathing hitched, and—oh, there it was—her divine aura flickered, rattling the objects in his room. If he didn’t fix this soon, she’d throw a tantrum so grand it might actually shake the underworld. Which meant it was time to negotiate. With a dramatic sigh, Zyran leaned back against his chair, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Alright, Violet. Let’s talk." She scoffed. "Talk?! Give me back my clothes, now!" Zyran tilted his head. "Can’t do that." Her glare could have burned through steel. "Then I will tell father." He clicked his tongue. "Tattling? How very young of you." "I am young, you fool!" she snapped, throwing her hands up. "I’m the youngest! That’s literally my role!" He let out a low chuckle. "Fair. But before you storm off to ruin my reputation even further, let’s be logical." She folded her arms. "Logical? You stole from me." "Borrowed," he corrected smoothly. "And I’m willing to compensate you handsomely." Violet narrowed her eyes. "Go on." Zyran hid a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. "I know you’ve been trying to perfect your magic weaving," he said, keeping his tone casual. "You want to prove that a goddess can work with mortal materials, yes?" Violet stiffened but didn’t deny it. "Well, my dear sister, what if I gave you something better than that?" He leaned forward. "What if I gave you access to raremortal fabrics—the kind imbued with subtle magic? Materials so fine they could rival divine silk?" Violet’s expression flickered between suspicion and interest. "You’re lying." Zyran smirked. "Am I? You do remember I have connections in the mortal realm, don’t you?" Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of connections?" Oops. Shouldn’t have said that. He quickly waved a hand. "Irrelevant! The point is, I have access to materials that could help you prove your worth to those annoying underworld snobs who mock your craft. You’d be the first goddess to create something truly unique." Violet chewed her lip. "And you’d actually get these materials for me?" Zyran placed a hand on his heart. "I swear on the River Styx." She gasped. "You never swear on the Styx!" "Exactly." He grinned. "That’s how you know I’m serious." Violet hesitated, but he could see the temptation flickering in her eyes. Still, she wasn’t stupid. "I want it before I agree." Zyran let out a low whistle. "Ah, now that is asking for a lot." She raised a brow. "Oh, so you can’t get it?" He smirked. "Of course I can. But I’ll need time." Violet crossed her arms, thinking. Then, she sighed. "Fine. I’ll give you three days." "Five." "Three." "Four." "Three." Zyran groaned. "Ugh, fine. Three." Violet smirked. "Pleasure doing business with you, thief." Zyran watched as she turned on her heel and strode out, tail flicking in triumph. As soon as she was gone, he sighed, rubbing his temples. Three days. He needed to get his hands on some legendary mortal fabrics in three days. Great. Just great. AT THE BEAST WORLD A red snake beastman lay coiled around one of the massive trees in the glade, his scaled tail draped over a thick branch. He had been recuperating for days, regaining his strength while working to suppress the tracker—or whatever cursed thing it was—that had been placed on him. Escaping hadn’t been easy. Guilt still gnawed at him for leaving his brothers behind, but he couldn’t take it anymore—the suffering, the twisted demands, the sickening acts he was forced to carry out. He had to get away. And now, his plan was simple: start over. He knew there was a village nearby. He had seen a woman run toward it a few days ago, which meant they at least accepted outsiders. If he was lucky, they would give him shelter. If he was unlucky... they would take one look at him and drive him out. His fingers curled slightly against the rough bark. He would find out soon enough.