Chapter 32: Lies of a House wife!

Chapter 32 - Lies of a House wife!"Are you seriously going through with this? You know what's out there, right? Venturing that deep is like poking a dragon in the ass and hoping it doesn't notice." Alice leaned on the doorframe, watching her husband wrestle with a massive bundle of gear like he was preparing to go camping in hell. "That's why I asked you to come." Alex said, teeth gritted as he yanked a strap tight. "We can't trust another healer—especially not one from that cursed church. But..." "My hero days are over, Alex." She said quietly, voice stiff with something between guilt and regret. "I'm a mom now. If there's even a one percent chance I don't make it back, I'm not taking it. I want to live long enough to be the embarrassing mother at our son's wedding." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "He's barely five seven months old." "And he'll remember if I die in a goblin-infested pit." He didn't reply. Just cinched the knot tighter until the bundle looked like it owed him money. Alice bit her lip. The tension was thick enough to chew through. "Celeste's been sensing something," he said finally. "Some kind of... dark pulse coming from the forest." "Celeste sure feels a lot these days," Alice murmured under her breath. Alex paused at that but didn't look at her. He simply kept moving. "You know who's out there. It took all seven of us just to bring him down last time—and even then, he didn't die. If this new disturbance is tied to him..." He hefted the bundle over his shoulder, his leather armor creaking as he stood tall. "...then may the gods help us all." Alice watched him in silence for a moment, then sighed. "Just... come back in one piece, alright?" "I always do." "No, you come back with one new scar every time. At this rate, you'll be more scar tissue than man." He smirked over his shoulder. "Gives me character." "Gives me anxiety." She sighed. "Now where the hell is that little goblin of yours?" Alex muttered as he cracked his neck, sounding like he was getting ready to punch taxes or wrestle regret. At the mention of Rae, Alice stiffened like a church girl at a brothel. Her posture said "serious mission," but her face went full tomato. A flood of scandalous memories sprinted through her brain like sinners during a temple raid. She bit her lip, swallowed her thoughts, and pretended she hadn't just remembered what Raedon's hands could really do. 'Not now, not now, not now. Not while Husband is in warrior mode.' Alex stomped over to the front door and yanked it open. And there he was. Raedon. Sitting on the veranda like a green-skinned emperor without a care in the cursed world. Elbows resting behind his head. Eyes half-lidded. Watching the sun like it owed him money. If his posture got any lazier, he'd have to pay taxes for being horizontal. The moment he saw Alex, Rae sprang up like someone had just asked him to dance for tips. "Here!" He barked with mock enthusiasm, standing at attention like the world's most smug butler. Alex didn't say a word. Just stared at him with all the warmth of a tax collector during a famine. He dropped the supply bundle at Rae's feet with the kind of disdain reserved for things like expired milk and unpaid child support. Then, without a single word, he turned on his heel and stomped toward his horse. The horse, for its part, was too busy chewing the same blade of grass for the fifth time to care. Meanwhile, Alice kept her eyes firmly on the floorboards. Her cheeks were redder than demon wine. She refused to look at Rae. He bent down and picked up the bundle, letting out a totally fake grunt. "Hnnngh—chho heavy." He lied, while effortlessly lifting it like it was a decorative pillow. Old Rae—the level 0 goblin who couldn't fight off a sneeze—might've broken a hip carrying this. That Rae was gone. Now he was 5 times stronger than before. But Rae had to play the part—the struggling, humble goblin sidekick. Let Alex underestimate him. Let Alice blush herself into denial. Rae had a role to play. So he hunched over and gave the bundle a few exaggerated wiggles, grunting like a toddler trying to deadlift a cow. Alice instinctively stepped forward, her maternal instincts flaring. But before she could offer a hand, Rae raised a hand with saintly innocence and a smile that could sell snake oil to monks. "No, madame," he said sweetly. "Rae good." She froze. That damned goblin knew exactly what he was doing. With that cherubic voice and wide-eyed look, he was playing the helpless act so well he could've won an Oscar in a different world. Alex, meanwhile, was finishing up his romantic horse-grooming session. After adjusting the saddle and patting his steed like it had just passed its finals, he turned to Alice. "Tell my mom and our baby, okay?" he said, tone gruff but affectionate. "I don't want tears from that old woman again. Take care now." He leaned in, planted a warm kiss on her cheek, and with one fluid motion, swung himself onto the horse. Rae, still "struggling" with the climb like he was allergic to horses, flailed in his best impersonation of an adorable idiot. Alex reached down, grabbed the scruff of Rae's neck like a sack of potatoes, and hoisted him up like he'd done this a thousand times. Perched behind Alex like a very awkward backpack, Rae turned around and gave Alice the most innocent, chipper little wave in history. His face said, Bye-bye! Sweet dreams!, but her memory screamed, That's the same goblin who ruined me last day. As they rode off, Alice stood there, arms folded, a melancholy creeping over her like a cold breeze. Something was off about the goblin. The Rae she knew was awkward, harmless, kind of dumb. But yesterday? Yesterday he had a different look in his eyes. Confidence. Mischief. Like he was someone else entirely. Gulp. There it was again—that traitorous tingle down south. The familiar, scandalous warmth blooming like a forbidden flower in her nether region. "Oh no... not this again." She muttered, cheeks burning as reality slapped her harder than she slapped herself. Which she actually did. Twice. Smack-smack. "Snap out of it, woman! He's a goblin! A goblin!" And yet... why did the word 'goblin' suddenly sound so exotic? She turned on her heel and stomped back to the house like a woman possessed—possessed by guilt, confusion, and something far more shameful: curiosity. The door slammed shut behind her. Lock. Deadbolt. Chain. Safe from temptation. Until her eyes betrayed her. They slid sideways—like they had a mind of their own—and landed squarely on the one place she shouldn't look: the library room. The cursed chamber of forgotten knowledge, dusty scrolls, and deeply regrettable decisions. Every answer was there. She knew it. The one book. That book. She took a deep breath. "Don't. You. Dare." She turned away. Shook her head. No, no, no. Whatever happened yesterday—it was a moment of weakness. Hormonal noise. A glitch in her moral compass. 'He's just a goblin. Maybe the seal broke and turned him into a flirtatious demon. Maybe it's all some elaborate act and I'm the fool dancing to it.' She didn't want to know. She shouldn't want to know. With one final, dramatic glance at the library door—like a heroine walking away from a vampire's crypt—she climbed the stairs, her resolve as firm as a nun's vows. But ten minutes alone in the quiet? Yeah, that was her limit. Ten. Miserable. Minutes. She stormed down the stairs like she was chasing justice—or sin—and marched straight into the library, eyes locked on the very book she had just vowed, sworn, crossed her heart not to touch. "Goblins: Anatomy of an Unusually Horny Imp." Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the spine. "...just one page." Lies. Lies we tell ourselves. And just like that, the descent began.