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0085
That morning, the sky over Morow State was covered by a thin layer of clouds. The air wasn’t too warm yet, but the governor’s building was already alive with its usual activity. Max sat in his spacious, minimalist office, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. On his desk, there was only one document, an untouched cup of coffee, and a calm gaze that revealed nothing. There were two knocks at the door. “Come in,” he said quietly. Zoza stepped inside, still in his signature look dark leather jacket, worn-out jeans, and combat boots. His hair was a bit messy, but there was satisfaction on his face. He stopped right in front of Max’s desk. “It’s all done, Boss,” he reported. “Seraphina’s video went viral on every platform. All the gossip accounts that attacked you before are now praising you. The public trusts you again. Even the hashtag #MaxIsMorowState trended for three straight hours.” “Seraphina and Darrus have also been arrested by Chief Raul.” “Your n
0084
Seraphina was still sitting on the floor, her head bowed in raw despair. Her hair was messy, and her tears soaked the designer dress that now looked like nothing more than a worthless piece of luxury fabric. She didn’t look up as they walked away. James paused for a moment at the doorway, then glanced back at Darrus one last time. “I hope you understand something, Darrus. This wasn’t because Max was too strong. It’s because we were too stupid to play with fire… and forgot who lit the match in the first place.” There was no reply. None was needed. James and Dominic left the old villa in silence, leaving Seraphina sobbing on the floor, and Darrus staring into nothingness. And the night swallowed them all. A few hours after James and Dominic had left the grand house, the night grew even darker. Rain began to fall gently, wetting the cracked stone terrace. The outdoor lights flickered dimly, as if reluctant to shine in the cold air. Seraphina was still on the floor of the
0083
People said, “Thank God Max didn’t marry her.” Others added, “That ex-governor’s daughter should be in jail.” And the most painful one of all, “Pretty, but empty and toxic.” *** Dusk had just fallen when Seraphina returned to her father’s house. The once-grand mansion now felt cold, silent, and full of shadows. She said nothing as she walked in. Tears streamed down her face. Her steps were frantic as she climbed the stairs, her cream-colored dress nearly dragging across the old marble floor. In her father’s study, she found Darrus sitting in a brown leather chair, staring blankly at the untouched bookshelf. Dominic stood near the window with a sullen expression, while his father, James, stared at his phone screen, reading headline after headline of bad news. Without a word, Seraphina dropped to her knees at Darrus’s feet, sobbing like a lost child. “Father... please... please bring my name back... bring everything back... I can’t take it anymore, they all hate me, they.
0082
Zoza arrived at a café after receiving intel on Seraphina’s whereabouts. The café was located in the Asperia District, a gathering place for socialites, influencers, and familiar faces who thrived on curated images. Its interior was elegant and expensive, filled with hanging plants, Italian rattan chairs, and soft jazz music flowing from hidden speakers. It was the perfect place to wrap lies in aesthetic beauty. Seraphina sat in the corner, accompanied by a cup of latte she only touched for photo purposes. Across from her were two stylishly dressed women, giggling flirtatiously as they listened to her story. "...and you know? He didn’t even show up when his mother was sick. Five months, and that house was empty. I was the one who stayed by her side,” said Seraphina sweetly, though her words dripped with poison. “Now the media's picking it up. Such a shame. Reputations fall so easily.” She smirked and took a slow, arrogant sip of her latte. That was when a deep voice cut thro
0081
The next morning, rain still tapped against the glass windows of Max’s office on the top floor. From behind the thin gray curtain, the city of Morow State looked dull and lifeless. Heavy clouds hung low in the sky, mirroring the mood in his chest. The door opened quietly. Zoza entered, his steps calm but his eyes carrying something serious. “Boss,” he said briefly, walking toward Max’s desk. Max didn’t turn around. He kept his gaze fixed on the city beyond the window. “Speak.” Zoza took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Social media is full of it. Every local news channel has picked it up too. They’re all using the same headline: Max abandoned his sick mother for five months, leaving her alone and uncared for.” He placed a tablet on the desk. The screen lit up with article after article. Clips from nearby residents, comments from internet users, even a short interview with a neighbor claiming they had “never seen anyone visit the mother.” Max still didn’t move.
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Max lifted his face, holding his breath. That name—Lord Hades—still echoed in his mind. Max first met Lord Hades when he was just fifteen. It happened after the darkest night of his life, the night he nearly killed a man who had threatened his mother. In the chaos of fleeing and in a storm of uncontrollable rage, Max ran into the ruins of an old temple on the outskirts of Morow State, a place now buried beneath towers and concrete. There, in the stillness and shadows of the broken stones, Lord Hades appeared. The man stood among the pillars, his eyes glowing faintly like embers. He didn’t speak much, just looked at Max with a gaze that seemed to pierce his skin and bones. “You have fire inside you,” he said that night, “but you let it burn the ones you love.” That was the beginning of Max’s journey with Lord Hades. For over ten years, he was secretly trained, not only in martial arts but also in mastering his emotions, spiritual awareness, and connecting to an energy dimension s
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