Cupids: The Wrong Kind of Spark

Chapter 4 The Bloodstained Aura

The purr of the V8 engine in that luxury Maybach S-Class was basically silent, totally blocked out by the soundproof cabin that smelled like a mix of expensive Italian leather and stacks of cash. In the back seat, which was freaking huge, Reyhan leaned back awkwardly, feeling like his soul was still stuck way up on that Sector 7 tower.

Meanwhile, Isabella Vance, the woman who almost deleted Reyhan’s entire existence from the workforce just twenty minutes ago, was now busy peeling premium grapes with her perfectly manicured nails. She was holding them out to Reyhan’s mouth with the puppy-dog eyes of a stray craving some attention.

"Here you go, Master Reyhan. These Muscat grapes were flown in from Japan just this morning. The sweetness is perfect; they won’t make your throat itchy at all," Isabella said in a voice smooth as silk. The whole 'Financial Queen' vibe that terrified every CEO in the city was completely gone.

"Look... uh, Isabella. Seriously, I have hands. They still work. I’m not paralyzed yet," Reyhan replied with a super forced, pained smile. "Besides, eating grapes all peeled like this makes me feel guilty toward my ancestors. Those guys used to swallow the seeds and everything."

"Ugh! You ungrateful brat!" Aeros’s baritone voice boomed inside Reyhan’s head, followed by a very dramatic, disgusted snort. "Back in my day, my consorts had to dance on thorns just for the honor of peeling figs for me! And here you are, acting all humble just to stay loyal to a bunch of pebble-worshipping ancestors!"

"Can you shut up for a second, Mr. Ex-Emperor? My head is starting to feel like a cramped apartment with a broken generator running inside," Reyhan shot back mentally. He gave in and opened his mouth to take the grape Isabella was feeding him, just to avoid her making more of a scene.

"Relax, Reyhan. Think of this as the universe making up for you being single for twenty years," Aeros continued, laughing his head off. "But remember, this rich lady is your shield now. If those sky-hounds, The Wardens detect the rip in our Veil, you’re gonna need her company’s military tech to hide our soul vibrations."

Reyhan chewed his grape slowly. He had a point. His mind shifted to survival mode. Using Isabella’s wealth was the best way to stay alive right now. He didn’t ask for this crazy power, but since he was already neck-deep in this cosmic mess, he might as well swim all the way to the bottom.

"Master..." Isabella suddenly leaned in, her face just inches from Reyhan’s cheek. Her breath smelled like fresh mint. "Why the long face? Are you thinking about where we’ll spend the night? I’ve already prepped a private castle in the mountains. It’s super quiet. No one will ever disturb us there. You can do whatever you want with me..."

"Whoa, hold on. Dial it back a bit. Let’s not go full yandere here," Reyhan cut in, cold sweat beads forming on his forehead. "A mountain castle sounds more like a spot for a serial killer’s disposal unit than a vacation home."

Before Isabella could even respond, the world around them suddenly shook violently.

BRAAAAASHHH!!!

The side of the Maybach was slammed at a brutal speed by a pitch-black armored vehicle with no license plates. The impact was so heavy the side airbags deployed instantly with a loud pop. The multi-billion rupiah Maybach spun 180 degrees on the rain-slicked asphalt before finally coming to a stop after smashing into a guardrail.

"Ow, my butt! I just got a taste of a soft car!" Reyhan yelled, his body thrown into Isabella’s lap by the sheer force of the crash.

By instinct, Isabella pulled Reyhan’s head to her chest, which was wrapped in an expensive blazer. Her submissive look vanished in a second, replaced by pure, unadulterated rage. "Who... WHO DARES INTERRUPT MY TIME WITH MY MASTER?!" she screamed.

Outside the cracked window, the sound of an armored door sliding open echoed. Heavy boot steps approached the wreckage of the Maybach. The cold air drifting into the cabin no longer smelled like a hospital or Isabella’s luxury; it smelled like copper, burnt oil, and thick gunpowder.

"Reyhan! Heads up!" Aeros shouted in a tone that was actually rare: he didn't sound arrogant anymore, he sounded on edge. "This smell... the spiritual aura out there is filthy! Dark, thick red! This is the worst type of Cupid the sky-prison ever cooked up... a Bloodlust Type!"

"Great, another enemy? Is there like a discount on crazy characters today or what?" Reyhan complained internally, trying to wiggle out of Isabella’s insanely tight protective hug.

The dented right door of the Maybach was suddenly ripped off its hinges with a handheld hydraulic tool. A woman stepped forward out of the grey rain shadows.

She wasn't wearing a suit like Isabella. Instead, she had on a black leather jacket covered in faded graffiti, ragged tactical pants, and mud-caked boots. She casually carried a submachine gun in one hand while popping a bright red piece of bubblegum. Her hair was short, a messy maroon color that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in six months.

That was Elena Moretti. A name that could make every drug dealer and mafia boss at the northern port choke on their own spit the moment they heard it.

Floating behind Elena was a massive Cupid—a faceless, spike-armored monster holding bloody chains. A red aura, thick as smoke from a tire fire, billowed high above its head.

"Well, well, look what we have here," Elena blew a bubble and let it pop with an annoying smack. "Our media-darling Financial Queen, Isabella Vance, is out here playing 'date a broke hobo' in the back seat."

"Elena Moretti," Isabella hissed, her teeth grinding in anger. Her hand reached for a hidden compartment in the center console, ready to pull out her gold-plated tactical pistol. "You've got some nerve, you street dog. Scram before I buy out your entire mafia faction just to use them as fertilizer!"

"Damn, you're spicy, Lady," Elena laughed easily, ignoring the trillion-dollar threat while waving the muzzle of her gun around. Her wild, bloodthirsty eyes landed right on Reyhan, who was still sprawled out helplessly on the leather seat.

"But you're not my target today, Vance. My intel says a little rat escaped that weird lightning strike in Sector 7 yesterday. And it looks like that rat has something that makes the little toy in our heads..." Elena tapped her own forehead lightly. "...get really excited."

Before Isabella could grab her gun, two of Elena’s giant, black-masked goons stormed forward and dragged Reyhan out of the car through the open door.

"Hey, Man! Easy! I bought this jacket at a flea market; even a tiny rip will tank its value!" Reyhan protested as his body was dragged across the wet asphalt.

"Shut up, you pest!" one of the goons barked, pressing the barrel of his rifle against Reyhan’s temple.

Elena walked over to Reyhan, who was now half-kneeling in the drizzle. She squatted in front of him, blowing out a puff of cold air that looked like cigarette smoke right into his face.

"Pathetic," Elena commented with a disgusted sneer.

She tapped Reyhan's cheek with the cold tip of her gun barrel. "Just some scrawny bum whose nose bleeds way too easily. How the hell has my Cupid been screaming inside my head like a dog in heat since earlier? What kind of illegal junk you got in your brain, huh?"

"This low-life bitch is way too cocky!" Aeros growled, his aura blowing up in the subconscious. "Who the hell does she think she's messing with?! Reyhan, let me take over! I'll rip her mouth apart until she begs for mercy in three languages!"

"Don't, Aeros," Reyhan whispered in his own mind. "My body's already hacking up blood because of that crazy obsession overload from Isabella earlier. If we get into a physical fight, my body's gonna be wrecked before I can even see a dime of insurance money."

"So you're just gonna roll over and let this gang of thugs gut you?!"

Reyhan took a deep breath. The leftover rain seeped into his nose, cold and stinging his fear. But along with that fear, there was a weird thirst—a thirst for control that had been slowly poisoning his sanity ever since he saw Isabella kneeling and worshiping his feet in rubber flip-flops.

If being a good guy is useless against this insane fate, why should he even hesitate to use it to stay alive?

"Hey... Miss Leather Jacket," Reyhan said, showing off a thin smile that looked way too chill for a guy staring down the barrel of an automatic weapon.

Elena furrowed her brows, annoyed by how the fear just vanished from the eyes of the scruffy kid in front of her. "What are you grinning for? Want me to pray for you first?"

"Nah," Reyhan shot back. "I just wanted to say... your bubblegum makeup doesn't really vibe with your lipstick."

With a sudden move that totally caught Elena slipping, Reyhan grabbed the woman's leather jacket collar with all his might. He threw his body forward, slamming his chest right into Elena's until the mob woman lost her balance for a second.

Bam!

Both of them crashed onto the wet asphalt together. Reyhan's face was now right above Elena's. Their noses were almost touching.

In an instant, Reyhan's eyes turned into a glowing pure gold, locking onto Elena's gray pupils that instantly widened in total shock.

"Aeros... THREE SECONDS, NOW!" Reyhan screamed in his head, tossing aside his remaining humanity to grab a survival drenched in absolute spiritual power.