Jennifer would have continued screaming, except Damien had grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. That knocked the wind clean out of her, so all that came out instead was a sharp, offended gasp.
Behind them, the Duke's golden hair caught the sunlight.
With a flick of his wrist, a flash of blinding light erupted — a brilliant cascade of magic, like holographic confetti snowing down from the sky.
It was beautiful.
Right up until the confetti touched the roaches.
The moment it landed, it sizzled.
The cockroaches hissed.
It was a horrifying sound — like demons being released from the underworld — except it was just magic burning through their exoskeletons. The air filled with a putrid stench. And Jennifer was not exaggerating: the gunk that oozed from those cracked shells looked like yellow mucus, dark green vomit, and a deep red, lumpy sort of—
She refused to finish that comparison.
The cockroaches twitched and dragged themselves across the tarmac, leaking indescribable grossness in their wake.
"I DID NOT WRITE THIS!"
Jennifer would like that on record.
There was absolutely no way she would have written anything remotely that stomach-turning.
Well.
Maybe she would have written it.
But not like this.
A lot of things were different when your were just looking at words on a screen.
And she would also like to point out that Duke Chevon's beautiful nitrogen-burn fire magic display was never meant to be used against alien cockroaches.
He was from a romcom, for goodness' sake. Yes, he had fought valiantly for his country in his younger years, but now he was a duke whose royal responsibilities kept him in court.
His magic was for festivals. For blessings. For dramatic wedding entrances where the sky rearranged its clouds just to frame his jawline properly.
They weren't supposed to leave their webnovels and meet.
They were definitely not supposed to manifest in real life.
Please.
Have you seen how the entire sky adjusts itself for his every appearance?
Did reality lose its self-respect?
Jennifer coughed once — well, more like gagged — then grabbed Damien's shoulder as he strode across the tarmac, trying to lift herself higher and put some distance between her face and the melting, zombie-like cockroaches writhing on the ground.
Damien glanced back at her. "Please don't puke."
"It won't be worse than this shit!" Jennifer shot back.
Jennifer had always admired her old landlady. She once imagined that when she grew old, she would be refined and gentle. Maybe a little eccentric. Soft-spoken. Elegant.
Instead, she was apparently the kind of woman who screamed "Kill it now!" at distinguished gentlemen and used words like poop and shit under stress.
She was also the kind of woman who, despite everything, was still clutching her second hotdog.
The coffee was gone. The groceries were gone. But somehow her subconscious had preserved the hotdog.
Which meant the horror had not completely shut down her digestive system.
That was… reassuring.
Behind them, Duke Chevon flicked his wrist again, sending more strands of magic spiraling into the sky. This time, it curled into a delicate swirl — impossibly elegant, like fireworks choreographed to a ballet.
Unfortunately, the next batch of roaches met the same sizzling, squelching fate.
The air filled with a horrifying chorus of hisses and wet crackling.
Jennifer briefly considered fainting.
Then realized fainting might cause her to lose her hotdog.
Damien sped up, effortlessly stepping over crawling cockroach corpses.
Did you know cockroaches could live one or two weeks without a head?
That was a fun fact she once shared with her kindergarten class.
Watching it happen with alien roaches was… regrettable.
A wolf warrior — the one who liked dressing like a doorman in her lobby — opened the front doors from inside to let them in.
They entered with Frank and Bastien, followed by Duke Chevon.
Jennifer clutched her hotdog like a lifeline.
Behind her, the clouds outside hastily rearranged themselves so sunlight would perfectly backlight the Duke's entrance.
Of course.
And Sebastian had stepped forward to greet them, so naturally there was a god-ray positioned exactly where the silver-haired butler stopped and bowed.
"My Lord Duke."
Bastien smirked faintly.
Jennifer would have smacked him and told him to show respect. Come on. He bowed like that just earlier when helping his grandfather out of the car!
But she was currently being manhandled upright by Damien.
Frank stepped in to steady her. "Are you alright, my dear?"
Her landlady also called her my dear quite often. And this was her son.
Still, when Bastien raised a brow at the term of endearment, Jennifer felt her face heat up.
IT WAS NOT LIKE THAT.
Ohhh…
Bastien was being such a—
Put it this way, if Bastien kept that up, she would date Frank. Just to say, "Is that any way to treat your grandmother?"
Ha.
Of course, that wasn't going to happen.
Frank and her were absolutely not like that.
"Jen!" Adrian crossed over quickly. "I'm glad you made it back safely."
His ALIVE boys were lounging around one of the settees, following the action outside on their phones and eating snacks.
"Ms. Jen!" EJ called out. "You're a meme!"
Jennifer blinked.
Was that from when she was screaming at the Duke and Frank to kill the roaches?
Or when she was hoisted and carried like a sack of potatoes over Damien's shoulder?
They should have just left her outside to die.
Adrian guided her to the other settee. One sharp look from him made another boy pull EJ back down. "Shush. Let Boss handle it."
"We have a problem, Jen," Adrian said gravely.
Yes. Her PR was in ruins.
That seemed obvious.
But this was Adrian.
He was very likely referring to the beginning of the cockroach apocalypse outside their building.
And when he got serious, his voice dropped into a gravelly, low hum…
Jennifer made the mistake of looking up at him.
He gave her a tight smile — respectful, restrained, serious.
Devastating.
Her brain short-circuited.
So she just nodded.
Uh huh. Yes. Problem. Very problem...
On the other side of the lobby, a royal meltdown erupted.
Prince Angus stood his ground, glaring at his Lord Duke Uncle while Sebastian smiled meekly between them.
"I AM NOT LEAVING!"
Instinctively, Jennifer would have gone over to mediate.
But at her side, Frank and Bastien had joined Adrian's conversation.
"Adrian." Frank nodded coolly.
"Frank." Adrian nodded back, unenthusiastic. "What brings you here?"
"I was worried about my mother's building," Frank replied as he sat down.
He even smiled.
Adrian sat too.
He was also smiling.
"This is currently the safest building in the portal zone. You should worry more about the others. I'm sure you own at least a quarter of them."
"Half," Frank corrected calmly.
"I was being conservative."
"Half is conservative."
What.
There were alien roaches outside. Jennifer could hear car alarms and distant screaming.
Inside, an imploding webnovel rivalry.
Which was unnecessary.
And ridiculous.
And also impossible. So why was it happening?
"Stop it." Jennifer stood.
Then she pointed at the royal drama. "You too. Cut it out."
"But Ms. Jen—!" Angus protested.
"Angus!" She planted a hand on her hip. "Is this really the time to be yelling?"
Technically, she was yelling.
But none of the men present seemed brave enough to point that out.
"Calm down, beautiful." Adrian tried to ease her back down. "There are enough royal mages outside to stop a war. The Awakener Response Unit will handle the portal."
"Stop calling me beautiful!" Jennifer snapped.
She had meant to say that since the day they met.
She wasn't beautiful.
She was—
Jennifer paused.
Probably insane.
"Goddess, then?" Adrian offered.
She shook her head violently. "I'm not—"
Bastien finished for her.
He slapped Adrian across the cheek.
"She's not your woman."
"Control your man, Frank." Duke Chevon stepped forward smoothly, sunlight slipping through the windows to adjust the lighting in his favor.
Of course it did.
"My grandson, Bastien." Frank waved languidly, "It's hard for old men like us to keep our youngsters in line."
Duke Chevon's frosty expression grew more frigid, "I am not old."
Angus, Damien, and Quintin drifted closer.
Duke Chevon raised a brow to Frank. See, he had no trouble keeping "youngsters in line".
It was almost funny how the three male leads followed the Duke meekly, like three mildly murderous kittens.
Bastien straightened and moved to stand politely behind his grandfather.
Wait.
Quintin.
Jennifer froze.
And then it clicked.
The chapter.
The one she left unfinished.
"Quintin!"
The boy startled, then offered a weak smile. "Yes, Ms. Jen?"
Jennifer narrowed her eyes.
"You don't happen to have anything to do with this, do you?"