The project of the Gods had a singular purpose, with each deity following a set path to achieve the ultimate goal. Within a few months, the majority had completed the first phase of their journey. But among those who hadn't yet fulfilled their part, Torrent stood out, his desire to see the plan through was almost non-existent.
Torrent's enthusiasm for the demigod project was all but absent, as if he had no interest in its success. He understood the need to engage with humans and seek out a suitable wife as part of the plan, but each time he made an attempt, his irritation would flare, and he would immediately abandon the effort. Yet this didn't trouble him.
He knew that finding a potential partner on Earth would be challenging. After spending some time on Earth, Torrent realized that he had to be the one to actively search for a suitable wife, which was a significant issue for him. As the Guardian God of the realm, he found little joy in human interactions, especially those necessary for fulfilling his part in the project.
A month had passed since the Gods' descent, and Torrent was comfortably seated in a pub he frequented. He sat quietly on a stool at the bar, indulging in his usual beer and spirits. His expression remained stern and unyielding, a demeanor the pub owner had long since accepted without complaint or comment.
"One more," Torrent demanded, pushing his empty cup toward the owner.
With a resigned sigh, the owner grabbed a jug of beer and refilled Torrent's cup to the brim. Torrent took a long gulp, maintaining his stoic silence as the lively activities of other patrons filled the space behind him. He neither paid attention to them nor showed any interest in their presence.
As he drank, he suddenly felt a light tap on his left shoulder. After a few seconds, he slowly turned his head and saw a woman standing there. She was strikingly beautiful, her long brunette hair tied back in a ponytail, and her hazel eyes gleaming with a friendly yet intent gaze.
"Hey," she said, her eyes locked onto his. "Sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help noticing you from across the room."
"Is that so?" Torrent replied, his expression unchanged and unimpressed.
The woman smiled broadly, her gaze intense and unwavering. "I thought you were really handsome," she continued, "so I thought I'd come over and introduce myself. Just to let you know I exist."
With a flirtatious smile, she placed her hand on Torrent's bicep, gently caressing it while maintaining eye contact. Torrent let out a sigh, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior, and turned his head back to face the bar.
"I apologize," he said after taking another sip of his drink, "but I'm not interested in a lustful woman who seeks validation through flings and one-night stands."
The woman's smile faltered, her hand slipping away from his arm as his words sank in.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and hurt.
"Look," Torrent continued, "I would say I'm flattered, but that would be a blatant lie. Especially since I know you typically do this with any man you find even remotely tolerable to look at."
His blunt words cut deep, and the woman's eyes began to well up with tears. Torrent, however, remained indifferent, his gaze fixed on his drink. He had no intention of hurting her feelings; he simply saw no reason to entertain the advances of someone who, to him, seemed shallow and insincere.
"Hey, man. You don't need to be so harsh when you talk to her."
A man from across the bar had seen the exchange between Torrent and the woman and decided to step in. He wasn't impressed by Torrent's behavior and felt compelled to intervene. A few others nearby, having overheard the situation, glanced in their direction, but none of this bothered the God in the slightest.
"Great," Torrent muttered with a sigh, his eyes still fixed straight ahead as the man approached. "The knight in not-so-shining armor arrives to save the damsel in distress."
The man walked over to the woman first, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's alright, I'll handle this," he said, then turned to face Torrent, his expression darkening with disapproval.
"I don't like the way you're treating this beautiful woman, pal," the man began, his tone hard and challenging.
"My attitude isn't tailored to meet the preferences of someone like you," Torrent replied after another sip of his drink, still not bothering to turn and look at him.
The man's face flushed with anger at Torrent's dismissive attitude. Watching the God casually sip his beer without even sparing him a glance only fueled his frustration.
"Turn and face me," the man demanded, his voice edged with fury.
"I'd rather not," Torrent replied softly, his tone cold and cutting.
The man stood there for a moment, fuming, aware that a few patrons were watching, along with the woman he had stepped in to defend. Realizing he had an audience, he decided to escalate the situation to make himself look better.
"Typical of you drunk cowards," the man sneered after a laugh. "You come in here, run your mouth, but when someone confronts you, you're too scared to back it up. Disgraceful."
"What's truly disgraceful," Torrent replied, his irritation now apparent, "is your desperate attempt to impress this woman in hopes she'll sleep with you. You rush in to play the hero, all while proving the truth of what I said to her."
Torrent's words hit both the woman and the man hard. Enraged by his blunt assessment, the man clenched his fist and swung it at the God's head. But Torrent effortlessly swayed to the right, avoiding the punch with ease.
The man froze, momentarily stunned by his failed strike, as Torrent slowly rose from his seat. He stood still for a moment before finally turning his gaze to meet the man's, locking eyes for the first time during the encounter.
"Now isn't that just disgraceful," Torrent said, his words laced with contempt.
The man, boiling with rage, lunged at Torrent, determined to fight. He threw a flurry of punches, but Torrent moved with grace, sidestepping and swaying to dodge each blow. The whole pub was now watching the scene unfold, seeing the man swing wildly, each attempt failing to land as Torrent evaded every attack with ease.
The man, growing desperate, swung his right fist with all his strength toward Torrent's face. Torrent stood still, barely moving, before calmly raising his left index finger and placing it in the path of the oncoming punch. As the man's fist collided with Torrent's finger, the attack stopped dead in its tracks.
The man, along with the rest of the onlookers, gaped in silent confusion. They were baffled by how Torrent had effortlessly halted a punch, thrown with such force, using just a single finger. In the tense quiet that followed, Torrent flicked his finger forward with a quick motion, sending the man stumbling backward.
Off-balance, the man tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. Torrent moved toward him slowly, his expression as cold and impassive as ever as he towered over the man.
"You see," Torrent began, his voice edged with irritation, " now what good did that do you?"
The spectators remained hushed, eyes wide as they took in the scene. The man lay on the ground, silenced by shame after his failed attempt to prove himself. Suddenly, the pub owner hurried over, his face a mask of stern resolve.
"Sorry, pal, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the owner said, his tone firm.
"Yes, I agree," Torrent replied, his gaze still locked on the man. "Resorting to violence, so primitive. Though I suppose I wouldn't expect much more from someone like you."
"No," the owner interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Torrent. "I'm talking about you."
Torrent raised an eyebrow, his confusion plain. "Me?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "This lunatic takes a swing at me because he wants to bed a woman who desires every man on the planet but him, and you're throwing me out instead?"
"You're bothering my customers," the owner shot back. "And that's bad for business."
A flicker of anger crossed Torrent's face. "I'm bothering the customers?" he echoed, his voice growing louder, crackling with frustration.
The pub fell into a tense silence; every eye turned toward Torrent, who was visibly fuming. Realizing there was little point in arguing further, he took a deep breath and began walking away.
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"Such vulgar creatures," he muttered under his breath as he made his way to the exit.
Once outside, Torrent decided to find another place to drink. A few blocks away, he found another bar. He walked in and made his way to the main counter, settling down on a stool.
"Give me your finest wine," Torrent ordered, his voice still tinged with the annoyance of his previous encounter but slowly beginning to calm.
The bartender turned toward him; a young boy, barely old enough to work there at around eighteen to nineteen years old, with jet-black hair featuring a striking blue streak at the front. His blue eyes matched the single earring in his right ear. Hearing Torrent's request, the boy's lips curled into a bright smile.
"Sure thing, boss," the boy replied cheerfully as he rummaged through a collection of exotic drinks.
He picked up a bottle and poured a Sapphire Martini into a glass, then handed it over to Torrent. Torrent took the glass and began sipping in silence. The boy's smile lingered as he watched Torrent with a curious yet friendly gaze.
"It's rude to stare," Torrent finally said, his eyes still fixed on the glass of wine as he took another sip.
"My apologies, boss," the boy replied, his smile unfaltering. "Just haven't seen you around here before."
"That's to be expected," Torrent responded coolly, his gaze unchanging. "One doesn't see what isn't there in the first place."
Despite the bluntness of Torrent's words, the boy remained unfazed. "Well, it's always good to have a new face around," he said lightly before turning back to his work.
The boy's persistent smile grated on Torrent, but he chose to ignore it, continuing to drink in silence.
The following evening, Torrent decided to return to the same bar. Still irritated by the experience at his usual pub, he figured this place would suffice for now. Upon entering, his eyes quickly landed on the young bartender he'd encountered the previous day. The boy spotted Torrent as he made his way to the counter and took a seat. A smile spread across the boy's face as he finished serving another customer and walked over to greet him.
CONVERSATION
Boy: Welcome back, boss.
Torrent: *heavy sigh* It's you again.
Boy: *smiling* Of course. Will you be having your usual?
Torrent: I've only been here once. It's not a "usual".
Silence persisted for a brief moment.
Torrent: But yes. I'll have what I had yesterday.
Boy: Excellent.
The boy confidently poured the same drink he had served Torrent the previous day into a glass and pushed it towards the God. Torrent took a sip of the wine before the boy continued to talk.
Boy: So how has your day been?
Torrent: The same way it had been yesterday.
Boy: *smiling* Well, then I assume that is a good thing.
Torrent: You're an awfully positive person, aren't you?
The boy's expression softened slightly upon hearing Torrent's words. "Oh sorry, boss. Do you find it problematic?" he asked.
Torrent sighed at the boy's concern. "Whatever," he muttered dismissively.
The boy simply grinned before he went back to serving the other customers. Torrent drank his wine in silence as the boy continued to work tirelessly. When his shift finally ended, the boy stepped out from behind the counter and took a seat next to Torrent.
"What a day," the boy sighed, sounding exhausted. "You know, It's not easy juggling all these jobs at once, but it works out somehow."
Torrent glanced at him. "Aren't you too young to be working in a bar?" he asked, his tone serious.
"Me?" the boy replied, feigning shock. "What do you mean? I'm in my twenties."
Torrent fixed him with a stern stare, and the boy's bravado wavered. "Okay, I'm not," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "But it was the only way I could get the job."
"And why did you want it?" Torrent pressed. "The job, that is."
"It's not like I wanted it," the boy said, his expression dimming for the first time. For a moment, he looked tired and worn, but then he brightened up again, flashing his usual smile. "But I do enjoy it, so I guess that's enough."
Torrent was caught off guard by the boy's sudden shift in mood but chose not to dwell on it. The boy kept talking, and the evening faded into night as they chatted.
This routine continued for weeks. Torrent would show up at the bar at night, and the boy would strike up a conversation after his shifts, sharing stories of his day. Occasionally, Torrent would offer the boy some advice, whenever it seemed needed or requested.
As time went on, Torrent learned more about the boy. He discovered that the boy had lost his mother, and his father had abandoned them due to it, leaving him to care for his little sister, who was barely seven. The reason he juggled so many jobs was to support them both and avoid having CPS (Child Protective Services) take his sister away.
Understanding the weight the boy carried, Torrent found himself becoming less hostile toward him. He could see the genuine effort behind the boy's smile, a rare sincerity that struck a chord with him.
One day, after finishing his work, Torrent headed to the bar for a drink. It had been about two months since his arrival on Earth, but his demeanor towards their plan hadn't changed much. As he entered the bar, he noticed that the boy wasn't there.
At first, Torrent shrugged it off, ordering his usual drink and sitting quietly. But as time passed, curiosity got the better of him. He decided to ask the present bartender where the boy was. The bartender, a newcomer himself, admitted he'd just started that day and had no idea.
Torrent's curiosity deepened. He approached the manager to inquire about the boy's whereabouts, sensing that something was off.
When Torrent found the bar manager, he didn't waste time. "Where's the boy who tended the bar?" he demanded.
The manager, initially reluctant to divulge information to just any customer, was soon cowed by Torrent's intimidating presence.
"I had to fire him, that one," the manager grumbled, his tone dismissive. "This morning, he broke a few expensive bottles when I asked him to move them. Couldn't pay for them either. His clumsiness was a nuisance, so I let him go."
Torrent's expression darkened at the manager's careless attitude. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
"I don't know," the manager stuttered, clearly rattled by Torrent's intensity.
Realizing he wouldn't get anything useful from the manager, Torrent set off to find the boy himself. He began by checking the other places the boy had mentioned working at, but each one came up empty.
As the night wore on, Torrent's worry grew. His frustration finally boiled over, so much so that he decided to tap into a fragment of his divine power to locate the boy. His pupils faded away, revealing the glowing eyes of his true form, and wings unfurled from his back. He soared into the sky, scanning the city below with his godly sight until he sensed the boy's presence.
He descended swiftly and landed in a quiet spot where people were absent near another bar, feeling a twinge of concern about what the boy might be doing there. Torrent moved quickly inside, scanning the dim interior until he found the boy sprawled out on the floor in the back, unconscious and surrounded by empty bottles.
Torrent could tell the boy had been drinking heavily, likely because of losing his job. With a sigh, he walked over and lifted the boy to his feet. The boy, still in a drunken stupor, blinked his eyes open as Torrent roused him.
"Oh, hello, boss," the boy slurred, smiling lazily. "Fancy seeing you here."
"You're not old enough to drink," Torrent said flatly, supporting him as they made their way out of the bar.
"Well, a wise man once said, 'Age is just a number,'" the boy mumbled, his eyes heavy as they stumbled outside.
"Where do you live?" Torrent asked, keeping his eyes forward as he guided the boy out.
"What?" the boy replied, his confusion evident through his hazy state.
"I'm taking you home," Torrent said firmly, not pausing to look at the boy as they approached a sleek car that Torrent had materialized using his power when he arrived, just in case it was needed.
"No," the boy muttered suddenly, his drunkenness making it hard for him to articulate his resistance.
Torrent asked for the boy's address again, but the boy continued to say no. Torrent stopped and took a step back, giving the boy space. The boy looked sadder than Torrent had ever seen him, but Torrent remained resolute.
"Do you think drinking away your problems will make them disappear?" Torrent asked.
"Well, I won't know until I try," the boy replied, attempting a weak joke, a faint smile flickering on his lips.
Torrent's tone softened but stayed firm. "Is that really how you think?"
The boy fell silent, his face flushing with embarrassment. Torrent asked for his address again, but this time, the boy's answer was different.
"I can't," the boy murmured, eyes dropping to the ground, shoulders slumped.
"Why not?" Torrent pressed, his confusion clear.
"Because... I can't face her," the boy answered quietly. "Not like this."
Torrent's mind clicked into place as he remembered the boy's little sister. The shame of his actions seemed to weigh him down further.
"I don't want her to see her big brother like this," the boy continued, voice trembling. "It would devastate her."
Torrent paused for a moment, then stepped closer, his expression still stern but now carrying a hint of understanding. "You have to," he said bluntly. "She needs to see you like this, and you need to apologize. You tell her you were in a bad place, but that it's over now. Be honest with her, instead of lying and pretending everything's okay when it's not."
The boy stood there, his guilt evident. He knew Torrent was right. With a deep breath, he finally gave Torrent his address, allowing the god to take him home.
Before they got into the car, Torrent handed the boy a small slip of paper filled with numbers. "Call me when you sober up tomorrow," Torrent instructed. "Save it under Triston Rivers."
A genuine smile touched the boy's lips for the first time in a while. "I'm Kai Harrison," he said.
It was the first time they had exchanged names, and the gesture warmed Kai's heart. He was glad Torrent had chosen to share his name.
"Thanks for helping out, pops," Kai suddenly murmured as he slowly drifted off to sleep under the night sky's blanket.
Torrent remained silent, sensing that perhaps Kai had mistaken him for a father figure in his drunken haze. But with the boy slipping into slumber, Torrent decided not to address it.
When they reached Kai's apartment building, Torrent guided him out of the car and helped him inside.
"You know," Kai said, his voice thick with drowsiness, "if I had the power, I'd make alcohol just dilute like water whenever I drink it. That way, I'd never get drunk again."
"I bet you would want that," Torrent replied, his attention fixed on getting Kai up the stairs.
Kai soon fell back into a sleepy stupor as they reached his apartment door. Torrent took over, fishing out the keys from Kai's pocket and opening the door. He carried him inside and carefully laid him down on the living room couch.
As Torrent turned to leave, he suddenly froze, sensing something. Turning his head to the left, he noticed a young girl hiding under a table. Her small frame was tense with fear, her eyes filled with sorrow and uncertainty.
It was clear this was Kai's sister, the one he'd spoken about. Torrent chose not to interact with her; he could see she was scared, and he didn't want to frighten her more.
"Look after him when he awakes," Torrent said suddenly, his gaze fixed ahead, away from the girl. "And don't hold anything he says against him."
He began to walk toward the door but muttered softly to himself, "Though I doubt you would."
With that, Torrent left the apartment and started heading home. As he drove, he found himself surprised by how much he'd cared, enough to even use his power for a moment. It dawned on him that he felt a strange kinship with the boy, almost like he was his own child. The realization was bewildering; he hadn't expected to form any bond with a human.
"Maybe I was wrong," Torrent whispered as he continued his drive home, the thought lingering in his mind.