Unbreakable (Killer X OC)

Chapter 7 Octopus 🍋 🐙

**Chapter 7: Octopus 🐙 **

At the one-year mark of Cytherea being freed, Rayleigh, Camie, Hatchan, and Pappag all come to visit to throw her a little party at a cozy bar nestled in a vibrant part of town. The bar, with its rustic wooden beams and exposed brick walls, exudes a warm and inviting atmosphere. Soft, amber lighting hangs from vintage pendant lamps, casting a gentle glow that dances across the room. The air is filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries mingling with the faint aroma of flowers from a nearby vase, their vibrant colors adding a touch of life to the space.

The bar itself is adorned with shelves lined with an impressive array of bottles, each one reflecting the light like a jewel. A polished wooden counter stretches across the room, where patrons sit on high stools, engaged in lively conversations. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses creates a symphony of celebration that fills the room with a festive atmosphere.

Cytherea is quiet at first, feeling a bit overwhelmed and not used to being the center of all the attention. She gives a forced smile, her cheeks slightly flushed, because she understands that they are trying to make her feel special. Deep down, however, she wishes for a low-key day, free from the spotlight. The thought of a party makes her stomach twist with anxiety, but she hides her true feelings behind a mask of gratitude. She knows how much effort her friends have put into this celebration, and she doesn’t want to hurt their feelings.

Suddenly, a drink is in her hand, the glass cool against her palm, the condensation beading on the surface like tiny jewels. "Drink up, Bean; it's your party!" Rayleigh exclaims, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he stands in front of her, grinning widely and holding his own glass filled with amber liquid that glimmers in the soft light. Cytherea sips the drink and gags a little, the strong flavor catching her off guard, a fiery warmth spreading from her throat to her chest, igniting a warmth that feels both comforting and alarming. "Bean, this is some fine whiskey; there is no reason for that face," Rayleigh laughs, his voice booming with joviality, echoing off the walls adorned with colorful streamers and balloons.

Cytherea thinks that Rayleigh has already had a few too many, his jovial demeanor a little too animated, so she sighs, recalling how her last experience with alcohol as a teenager ended in disaster. She tilts the glass back, letting the liquid rush down her throat, the warmth spreading through her chest like a cozy blanket enveloping her in a sense of belonging. The small party cheers at the action, their laughter ringing in her ears like a sweet melody. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkling overhead adds a magical touch, casting playful shadows on the walls. Unfortunately, that is the last thing Cytherea remembers, the world around her fading into a blur of colors and sounds, the vibrant hues swirling like paint on a canvas, as the laughter and music blend into a distant echo.
—
**Author's Note**: Before any of my three readers come at me, remember that they are both beings who can make their own choices. Don't judge my lemon; besides, I only mention it briefly and don't go into too much detail. Also, think about suction cups all over you; hmm, the two are just friends, and friends help each other with their freestyle. 😘 If it's not your style, feel free to skip to the next chapter. You won't miss any plot points.
---
The sun was too bright, casting a harsh glare that made her squint, and her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by lead. A dull throb pulsed in her temples, a relentless reminder of the night before, when she had indulged a little too much in the festivities. The heat clung to her skin, intensifying the sensation of lethargy and amplifying her discomfort. Each movement sent a wave of nausea rolling through her, and she could taste the remnants of rum lingering in her mouth.

Yet she knew that she had to move because there was something warm and wet lying against her back, a sensation that sent a shiver down her spine, contrasting sharply with the oppressive heat. There were arms wrapped around her—six of them, each one a soft, slippery embrace that felt both foreign and oddly comforting, like the gentle caress of a warm tide lapping at her sides. The scent of the sea and takoyaki mingled in the air, heightening her awareness of the strange yet intimate situation in which she found herself.