Dancing Like Butterfly Wings 🦋 yungi [▶]

35

“Hey, son of Ares!”

Sliced through the silence of the hallway like a blade. Mark Lee—one of Hades' own—jogged up to Jongho, who had just finished tossing a bundle of suspiciously used tissues—his and Yeosang’s—into the trash bin beside the dormitory corridor. It was still the same night, fresh after a rehearsal session Jongho had shared with Yeosang.

Jongho turned slowly. His face was a carved mask of cold displeasure. “It’s Choi Jongho. Or Darius, if your memory’s that poor.”

Mark a senior and dorm leader of floors one through five, shrugged in a way that oozed careless arrogance. “Whatever, man.” Despite his smug aura, he was slightly more diplomatic when dealing with Jongho—for good reason. Jongho was Aphrodite’s future son-in-law, after all.

“I need a favor,” Mark said, extending a neatly wrapped package. “Deliver this to the son of Iris. It’s from Olympus.” The box changed hands. Mark whose demigod name was Nestle, had just received the package from Hermes’ delivery followers a moment ago.

Jongho scowled. “Which one? There’s more than one rainbow kid on this floor.”

“Son Dongju. Xion.”

The name alone sent a ripple of dread down Jongho’s spine. Of all the people in this cursed institution, Xion was the one he’d least like to deal with. He’d rather take on Seonghwa in full combat mode than face that scheming flirt.

“Why don’t you deliver it yourself?”

“I’ve got a dorm council evaluation with Mr. Park. All the floor heads will be there—Yunho too. He’s in charge of floors six through ten now. And, well, he’s Yeonjun’s roommate on the tenth.”

“At this hour?”

Mark shrugged again. “Don’t ask me. I just show up when they say.”

“How sudden.”

“Help me out, yeah?”

Jongho sighed, muttered a string of indistinct curses, and accepted the box.

“Thanks, Darius! I owe you my life!” And just like that, Mark vanished down the corridor, his broad back disappearing into the shadows.

Jongho grunted and stepped into the elevator. He hated this already.

By the time he knocked on door 56 on the sixth floor, he was fully bracing himself for disaster.

“JONGHO?! KYAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Xion’s shriek could have awakened Tartarus itself. Jongho winced, scrunching his eyes shut against the assault on his ears, then settled into his usual deadpan expression.

"Auw!" Xion clutched his forehead in pain as a can of soda hit him squarely. “CHOI SOOBIN!” he howled at the boy across the hallway, who had hurled the can using his telekinesis.

“You’re so loud, Son! Can’t you see I’m busy in here?!”

“Busy making a child with your boyfriend?” Xion snapped back with a venomous edge.

“Making a child—what?! I was training, and your scream shattered my concentration!”

“Then go train in the club hall or something! Or maybe go to the cemetery, since that’s where you lovebirds usually hang out!”

“Where I train or date is none of your business!”

“Ugh!”

“Enough,” Jongho interjected, dipped in icy authority. “It’s late. If you two keep this up, the entire floor will file a complaint.”