Free Web NovelChapter 65: _Dinner with Viktor Morozov
Pinnacle Pavilion Restaurant
The moment Ambrose arrived in front of the restaurant, he let out a short breath. The place was alive tonight. A few fancy cars were parked across the street, and a security guard was even standing at the entrance.
"Is this a restaurant or a fucking mafia bar?" He mumbled to himself, adjusting his outfit.
He donned a form-fitting white turtleneck and a pair of black pants to complement his outfit. A pretty silver chain sat around his neck, matched with a wristwatch that offered no value beyond its fancy appearance.
[S-Rank Esper energy detected.]
Huh... so Viktor was already inside. Of course, he was. He made the reservation anyway.
Ambrose rubbed the back of his head nervously, taking in one final breath. As he approached the restaurant door, the security guard inclined his head to him. Then he surprisingly smiled.
"Ambrose Hale, I suppose," he had a Russian accent, far thicker than Viktor’s. Clearly not trying to fit in. "Master Viktor has been waiting."
He gestured at the entrance, opening the door for him.
It took a second for Ambrose to put two and two together. ’The guy got his guard to wait out here for me?’
Was he supposed to find that cute or creepy?
’Scan him.’
[Target is an A-Rank Esper.]
Ambrose’s lips quivered with a smile as he nodded at the man. "Thanks."
Once inside, instant chills crawled through his skin, despite the turtleneck. The room was lit with soft golden lights, a classic song from the nineties or early twenties playing in the background.
Chattering, silent laughter and plates clanging resounded. Every voice felt rich. Intimidating.
His gaze scanned the place before meeting the professional smile of a young woman in a suit striding toward him.
"Ambrose Hale?"
He nodded.
"Follow me."
After a little walk, he was brought to a round table, isolated from the other tables. It had a good view of the city outside via a see-through glass wall. And sitting there already with expectant eyes was none other than Viktor Morozov.
"You’re late," was all the man said after a leisurely sweep of Ambrose from head to toes.
The woman left without a word while Ambrose settled down on the seat across the ice Prince. "Not even going to compliment how I look."
Viktor held back a snort. "You’d like that, huh?"
The S-Rank was dressed in an icy blue tuxedo, the fabric glistening under the restaurant’s lighting. The buttons were undone to reveal half of his upper chest, a necklace with three dazzling blue gemstones hanging from his neck.
Ambrose gulped, straightening in his seat. "Never mind that. You—"
"I have no words to say because you always look good," Viktor said matter-of-factly, his posture lazy and unbothered. "And is it just me or do you seem more buff recently?"
The Guide before him wasn’t the same one he walked into an S-Rank dungeon Rift with a week back. Ambrose back then was scrawnier. A fragile, pretty thing.
Now he looked like he could very much defend himself... if that even made sense.
’He’s been through two events that should’ve killed a Guide of his Rank,’ Viktor thought to himself. ’I guess it’s natural that he’ll... change...’
"Did you call me here to tell me things I already know, Viktor?" Ambrose kept his voice low, his silver eyes glinting as he assessed the man. ’Aura. Remind me... how do I form a permanent link with the guy without him noticing?’
This new system mission might’ve been the riskiest one yet. It would be the first time he’d try testing his ’Infinite Esper Bond Linking’ skill—linking himself permanently with two powerful Espers at once.
Last time, linking permanently with Devon had been so intense. He felt the man’s emotions. Got an influx of some of his memories. Going through that process with another Esper felt... wrong.
[The host has to be careful not to let his thoughts or emotions load into the target’s mind during the process.]
His brows knitted. ’That’s it? How do you suggest I accomplish that?’
[...]
Silence.
Ugh.
Fucking useless.
"I brought you here to eat," Viktor responded to his last question, arms dropping to the table as he leaned in. His voice got dangerously raspy, eyes pinning Ambrose’s. "And to know more about you."
Ambrose halted for a beat.
But it didn’t take long for his composure to return. "Get to know more about me? What? The people you got to dig up info on me weren’t so successful?"
That earned a chuckle from Viktor. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, a broad smile on his face. Until he pulled out his phone, spinning the screen to him.
"With pics like this rolling through the internet," the Esper watched with curiosity, noticing the way Ambrose’s eyes bulged when he saw the screen. "I just... wish to know if the rumours are true. If I should stop chasing you... for my dear friend Devon."
Ambrose gawked at the phone like an idiot.
No way.
Right there was a picture on Instagram, showcasing him, Devon and Orion at the park earlier today. He hadn’t been on the internet since the park hangout.
"Can I...?" He grabbed Viktor’s wrist before he could pull the phone back, keeping it glued to his face. "... This... the fuck are these comments?"
Some were calling him and Devon husbands and Orion their little love child. Some called Ambrose a nobody only dating Devon for his power.
[ALERT.]
[Host currently engaged in physical contact with target.]
[Proceed with permanent link creation?]
Ambrose’s breath hitched.
He blinked once, eyes sliding from the phone to Viktor’s eyes. The man was silent, seeming too distracted by the fact that he was holding his wrist.
Heat flooded Ambrose’s cheeks but he bit it back. ’... Proceed.’
Almost instantly, threads of his aether energy flowed out of his fingers, warm and electric. Within seconds, they found Viktor’s aether energy and coiled around it gently.
’Careful...’ he could already feel some emotions teeming from the Esper’s head to his.
Very intense emotions.
He pushed all of them aside, focusing hard on trying to keep his own mind away from the man.
Almost there... just... a little—
—Suddenly, Viktor withdrew his hand from his grip, grabbing him by his elbow instead. Ambrose froze, his nostrils flaring with panic.
The S-Rank’s tone turned to ice. "... What are you doing?"
Yep.
Shit!
