#evil lyn

Something in the man’s expression shifted then, not into pity, exactly, but into understanding. He glanced toward the entrance again, and this time he seemed to notice the shape of the situation more clearly: your rigid posture, the way your shoulders had tightened, the way your eyes kept darting toward the door.

Before he could answer, a voice cut across the table.

“There you are.”

You went rigid all over again.

Your ex stopped beside the table with a smile that was too satisfied to be accidental, his gaze moving from you to the blond man and then back again as if he had just stumbled onto something amusing. “I thought you said you weren’t one of those women who go out with a different man every day.”

Heat rushed to your face so fast it made your ears burn, and you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words died before they had a chance to form.

Across from you, the blond man set his glass down with unhurried precision, then looked up at your ex with a calm that made the whole exchange feel even more lopsided than it already was. “That is an incredibly strange thing to say to someone you don’t know,” he said, his voice even and controlled.

Your ex gave a dry laugh, clearly annoyed that the blond stranger had responded at all. “And who exactly are you?”

The blond man didn’t look at you right away, but you could tell he had already understood enough. His gaze flicked to your face, caught the tension there, then returned to your ex with a coolness that was somehow much more effective than anger would have been.

He leaned back slightly in his chair and extended a hand with complete composure. “Adam,” he said. “My name is Adam.”

Your ex took the offered hand, though he did it reluctantly, as if he resented the basic courtesy. “Right. Adam.”

Adam nodded once, as though the introduction had been made under the most normal of circumstances, and then looked back at your ex with a mild, almost thoughtful expression. “Can I ask why you’re speaking to her like that?”

Your ex’s jaw tightened. “I’m speaking to her just fine.”

Adam’s gaze flicked briefly to you again, and the look he gave you was quick but clear enough to make it obvious he had already decided you were uncomfortable and that was all the reason he needed. “No,” he said, still calm, “you’re really not.”

You felt your throat tighten with a strange combination of embarrassment and relief. Adam wasn’t raising his voice, and he wasn’t trying to pick a fight, but the steadiness of his tone made him sound even more impossible to ignore.

Your ex looked between the two of you, clearly irritated by the fact that he was no longer in control of the conversation. “You don’t even know her.”

Adam’s expression barely changed. “That’s true.”

The answer seemed to surprise your ex more than it surprised you, because it gave him a brief, smug pause. Then Adam continued, his voice still level and unhurried. “But I know enough to see that she doesn't want you around her.”

The silence that followed was brief, but very satisfying.

Your ex frowned. “You really think you’re in a position to judge anything here?”

Adam tilted his head slightly, considering him. “I think I’m in a position to notice when someone makes another person uncomfortable and then acts surprised when the reaction is negative.”

You had to look down at the table to hide the small, involuntary smile that threatened to show on your face. Unfortunately, your ex noticed the movement, and it only seemed to make him more annoyed.

“So what,” he said, glancing between you and Adam with open suspicion, “you’re her boyfriend now?”

The question hung in the air for half a beat.

Adam answered it without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Your head snapped up so quickly it almost hurt.

Adam didn’t even look at you. He kept his eyes on your ex, his expression steady, his tone completely convincing, as though he had not just invented a relationship out of thin air in front of a stranger. You had known him for less than two minutes, and somehow he sounded more certain about the two of you than your ex had ever sounded about anything important in his life.

Your ex stared at him. Then at you. Then back at him again.

You stayed very still, because anything else would have ruined it, and because Adam had clearly decided to take control of the situation whether you were ready for it or not.

Adam rested one arm along the back of your chair and continued speaking with the same easy confidence, as though this were a perfectly ordinary conversation. “If it helps,” he said, “she spent most of her introduction explaining that she would rather be anywhere else than in your company.”

Your ex let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re both insane.”

Adam’s mouth curved faintly. “That’s possible.”

The ex exhaled sharply through his nose, already looking like he regretted approaching the table in the first place. “This is ridiculous.”

“Probably,” Adam said, and this time there was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Although, to be fair, if I had my sword with me, this conversation would be over already.”

Your ex blinked. “Your sword?”

Adam nodded as if the subject were self-explanatory. “Yes.”

“You carry a sword?”

“Not usually to dinner.”

Your ex looked at him like he could not decide whether he was being mocked. “Why would you even have a sword?”

Adam’s expression remained perfectly serious. “Because it isn’t a simple sword.”

That made your ex pause.

Adam, apparently seeing no reason to stop, went on in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone. “It can transport me home.”

Your ex stared at him for a long moment, clearly waiting for the punchline that never came. When it did not arrive, he looked at you instead, as though expecting you to save him from whatever this was.

You did not.

Adam noticed your expression, then turned back to your ex and added, almost conversationally, “It opens a portal.”

The silence that followed was so complete it felt almost theatrical.

Your ex looked horrified now, not angry, but deeply unsettled, as if he had finally realized he was no longer dealing with a normal conversation and had somehow wandered into the wrong reality entirely. He glanced from Adam to you and back again, then shook his head in visible disbelief.

“You know what?” he said at last. “Forget it. I’m done.”

Adam gave him a small, polite nod. “Probably for the best.”

Your ex stared at both of you one final time, muttered something under his breath, and then walked away, leaving the table behind as quickly as dignity would allow.

Only after he disappeared into the crowd did you finally breathe again.

You leaned back in your chair and let out a long, stunned exhale. “Oh my God.”

Adam looked at you for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “That went better than I expected.”

You turned slowly toward him. “You told him about a portal sword.”

“I did.”

“You said that like it was completely normal.”

“It is normal,” Adam replied, entirely sincere.

That made you laugh, though the sound came out breathier than you intended. “No, it absolutely is not.”

Adam’s eyes, hazel and amused, stayed on you as he leaned back in his chair. “You asked me to help.”

“I asked you to pretend I wasn’t alone.”

“And now you aren’t.”

You stared at him for a second, and then, despite the absurdity of the entire evening, you laughed again.

Adam smiled back, still looking far too pleased with himself for a man who had just rescued a stranger by pretending to be her boyfriend and casually insisting that his sword could open portals.

For a moment after your ex had disappeared into the crowd, neither of you said anything.

The restaurant seemed to settle back into itself around you, as though the strange little scene at your table had been nothing more than a brief inconvenience. A server passed by with a tray of drinks, cutlery clinked softly from somewhere near the bar, and the low hum of conversation slowly filled the space your ex had left behind.

You let out a breath and leaned back in your chair, still half-amused, half-exhausted by the entire exchange.

“Well,” you said, giving your head a small shake, “that was easily one of the most ridiculous things that has ever happened to me.”

Across from you, Adam looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had just claimed to be your boyfriend in order to scare off a man he had never met before.

“I thought it went rather well,” he replied, his tone calm and almost thoughtful, as if the whole thing had been a perfectly ordinary social interaction.

That made you laugh quietly under your breath. “Of course you did.”

His mouth curved, but before either of you could say anything else, your gaze drifted toward the empty chair across from him and the half-finished drink still sitting on the table. The realization came back to you all at once.

He had been here with someone.

You straightened slightly, the earlier tension giving way to a more awkward kind of curiosity.

“I should probably let you get back to your dinner,” you said, gesturing toward the empty seat. “You already did more than enough for a complete stranger.”

Adam followed your glance to the vacant chair, then looked back at you with a faintly puzzled expression.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You frowned. “Why not? You were clearly here with someone.”

A small, almost embarrassed look crossed his face, subtle enough that you might have missed it if you had not been watching him so closely.

“I was,” he admitted.

That alone was enough to make you narrow your eyes a little.

“And?”

Adam exhaled through his nose, as though deciding how much of the truth was worth sharing.

“And she left.”

You blinked. “She left?”

He nodded once. “About twenty minutes ago.”

You stared at him for a second before the meaning of that sank in. “Wait. So you’ve been sitting here alone this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And she just… left?”

Adam looked down at the table with the faintest hint of resignation. “We started talking about my sword.”

That earned an immediate laugh from you. “You told your date about the sword?”

“I told her the truth.”

You gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement. “Adam.”

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“You can’t just casually tell people you have a sword that opens portals.”

He blinked once. “Why not?”

“Because most people would think you’re insane.”

His expression shifted, just slightly. “That is a very dramatic reaction to something that is true.”

You stared at him for a beat, then let out a small helpless laugh. “Okay, that was not the answer I was expecting.”

“It’s still the correct one.”

That should have sounded ridiculous. Instead, because Adam said it with complete sincerity, it almost made sense in the strangest possible way.

You rested your elbow on the table and studied him a little more carefully now, not because you thought he was lying, but because you were starting to suspect he wasn’t. The confidence in his voice had not changed once since you had met him, and there was something deeply unnerving about how natural he seemed when talking about impossible things.

“Fine,” you said slowly, “then explain it to me.”

Adam tilted his head. “Explain what?”

“Everything.”

He looked at you for a moment, and then his expression softened into something warmer, something less guarded. It was subtle, but it made his whole face feel different, more open somehow, as if he had decided you were worth taking seriously.

"Well," he said, folding his hands on the table, "I suppose it depends on where you want me to start."

"Start with the beginning," you replied instantly, because that was the part that had resonated with you the most.

"I'm starting with Eternia."

You shook your head. "Eternia?"

A faint smile touched his mouth, not mocking, just surprised in a quiet, almost amused way.

"Eternia is my home. It's where I was born, where I grew up, and where I'm supposed to be protecting people."

His tone changed as he spoke, becoming steadier and more personal. The playful absurdity that had initially characterized the conversation softened into something more sincere.

"My father is King Randor, and my mother is Queen Marlena. I grew up in the Royal Palace, spent most of my childhood getting into trouble, and learned fairly early that my life was a lot more complicated than it first appeared."

You watched him closely, trying to decide whether he was spinning a wild story or simply telling you a truth so unusual it sounded impossible.

The worst part was that he looked completely unbothered by the whole thing.

"So," you said, "you're telling me you're from another world."

Adam nodded. "Yes."

"And that your sword opens a portal between here and there."

"Yes."

"And you're not joking."

"No."

You blinked at him for a second, then looked down at the phone in his hand as if that would make the situation less strange.

"Can I see it?"

That seemed to surprise him, though only briefly. Then, he reached for his phone and turned the screen toward you.

The photo showed the sword he had been talking about, and even from the small image on the screen, it looked unlike anything you had ever seen before. It was enormous, sparkling, and ancient in a way that made it seem less like a weapon and more like something from a storybook.

You looked at the picture for a long moment, thinking, and then you looked back at him.

"Okay," you said, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. "Oh, that's definitely a sword."

Adam's mouth twitched. "Oh, it is."

"And a very dramatic one."

"I know, I've heard that before."

You looked at the image one more time, then let out a little frown. "Where was this taken?"

"Internet," he answered, as though that should have settled everything.

You gave him a pointed look. "I totally get it. It's what you've been saying over and over. I mean, where is it?"

He paused, as if the distinction hadn't occurred to him.

"Actually, I don't have a clue."

You let out a little laugh, exhaling through your nose. "Oh, honey, that's just not going to help your case at all."

Adam looked a little sheepish for the first time since you'd met him, and it made him all the more lovable. "Right. Sorry."

Then he put his phone down, folded his arms on the table, and started over in a calmer voice, as though realizing he needed to start from the beginning if he wanted you to follow.

"Eternia is a completely different world from Earth," Adam explained, a warm smile appearing as he spoke about it. His voice revealed an unmistakable fondness, as though merely mentioning his home was enough to bring back a hundred memories at once. "There are kingdoms, ancient cities, forests that stretch for miles, and more magic than most people on Earth would probably believe."

He paused briefly, glancing down at the table, then continued.

"When I was younger, before I understood the true meaning of the sword or its role in my life, I imagined myself as a hero who could protect everyone. I was Prince Adam, but I would've preferred something more dramatic."

You immediately narrowed your eyes. "Dramatic?"

A slightly embarrassed smile crossed his face. "He-Man."

The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds. Then you laughed.

Adam groaned and leaned back in his chair.

"I knew that was going to happen."

"He-Man?" you repeated, amused. "That's the name?"

"In my defense, I was young."

"How young?"

"Young enough to think it sounded impressive."

"And now?"

Adam's expression revealed a clear sense of contemplation.

"I still think it sounds impressive."

That only made you laugh harder.

"Adam."

"What?"

"That is the least subtle hero name I've ever heard."

"The competition wasn't particularly strong."

For a moment, you both remained silent, each lost in your own thoughts.

Then you let out a slow breath, staring at him with a mix of disbelief and fascination that you were no longer even trying to hide.

"You really expected your date to believe that?"

Adam looked a little taken aback by the implication, but he quickly recovered. "I wasn't trying to make myself difficult to believe."

You laughed softly at that, because somehow that was exactly the problem. He said the impossible things with such honest certainty that it was almost easier to doubt the world than to doubt him.

He noticed your expression and smiled a little, more relaxed now that the conversation had moved away from your ex and into something strangely personal.

"I think," he said, leaning back again, "she simply found it hard to keep listening after I mentioned the portal."

You shook your head, a smile spreading across your face. "I can see why."

Adam's gaze remained fixed on you, unblinking and unwavering, as if he found your disbelief to be all the more amusing.

"And yet," he said, "you are still here."

"To be honest, I’m still here because, insane as this whole thing is, you’re more attractive and a lot more entertaining than my last relationship,” you admitted, letting your gaze linger on him for a moment before you added, with a tired little shrug, “and, frankly, I’m starving.”

Adam’s expression changed almost at once, the amusement in his face softening into something warmer as he lifted a hand to call the waiter over. He did it with the same easy confidence he seemed to bring to everything else, as though inviting you to stay was the most natural thing in the world.

When the waiter approached, Adam glanced briefly in your direction. “What would you like to eat?”

You gave him a look that was equal parts amused and relieved. “Are you always this quick to take charge?”

“Only when someone looks like they need food and a break from their ex-boyfriend.”

That earned him a smile you did not bother hiding.

You placed your order, Adam added his own, and once the waiter had taken the menus away and disappeared toward the kitchen, the two of you were left with the strange, increasingly comfortable quiet that had settled between you. The restaurant still buzzed around you, but it no longer felt like the center of the evening. Not when Adam was sitting across from you looking so impossibly calm, as if the entire thing had turned into something he had willingly stepped into rather than stumbled into by accident.

He folded his hands loosely on the table and studied you with a faint smile. “All right,” he said. “I propose a deal. I tell you more about Eternia, you tell me more about yourself, and we consider this an actual date.”

You blinked, then laughed softly. “You make that sound very official.”

“I’m trying to be serious.”

“Then you’re doing a terrible job.”

Adam’s mouth curved. “That is unfortunately possible.”

You tilted your head, suddenly much more interested in the subject than you had been a few minutes ago. “Fine. I have questions. A lot of them, actually. Is your sword like Thor’s hammer? If I were worthy, could I pick it up and get transported to Eternia? And who else lives there besides your parents?”

The way your eyes lit up as you asked each question made something in Adam’s expression shift into unmistakable delight. For the first time since you met him, he looked less like a man carefully managing a bizarre conversation and more like someone genuinely happy to talk about home.

He gave a small, amused laugh and leaned back in his chair. “No, not exactly like Thor’s hammer, although that does sound like a very dramatic comparison.” Then his expression turned thoughtful. “The sword carries the Power of Grayskull. It brought me here when I was young, but I don’t think it would take you to Eternia just because you were worthy. And, if I’m honest, I’m now very curious about who Thor is and why he appears to be part of your thinking.”

You gave him a flat look. “I am going to pretend I did not hear that question.”

Adam looked distinctly pleased with himself. “That’s usually how people react when I ask something they can’t easily explain.”

“Adam.”

He smiled, entirely unbothered. “What?”

You shook your head, but you were smiling now too, unable to help it. “Just keep talking before I change my mind about whether you’re charming or completely impossible.”

“Fair,” he said, and this time his voice had gone softer, more personal. “You asked who else lives in Eternia besides my parents. There are a great many people there, but a few of them mattered a great deal to me when I was younger.”

He paused there, as if deciding where to begin, and when he continued, his voice had taken on that warm, fond quality people used when speaking about the parts of life that had shaped them.

“Duncan was one of the first,” he said. “He trained me when I was a child. He was the captain of the Royal Guard, and he had a way of making even the most impossible lessons feel manageable, though I’m not sure he would agree with that description. Teela was another. She was my best friend growing up and, frankly, far better at just about everything than I was. Swordsmanship, strategy, sparring, getting out of trouble before anyone could catch us.”

You laughed quietly at that, and Adam’s smile widened a little as he watched you react.

“And then there was Cringer,” he added.

You immediately leaned forward. “Cringer?”

“The green tiger,” Adam said, with a patience that suggested he had already decided your reaction was inevitable. “My pet.”

That was enough to make you laugh properly, and the sound seemed to please him more than anything else he had said so far.

“A green tiger,” you repeated. “Of course you had a green tiger.”

“Yes,” Adam said, perfectly serious again. “He was very loyal.”

“I’m trying so hard not to picture this as the strangest possible childhood.”

“It was occasionally strange,” he admitted.

“Occasionally?”

He smiled, and for a moment the look on his face was so gentle it made your chest feel strangely light. “All right, often strange.”

You were still smiling when the waiter returned with your food. The interruption should have broken the mood, but instead it only made the evening feel more real, more settled. Plates were set down, drinks refreshed, and the two of you shifted naturally into the rhythm of a meal that had begun as a rescue and was turning into something else entirely.

At first you talked over the food, trading small comments and reactions as you ate. Adam proved, much to your amusement, to be surprisingly attentive: he noticed when you liked something, asked before taking the last bite of anything, and looked genuinely pleased every time you laughed at one of his stories. In return, you found yourself asking more and more about Eternia, about the palace, about the people he had mentioned, about what it had been like to grow up in a world that sounded at once impossible and deeply real when he described it.

At some point, without either of you formally agreeing to it, the conversation stopped feeling like an interrogation and started feeling like a shared secret.

Adam told you about the palace halls he had run through as a child, about training sessions that had ended in bruises and complaints, about Teela’s relentless competitiveness, and about Duncan’s habit of pretending he was annoyed even when he was clearly amused. You told him about your ex, this time with much less tension and much more honesty, and Adam listened with a seriousness that made it easy to keep talking.

By the time your plates were nearly empty and the restaurant had shifted into the softer quiet of late evening, you realized you had been smiling for far longer than you had been miserable.

Adam noticed it too.

He usually did.

And when his hazel eyes met yours across the table, there was something unmistakably bright in them now, something pleased and almost tender, as though he had come to the same conclusion you had: that the night had started as a disaster and somehow ended with the two of you laughing over dinner like this had been the plan all along.

The time the evening had wound down, Adam had insisted on driving you home.

You had tried to argue that you were perfectly capable of getting there on your own, but he had only given you that infuriatingly calm look of his and said he would feel better if you let him take you. After the kind of night you had both ended up having, it had been difficult to come up with a convincing reason to refuse.

Now you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car, watching the lights of the city blur past the window while the soft hum of the engine filled the silence between you. The drive had settled into something quieter and more intimate than the restaurant had ever felt, the sort of silence that did not ask to be filled immediately.

Adam had one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting loosely near the gear shift, his posture relaxed in a way that somehow made him look even more composed than he had at dinner. Every now and then, he glanced toward you for a moment before looking back at the road, as if making sure you were still there and still all right.

Then, after a while, he broke the silence.

“So,” he said, his tone light but curious, “was that the worst date you’ve ever had?”

You leaned your head back against the seat and let out a slow breath while you thought about it. The answer came to you almost immediately.

“No,” you said at last. “Not even close.”

Adam’s brows lifted slightly, and when he glanced at you this time, there was a hint of surprise in his expression. “Not close?”

You shook your head. “No. It was strange, sure, but not the worst. Just maybe the most confusing.”

That earned you a small smile from him. “Confusing is better than terrible, I suppose.”

“In some cases,” you murmured, turning your head toward the window again. The city lights reflected faintly in the glass, making the night look softer than it actually was. “It is a little bit insane, though.”

Adam waited, giving you the space to finish your thought without interrupting.

You inhaled slowly, then let the words out before you had time to think better of them.

“I mean, if you’re a lunatic who made all of this up, then this is probably the most creative lie anyone has ever told me. But if it’s real, like it seems to be, then it means that someday you’re going to find that sword and go back home, and I’m not going to see you again.” You laughed faintly, though there was something gentler underneath it now. “And that seems… sad.”

The car went quiet for a moment after that.

Not awkwardly.

Just carefully.

Adam’s expression softened in a way you had not seen from him all evening, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before.

“That would be sad.”

You turned to look at him.

He kept his eyes on the road, but there was no tension in him, no distance. Just honesty.

“I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what will happen,” he said after a beat. “I do know that the sword exists, and I do know that I’ll have to go back one day if it brings me the chance to. But that doesn’t make tonight less real.”

The words landed with a strange kind of warmth.

You felt your chest tighten a little, though not in a bad way.

Adam glanced toward you again, and this time the corners of his mouth lifted with the faintest trace of amusement.

“Besides,” he added, “you’re making it sound as though I’m already gone.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, it would be inconvenient if you disappeared into another world after pretending to be my boyfriend, telling me about portal swords, and then making me laugh for most of the night.”

He smiled at that, the expression easy and sincere. “That does sound inconvenient.”

“Very.”

“Unfortunate, really.”

You looked at him for a second, then shook your head with a smile that you did not bother hiding.

“You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told.”

The road curved gently ahead, and for a while the two of you let the quiet settle again. It felt different now, softer somehow, less like a pause and more like a choice. You found yourself watching him in the reflection of the window more than you meant to, noticing the way the dashboard light caught in his hazel eyes, the way his face looked more open now than it had in the restaurant, as if the drive had given him permission to stop performing confidence and simply be himself.

He noticed, of course.

Adam always seemed to notice.

“What?” he asked, glancing at you with an amused smile already forming.

You blinked. “Nothing.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a lie.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Then what is it?”

You hesitated, then shrugged a little, feeling the warmth rise in your face.

“I was just thinking that you are either the strangest man I have ever met or one of the most impressive.”

Adam looked genuinely entertained by that. “That is not a small range.”

“It is the range you have earned.”

He laughed quietly at that, the sound low and warm in the dim car. Then, after a beat, he asked, “And which one do you think I am?”

You pretended to consider it seriously, though the answer was already there.

“Both.”

Adam’s smile widened, and for a moment the car seemed a little too small for the way the atmosphere between you had shifted. It was still playful, still easy, but there was something else threaded underneath it now, something tender enough to make the night feel like it was carrying you somewhere important even if the destination was only your front door.

When he finally pulled up outside your house, neither of you moved right away.

The engine idled softly.

Streetlights cast a pale glow across the windshield.

Adam kept one hand on the wheel, but his gaze had shifted to you fully now, and there was an expression on his face that looked almost thoughtful, as if he were trying to decide whether to say something and had not quite made up his mind.

You reached for the door handle, then stopped and looked back at him.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

His expression softened again.

“For the ride?” he asked.

“For tonight,” you replied, and the words were more honest than you had intended them to be.

Adam held your gaze for a moment before nodding once, slowly. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

Hearing your name like that, said so carefully, made something in your stomach flutter in a way you did not want to think too hard about.

You gave him a small smile. “Good night, Adam.”

For a second, it looked as though he might say something else, something that would keep you there longer than you should have been. Instead, he only smiled back, soft and warm and far too charming for your own good.

“Good night,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I am glad you sat at my table.”

That was somehow the most dangerous thing he could have said all evening.

You looked at him for one last second, then got out of the car before you could embarrass yourself further.

But even as you walked toward your front door, you could still feel the shape of his smile in the dark behind you.

The next morning felt strangely normal, almost offensively so.

You woke up, got dressed, went through the motions of your usual routine, and headed to work as though you had not spent the previous evening having dinner with a man who claimed to be from another world. By lunchtime, you had started to wonder whether the whole thing had been some elaborate fever dream brought on by exhaustion, bad luck, and the lingering aftermath of your disastrous love life.

And yet, every time you thought about the conversation, Adam still felt real.

The way his expression softened whenever he mentioned Eternia.

The warmth in his voice when he talked about Duncan and Teela.

The complete, unshaken sincerity with which he had spoken about things that any other person would have laughed off as nonsense.

You found yourself smiling more than once throughout the day, and by the afternoon your coworkers probably assumed you were texting someone. In a way, they would not have been entirely wrong.

You opened your conversation with Adam three separate times, stared at the screen each time, and then locked your phone again before you could actually send anything. The message sitting unsent in the chat was painfully simple.

"Did you find the sword yet?"

You stared at it for a long moment before closing the app.

No.

Absolutely not.

You were not going to be the first one to send a message after a first date, even if that date had technically begun as an emergency rescue operation from your ex-boyfriend.

That was the excuse you gave yourself as you walked home later that evening, still half arguing with your own indecision when everything abruptly changed.

You stopped so suddenly that the people behind you almost collided with you, and for a second your mind refused to process what your eyes were seeing.

A comic book and collectibles store stood on the corner ahead of you, its front windows crowded with posters, action figures, and displays from different franchises. A pair of delivery workers were carrying a large, unusual-looking installation through the entrance, maneuvering it carefully between the doorframe and the display shelves inside.

Except it was not an installation.

It was a sword. Your heart slammed hard against your ribs.

No. There was no way.

And yet the blade was enormous, far larger than anything practical, its surface catching the light in a way that made your skin prickle with recognition. You had seen it before. Not in a museum, not in a movie, not in some fantasy exhibit that might have explained it away, but in the photograph Adam had shown you the night before.

The same sword. The same impossible design. Even from across the street, it looked exactly right.

The delivery workers shifted it carefully past the entrance, beside a towering fantasy character display labeled TORAK, and disappeared inside with it.

You did not think. Your hand was already moving for your phone before your brain had fully caught up.

Adam answered before the second ring finished.

“Well,” he said, amusement already in his voice, “I see I didn’t scare you away.”

Despite the way your pulse was racing, you smiled. “Adam.”

Something in your tone must have changed, because the humor in his voice disappeared instantly.

“Y/N?”

You kept your eyes on the storefront. The sword had vanished deeper into the shop, and the knot in your stomach tightened as though your body had realized what your mind was only now accepting.

“I need you to come here,” you said quickly.

There was a brief pause. “What happened?”

“Your sword is in a comic store.”

Silence.

Not disbelief, exactly. Just silence.

You hurried across the street, still staring at the windows as if the sword might suddenly reappear if you looked hard enough.

“I’m serious,” you said. “I just saw it. They were carrying it inside. It’s exactly like the picture you showed me.”

Another beat passed on the other end of the line, and then Adam’s voice changed completely.

“You’re looking at the Sword of Power?”

The easy warmth from the night before was gone. In its place was something sharper, more focused, like all the air had gone still around him.

You swallowed. “I think so. Unless there are multiple giant magical swords from another world floating around this city.”

“I’m on my way.”

The answer came instantly, and it made you blink.

“That’s it?”

“What else would I say?”

“Maybe ask if I’m sure.”

“I know you’re sure.”

The certainty in his voice startled you more than the sword had. You glanced back toward the store, then pressed your free hand against the glass as if that would keep the sword from disappearing again.

“Stay where you are,” Adam said.

A strange flutter moved through your chest. “You trust me that much?”

“I trusted you the moment you sat at my table.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Adam’s tone shifted slightly, as though he was forcing himself to break the quiet before it became something else entirely.

“I’m about twenty minutes away.”

You looked into the store again. The sword was still out of sight, and the nervous knot in your stomach returned twice as strong.

“What if somebody buys it?”

“Nobody is buying the Sword of Power.”

“You sound very confident.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“If someone somehow manages to purchase an ancient magical artifact capable of transporting people between worlds before I get there, then we will deal with that problem together.”

Despite yourself, a laugh slipped out of you.

He sounded relieved by it.

“Good,” he said, and his voice softened again. “I was worried you might tell me this was a prank.”

You leaned against the storefront glass, still staring at the shop interior.

“I did consider it.”

“You considered it?”

“For about three seconds.”

“And?”

You looked at your reflection in the glass, then back toward the store, where the sword had vanished beyond sight.

“I decided I wanted it to be true.”

The silence on the other end lasted a little longer this time.

When Adam finally answered, his voice had gentled again.

“So did I.”

For reasons you could not have explained if you tried, that answer made your heart beat even faster than finding the sword had.

And then, almost at once, his voice returned with a practical edge.

“Do not go inside alone.”

You straightened immediately. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.”

A pause.

Then, just before he hung up, he added, “And Y/N?”

“Yes?”

There was a faint shift in his breathing, as though he had smiled at the sound of your name.