"What do you want?" Ambrose asked the second he opened the door, barely taking Han in.
The latter blinked back with clear shock in his eyes.
Guide Han was dressed in a black full-body suit, with flaming yellow highlights trimming the arms and legs. Phoenix Flight's insignia was stitched pretty on his left chest.
Ambrose made sure to block Han from seeing his living room. Orion could run out at any second, and the last thing he wanted was his ex seeing his child from the future he was tasked to raise with said ex's boyfriend.
[The host's life is officially reality TV gold.]
"Why so pressed, Ambrose?" Han arched a curious brow, neck leaning slightly in an attempt to peep into the suite.
However, Ambrose blocked the attempt. "I wasn't. Until you showed up. Again, Guide Han... What do you want?"
Han was perplexed and rightfully so.
The past Ambrose was nothing short of a simp. Even though he'd tried seducing Devon, he only did it to get Han's attention. He'd never pass up an opportunity to see him, despite getting beaten up by him last night.
But this wasn't the past Ambrose.
It was Benji Foster reborn. And he'll be damned before he simped for some cheap toxic Yaoi knock-off villain.
"Well," Han regained his stone-cold calm, clearing his throat. "I'm only here to confirm if you're okay. And clear."
That last word made Ambrose frown.
Clear?
Seeing his confusion, Han brought his face closer. "About last night. Clear that it was merely a misunderstanding. Right?"
A few seconds passed with Ambrose not uttering a word. For a moment, he wondered if Han had finally lost his mind.
If every man in this universe were this shameless, he might start researching transmigration loopholes to escape to another one.
Maybe a universe designed after one of his soap operas.
"Wait a minute." Ambrose's laugh was dry. "You want me to pretend last night didn't happen? To forget you and your goons—"
CRASH!
The sound of something breaking inside made Ambrose jolt and Han's plain demeanour shifted.
Bloody hell—that little urchin!
"What was that?" Han queried, already trying to shove past him.
"Probably rats." Ambrose swatted his arm away, keeping his tone serious. "Don't try changing the subject."
They both stood there for what felt like aeons. Tension strung around them like chains, Ambrose swallowing hard at the prolonged stare into those dark, mischievous orbs.
Then, "Looks like those punches gave you some balls." Han sniggered, his teeth shining like a wolf set on its prey. "I might choose to go easy on you because of what we had. Though fleeting."
He took a measured step forward, making Ambrose's grip on the door's edge tighten. Ready to shut it on the bastard's face in case he did something funny.
"Just ensure you know your place, Ambrose." He finally tapped Ambrose once on his shoulder. "We won't want something avoidable ending you."
With that, he pulled away from the door, walking down the hallway with purposeful strides.
Ambrose watched his back with gritted teeth. "Temu grade asshole."
As he shut the door behind him, he spun around, searching for Orion. "Little guy? What did you break back there?"
Almost instantly, Orion ran from the kitchen. His hands and mouth were stained with a white powdery substance. Flour. His golden eyes gleamed with guilt. "I–I wanted to make pancakes..."
Rubbing his forehead, Ambrose gestured for the lad to come to him. "I'll get to making you some soon, okay?" When he grabbed Orion's little hand, he led him to the TV, picking up the remote. "Right now, daddy needs to think."
[And watching SpongeBob is going to help with that, hon?]
'Get off my hair.' came Ambrose's mental response. 'My knowledge about this world comes from the past guy's memories. Something important was supposed to happen today—'
He was interrupted the second he tuned into the main news network. The headlines caught his eye, as well as the on-site report being given.
"The S rank dungeon which opened in Aurelia international airport at six pm last night is said to be leaking dangerous amounts of aether energy." The female reporter said. "Phoenix Flight and Glacier Talon Guilds are set to raid the dungeon today as citizens within a ten-mile radius are being evacuated."
Ambrose watched the clips showing helicopters flying over the dimensional rift. It was a massive tear in space, glowing with a bright white light, the edges trimmed with black.
Other clips showed citizens trying to evacuate via cars and some even on foot. It was chaotic but Espers on the ground helped with the process.
It looked and felt like an apocalypse.
"Daddy?" Orion tugged at his hand just then. "You're part of the Phoenix Flight Guild right now, yes?"
For a couple of seconds, Ambrose's mouth parted and closed. "Y–Yeah." He managed.
Orion beamed. "And so is my papa?"
"Yep."
"Which means you two are going to slay the bad guys together? Like you do in my timeline?"
That was the moment Ambrose's practised smile faltered.
While Guides have a lot of aether energy in them needed for guiding, only B ranks and above had any significant boost in physical stats that could prove useful in a battle like this.
A C rank like Ambrose—
[The host's physical stats were doubled last night as a reward for surviving Han's attack. You also acquired the "Infinite Esper Bond linking" ability.]
'So?'
[So, logically, proximity increases your success rate. That means you could gamble on heading into that S-rank dungeon. Gain attraction points from Devon and his trust for raising the anomaly.]
Ambrose's eyes widened.
He never thought of that.
Still, threading into an S rank dungeon just to complete some dumb mission?
[Dumb? Need I remind you of the penalty for failing your missions?]
Those words from the system ticked something in him. The need for survival.
After the hell he went through in his last life, heaven forbid he comes to this universe only to die because he couldn't seduce one block-headed Esper.
Curling his fists, Ambrose's head angled to the living room door. His eyes dimmed, his mind coming to a decision. All while Orion blinked curiously at him.
"Looks like daddy's going to the dungeon after all, little one."
The words felt heavier than they should have. Like signing something he couldn't unsign.