[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction-Chapter 261: One of Us Will Explode

Chapter 261: Chapter 261: One of Us Will Explode
Elias slammed the tablet onto the conference table with a sound that suggested structural damage. The screen didn’t crack, but only because it feared him more than gravity.
"I am going to commit a crime," he announced.
Across from him, Ruo didn’t even look up from her coffee. "Is it the same crime as yesterday?"
"No," Elias snapped. "This one’s worse. This one involves Ego Numen, a data leak, three passive-aggressive memos, and an executive scheduling app that thinks I’m a part-time intern with a caffeine addiction."
"You do have a caffeine addiction."
"I had one," Elias corrected, dragging a hand through his hair. "I gave it up for the fetus. I deserve a goddamn parade."
Ruo finally glanced up, impassive behind her tinted reading glasses. "You’re five and a half months pregnant and trying to rewrite an entire deployment plan while dodging father, who thinks micromanaging is a form of affection."
"He cornered me in the elevator yesterday with three proposals and a chart about fetal brain development!"
"You are working under his infrastructure initiative."
Elias pointed at her. "And you’re still siding with him, which means we’re fighting now."
"I’m not siding with my father," Ruo said, deadpan, "but I am siding with basic cardiovascular stability. You’ve been vibrating like an unstable particle for three hours."
Elias threw himself back into the chair with a dramatic huff. "You are siding with him. This is betrayal. Treason. I’m being politically assassinated with herbal tea and ergonomic chairs."
Ruo leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand. "You’re dramatic when you’re hungry. Did you eat lunch?"
Elias opened his mouth. Closed it.
"...There was a pastry. Somewhere. I think."
"That was at nine a.m."
"I’ve been busy," Elias said through gritted teeth. "Ego’s new draft includes a clause for smart insulation microchips in all sub-level infrastructure and somehow I’m the one in charge of integrating it into the deployment model while also designing actual backup for the node system because his consultants think redundancy is a dirty word."
"Because they assume nothing will fail."
"Everything fails," Elias snapped. "It’s architecture, not faith-based performance art."
Ruo gave him a look that said she agreed, but also that she wasn’t going to throw herself in front of the steamroller he’d become.
"I’m going to start electrocuting people with my mind," Elias muttered.
"I thought you were going to commit a crime."
"That is the crime."
He rubbed his temples, then reached for the stylus again only to pause halfway, catching a glimpse of his own reflection in the dark screen. His hair was sticking up on one side. His skin looked pale and flushed at the same time. And the collar of his shirt was stretched in a way that betrayed how many times he’d yanked at it during arguments with phantom bureaucrats.
"...God, I look like I’m being haunted by paperwork," he muttered.
"You are," Ruo said cheerfully. "It’s called being in the Numen family."
That earned her a glare. "I did not marry into this bloodline just to be tortured by administrative ghosts and pregnancy-safe meal plans."
"You did," Ruo said. "You just didn’t read the fine print."
"I was the fine print!"
Ruo laughed, which was rare. "You still are."
Elias groaned and let his head fall back. The ceiling tiles above him were immaculate, probably scrubbed by terrified interns. The air in the room smelled faintly like citrus, coffee, and ozone from too many high-efficiency screens. Somewhere, down the hall, he could hear a printer whining. It sounded like someone trying not to scream.
It was a mood.
"I need thirty-six hours of sleep and garlic bread the size of a steering wheel."
"And therapy," Ruo added. "Lots of therapy."
"I have Victor."
"That’s not therapy. That’s weaponized devotion."
"...It’s helping."
Ruo checked her tablet, thumbed a few notes into the shared file, then paused. "You know he’s been trying not to hover, right?"
"I told him not to."
"You told him to try. He’s still Victor. Hovering is his love language."
Elias didn’t answer. Because she wasn’t wrong.
Victor had been... patient. Frustratingly so. Respectful of Elias’s boundaries but annoyingly good at still being present. He brought warm food without being asked. Read every single draft of Elias’s s, even when Elias pretended he didn’t care. Sat beside him during his late-night graph rage spirals and only occasionally offered suggestions that made Elias feel both supported and slightly inferior.
And lately, he hadn’t just hovered.
He’d watched.
With something quiet in his eyes. Something big and emotionally heavy. Something closer to awe.
Elias wasn’t ready to unpack that.
"I’m not fragile," he said aloud.
"I didn’t say you were," Ruo replied. "But you are five and a half months pregnant, trying to run three departments, and in a cold war with Ego over sensor calibration. You can’t keep pretending your spine’s made of titanium."
"I can. And I will."
"Then at least eat," she said, standing. "And for god’s sake, fix your hair. You look like you were electrocuted in the server room."
"I was in the server room."
"Of course you were."
She swept out with imperial calm, tablet tucked under her arm like a weapon.
Elias watched the door shut.
And then leaned over and let his head hit the table with a soft, muffled thud.
A moment later, the door opened again.
Victor.
He stepped in quietly, like he knew he was intruding on a war zone.
"Hi," he said gently.
Elias didn’t lift his head. "Your father is trying to kill me with bureaucracy."
Victor walked over and knelt beside him. "Then I’ll kill him with money."
Elias huffed. "That’s not how politics works."
"That’s how I work," Victor said, and kissed the inside of his wrist. "Let me take you home."
"I have three more models to run."
Victor rested a hand over the curve of Elias’s belly. The baby kicked once, gently but insistently.
Victor smiled.
Elias sighed again. "...Fine. But only if you carry me."
Victor stood up, already gathering Elias into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I was going to do that anyway," he murmured.
Elias closed his eyes, surrendering, for now.
But only because he knew there was garlic bread waiting.