Power Thief's Revenge [BL]-Chapter 160: Fast Shipping

Chapter 160: Fast Shipping
Hermes almost lost his nerve at the front steps.
The Fiery Cross tower rose into the sky like a monolith, glass and steel catching the sunlight until the entire surface seemed to burn. One hundred floors stretched above him, and the sight alone made his stomach churn.
He clutched the bouquet of sunflowers tighter, his lips a thin line.
The lobby doors whooshed open as he stepped inside. The marble floor gleamed, so polished it reflected him back at strange angles.
A single receptionist sat at the front desk, an old woman with heavy bags under her eyes and glasses sliding down her nose. She looked like she had been awake since the building was first constructed.
"Uh... hi," Hermes said, clearing his throat. "I was summoned to the ninety-ninth floor." He lifted the sunflowers like they were a hall pass.
The woman squinted at him, unimpressed. "Name?"
"...Hermes."
She nodded slowly, every motion like it required deliberate effort. Then, with all the speed of a glacier, she reached for the phone. She dialed, waited, and yawned.
Moments later or perhaps even less than that, something blurred past Hermes’ peripheral vision.
Suddenly, standing beside him was a woman with a bagel clenched between her teeth, a coffee cup balanced in one hand, and a clipboard tucked beneath the other.
"SorrystairwellsfasterdonttrustelevatorshiyoumustbeHermes!" She chirped, words spilling out in a single breathless stream.
Her red hair bounced in messy curls, freckles scattered bright across her cheeks. She still had the bagel in her mouth as she tried to juggle her coffee and clipboard.
Hermes blinked. "...Did you just come down the stairs? Ninety-nine floors?"
She nodded vigorously, cheeks puffed around the bagel.
She swallowed. "Yesitsquickerandcardioisimportantmynamesconneypersonalsecretaryto—"
"Can you please slow down?" Hermes begged. "I don’t understand."
"Oh." The woman cleared her throat. "I said that I took the stairs because it’s quicker. My name’s Conney, personal secretary to Raphael."
"Thanks." Hermes sighed in relief. "So... Is Raphael up there on the 99th?"
Conney nodded. "Oh my gods, he has been waiting for you! I’ve never seen him this eager to meet someone in my entire career! Usually he keeps himself distant, carrying that stoic and almost brooding aura, the kind of golden perfection that makes people freeze up around him. But now? He’s actually humming at his desk!"
Hermes stared at her, completely unmoored by the verbal torrent.
That’s when he noticed the book tucked under her arm. A bright pastel cover displayed two men on the front, one dressed in shining knight’s armor and the other in flowing mage robes, their hands brushing tenderly over a glowing spellbook.
Oh.
Oh no.
Conney caught him looking and quickly hid the book somewhere Hermes wasn’t able to see. "O-Oh, this is just for uh... research. Yes! It is all completely professional!"
Hermes stiffened. "We’re not... It’s not like that."
"Not like what?" she asked, tilting her head with intrigue.
She was clearly trying to keep her expression professional, but the grin tugging at the edges of her mouth betrayed her excitement.
"...Like that," Hermes muttered.
Conney’s grin widened despite her best efforts, though she covered it by quickly sipping from her coffee.
Before Hermes could dig himself any deeper, a voice interrupted. Calm. Deep. "Excuse me, young man."
Hermes turned.
A bald man in priest’s robes stood nearby, hands folded neatly. His expression was kind and patient, his presence strangely grounding.
"Are you interested—" the priest began.
"No thank you, I’m an atheist," Hermes blurted.
The man raised his brows, amused rather than offended. Conney nearly dropped her coffee, trying not to choke on a laugh.
She leaned in close to Hermes, whispering just loud enough for him to hear: "That’s the Reverend. He’s the CEO of Fiery Cross."
Hermes froze, blood turning to ice. "Wait, what?"
The priest smiled serenely. "You need not apologize. But let me finish my question." He inclined his head politely. "Are you interested in joining our community?"
Hermes’s mouth worked soundlessly before words tumbled out. "Uh... no? I already... I’m already with another guild."
The Reverend’s eyes twinkled with quiet amusement. "Ah, yes. The Golden Apple. I remember now."
His tone was gentle, but Hermes couldn’t shake the feeling of being measured, as if the priest were weighing his soul. "Well. Should you ever change your mind, know that we have a place for you. One of our twelve slots is open. Firefly is... currently indisposed, after the Night Cyclops affair."
Hermes blinked. "You only have twelve?"
The Reverend nodded, serene as ever. "Twelve disciples. Twelve months in a year. Twelve constellations in the heavens. It is a number of balance. We accept no more and no less."
Hermes tried to imagine a skyscraper with ninety-nine floors housing only twelve official heroes. The math made his brain itch.
The Reverend pressed his hands together in farewell. "In any case, may your path be guided. Should you need sanctuary, Fiery Cross welcomes you."
And with that, he drifted away across the lobby, his footsteps measured and calm, as though he carried all the time in the world.
Hermes stood frozen, bouquet still clutched awkwardly in his hands. "What... just happened?"
Conney clapped him on the shoulder, nearly spilling her coffee. "Don’t worry about him. He’s always like that. All mystical and cryptic. You eventually get used to it."
"I don’t think I want to get used to it."
She laughed, the sound bright against the sterile lobby air. "Well, you don’t work here so you don’t have to! Come on!"
Before Hermes could protest, she herded him toward the elevator. She swiped a badge and the doors slid open. The inside gleamed with mirrors, bright enough to reflect Hermes’ growing unease back at him a dozen times over.
As the elevator began its long ascent, Conney sipped her coffee, bagel crumbs dusting her shirt, book still tucked securely under her arm.
"So... just between us... if it were like that, I’d absolutely support it. I kind of have a thing for forbidden romance."
Hermes groaned into his hands. "Please stop. It’s really not like that."
"Sorry!" she said with complete sincerity.
But a few seconds later he caught her messaging a BL lover’s group chat about what was happening, and they’re all already trying to come up with ship names.
Hermes sighed. Ninety-nine floors to go. He had no idea what would be waiting at the top, but he already felt like he had stumbled into another world.
A bizarre guild with one hundred floors, twelve chosen heroes, a priest for a CEO... and Raphael, waiting for him.