Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy

Chapter 174 - 175 | The Last Heroine

Cheon and Mera exchanged a look. The kind of look that said volumes without a single word being spoken. I’d learned to recognize that look over the past two weeks. It usually preceded some kind of intervention.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," Cheon said.

"You’re doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you communicate telepathically and then pretend like nothing happened."

Mera snorted. "We don’t communicate telepathically."

"Could’ve fooled me."

Cheon walked over and straightened my collar. The gesture was intimate in a way that still surprised me sometimes. A week ago, she’d been the class representative who tolerated my existence. Now she was adjusting my clothes before I went to meet another woman.

"Be careful," she said.

"I’m always careful."

"You’re never careful. That’s why I have to remind you."

"Fair point."

She kissed me. Quick and soft, just a brush of lips that left the faint taste of her cherry lip gloss behind.

"Come home after," she said. "We’ll be waiting."

"Yes ma’am."

Mera grabbed my arm as I headed for the door. Her grip was stronger than it looked, a reminder that the cute girl with the horns and tail could bench press a small car when she wanted to.

"If you sleep with her tonight, I want details," she said.

"Mera."

"I’m serious. Full report. Positions, duration, performance metrics."

"You’re insane."

"You love it."

I did. That was the terrifying part.

Marco drove me to campus. The observation deck sat at the top of the main academic building, accessible only through a service elevator that most students didn’t know existed. I’d discovered it during my first week at the academy, back when I was still mapping escape routes and contingency plans. Old habits from a life that felt increasingly distant.

Aurora was already there when I arrived. She stood at the railing, silhouetted against the city lights, her golden hair catching the glow of a hundred thousand windows. She wore civilian clothes tonight. Simple jeans and a cream-colored sweater that looked soft enough to be cashmere. No hero costume. No armor. Just a girl waiting for a conversation she probably didn’t want to have.

"You came," she said without turning.

"You asked."

"I wasn’t sure you would."

I walked to the railing and stood beside her. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. Not close enough to touch.

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"Because this is complicated. And you don’t seem like someone who enjoys complicated."

"You’d be surprised."

She finally turned to look at me. Those golden eyes, the color of honey in sunlight, searched my face for something. Truth, maybe. Or deception. With Aurora, it was hard to tell the difference.

"Nolan woke up," she said.

The words hit harder than I expected. I’d known he would recover. His abilities were good. His body was strong. The drain I’d used on him had been significant but not permanent. Still, hearing the confirmation from Aurora’s mouth made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

"How is he?"

"Angry. Confused. Asking questions I can’t answer." She turned back to the city. "He wants to know what you did to him. Says it felt like you were pulling something out of him. Something deeper than just energy."

"I was."

"That’s not a normal ability, Rome."

"No. It’s not."

"What are you?"

The question hung between us. I could lie. I’d gotten good at lying over the past few weeks. The words came easily now, practiced explanations and convenient half-truths that satisfied most people’s curiosity without revealing anything dangerous.

But this was Aurora. The last heroine. The one person I hadn’t claimed yet. The one person who might actually matter in a way that went beyond system requirements and quest completions.

"I don’t know," I said honestly. "I’m still figuring that out."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one I have."

She studied me for a long moment. I could see the calculation happening behind her eyes. The weighing of risks and benefits. The assessment of trustworthiness.

"You’re different," she said finally. "Not just from who you used to be. Different from everyone else at this academy. Different from anyone I’ve ever met."

"Good different or bad different?"

"I haven’t decided yet."

We stood in silence for a while. The city sprawled beneath us, a glittering expanse of lights and shadows that seemed to stretch forever. Somewhere down there, people were living normal lives. Going to work. Coming home to families. Worrying about bills and deadlines and all the mundane concerns that used to feel so important.

I wondered what that felt like. Having a life that made sense. Having a future that didn’t depend on completing a supernatural contract with a system that spoke in quest notifications and compatibility ratings.

"I’m going to break up with Nolan," Aurora said.

I turned to look at her. Her profile was sharp against the city glow. Beautiful in a way that felt almost unfair. The kind of beautiful that launched ships and started wars in the stories I’d read as a kid.

"Why?"

"Because it’s not fair to him. What I feel when I’m around you. What I think about when we’re apart." She shook her head slightly. "He deserves someone who’s actually present. Someone who isn’t constantly wondering what it would be like to be somewhere else. With someone else."

"Aurora."

"Don’t. Please." She held up a hand. "Let me finish."

I waited.

"I’ve been with Nolan for three years," she continued. "He’s good. Kind. Everything I’m supposed to want. My parents love him. The agencies love us together. We make sense on paper in a way that you and I never will."

"But?"

"But I’ve never felt with him what I felt when you kissed me at that party." Her voice dropped. "I’ve never spent hours thinking about his hands or his voice or the way he looks at me like he’s seeing something no one else can see. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you. And that terrifies me."