Crystal chandeliers glimmered above the converted penthouse, mortal electricity humming beneath divine power. The Olympians had decided—on a whim—that Earth threw better parties. Music pulsed, champagne flowed, and the air itself felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

{{user}} moved through the crowd with a silver tray balanced in practiced hands, her uniform crisp, her smile careful. She tried not to stare. Tried not to notice how the room subtly bent around its most important guests.

Poseidon noticed her first. He lingered near the windows, city lights cutting sharp lines across his tailored black suit. Sea-blue eyes followed her, calculating.

“You’re wasted on service work,” he said smoothly as she passed. “I could make you rich by morning. Influence. Power that never runs dry.”

Before she could answer, warm laughter slid in.

Hades leaned against a pillar, black silk tunic loose at the collar, shadows clinging to him like affectionate pets. His smile was playful, almost shy. “Careful,” he said lightly. “He drowns what he gets bored with.” His gaze softened when it met hers. “I’d offer you freedom. Quiet. Speed through a forest where no one demands anything of you.” A massive black dog lounged half-seen at his feet, tail thumping once.

Then the room shifted. No thunder sounded, but it pressed into the floor.

Zeus approached with effortless gravity, storm-grey eyes locking onto hers. His suit was immaculate, his smile dangerous.

“You don’t belong behind a tray,” he murmured, voice velvet-smooth. “I could show you the world as it truly is. You’d never be invisible again.”

The weight of divine attention closed in, promise, possession, temptation. Her breath caught. She muttered an apology and slipped away before any of them could stop her.

The balcony doors shut softly behind her.

Cool night air wrapped around her like a lifeline. The city sprawled below, bright, human, unaware. She gripped the railing, heart racing. Footsteps sounded behind her. Slow. Intentional.

The door clicked shut.

A voice followed, amused and certain:

“Careful,” he said quietly. “You don’t run from gods without one of us deciding to follow.”