Villain's Second Heart: Trapped in A Fantasy Novel (BL)-Chapter 44: Friendly Competition

"The results are in!" Rav announced, dramatic. He flourished his hand and paused for suspense."

"We know who won already," Ezra said flatly.

"Shh!" Rav hissed, waving his fan dismissively in Ezra's direction.

"In third place, with twenty-seven confirmed knockouts...Ezra!"

Rav clapped his hands excitedly. "For third place, you win the opportunity to make dinner tonight."

"I'm still the only one to kill a Tyrannodon today," Ezra pouted, crossing his arms. He had a competitive side, and didn't like losing.

Oberyn patted Ezra on the back. "Don't worry," the sweet Nephilim chirped. "I'll do the cooking. You should relax."

"And the winner is...in first place with a whopping FORTY-NINE confirmed knockouts..."

Ezra narrowed his eyes, sulking. "We helped you COUNT, Rav!"

"...is Oberyn!"

The crowd (Deek) erupted into applause. She's the only one who always gets caught up in Rav's theatrics.

"And of course give it up for Deek, with her second place count of twenty-eight!"

Ezra laughed. He and Deek were only one away from each other.

"And now, as is custom, my top disciple may have anything he desires!"

Oberyn thought about what he wanted, looking to Ezra for guidance. Or perhaps because Ezra was the thing he desired most in that moment.

*"Rip him off, ask for the pagoda or something," Ezra whispered playfully, his breath tickling Oberyn's ear. The Nephilim shivered - whether from the words or the sensation, he wasn't sure. Instead of answering, he shot Ezra a sly side-eye, as if to say, 'Don't tempt me'.

But Oberyn had simpler tastes, and grounded materialism. He wanted his freedom from the curse most of all, but that wasn't something to ask for in a situation like the one he found himself in. He could think of one small pleasure, though.

"You think you could get me some clothes, on your trip to Asteria?" he asked coyly. "So I don't have to wear your hand-me-downs..."

Rav made a 'Blegh' face and drooped his shoulders. "Anything in the world, and you want CLOTHES?"

Not just any clothes," Oberyn corrected, his voice softer than before. "Something cute." He peeked up at Ezra through his lashes, his fingers fidgeting slightly at the hem of his oversized shirt.

The added 'cute' modifier piqued Rav's interest. Suddenly, the catboy had all sorts of ideas. "Hmm. Yes, this is brilliant, actually," he thought to himself, turning away. "I can dress up the Nephilim however I like..."

"Don't worry, Oby," Ezra said, his tone easy, natural. "I'll make sure we get something nice. But, honestly..." He paused, looking him over with an appreciative gaze. "You'd be cute no matter what."

Oberyn's heart fluttered at the words. Just for a second. He forced himself to look away, pretending to adjust his sleeves. He almost lost his footing as he slipped into a moment of heaven.

Once the theatrics died down, Rav retired to his den for the afternoon, and Deek went about training. Rav offered to let the Ferin girl stay the night, after she confirmed Cliff had all he needed for the next twenty-four hours or so. She'd return home after dealing with the Lamia tomorrow.

Ezra and Oberyn stayed together, taking a long walk around Rav's pagoda, exploring every nook and cranny together. Oberyn didn't mention he already wandered around earlier - Ezra's excitement to show him everything was too charming to refuse.

Afterward, they walked around the outside. The land around the pagoda wasn't large, but there was still plenty to see, hear, and smell. The mountain plateau was a paradise of life, teeming with frogs, birds, and colorful insects.

At one point, they laid down in the grass beside a weaving koi pond. Oberyn rested his head against Ezra's shoulder first - tentative, hesitant. But when Ezra didn't move away, he let himself relax completely. It was only moments later that Ezra's head drifted against his, their warmth mingling as they dozed off together.

Oberyn stirred first, as the sun was beginning to set. Ezra looked so calm and precious sleeping in the fading orange light. The Nephilim couldn't help but stare and watch him sleep.

He took careful stock of every detail - the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the twitching of his lip as if he were trying to say something in his dreamworld.

He patted Ezra on the head gently, letting his fingers run through the human's thick, dark hair. It was so soft. Like he grew silk right from his scalp.

"I'm going to go make dinner for everyone, Ez," he said quietly to the sleeping boy at his side. "Come find me when you wake up, okay? I'll miss you."

His words were achingly vulnerable - he wasn't sure if he'd have said it if he knew Ezra could hear.

He rose to his feet in silence and roamed through the grassy field, looking all around at his new home. Maybe life here wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought to himself.

But a shock of pain suddenly surged through the back of his neck, causing him to drop to his knees mid-stride. He gasped in pain, clutching his curse mark. The blackened flesh at his nape pulsed and churned, eating his mana.

The more he used, the more it grew - and the more mana it devoured. Even if he never cast a single spell, the curse mark would continue to grow, and eventually overtake his entire body.

Already, a thick, veiny tendril had grown from the curse, and had begun slithering down his spine.

He took a moment to collect himself, the momentary shock subsiding. That was how the curse mark always worked. Each pulse of pain meant it was growing stronger, and soon they would become more and more frequent.

Demetrius had been good for only one thing - keeping the curse in check. He really hoped Rav had a good idea for how to handle it.

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As Oberyn began to prepare dinner, he tried to push it all out of his mind. He'd taken mental inventory of what Rav had on hand, and he knew exactly what to cook.

When everything was finally ready, and Oberyn began to plate the food, he called everyone to the large outdoor seating area where they'd eaten the night before. Ezra was still sleeping, so Deek went to collect him.

Oberyn set out the four plates of food, eager for everyone to eat up. He'd even gone the extra mile and made some parfaits for everyone to enjoy.

"What the heck is this?" Deek said, poking at the steak he'd prepared. "It's tough as nails!"

Oberyn blushed. "Yes, well, I was trying out some new techniques, and..."

Steak and potatoes - Oberyn had wanted a redo after his last steak dinner went so hideously wrong. The only problem was Oberyn had no idea how to cook a steak. Charred on the outside and yet somehow still partially raw in the middle, they were a disaster of fine cuisine. His attempt at 'mashed potatoes' was more like 'smashed potatoes', chunky and uneven and dry.

And his parfaits were just poorly-blended servings of fruit juice.

The two Ferin had lots of complaints, but Oberyn didn't feel too bad, because he received all the affirmation he needed from Ezra.

"This is the best meal I've ever had!" Ezra laughed and smiled as he ate. At the end, his plate was fully clean - he'd eaten every last bite.

And, though Ezra may have been exaggerating slightly, it was a wonderful meal - because it was made by Oberyn.