{Chapter: 220: Abandoned Thoughts}
After his attempt to earn extra cash by manipulating the evil god's arrival fell flat, Dex gave a soft sigh and leaned back.
He plucked a crystal wineglass from the silver tray carried by a well-trained servant gliding past, swirling the dark red liquid lazily as he eyed the noisy scene before him. With no interest in breaking up the verbal skirmish erupting between several women who once shared his bed, Dex merely chose a comfortable seat along the edge of the hall and watched the chaos unfold with a faint, indifferent smirk.
The women were relentless—hurling biting insults, thinly veiled threats, and the occasional drink.
Yet Dex didn't flinch.
Not once.
Instead, he casually sipped his wine and observed with mild amusement. Listening to their colorful array of verbal blows, Dex even found himself mentally filing away a few idioms and swear words in various languages. Surprisingly, his vocabulary had improved quite a bit over the last thirty minutes. He might not have won wealth from the evil god, but at least he was gaining linguistic experience.
---
Half an hour later, the drama finally subsided.
Though neither faction of furious women had claimed victory, the pressure of so many eyes watching forced them to retreat with a shred of dignity intact. With some final huffs and dagger-like glares, the crowd dispersed, leaving behind an atmosphere crackling with unresolved tension.
Out of that storm, Valeera Golaner stood like a burning ember.
The elven beauty's long legs moved with a sultry sway as she turned, her emerald-green eyes instantly locking onto Dex's detached figure.
She was still fuming.
Valeera—half assassin, half enchantress—radiated heat in her every movement. Her thigh-high boots clicked across the floor with purpose. Her red silk dress, designed more for mobility than modesty, clung to her flawless figure, revealing sculpted curves and just enough of her smooth alabaster skin to stir anyone with a pulse.
She seized a wineglass from a nearby table, the golden bracelets around her wrist jingling with delicate menace. As the choker on her neck shined with crimson light. She tilted her head, red lips curled in annoyance, and drained the glass in one go.
Then, with all the grace of a jungle cat, she prowled toward Dex and lightly kicked his shin with the sharp heel of her boot.
Not hard.
Just enough to get his attention.
Her voice was sweet, mocking, and laced with complaint. "So this is how you treat me? Sit here like some smug statue while they claw at each other for your name? Don't you care about me at all, Dex?"
Dex barely glanced up. "I do care," he replied with calm composure. "Just not enough to make it my problem. I have no ties to them anymore—why should I waste my time pretending otherwise?"
Valeera studied him closely, her crimson eyes narrowing.
When she didn't speak, he added in his usual clipped manner, "Emotions are expensive. I prefer cheaper currencies."
She laughed dryly, her tongue running across her bottom lip as she studied him with a mixture of irritation and fascination. "You're such a cold bastard. You really think this isn't personal? They're your ex-girlfriends, Dex. You could at least act like you gave them one good memory."
With a dismissive shrug, Dex leaned back further. "To me, our arrangements were transactional. Mutual benefits, not emotional investment. I never lied about that."
Valeera gave a breathy laugh, somewhere between disbelief and admiration. "You really are heartless." Then, softer, almost to herself, "You'll probably never fall in love… not truly."
Her words lingered.
But in that moment, something in Dex's expression shifted—ever so slightly.
His golden eyes flickered, haunted by a memory buried deep beneath his cold logic.
He remained quiet for a few seconds too long, before finally speaking. "Maybe once."
Valeera straightened slightly, the usual glimmer of mockery in her eyes replaced by a spark of genuine curiosity. Her lips curled into a sultry smile as she closed the distance between them. "Once?" she purred, voice laced with velvet intrigue. "Now you've really piqued my interest."
She knelt beside his chair, her movements graceful like a dancer's, deliberately slow. One gloved hand rested lightly on his knee while the other trailed sensuously up the inside of his thigh, a silent provocation wrapped in silk. Her emerald eyes smoldered with mischief. "So… tell me, lover boy," she murmured, her voice a teasing whisper, "who was the lucky beauty who managed to sneak past your walls and rattle that cold, dead heart of yours?"
Dex's response came in a low, reluctant tone, like he was digging through the ash of memories long buried. "She wasn't beautiful. Not like you," he said, eyes momentarily fixed on Valeera's flawless, ageless face. "Just… an ordinary girl."
Valeera blinked, visibly confused. "Ordinary? That doesn't sound like your type." Her voice dripped with disbelief, and perhaps a hint of envy.
"She was," he replied quietly, his gaze drifting as if looking into a world long past. "Plain, even. But I think… I might've felt something for her back then. Something real. I don't know if it was love… but it moved me."
Valeera's teasing demeanor softened. Beneath the surface of his calm words, she heard it—the quiet ache, the ghost of something that once was. It was like listening to a sad song whispered in a dark corridor: beautiful and bitter.
She leaned in closer, her voice low and warm, brushing past his ear like a secret. "So she wasn't beautiful," she said slowly, "but she stirred something inside you. That alone makes her a threat."
Her hand slipped off his thigh, and she studied him with an expression caught between fascination and disbelief. She'd always known Dex carried secrets—cold, brutal ones—but hearing them laid bare like this sent an involuntary shiver through her.
There was no comparison between a mortal from a low-tier world and an elven legend like herself—at least not in the realms Dex had traveled through. Especially her who looks exactly like Valeera Sanguinar from WOW, the second reason why she was able to stick with him for so long.
Valeera knew her value, her perfection. In other worlds, she might have been worshipped as a goddess. And yet… someone like her had not moved him, while a "plain girl" once had?
Her pride bristled.
She arched a slender brow, voice low and provocative. "Can I meet her? I'd love to see what kind of woman could slip past your armor. Maybe even have a little… face-to-face competition."
Though she tried to keep it casual, her tone carried the edge of a jealous lover. For Valeera, the thought of losing to someone so seemingly unworthy stung her pride in ways she didn't want to admit.
Dex didn't flinch. "You can't," he said simply. "She's dead. I killed her with my own hands."
The words dropped like a dagger between them.
Valeera froze.
She stared at him, her lips parting in stunned silence. But his expression told her everything. He wasn't bluffing. He had killed her—and not out of hatred, but duty. Or perhaps something darker.
Realization began to bloom like poison ivy across her thoughts. That's why he's so distant. That's why he never lets anyone in.
She had lived for centuries. Seen wars, kingdoms rise and fall, lovers betray one another. But never had she met someone who spoke of slaughtering his past love with such unshakable calm.
Her teasing grin faltered.
In that moment, she understood something important: Dex was truly broken. And unlike most broken men who craved saving, he didn't want to be fixed.
Yet strangely, that only made him more alluring.
Her sultry tone returned, softened now by a tinge of sincerity. "You really are broken, aren't you?"
Dex offered a cold, sardonic smirk. "Better to be broken and alive… than whole and foolish."
But Valeera wasn't finished with him.
With a sudden movement, she straddled the armrest of his chair, her slender form curving with feline grace. Her fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, brushing against his cheek with feather-light intent. "Still…" she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his, "a woman who could stir you must've been something… unforgettable."
She leaned in further, her breath ghosting over his lips, eyes gleaming like rubies under torchlight.
"Too bad," she said, smirking seductively. "I like broken things."
Dex said nothing.
He didn't push her away, nor did he indulge her flirtations.
A woman he had flapped to too many times to remember and now being with gave him a strange kind of satisfaction.
But still to him, whether Valeera stayed or left mattered little. Her presence was a mild curiosity at best, a beautiful decoration in a world he no longer emotionally engaged with.