Chapter 79: The Monster On the Couch
They sat on the couch that morning with the news playing.
Hermes didn’t know if Apple was understanding any of it, but he had to try.
The screen showed footage from the aftermath of the Megamantis incident. Drone shots of smoldering pavement, still-smoking buildings, and dotted red and yellow tarps covering what they didn’t want the public to see.
The captions read: [Golden Apple Guild Agent Still Under Investigation]
Hermes exhaled. He looked at Apple, who was perched at the edge of the sofa with his hands flat on his knees, back unnaturally straight. Watching. Not blinking much.
"That was me," Hermes said, gesturing vaguely toward the screen. "You too, I guess."
Apple didn’t reply.
Hermes leaned forward, elbows on his thighs.
"Listen. If you’re gonna be here... walking around... you need to understand some things about how the world works."
Apple tilted his head slightly.
Hermes pointed to the news anchor now interviewing some protest survivors. "People. Humans. They need to be protected. Even if they hate you. Even if they’re afraid."
Still no response.
"You only hurt someone if you have no choice," Hermes continued. "Even then, you do it carefully. You don’t end their life. That’s not your call. Not unless there’s no other way."
Apple’s brow furrowed slightly.
Hermes clarified, "Even if they’re villains. Even if they’re from the Void. You stop them. You don’t destroy them. Understand?"
Then finally, a sound.
"...What?"
Just one word. Flat. But pointed.
Hermes blinked.
Aphrodite, who was folding laundry nearby, spoke up softly. "He only speaks one word at a time, doesn’t he?"
Hermes rubbed the back of his neck. "I think he meant... What are the exceptions? When it is okay to kill."
He sighed. "Only when you’re sure they won’t stop. When they’re too dangerous to let live, and all other options failed. When keeping them alive means more people get hurt."
Apple stared at the screen. Then said:
"Eirwyn."
The room went still.
Hermes felt his lungs pause mid-breath. Even Aphrodite lowered the shirt he was folding.
Apple didn’t elaborate. He just waited. Eyes gleaming: one ice blue, the other iridescent, never settling on a color.
Hermes cleared his throat. "I haven’t decided yet."
His voice felt thin in his own mouth.
"I want him alive. To face what he did. That’s better than death. He should live long enough to understand the consequences."
Apple tilted his head again.
"Lie."
It wasn’t a question.
Aphrodite tensed. Even with his calm demeanor, the quiet fury in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Don’t call him a liar."
Apple didn’t respond.
Aphrodite crossed the room, not aggressive, but firm. "Hermes is a good person. Maybe too good. Eirwyn hurt him. He broke him. But he would never kill him. That’s not who Hermes is."
Apple just gave him a look.
It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t skeptical. It was almost... pitying. Then, he pointed to himself.
Then to Hermes.
"Same."
That was all he said. But it was enough for Hermes to feel his stomach twist.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
Apple was part of him. The violent, reactive, seething part. The one that never forgot. The one that never forgave. The one that wanted to end things.
But they were separate now.
Right?
Hermes tried to smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It’s late. I’m tired. Let’s get some sleep."
Neither Apple nor Aphrodite argued.
***
There were three of them now.
And only one bed.
Hermes looked at the mattress and sighed. Back when Magni still stayed over, it was Magni who shared the bed. Somehow, it worked. Despite his massive size, he kept to his side of the bed. Rarely snored. Never complained.
Ymir was a different story. He thrashed. Kicked. Snored like a thunderstorm in a barrel. Hermes didn’t hate him as much as he did back then, but the sleep was awful. Never again.
When Aphrodite moved in after the fake war, Magni had stepped aside. Said something about letting Hermes have his peace.
Now?
Hermes looked at the couch.
Apple was already sitting on it again. Same position. Back straight. Staring at the empty wall like it was talking back.
"You good with the couch?" Hermes asked.
Apple didn’t reply.
Hermes turned to Aphrodite. "I know you’re a light sleeper. The couch’s not exactly ideal."
"I can take it," Aphrodite said immediately.
"Nope."
"Hermes—"
"I said no."
Hermes looked at Apple again.
He hadn’t moved. Just watching. Thinking. Or maybe not.
Eventually, Hermes and Aphrodite went to bed.
The dogs found their spots. Xolotl curled by the door. The Grrberus pups yawned and huddled together in their blanket pile.
The apartment dimmed. Everything was quiet...
But peaceful?
Those were always two different things.
***
Hermes woke with a dry throat and a vague sense of something being wrong.
The clock on his nightstand glowed 2:31 AM in quiet green digits. He lay there for a moment, blinking slowly, unsure whether the weight in his chest was just sleep or something heavier.
Eventually, he pushed off the blanket, careful not to jostle Aphrodite, whose breathing was steady and soft beside him. The air in the room was cooler now, touched with that stillness that only existed in the dead of night...
The kind that made every step feel louder than it should, every thought a little more real.
He slipped on his slippers. Moved with practiced quiet down the hall. The soft tap of claws against the tile told him one of the Grrberus pups had decided to follow him. He gave a small, automatic gesture of reassurance without looking down.
And then he passed into the living room.
And stopped.
It took his brain a moment to process what he was seeing.
At first, it was just the silhouette—something shaped like a man, sitting perfectly still on the couch in complete darkness, back straight, hands on knees, as if he’d never moved since the moment Hermes had left him there.
But then Hermes’ eyes adjusted further, and the shapes sharpened into something more detailed.
Something more specific.
The shoulders. The posture. The shape of the jaw. The faint gleam of pale hair catching the streetlight from outside.
It was him.
But not him.
Not blinking. Not breathing. Not right.
Two eyes met his own in the dark—one a glacial blue so cold it seemed to reflect frost from the air, and the other swirling and unsteady, constantly shifting through colors that didn’t have names, as if reality itself was trying and failing to pin them down.
They glowed faintly. Not brightly. Not enough to illuminate.
Just enough to pierce.
Hermes froze.
For a split second, it felt like he was looking at himself from outside his body. Not in the metaphorical sense, not like a poetic moment of introspection, but truly, physically, viscerally seeing himself sitting there on the couch with that eerie stillness.
His heart thudded once, twice, and he couldn’t move.
There was something profoundly wrong about it.
The way Apple sat there, like a mannequin someone had tried to make come alive but hadn’t finished yet. Like a creature had worn his skin and was now studying how it fit.
He didn’t blink. He didn’t shift.
But Hermes felt like he had known, on some subconscious level, that whatever part of himself Apple used to be... It was the part that didn’t rest. The part that didn’t dream. The part that didn’t sleep.
Then the monster on the couch spoke.
A single word.
"Lie."