Flashback—The Lame Wish
A bright sunny afternoon. A small elementary school playground, faded jungle gym in the background. Four kids sit cross-legged in a circle under a tree. In the center, a cheap-looking plastic "magic lamp" toy.
Saki, a little girl, grins as she makes her wish…
"Okay, okay!"
She grabs the plastic lamp and rubs it dramatically.
"I wish for a unicorn that shoots lasers from its eyes!"
Everyone giggles. The boy, Tomo, snatches the lamp next.
"I wish to have a billion dollars and live in a giant robot castle!"
Mika bouncing with excitement snatches it next.
"Ooh! I wish I could turn into a dragon whenever I want!"
Laughter fills the air. They shove the lamp toward little Zenjiro, who sits there shyly, fidgeting with his sleeves.
Saki looking at Zenjiro with a cute smile, "Your turn, Zenjiro! Make it cool!"
Zenjiro takes his time, he thinks quietly, and hard. Then…
"Umm... I wish... for more snacks at lunch... and... maybe some new friends... and... and an action figure. Of the Red Ranger."
There's a short pause. The other kids stare at him... then burst out laughing.
"Snacks and toys?! That's so lame!" Tomo says mockingly.
Mika giggles…
"Yeah, you gotta wish big! Like being a dragon or a superhero!"
Saki grinning at Zenjiro, adds on…
"Zenjiro's wishes are boring. No imagination!"
Zenjiro's face turns red. He forces a small smile, laughing weakly along with them, but he hugs his knees a little tighter.
The laughter fades into distant echoes. The sky grows a little dimmer. The scene slows, freezing on little Zenjiro's awkward, embarrassed smile...
Maybe... someday, I'll wish for something even bigger.
***
Zenjiro is walking alongside Celeste toward the distant town, a small, bitter smirk on his lips.
The dirt road wound down a sloping hill, opening up to a wide vista of stone walls and bustling rooftops. Beyond them, the town pulsed with life — colorful banners fluttering in the breeze, chimneys puffing smoke, and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer ringing through the air.
Zenjiro stood still for a moment, staring down at it all, a wild grin creeping across his face.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the smells of fresh bread, roasted meats, and the faint tang of magic that hung in the air like mist.
"This..." he muttered, his voice almost cracking with excitement, "this is everything I wanted."
He turned to Celeste, his faithful genie — no, his bride now — standing beside him. She adjusted her golden hair behind her ear, the light catching the faint blue gem on her forehead.
"Quite lively, isn't it?" she said with a smile. "The town of Arcbridge. A good place to start... your new empire."
Zenjiro laughed — an almost boyish, giddy sound.
"My empire, huh? I like the sound of that," he said, his chest puffing slightly. "First step: find an inn. Second step: conquer the world."
Celeste gave him a sideways glance, her lips curling up. "And third step?" she teased.
"Third step..." Zenjiro paused, giving her a sly wink. "Spoil my beautiful wife rotten."
Celeste blushed faintly, turning her face away just a little too quickly.
"I... I suppose I wouldn't mind that," she said in a softer tone.
They continued down the road, the gates growing larger with each step. As they approached, Zenjiro marveled at the guards — armored in mismatched steel, laughing and chatting casually with merchants. This wasn't the oppressive, soul-crushing city life he had known. This place breathed.
Passing under the archway, Zenjiro was assaulted by a kaleidoscope of sounds and smells — hawkers calling out their wares, adventurers boasting about their latest monster kills, children chasing each other through the crowds.
He turned in a slow circle, his mouth hanging open slightly. "This... this is like every RPG rolled into one!" he said, almost giddy.
Celeste chuckled. "You are a bit obvious, you know. Try not to look too much like a wide-eyed country boy."
Zenjiro straightened immediately, rubbing the back of his neck.
"R-Right. Cool. Gotta stay cool."
Celeste hid a giggle behind her hand.
They moved through the market, Zenjiro marveling at stalls selling gleaming swords, spellbooks bound in dragonhide, grimoires and fruits he couldn't even begin to name. He paused at a stand where a merchant was roasting skewers of some sizzling, delicious-smelling meat.
His stomach growled loudly.
Celeste arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps before conquering the world, you should conquer your appetite?"
Zenjiro held up a single finger as if making a proclamation.
"First a feast, then a kingdom!"
Just as he was about to step forward, someone bumped into him — soft, quick, almost like a dancer brushing past.
"Oooh, my apologies, handsome stranger," came a silky voice.
Zenjiro turned — and found himself staring into the face of a gorgeous young woman.
She was petite, with long, leaf-green hair that cascaded down her back, bright purple eyes shimmering with mischief.
Her pointed ears gave her away immediately — an elf, or at least half-elf.
She wore a short, flowing tunic that showed off long, toned legs and had a playful smile that practically dared you to flirt back.
"I'm Lyra," she said, giving him a wink. "You new here?"
Zenjiro's mouth opened, then closed again. He could feel Celeste's eyes burning a hole into the back of his head.
"I... yeah. Just arrived," Zenjiro managed, scratching the back of his head in a way he hoped looked charming.
Lyra leaned in just slightly closer, her voice dropping into a teasing purr.
"Well, lucky me. It's not every day Arcbridge gets someone so... interesting."
Her eyes traced him up and down in a way that sent an electric jolt down Zenjiro's spine.
Celeste stepped forward, her smile painfully sweet. "My husband and I were just about to find a place to stay," she said, emphasizing husband a little too strongly.
Lyra blinked, then glanced between the two of them.
"Ohhh, newlyweds?" she said with mock innocence. "How adorable."
Zenjiro laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck again. "Yeah, uh, something like that."
Lyra just smiled wider.
"Well, if you and your wifey, need something, handsome... you'll know where to find me," she said, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers before disappearing into the crowd like mist.
Zenjiro stood there frozen for a moment. Celeste crossed her arms, glaring after Lyra.
"I don't think I like her," she muttered under her breath.
Zenjiro smirked sideways at her. "Jealous?"
Celeste huffed, turning her head. "Of course, you're my husband after-all…"
Zenjiro grinned wider, basking in this brand-new, exciting feeling — women flirting with him, his wife getting jealous, adventure in every direction.
Finally... finally his life had begun.
But fate wasn't done testing him yet.
"Oi, you there!" barked a gruff voice from across the square.
Zenjiro turned to see a massive, barrel-chested man stomping toward him.
He wore a grimy leather vest, a half-rusted chain around his waist, and carried a ledger that looked like it hadn't been balanced in years.
The man sneered at Zenjiro like he was a stain on the pavement.
"You're new blood, ain't ya? That means you gotta pay the newcomer's tax," he said, holding out a hand, thick fingers tapping impatiently.
Zenjiro blinked. "Newcomer's tax?"
Celeste leaned in and whispered, "He's probably lying. There's no such thing. I think he's trying to scam you."
The man — Dougas — cracked his knuckles loudly. "That's the law around here, boy. Fifty silver, or I drag you to the dungeon for resisting guild authority."
Zenjiro's smile faded.
The old him — the loser Zenjiro — might've apologized, bowed his head, and paid whatever he was told.
But not this Zenjiro.
Not anymore.
Slowly, Zenjiro crossed his arms over his chest, one eyebrow lifting coolly.
"How about this," he said, voice steady. "You back off... or you can find out firsthand what happens when someone picks a fight with a god."
The crowd around them started to quiet, sensing the tension brewing.
Dougas snorted, unimpressed. "Big words, newcomer. Let's see if you can back 'em up."
Celeste took a step closer, whispering urgently, "Zenjiro... remember, we don't want to make enemies on day one."
Zenjiro just grinned wider, an almost dangerous gleam in his eyes.
"I'm not making an enemy," he said smoothly. "I'm putting a cockroach back in its place."
The square fell deathly still. Zenjiro took a step forward, his boots echoing against the cobbled stone.
Dougas squared his massive shoulders, cracking his knuckles as if ready to break the cocky newcomer in half.
"Big mistake, boy," Dougas growled.
Zenjiro tilted his head slightly, an easy, mocking grin on his lips.
"Boy? I'm not a boy," he said, voice dripping with casual arrogance.
"I'm the God that's about to end your miserable career."
The crowd gasped — whispers spreading like wildfire.
Someone snickered nervously; another backed away, sensing that something very unusual was about to happen.
Dougas roared and lunged, swinging a meaty fist straight for Zenjiro's face.
Zenjiro barely moved.
At the last possible second, he sidestepped — so smoothly it looked almost choreographed — and tapped Dougas lightly on the back as he stumbled past.
The big man whirled, red-faced with fury, and charged again.
This time Zenjiro didn't bother dodging.
He raised a single finger — almost lazily — and flicked it forward.
A sharp burst of shimmering force erupted from his fingertip, slamming Dougas square in the chest.
The guildmaster flew backward like a ragdoll, crashing into a vegetable cart and sending tomatoes and cabbages raining through the air.
The crowd exploded into cheers and laughter.
Zenjiro stood tall in the center of the square, arms outstretched as if addressing an invisible audience.
"Listen well, citizens of Arcbridge!" he declared, his voice ringing out confidently.
"I am Zenjiro! I do not pay! I do not beg! I do not kneel!"
He clenched a fist, and a faint crackle of divine magic shimmered around him, lighting up the air like the first flare of a rising sun.
"I reign!" he shouted.
"I am your God! And gods do not answer to worms!"
The people stared, wide-eyed — some frightened, some thrilled, many secretly wondering if this was the beginning of something far bigger than themselves.
Dougas groaned, struggling to his knees amidst the ruined cart.
Zenjiro sauntered over, looming above him.
"Got something to say, Guildmaster?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.
Dougas coughed, wiping blood from his split lip.
His pride warred with fear for a moment — and lost.
"P-Please..." he stammered, bowing his head low. "Spare me... Lord Zenjiro...!"
Zenjiro smirked, basking in the sight.
Behind him, Celeste watched with quiet pride, her hands clasped loosely in front of her.
Before Zenjiro could speak again, a familiar voice chimed in from the crowd.
"Not that he doesn't deserve it," Lyra said lazily, leaning against a post, "but just so you know, Guildmaster Dougas has been scamming new arrivals for years. Fake taxes, false fines, fake 'guild dues'... It's kind of his thing."
Zenjiro turned his head slightly, giving Lyra a half-smile. "Good to know."
He looked back down at the trembling Dougas.
"You hear that, worm? You're not even a proper villain. You're a petty thug."
Dougas whimpered.
Zenjiro leaned down, lowering his voice so only Dougas could hear.
"But you're in luck. I'm feeling merciful today."
Dougas dared to look up, hope flickering in his bruised eyes.
Zenjiro straightened and threw his voice loud and clear for the entire square to hear.
"I will not kill you," he said grandly, "if you pledge yourself to me. Swear loyalty — body, mind, and soul — to Zenjiro, the true ruler of Arcbridge!"
Dougas scrambled forward on his knees, pressing his forehead against the stones.
"I swear! I swear it, Lord Zenjiro!" he cried, voice cracking.
The crowd buzzed louder now — part fearful, part awed.
Whispers of Lord Zenjiro began to snake through the crowd.
Zenjiro nodded in satisfaction.
"And as your first act of loyalty," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "you will surrender your estate — I'm sure you have a fine, cozy house you have built, that you've no doubt stolen off the backs of honest folk."
Dougas paled but dared not argue.
"My bride and I require appropriate accommodations," Zenjiro said with a smirk, offering Celeste his hand.
She took it, stepping gracefully beside him.
"Only a place fit for a God will do."
And with that, Zenjiro turned his back on the broken guildmaster, Celeste on his arm, as the people of Arcbridge parted like the sea before him.
In his wake, a new era was beginning — and the whole town could feel it.
***
Zenjiro and Celeste were lead to their new home that they had taken from Dougas, anyone who dared to get in their way was obliterated, after procuring the house, Zenjiro got rid of Dougas, telling him he never wanted to see his face in Arcbridge, Dougas could do nothing but agree .
The guildmaster's house was actually a mansion. The mansion's grand bathhouse was almost comically extravagant.
Marble pillars lined the steamy chamber, golden sconces bathing the room in a soft, flickering glow.
In the center of it all, a massive sunken tub — almost a small pool — steamed invitingly, filled with rose-scented water and thick, luxurious bubbles.
Zenjiro leaned back against the smooth stone, arms draped lazily along the edge, a smug grin playing on his lips.
Celeste knelt beside him in the water, her hands working diligently as she scrubbed his bare, muscular back with a thick, foamy sponge.
"You know," Celeste murmured, voice sultry but thoughtful, "even if Dougas gave us this mansion, he didn't exactly look... pleased about it."
Her hands slid down Zenjiro's arms, lathering them slowly, sensually.
"He might try something foolish."
Zenjiro snorted, tilting his head back lazily.
"Let him," he said, smirking up at the vaulted ceiling.
"Even if he musters every rat and cockroach in this town, he won't succeed against a God."
Celeste smiled softly, admiring his confidence.
She dipped the sponge back into the frothy water, then began scrubbing his chest, her fingers lingering longer than necessary across his abs.
Zenjiro let out a satisfied hum, clearly enjoying the attention.
Without warning, Celeste reached over to a nearby silver tray perched on a floating stand.
She plucked a plump, juicy grape from the pile and held it delicately between her fingers.
"Open," she commanded sweetly.
Zenjiro chuckled and obeyed, letting her pop the grape into his mouth.
He bit down, savoring the sweet burst of flavor.
"Mmm. Perfect," he said with a satisfied grin.
"I could get used to this. Worshiped like the deity I am."
Celeste laughed softly, plucking another grape and teasingly hovering it just out of reach before feeding it to him.
"You already have," she teased.
Zenjiro reached up, catching her wrist and pulling her closer.
Water sloshed gently around them as she shifted onto his lap, bubbles clinging to her curves.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the heat between them thicker than the steam around them.
A perfect, decadent moment of peace.
But outside the grand bathhouse, far beyond the walls of their new domain, darker schemes were already brewing.
In a shadowed alley behind the guild hall, Dougas, now cleaned up but still bearing the bruises of his earlier humiliation, leaned close to one of his trusted underlings.
"Listen carefully," Dougas whispered, his voice low and filled with venom.
"We have a real problem. That bastard Zenjiro isn't just some wandering fool."
He pressed a folded parchment into the man's hand.
"Take this. Ride to Lord Dreadmour immediately. Tell him... tell him a God has come to Arcbridge."
The underling paled, but nodded quickly, tucking the parchment into his coat before disappearing into the night.
Dougas watched him go, a grimace twisting his battered face.
"You may have humiliated me today, Zenjiro," he muttered under his breath.
"But soon... you'll see what real fear feels like."
***
The bedroom was a sanctuary of velvet shadows and golden lamplight. Zenjiro lounged atop the vast, canopied bed, sheets rumpled beneath him, waiting. The air was thick with the lingering scent of rose and steam, a memory of the bath they'd just shared.
Celeste entered quietly, her silhouette soft in the doorway. She wore only a thin silk robe, clinging to damp skin. Zenjiro's gaze followed her, hungry but gentle, his usual bravado softened by anticipation.
She approached the bed, her steps slow, deliberate. Zenjiro reached for her hand, pulling her down beside him. The mattress dipped, bringing them face to face, breath mingling in the hush.
Celeste traced a finger down his chest, pausing over his heart. "Still feeling like a god?" she teased, her voice a whisper.
He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Only when you're near."
Their laughter faded into a quiet, electric tension. Zenjiro's hands slid around her waist, drawing her close. Celeste's lips found his, slow and searching, the kiss deepening as she settled against him.
They explored each other with unhurried reverence-hands mapping familiar territory, lips tasting, teasing, savoring. Zenjiro's touch was both worshipful and possessive, Celeste's response a blend of trust and playful challenge.
As the world outside faded, they lost themselves in each other, moving together in a rhythm as old as time, Celeste's moans almost sounded like symphonies to Zenjiro. Every caress, every sigh, every whispered name built a cocoon of intimacy-sensual, yes, but also safe, and deeply personal.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, skin to skin, hearts pounding in quiet synchrony. Celeste rested her head on Zenjiro's chest, fingers tracing idle patterns.
For a moment, all was warmth and peace. But in the silence, a shadow lingered-Celeste's earlier warning echoing between them. The threat of Dougas, and the darker force behind him, was never far from their minds.