A crowd had quietly formed around Aeren and Dipti.
People gathered with eager faces, some whispering excitedly, others openly grinning. A few had already started placing bets—stones of cosmic energy stacked carelessly in their palms. Someone was even munching on popcorn, eyes shining as if watching a perfectly timed drama unfold. The suspense thickened with every passing second.
Whispers spread like ripples through the crowd—anticipation growing, breath held. Yet Dipti and Aeren remained completely unaware that spectators now stood only meters away, watching their moment as entertainment.
"No," Dipti said at last, her voice flat and controlled. "I can't trust you—"
"NOOOOO! I LOST—!" The scream shattered the moment.
Dipti flinched. Her eyes widened as she took in the crowd surrounding them, and heat rushed to her face. She instinctively covered it with her hand, mortified.
"Yes! I won—HAHAHAHA! Give me everything! All of it!" A man shouted triumphantly, laughing as he scooped up the scattered winnings. He gathered stones of cosmic energy, his greed obvious in every movement.
As laughter, groans, and arguments filled the air, Dipti stood frozen in embarrassment—while Aeren calmly observed the chaos, his expression unreadable, as if this outcome had never truly been uncertain.
****
Aeren glanced down and spotted Dipti, half-hidden inside her stall, clearly trying to make herself invisible.
He smiled. Dipti caught that smile—and glared at him in return. You bastard, she thought darkly. I'll make you dissolve from this world.
With a sharp huff, she turned her head away from him, facing the opposite direction.
"You're cute when you're embarrassed, my love," Aeren said lightly.
Despite being rejected, he showed no anger—no frustration at all. If anything, he seemed more amused than before. He ignored the crowd entirely, as if none of this mattered to him.
Dipti snapped her head back toward him, disbelief flashing across her face. "Shut up, you bastard," she snapped, her voice strained. "Say one more word and I'll make you dissolve in this world."
Her hand trembled as she raised it in warning, though she didn't step out of her stall.
Aeren laughed softly. "Haha. Why don't you try?"
The words hit harder than she expected.
Dipti froze. Her shoulders stiffened, and the fire in her eyes flickered out. She thought casually about not really wanting Aeren to dissolve; she just wanted to hide. That was why those words had escaped her lips—she didn't want anything bad to happen. Lowering her head, she refused to look at him again. She didn't reply. She didn't move. She simply stayed inside her stall, shutting him out completely.
Then—a hand landed on his shoulder from behind.
"Hey, Aarav," a cheerful voice said. "You lost the bet."
Aeren turned.
A young man stood there, looking to be in his early twenties, his eyes wide with delight, teeth shining as he grinned uncontrollably. Happiness practically radiated from him. Behind him, Dipti stiffened. Her eyes widened as the word echoed in her mind.
Bet?
Aeren couldn't deny it. He pulled out a single cosmic coin and shoved it into the young man's hand with visible irritation.
"Here. Your coin."
The moment the coin left his fingers, Aeren's expression darkened slightly.
"Aman," he muttered, glancing at him, "you arrived right after the rejection."
At that moment, Aeren realized the truth—Aman had been watching the entire show and profiting from him without offering anything in return. This man from the tavern had struck up conversation over drinks, learned of Aeren's interest in Dipti, and pushed him relentlessly into the bet. Annoyed, confident, careless, Aeren had accepted, never imagining Aman would use him as entertainment and profit.
This was the man from the tavern—the one who had struck up conversation over drinks, who had learned of Aeren's interest in Dipti, and who had pushed him relentlessly. Annoyed, confident, careless, Aeren had accepted the bet.
"HAHAHAHA! That's my Aarav!" Aman laughed loudly, patting Aeren on the shoulder with exaggerated affection.
Still grinning, he turned his gaze toward Dipti, who stood frozen in her stall—anger, shock, and disbelief all tangled together on her face.
The Aman then started walking away, laughter trailing behind him.
"Oh, and don't forget the beer," he added over his shoulder. "For a whole century."
The reminder hit harder than the loss of the coin. Aeren sighed, his shoulders dropping just a little.
"Yeah, yeah…" he replied lazily.
****
Slowly, he turned to find Dipti standing right there. Too close. Only a few centimeters separated them. Her presence hit him all at once.
For the first time since the rejection, Aeren's thoughts stalled completely.
He turned sharply, instinctively looking toward where the crowd had been—hoping for witnesses, for anything. There was no one. The space was empty.
Slowly, he turned back to Dipti.
"You misunderstood, Dipti," he said quickly. "I really do love you."
Before he could say anything more—Dipti grabbed his mouth.
Aeren's eyes widened in shock as her hand pressed firmly against his lips. He stared at her, stunned. She was smiling—but it wasn't warmth. It was tight, trembling, strained.
Aeren reached down and grasped her wrist, trying to gently pull it away. He couldn't move it at all.
"You were very confident when you bet on me," she said quietly, her fingers tightening. "Weren't you? Say it."
"Mm—mm—" Aeren tried to speak, shaking his head, signaling that he couldn't answer with his mouth covered.
She didn't let go. Instead, her hand clenched tighter, trembling now. Her smile cracked—and tears spilled from her eyes.
He's playing with me, she thought bitterly. Acting as if he loves me. I knew it. I don't even know him properly. And yet… I believed, just a little. I thought Aarav was different.
Her tears fell faster.
But he's just like everyone else. Heartless. Using people. Controlling them. How could he play with me just for a few coins?
Her grip weakened.
It's my fault. I should've known. I still trusted him… even knowing he was acting.
She looked at Aeren again—his eyes wide, confused, almost innocent, as if he truly believed this was a misunderstanding. That hurt the most. Her hand finally fell away from his mouth.
Without another word, Dipti turned away from him and faced her stall, her back stiff, her shoulders drawn tight—cutting him off completely.
Aeren stood there in silence.
"Dipti, please—hear me out." He stepped closer, his voice low, careful. "I made a bet with him. I said I would propose to you, and that you would accept me. If you didn't, I would lose."
He swallowed.
"When you rejected me, I lost. That's all there is to it. Nothing more." He looked at her earnestly. "Everything else I said was the truth. I really do love you, Dipti. I promised you—and I will keep that promise. So please… don't cry. You can slap me if you want—but don't cry."
For a brief moment, Dipti glanced at him. Just a glance. Her eyes held conflict, pain, and something unresolved—but she said nothing.
Slowly, she turned back to her stall, choosing silence over words.
Aeren noticed.
He exhaled quietly. So words won't solve this anymore, he thought. I see.
He lifted his eyes toward the distant Palace of the Royal Gods. It shimmered far away, untouchable, eternal. He paused there, as if measuring something unseen.
Then he turned back.
****
Returning to his stall, Aeren began selling his fruits—formed as he always did, shaped by his power. In the City of God, every deity farmed fruit. These fruits did not decay. They existed eternally, rich with cosmic energy. To eat them was to strengthen one's cultivation, to draw closer to the divine itself.
Aeren is selling, the white fox returned. She climbed up onto him, her small body light against his shoulder. Aeren noticed her and glanced down.
"Hm," he said softly, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "You look tired… just like me, huh."
He spoke loudly enough for Dipti to hear. She didn't even look at him.
Two days passed—though in the City of God, time itself does not follow mortal patterns. There is no morning. No evening. No darkness to mark the passage of hours. The eternal light remains constant, and with it, so does Aeren and Dipti's work. They set up their stalls side by side, and they do not stop. Not until their stock is completely exhausted will they cease selling. The days blur together, distinguished only by the slow depletion of their wares and the suffocating silence between them.
Throughout those two days—two cycles of selling until their inventory runs dry—she never speaks to him. Not once. She does not glance in his direction. She does not acknowledge his presence at all.
She completely ignored him.
"Woa—woa." The fox let out a low, trembling howl. Aeren understood. She wanted to return to her mother.
The little fox still shivers whenever she is near him, fear buried deep in her instincts. Yet she stays—because Aeren is the only one who can take her back. Or perhaps because she does not know whether she can escape him at all.
Aeren ignored her plea and continued selling his fruits as if nothing mattered.
The fox remained by his side, silent now.
"What are you howling for?" Aeren muttered, his eyes fixed on Dipti. "Can't you see I'm already in trouble with my love?"
He spoke as though complaining to the fox—but his gaze never left Dipti's stall.
The City of God remained bright and eternal, unchanging and peaceful.
And yet, beside two silent stalls, something felt deeply unsettled.