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Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 295: End of Drama Lessons
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 15:24:39 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
“Lucian, that was simply marvelous… I don't think words can fully capture how phenomenal your performance truly was. You managed to embody the essence of the character so completely.” Mr. Matthew praised with genuine admiration, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.
Lucian gave a nonchalant shrug, brushing the compliment off with practiced ease. “Whatever,” he muttered dismissively. Of course he knew he was exceptional—there was no point in feigning modesty. He was as cunning and duplicitous as they came, and acting was just another form of deception. If he hadn’t been a brilliant actor, he wouldn’t be half as effective in anything else he did.
Meanwhile, Chloe sat dazed atop the foam plank where the scene had played out. Her cheeks were burning red, her fingers fluttering as she fanned her face in a desperate attempt to cool the flush of heat spreading across it. She was clearly flustered—overwhelmed, even.
A few of the other girls standing around were casting looks her way, a mix of envy and suspicion in their eyes. Whispers buzzed in the background like static. Atropos and Lachesis, for their part, had begun biting their nails, as if they glared at Chloe for being the first among to be kissed by Lucian.
Annabeth stood off to the side, arms crossed and jaw clenched tightly. She was grumbling under her breath, her eyes narrowed at Chloe with the intensity. Bianca, standing next to her, gave her a sidelong glance, clearly worried. “I'm curious,” she said carefully, “what your thoughts are on seeing your boyfriend kissing another girl… on stage or not.”
“What do you think?” Annabeth snapped back in a low, venom-laced voice. “It pisses me off. But just wait… I’ll grow stronger than the Fates themselves—stronger than their power over me. And when the time is right, I’ll make sure everyone understands their place.”
Bianca blinked, her expression tightening with alarm. “You… you’re not seriously thinking of killing them, are you?”
Annabeth frowned, genuinely confused by the question. “What? Of course not! Don't be ridiculous. If anything, I’ve grown closer to them, especially Lasis. But that doesn't mean I’ve forgiven them for what they’ve done. No… I plan to teach them the proper hierarchy of Lucian’s harem. Starting with me at the top.”
Bianca rolled her eyes and let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Just promise me you’re not going to do something impulsive and get yourself killed.”
Annabeth smirked, throwing an arm over Bianca’s shoulder. “Aww, worried about me now, sis-in-law?”
“I hate when you call me that,” Bianca muttered, clearly irritated.
“Seriously?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
“Yeah,” Bianca replied with a sigh. “It’s like I’m only ever known as either ‘the daughter of Hades’ or ‘Lucian’s sister.’ People never see me—just my associations. It’s frustrating.”
Annabeth’s teasing demeanor softened as her expression turned apologetic. “I didn’t know it was bothering you that much. I’m really sorry, Bianca.”
“It’s fine,” Bianca said quickly, waving a hand dismissively and shifting her weight uncomfortably. “Don’t worry about it.”
But Annabeth didn’t let it go. She gently squeezed Bianca’s shoulder, offering a small but warm smile. “No. It’s not fine. You’re your own person, and I’d never want to make you feel like you're living in someone else's shadow.”
Though she claimed to have grown closer to Lasis, the truth was, the person Annabeth had formed the deepest bond with was Bianca. It had started because of Lucian—sure. But over time, it had grown into something more sincere, something familial. In many ways, Annabeth had come to see Bianca as the little sister she never had—someone she could confide in, fight with, and fiercely protect.
Meanwhile, Mr. Matthews was still caught up in Lucian’s performance, his hands animated as he continued, “You know, I have some solid connections in the industry. If you ever seriously consider a future in acting, I could—”
“Consider leaving me alone,” Lucian interrupted with a groan. “My god. I performed so you'd excuse me from practice, not so you'd stalk me with offers.”
Mr. Matthew blinked, visibly taken aback. “But you have talent! Genuine talent. It’d be such a waste—”
“This class is a waste,” Lucian grumbled, stooping down to pick up his script from where it had fallen on the floor.
The drama teacher straightened, his tone flat. “Lucian, not every word I speak needs to become fodder for one of your clever retorts.”
Lucian shrugged again, already walking off the stage. “Whatever. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
Mr. Matthews watched him go, sighing heavily. “Fine. I’ll mark this period as passed—you’ve certainly earned that much. But don’t think this means you can skip tomorrow. Tomorrow is an important day.”
Lucian paused at his seat, picking up his bag that occupied it. “Is it the day you finally retire?”
Mr. Matthews let out a slow breath, his expression deadpan. “That was uncalled for. Now you're just being cruel for the sake of it.”
Lucian didn’t even acknowledge the remark. He sat down, unzipped his bag, and pulled out a thick book about magical knowledge and theory, a gift given to him by Hecate. Despite his reputation and attitude, Lucian never let a moment go to waste. If he was stuck in school, then he would spend the time sharpening his real skills—magic, theory, and knowledge that might one day come in handy.
“Tomorrow is the day the outfits will arrive—the costumes for the play,” Mr. Matthew announced brightly, clapping his hands together for emphasis. “Each of you will try yours on, and we’ll get to see how you all look on stage. It's going to be quite the sight.”
A few students in the class cheered enthusiastically, clearly excited at the prospect of donning their theatrical garb. Others merely exchanged disinterested glances, unmoved by the idea, more concerned with memorizing their lines or finishing the day.
Mr. Matthew turned toward the back of the auditorium, where Lucian was slouched in his seat like a king upon his throne, legs stretched out over the armrest, book raised lazily in front of his face. He looked far too relaxed for someone in the middle of a lesson.
“What?” Mr. Matthew asked, cocking a brow. “Nothing to say this time? That’s rare.”
Without lowering his book, Lucian replied flatly, “What do you want me to say? I look good in anything I wear. The blood of a diva runs through my veins.”
Those who knew Lucian’s mother snickered and chuckled, while those that didn't were merely confused.
Mr. Matthew sighed, shaking his head in amusement. He turned back to assist another student with a particularly difficult monologue, while Lucian remained unbothered, fully immersed in his book on magical theory.
Eventually, the school bell rang, its sharp chime echoing across the auditorium, signaling the end of class. Students began packing their things, some chatting about club meetings, others preparing to return to their dorms.
Lucian closed his book with a soft thud and stood, stretching his arms lazily before collecting his belongings. As he made his way toward the exit, Chloe appeared beside him, practically bouncing with anticipation.
“Lucian,” she said sweetly, clutching her booklet tightly. “Would you mind helping me practice this scene? I’m having trouble really getting it down.”
Lucian arched an eyebrow, glancing down at the booklet she was holding open toward him. His gaze froze when he saw which scene she was referring to—the final scene. The kissing scene.
Chloe tilted her head slightly, batting her eyelashes with deliberate innocence. “I'm going to need practice but to do that scene I'm going to need a partner”
Chloe’s lips slowly curled into a smile as she asked, “Would you be willing to be that partner and help me practice?”
Lucian stared at her, his expression unreadable. He slowly extended his hand toward her.
Chloe blinked, confused, but instinctively handed him the booklet.
Lucian calmly rolled the script into a cylinder. Without a word—
WHACK!
“Ow!” Chloe yelped, holding the top of her head with both hands, tears brimming in her eyes. “Owchie! What was that for?!”
“Don’t act stupid,” Lasis scoffed, crossing her arms as she stepped up beside them. Her glare was icy. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Atropos rolled her eyes. “That’s what you get for being greedy. You already get to kiss him in the play. You don’t need extra rehearsals.”
Annabeth added with a smug look, “It’s always the ones who act the most innocent that are the most dangerous.”
“Speaking from experience?” Bianca asked dryly, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Annabeth’s expression faltered for half a second before she puffed her cheeks in mock annoyance and looked away with a pout.
The group began walking down a deserted hallway, far from the noise and bustle of the main school. It was a place few ventured unless they knew exactly where they were going. Eventually, they stopped in front of a peculiar, old door—one that looked as though it had existed since the foundation of the building, long forgotten by most.
Lucian stepped forward, knocked three times in a specific pattern, and uttered a sequence of words like a secret phrase.
As if reacting it seemed almost as if blood spilled across its surface, the door shimmered and bled red. Cracks in the wood glowed as red light spilled out from within, seeping through the seams.
The door creaked open, and one by one they stepped inside.
As Lucian entered last, his shadow on the ground lengthened unnaturally, stretching across the room like a living creature. One by one, shadowy figures began to rise from it—clones molded from darkness, shaped in the image of each person in the group.
Without a word, the clones turned and dispersed, each heading out in a different direction.
“Sending them to our dorms?” Annabeth asked, watching her own doppelgänger vanish down the hallway.
Lucian gave a short nod. “Better to avoid suspicion.” with that Lucian closed the door behind him.
