A Bizarre Journey ep 18: The Persephone vs. Athena Showdown or something like that

It had been exactly one week since the Great Mango Heist, and my life had officially entered a new level of chaos.

I was sitting at our usual sidewalk café, staring into my boring coffee with the dead-eyed expression of a man who had accepted his fate. My shirt still had glitter from yesterday’s photoshoot where Quynh made me pose as “Hades regretting his life choices at a Saigon nightclub.”

Quan sat across from me, eyes glazed over, muttering under his breath in a mix of Vietnamese and ancient Greek.

“Ω θεοί… Quynh is exactly Athena… but with more chaos and less wisdom…”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Still thinking about her?”

Quan snapped out of it, face turning bright red.

“What? No! I mean… yes. I mean — she’s just really interesting, bro! The way she talks about gods like they’re real people, and how she mixes Greek with Vietnamese slang… it’s genius!”

I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to laugh.

“You’ve got it bad, little brother.”

Quan tried to play it cool but failed miserably, his ears turning pink.

“Shut up. You’re the one who’s been dragged into her projects every day this week.”

I groaned, remembering the parade of absurdity Quynh had subjected me to.

Day one: “Hades at the convenience store buying instant noodles while contemplating mortality.”


Day two: “Hades stuck in Saigon traffic, regretting every life choice.”


Day three: “Hades trying to take a nap but being interrupted by noisy motorbikes — a modern Sisyphus.”


Day four: “Hades at the karaoke bar singing sad ballads while holding a plastic lotus flower.”


And yesterday’s masterpiece, which involved me standing under dramatic lighting while Quynh yelled directions like a possessed director.

Quan laughed. “At least you looked cool in the photos. I saw the one where you’re holding a bubble tea like it’s the soul of a damned mortal. Very artistic.”

I rubbed my face.

“The worst part is… it’s kind of fun. After everything, it’s nice to just do something stupid without overthinking everything.”

Quan’s expression softened a bit.

“Yeah… I get that.”

He paused, then added shyly, “She’s just so… alive. The way she talks about myths like they’re happening right now. Yesterday she compared the traffic jam to the River Styx and said we were all souls waiting for Charon. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

I smirked.

“You’re down bad, Quan. Like, ‘writing poetry in ancient Greek’ bad.”

Quan hid his face in his hands.

“Stop. It’s not that bad.”

At that moment, my phone buzzed.

A message from Tram.

Tram: Hey.

“…”

I stared at the message for a few seconds, heart suddenly pounding with suspicious speed.

It had been so long since Tram texted me first that somehow even a simple “hey” was enough to make me forget how to act normal.

Quan noticed my expression immediately.

He leaned over, peeked at my screen, and nearly choked.

“Ohhh.”

“Don’t.”

He pointed at me like he’d just discovered a rare animal.

“Look at you! She sends one ‘hey’ and your soul leaves your body.”

“Shut up.”

His grin became unbearable.

“Bro, she texted first.”

“It’s literally one word.”

“One word more than Quynh has ever sent me.”

I laughed.

Quan put a hand over his heart dramatically.

“At least I’m not the only one suffering at this table anymore.”

I looked at my brother, who was hopelessly in love with a mythology gremlin, then at myself, blushing over a text message like a dumbass.

“For real.”

Just then, my phone buzzed again. Another message from Tram.

Tram: Saw the new posts you were tagged in with that girl Quynh.

Tram: Funny how you’re somehow in the background of half her photos lately.

Tram: Is that a photography project thing, or are you just following each other around now?

I stared at the screen.

The messages were casual. Almost teasing.

Almost.

The problem was that Tram never paid attention to photography posts before.

Quan, who had been shamelessly reading over my shoulder, suddenly perked up like a meerkat.

“Ooh shit. Seems like the straw has been caught on fire.”

“What does that even suppose to mean!”

Quan looked at me dead in the eyes with that ‘poor guy with zero experience’ smirk on his face.

“Loc. Tram IS the straw. She is jealous.”

“Maybe she’s just curious?”

“No no, you don’t understand! Just let me help.”

Before I could protest, he snatched the phone and started typing with terrifying speed.

“Option one: ‘Jealous?😏’ Too bold.”

Delete.

“Option two: ‘Maybe she just likes taking pictures of handsome people.’ Overconfident and propaganda.”

Delete.

“Option three: ‘You sound oddly invested in this photography project.’ Ohohoho.”

I grabbed the phone back.

“Give me that.”

“Bro! That was the best line ever!”

I ignored him and retyped the whole thing:

Loc: She’s collecting photos for a project. I just happen to be nearby sometimes.

“Jesus Christ!” Quan immediately made a face like I’d committed a crime against romance. “What a Loc response! You sound like an HR department.”

A few moments passed.

Then Tram replied.

Tram: “Nearby sometimes.”

Tram: That’s a very specific way to say “every day.”

I blinked.

Quan, who had been slumped in disappointment, suddenly launched out of his chair like a kangaroo.

He smacked my shoulder.

“DIRECT HIT. You’re a genius!”

“Bro, I didn’t do shit.”

“For sure you did not! That’s what makes it even more impressive! You’ve challenged her observation without trying.”

I sighed and started typing back, finally tearing my attention away from Quan’s increasingly tragic expression.

Loc: Yeah. She’s pretty passionate about this project. She’s been trying out a lot of new photography techniques lately.

The reply appeared almost immediately.

Tram: Well, tell your photographer friend her composition is improving.

Tram: She isn’t getting distracted by the backgrounds anymore.

I stared at the messages.

Then read them again.

That was a surprisingly specific observation.

Not the kind of comment someone made after casually glancing at a photo for two seconds.

For some reason, that realization sent a tiny spark of courage through my system.

A dangerous amount of courage, honestly.

The kind that usually showed up right before I made questionable decisions.

Before my common sense could file an official complaint, my fingers were already moving.

Loc: I’ll definitely pass the compliment along.

Loc: Also, I thought you weren’t the type of person to care about photography.

I read the message once.

Then twice.

The teasing wasn’t exactly subtle.

Which was probably why my heart immediately began regretting it.

The typing indicator appeared.

Then:

Tram: What an interesting question.

I frowned.

Tram: Did Quan steal your phone?

I nearly dropped mine.

Beside me, Quan was still hovering nearby, waiting for updates like his survival depended on them.

My phone buzzed again.

Tram: Or did somebody suddenly become brave today?

Heat immediately climbed into my face.

Loc: I’m just curious. That was a surprisingly specific observation for someone who doesn’t care about photography.

The typing indicator returned almost instantly.

Tram: And that’s a surprisingly bold thing for you to say.

Tram: Are you sure you’re feeling okay?

Loc: Perfectly fine.

Tram: Concerning.

Loc: Why?

Tram: Usually you spend twenty minutes thinking before saying things like that.

Tram: This version of you makes impulsive decisions.

I could practically hear the amusement behind the words.

Loc: Maybe I’m trying something new.

This time, her reply took longer. Long enough for me to wonder if I had pushed my luck.

Then:

Tram: I noticed.

A second message arrived before I could recover.

Tram: It’s kind of cute.

My brain immediately stopped cooperating.

Across from me, Quan narrowed his eyes.

“…Why do you suddenly look like someone unplugged your operating system?”

I locked my phone a second too quickly.

“Nothing,” I said, too casual to be believable. “Just work stuff.”

Quan leaned in, suspicious.

“Work stuff doesn’t make people smile like that. What about the conversation with Tram?”

“You’re too late. It’s over, now leave me alone,” I replied, shifting my chair away just slightly.

His curiosity didn’t let up, but I waved him off again, steering the conversation elsewhere until he finally grumbled and backed off.

Only then did I glance down at my phone again.

A small grin slipped out before I could stop it, quickly hidden as I cleared my expression and stood up like nothing had happened.

~~~•••~~~

The next day, I was back at the company, trying to behave like a normal, functioning employee, which mostly meant ignoring the feeling that reality was slowly becoming negotiable.

I spent only half my shift actually working, and the other half performing the ancient office ritual of “looking busy.” In reality, most of that time I was just rereading Tram’s messages and smiling to myself like I had personally discovered happiness and immediately lost the instructions.

Peace lasted until lunch break—at which point my life decided peace was too expensive for my budget.

The first sign something was wrong was Quynh standing in the office lobby.

“Hey, Hades! I’m here!”

The second sign was Quan standing next to her.

“Bro, look at who I’ve brought for you!”

The third was my boss, who looked far too calm for someone currently being convinced to approve a “creative mythological photoshoot during lunch break.”

I walked closer slowly.

“…Why is she here?”

My boss didn’t even look at me. “She was very persuasive.”

I immediately shot a betrayed look at my little golden retriever brother, who avoided my gaze completely.

That was apparently how Quynh had found my workplace—somehow extracting the location, dragging Quan along as a “support witness,” and turning my office into an impromptu stage for her ongoing delusion-art project.

By the time I reached the pantry area, permission had already been granted.

There was no escape.

Quynh was already in full director mode, circling me with a black cloak she had brought from somewhere that should have required permits.

“Don’t move,” she said seriously. “You’re giving ‘Hades stuck in corporate burnout.’ Perfect.”

“I am in corporate burnout,” I muttered.

“Exactly. Stay authentic.”

Quan stood nearby holding a reflector like it was a sacred artifact.

“Is this… supposed to go here?” he asked.

“Just hold it,” I said.

“I am holding it.”

“You’re holding it like it has feelings.”

Then Minh arrived, still in pajamas, casually chewing a banh mi like the world itself had no authority over him.

He glanced around. “Wait. Why does this feel like I walked into a cult meeting?”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?” I yelled.

“Time zones, bro.”

Quynh pointed immediately. “Perfect timing, brother! You’ll be my Dionysus.”

Minh blinked. “Yeah, fair.”

He joined.

Naturally.

The office stopped being an office at that point and became something closer to a shared hallucination with fluorescent lighting.

Quynh, satisfied with the setup, clapped her hands once and froze the entire room like we were part of her personal mythology exhibit.

I looked straight into the camera.

Expression blank.

Acceptance achieved.

This is my life now.

After the chaotic photoshoot finally ended, the four of us walked back together through the bustling streets.

Minh was still eating, Quan was trying (and failing) to impress Quynh by quoting random Greek facts, and Quynh was bouncing along, reviewing the photos on her camera while chattering nonstop.

“Loc, that last shot where you looked like you wanted to dissolve into the floor? Chef’s kiss. Pure Hades.”

Quan nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, bro! You looked really… authentically tragic.”

I sighed. “I was thinking about how I still haven’t done my taxes.”

Minh, still chewing noisily, said. “That’s relatable.”

We turned the corner near the apartment building when we ran straight into Tram.

She was walking back from somewhere, wearing an oversized band tee that made her look effortlessly cute, her short hair slightly messy from the breeze.

The moment she saw us — especially me walking with Quynh, Minh, and Quan — her expression shifted into that familiar sarcastic smile.

“Hey,” she said, voice light but with a sharp edge. “Look at this little group. Is this like a new cult of yours, Loc?”

Quynh, completely oblivious to the tension, lit up.

“Hi! You must be Tram! Loc’s mentioned you. We’re doing a Greek gods series. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. It’s been really fun!”

Tram’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes narrowed just slightly.

“And you must be Minh’s sister, Quynh? I’ve heard things about you too.”

And she extended her arm for a friendly handshake, which I stared at it in the terror of a man seeing a grenade.

But Quynh took her hand without hesitation.

“Yes yes! It’s me. Nice to meet you!”

“Oh, and you were talking about a Greek project with Loc right?” Still shaking hands, Tram gave a polite smile that lasted a little too long. “You two seem to get along pretty well.”

Quynh nodded cheerfully. “Oh yes! Loc’s my best Hades so far. He’s surprisingly patient for someone who claims to hate everything. One day he even let me make him pose in the crowded traffic for forty minutes. Very dedicated.”

I felt my face heating up. The situation was rapidly spiraling into maximum awkwardness.

Tram looked at me, her tone still light but with a clear undercurrent of probing.

“Dedicated, huh? I didn’t know you had that side, Loc.”

“Your confusion is fully understandable!” Quynh, who had absolutely no need to, kept going. “Maybe he’s only like that when I’m around!”

I opened my mouth, but no coherent words came out.

Quan tried to help but only made it worse.

“Right. He’s been really busy with Quynh’s projects! They make a great team.”

Tram’s eyes sharpened slightly, though her expression remained subtle.

“How.. impulsive.” Then, she suddenly said. “So tell me, Quynh. If Loc is Hades, which Greek god do I look like to you?”

Quynh tilted her head, still firmly holding Tram’s hand in an enthusiastic handshake that neither seemed willing to break. “Hmm… You’ll be Persephone. The duality of spring and the underworld. Very fitting.”

Tram raised an eyebrow but kept her grip steady, the polite smile never dropping. “Persephone, huh?”

“Yep!”

“Interesting choice. I thought I was more of an Artemis type.”

“Oh?” Quynh’s eyes sparkled as she gave Tram’s hand a little squeeze, still shaking it like they were sealing a deal.

“Independent. Good with a bow. Less likely to get dragged into someone else’s drama.”

Quynh nodded thoughtfully. “Valid.”

Tram’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

“But Persephone has more character development.”

The smile froze.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Artemis mostly stays in the woods. Persephone gets two entire realms.”

“Artemis has freedom.”

“Persephone has range.”

“Artemis doesn’t need anyone.”

“Persephone literally became queen.”

The two of them kept smiling brightly at each other, hands still clasped in that never-ending handshake. Neither smile looked safe.

Something invisible and terrifying passed between them.

It felt like watching two cats politely discuss nuclear warfare while refusing to let go of each other’s paws.

Tram finally spoke. “So you trust Loc a lot, then?”

“Of course,” Quynh replied cheerfully, still not releasing the handshake.

Their handshake stopped mid-air.

Quynh blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Tram shrugged. “Because you seem like someone who’s against other people’s personal tastes. And you let Loc picked his role.”

“Oh, actually, I assigned that role for him too!”

Quynh suddenly thought for a second. “Well, speaking of trust.. Do you know? Persephone also trusted Hades.”

Tram blinked. “Did she?”

“Yep.”

“Interesting.”

“Fun fact,” Quynh said, still beaming and shaking Tram’s hand, “depending on the version, she willingly spends part of every year in the underworld.”

“Fun fact,” Tram replied smoothly, refusing to break the handshake, “depending on the version, she got kidnapped first.”

“Fun fact,” Quynh countered, “they eventually become one of the healthiest marriages in Greek mythology.”

“That’s a surprisingly low bar.”

“True.”

“Very true.”

“Greek mythology is mostly a disaster.”

“Fair point.”

For one brief moment, peace seemed possible.

Then Quynh pushed up her glasses with her free hand. “Another fun fact: Persephone once turned a guy into a mint plant.”

Tram blinked. “What?”

“Minthe.”

“Why?”

“Relationship issues.”

“…”

After a brief moment, Tram finally released Quynh’s hand with a deliberate, almost theatrical motion, as if she had just survived a hostage negotiation. She flexed her fingers once, her polite smile now razor-sharp.

“Well, this has been… enlightening,” Tram said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “We should meet up again sometime, Quynh. Just the two of us. To discuss Greek mythology properly. I have so many thoughts.”

Quynh beamed, completely missing the undertone. “Oh! I’d love that!”

Quan, who had been hovering like an overeager golden retriever the entire time, immediately jumped in. “Yeah! That sounds awesome! Quynh knows so much about the myths. You two will get along great!”

Minh, on another side, just smirked and took another bite of his snack, clearly enjoying the show.

Tram gave one last saccharine smile. “Perfect. Looking forward to it.”

Then, she turned and walked away into the apartment, leaving a heavy, awkward silence in her wake.

Quynh tilted her head innocently.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I rubbed my face with both hands.

“..Did you do something RIGHT is the real question.”