He W I N K E D.
Bloody hell! A wink so devastating, so unfair, so weaponized, it could have ended wars and started religions.
Dear gods. My resolve wavered. Just a little. His lips moved closer. Very close. Too close. "HEY—NOT THE LIPS," my brain yelled. "I DID NOT CONSENT TO THIS ARC."
I tried to move. Nothing. I tried to slap him. Nothing. I tried to headbutt him. Still nothing. I was trapped in my own body, frozen, staring down the barrel of a cursed, naked Canadian hallucination.
And then—ZZZTT—My ring vibrated. Not gently. Not politely. It hummed, glowing like it had been waiting for this exact level of nonsense. "Oh?" I thought weakly. "You care now?"
The ring zapped him. Not a cute zap. A divine, petty, absolutely personal ZAP. Ryan—no, Fake Ryan—jerked back, eyes wide. "What—"
His form rippled. Cracked. Melted like cheap illusion magic under divine judgment.
And then—POOF.
