All Chapters of BLUE TALE (The Series): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The silence after Xcott had left felt heavier than his presence. Leroy leaned against the cold stone wall, his breaths unsteady. His fingers brushed against his lips—a subconscious reaction to the invasive kiss. Disgust and frustration boiled in his chest, but he shoved the feelings aside. There were bigger problems at hand.Earth.The name echoed in his mind like a distant call, pulling him back to the memory of his father’s lab which had become a store room after. That room had always smelled of old paper and faint tobacco, a haven for thoughts too large for the world outside. He could still remember his father hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously into leather-bound notebooks when he was 10. “I’m onto something, Junior,” he’d say, waving away questions with the impatience of a man consumed by discovery.Leroy had never believed him.“Aliens, Dad? Really? You can’t even fix the toaster.” He’d playfully mocked him once as his mother always did, years before the government h

Emerson's heart thudded in his chest as he glanced at his reflection one last time. The grey sweater, the simple sandals, it all felt wrong—like an armor that couldn’t protect him from what was coming. He barely recognized the man looking back at him. His thoughts were clouded with guilt and frustration, the weight of what he’d done to Porsche heavy on his shoulders.Sending him away felt like the only option, yet it gnawed at him like a raw wound he couldn't quite heal. He wasn’t brave enough to face his mother and tell her the truth. To tell her that Porsche was not just some fleeting acquaintance, but someone he truly cared for. “Someone who mattered.”But how could he? Kent was coming today. And Grand-uncle. The judgment was inevitable. They were coming, with their critical eyes and their expectations. Kent, perfect Kent—always the one who did everything right. And Grand-uncle, whose words were always sharp, always meant to cut.Emerson could already hear the sneers, feel the

The door to the living room slammed open with a force that shook the walls, its impact echoing through the stillness of the house. Emerson stood in the threshold, his body rigid, eyes blazing with a sharp, unrelenting fury. Kent, as always, had his back turned, speaking with their mother and grandfather, while Felicia sat at the far end of the room, her hands folded tightly in her lap, a perfect picture of restraint. The sight alone, the calm pretense of family unity, twisted something deep inside Emerson.The forced smiles. The rehearsed pleasantries. It was all a performance, one he could no longer stomach.Kent, without so much as glancing over his shoulder, spoke as if he had known Emerson would arrive precisely at this moment. "Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Granduncle, Felicia and I need to leave. You know her condition." His voice was smooth, like an actor delivering his lines, as though nothing had changed. As though Emerson was just another part of the scenery.Emerson’s voice sliced

Emerson’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he watched the exchange before him. The woman—frazzled, desperate—gripped Porsche’s hand tightly as if letting go would unravel her entirely. Her words were laced with pain, cutting through the awkward tension in the air."You can’t leave me, Percy," she pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "Can't you see I have a life growing in my stomach... Why do you have to leave? I’m pregnant, Percy. Six months. Six! Do you know what it’s been like without you?" Her free hand rested on her visible baby bump, trembling.Porsche stood frozen, his gaze darting between the woman and Emerson, his synthetic mind processing too many contradictions at once.From where he stood, Emerson’s patience snapped. He stormed forward, his presence dominating, and grabbed Porsche by the arm, pulling him sharply. "That’s enough," he hissed, glaring at the woman. "Who are you to take him away? You think throwing a sob story will stop me? Let h

The office was suffocating. The low hum of the air conditioner barely stirred the stale tension. Emerson stood rigid by the large window, his silhouette bathed in the harsh glow of the city below. The vibrancy of the skyline felt mocking, an indifferent world outside his own crumbling one.His fingers tightened around the edge of the windowsill as he fought to compose himself. The betrayal, the scandals, the relentless grind of holding everything together.. it all paled in comparison to this. Losing control over Porsche. Losing him.He took in a shuddering breath, the air scraping against the hollow ache in his chest. He had never felt this before, this unbearable weight of longing. It was foreign, maddening, and undeniable. He wasn’t a fool; he knew exactly what it was.Love.But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to unravel him, make him question everything he thought he was. And yet, here he stood, barely holding himself together, because the thought of