I’m Loc, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that peaceful moments never survive for long around my friend and brother.
It was one of those rare Mid-Autumn nights in Saigon where the vibe actually felt magical.
Quan, Minh, and I were sitting on plastic stools in an empty lot near the apartment building, drinking cheap beer, gnawing on grilled squid, and pretending we were fully responsible adults.
Nearby, a group of kids were running around, holding colorful star lanterns in their hands and giggling nonstop.
They were playing tag, jumping rope, and kicking shuttlecocks while humming children’s songs about the Moon Lady with absolutely terrible rhythm.
The full moon hung bright and round above us. Laughter and the sounds of children singing echoed across the open space. It was strangely peaceful.
I took a sip of my beer and sighed contentedly.
“Moments like this make me think life isn’t so bad. Good food, good company, and a moon that doesn’t judge you for being a sloth.”
Minh nodded, mouth full of squid.
“True. Though I’m still waiting for autumn to turn the moon into a giant disco ball.”
Quan immediately raised his beer.
“I support this vision. Imagine it. Moon DJ. Free music. Free lights. Humanity finally reaches its peak.”
“Humanity peaked when people invented grilled squid,” I said.
“Wrong,” Minh replied. “Humanity peaked when somebody looked at a squid and thought, ‘You know what? Let’s put this thing over fire and see what happens.’ That person deserves a statue.”
Quan pointed at him.
“See? This is why nobody takes your philosophical opinions seriously.”
“I have many serious opinions,” Minh said with complete confidence. “For example, I firmly believe that NASA should also use the moon’s surface as advertising space.”
“That’s not philosophy.”
“That’s what they called profit, bro.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“My mistake. I forgot I was sitting beside a future Nobel Prize winner.”
“Thank you,” Minh said proudly.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I choose to interpret it as one.”
The idiot even clinked his beer bottle against mine.
I was about to make a sarcastic comment when my eyes caught something unusual near the group of kids.
A girl, probably around twenty, was in the middle of a heated argument with three children. She was waving her arms dramatically, speaking rapidly in what sounded like… Greek?
“Μα δεν μπορείς να κρατάς το φανάρι μόνο για σένα! Είναι για όλους!” she exclaimed, then switched back to Vietnamese with zero filter. “You can’t just hog the lantern! Sharing is a basic concept of civilization, you little capitalists!”
Quan and I immediately switched our gazes on Minh for a brief second—which he immediately replied with an innocent “..what?”—before returning to the chaos.
The kids stared at her, completely stunned. One boy clutched his lantern tighter, looking like he was facing a mythical creature.
The girl didn’t stop. She launched into another rapid-fire Greek rant, gesturing wildly.
“Αυτό δεν είναι ιδιοκτησία σου!” she snapped, then followed up: “Do you understand basic fairness or did capitalism fry your neurons at birth?!”
The children’s faces went from confused to utterly dumbfounded. One little boy’s mouth hung open like he had just witnessed the gods themselves arguing over his plastic lantern.
Then, in a final dramatic flourish, she pointed at the boy and declared something that sounded like a curse from Olympus.
The boy’s eyes widened. He let out a loud wail and ran crying toward his mother.
“Mommy! The crazy noona spoke demon language at me!”
Quynh watched him run away with zero remorse, then turned around, spotted us, and marched over with confident steps, still holding the disputed red lantern like a battle trophy.
Minh grinned like he had just seen his favorite chaos spawn.
“Oh, have I told you guys about my sister Quynh?”
Quynh didn’t wait for invitation. She simply pulled up a plastic stool, sat down, and looked at us like we were mildly interesting lab rats.
Minh grinned even wider. “Quynh, these are my friends. This is Loc — the walking tragedy I told you about. And this is Quan, his little brother.”
Quynh adjusted her round glasses, scanned me up and down for a few seconds, and declared without hesitation:
“Hades. One hundred percent. But the depressed, ‘I just want to nap in the Underworld for eternity’ version. Perfect. I need you for my final project.”
I blinked. “…What?”
She pulled out a thick, battered notebook from her bag and started flipping through it like this was a scheduled business meeting.
“I’m doing ‘Greek Gods in Modern Saigon.’ Real people embodying the myths in everyday life. I’ve already tried summoning Zeus using a rice cooker last month. Almost burned down my dorm room. The landlord kicked me out. Worth it though — I got a very angry lightning-shaped burn mark on the ceiling. Looked just like him when he’s pissed.”
Quan, trying to be polite, smiled awkwardly. “That sounds… creative. What made you choose Greek mythology?”
Quynh shrugged, casually stealing a piece of grilled squid from Minh’s plate and taking a sip of my beer.
“I tried Vietnamese gods first but they kept ghosting me. Greek ones at least argue back. Last week I paid a homeless uncle to act as Hermes for a social experiment. He delivered my messages for three days then asked for a raise. Very method acting.”
I stared at her, completely lost for words.
“So… you just go around asking random people to be your Greek gods?” I asked slowly.
Quynh nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Authenticity is key. Last month I convinced a taxi driver he was Dionysus. He gave me free rides for a week and kept offering me rice wine at 8 AM. Beautiful chaos.”
Quan looked both fascinated and slightly concerned. “And… how do your professors feel about this approach?”
“They love it. Or they pretend to. One of them called it ‘unconventional methodology.’ I think that’s academic speak for ‘this girl is unhinged but her grades are good.’”
She suddenly leaned forward, eyes sparkling behind her glasses as she looked at me again.
“So, Hades. Tomorrow, 4 PM. Rooftop near the river. Wear something dark and melancholic. Try not to smile — it ruins the aesthetic. Also, bring your natural brooding energy. It’s very authentic.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
“I haven’t even agreed yet.”
Quynh tilted her head. “You will. People always do. It’s the Mid-Autumn festival effect. You’ll be my mysterious, brooding, and slightly depressed Hades.”
Minh was grinning like an idiot the whole time.
Quynh stood up, gave a little wave with the stolen lantern, and walked off, still muttering something in Greek about the rights of lanterns.
Quan watched her go, a strange, dazed look on his face.
“…She’s interesting.”
I took a long sip of my beer and muttered:
“Great. Now I have a Greek mythology gremlin who thinks I’m the God of the Dead. This is exactly what my life needed.”
The full moon hung above us, shining innocently.
As if it hadn’t just witnessed the beginning of another ridiculous chapter.
~~~•••~~~
The next afternoon, I found myself in the most ridiculous situation yet.
Quynh had forgotten to tell me the exact location yesterday. All she said was “rooftop near the river.” Minh had to drive me around for nearly two hours, calling her repeatedly while she refused to pick up.
When we finally found the right building, I was sweaty, annoyed, and already regretting every life choice that led me here.
I climbed the stairs, pushed open the rusty door to the rooftop, and stopped dead.
Quynh was lying dramatically on the concrete floor in the middle of the rooftop, arms spread out like she was trying to merge with the ground. She had a black coat draped over her like a shroud, eyes closed, face set in the most exaggerated expression of existential despair I had ever seen.
She looked like she was practicing to be a corpse.
She opened one eye when she heard me.
“Oh. You’re here. Good. I was just getting into character. Hades energy. Very melancholic. Very ‘I rule the dead but I’d rather take a nap’ vibe. How do I look?”
I stared at her for a long moment.
“You look like you fell asleep while trying to summon the underworld and got stuck halfway.”
Quynh sat up, completely unfazed, and brushed dust off her coat.
“Excellent feedback. That’s exactly what I was going for. Now, let’s begin. I need you to stand over there, look at the river, and think about how everything is meaningless and you’d rather be asleep.”
She picked up her camera and started adjusting settings.
I sighed deeply but walked to the spot she pointed at.
As I stood there, looking out at the river while a chaotic mythology student directed me like I was a very reluctant model, I couldn’t help but wonder how my life had reached this point.
Quynh suddenly shouted from behind the camera:
“More despair, Loc! Channel the pain of ruling over billions of dead souls while your ceiling fan is the only thing that truly understands you!”
I sighed and tried to make my face appropriately tormented.
Quynh snapped photos like a machine gun.
“Perfect! Now, dramatic hair flip while staring into the void like you’re questioning the meaning of eternity!”
I actually did the hair flip. I have no idea why. There was something about Quynh’s pure, chaotic energy that made saying “no” feel physically impossible.
“Excellent! Now, sit on the ground like you’ve completely given up on ruling the underworld and just want to order delivery!”
I sat down. Then lay down. Then rolled onto my side like a depressed cat who had accepted its fate.
Quynh was in heaven.
“Yes! That’s the energy! Pure Hades after a long day of soul paperwork!”
She made me pose with a broken plastic chair (“Your lonely throne of forgotten hopes”) and dramatically stare at a passing pigeon while whispering, “Why do you get to fly while I’m stuck here managing the dead?”
I did every single pose.
I kept telling myself I was only doing this because I had nothing better to do. But deep down, I knew the truth: Quynh’s chaotic enthusiasm was strangely addictive. It was like being swept up in a tornado that somehow made you feel seen.
Quynh finally lowered her camera, eyes sparkling with pure academic joy.
“You’re actually really good at this. Most people get embarrassed after five minutes. You just… lean into the suffering. Beautiful.”
I sat up, brushing dust off my clothes.
“I’ve had a lot of real life experiences.”
Quynh laughed — bright, unfiltered, and completely genuine.
“See? That’s why you’re perfect Hades. You don’t pretend. You just exist in quiet, dramatic despair. Iconic.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little despite myself.
This whole thing was completely ridiculous.
But for the first time in weeks, I didn’t entirely hate doing something ridiculous.
Halfway through the chaotic photoshoot, Quynh suddenly clapped her hands.
“Break time! My tragic muse needs fuel. Even Hades can’t brood properly on an empty stomach.”
She rummaged through her huge backpack and pulled out two warm banh mi, two cups of boba, and a small bag of roasted peanuts like a chaotic street vendor.
We sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the side, the city humming far below us. I took a bite and immediately started complaining between chews.
“This is ridiculous. I’m twenty-six. I should be doing normal adult things like paying bills or pretending to work. Instead, I’m up here posing like a depressed god while a college girl yells Greek commands at me.”
Quynh grinned, chewing happily.
“That’s exactly why you’re perfect. Most people try so hard to look cool or mysterious. You just… exist in your natural state of suffering. Very authentic Hades energy.”
She took a sip of her drink and kept talking without pause.
“You know, in the myths, Hades wasn’t evil. He just got the worst job. Everyone else got the sky and the sea, and he got stuck managing billions of dead souls who probably complained all day. Sounds a lot like you dealing with your ceiling fan and existential dread, doesn’t it?”
I gave her a flat look.
“Are you calling me the god of dead people?”
“Basically. But a very relatable one. The kind who’d rather lie in bed than rule anything.” She suddenly leaned closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Also, you have that whole ‘I pretend I don’t care but I secretly do’ vibe. Classic Hades when Persephone’s around.”
I nearly choked on my banh mi.
Quynh laughed brightly and patted my back.
“Relax, Hades. I’m just observing. You’re very good material.”
After the short break, Quynh’s chaotic energy returned at full force.
“Alright, break’s over! Time for the premium Hades collection!”
She made me stand on the edge of the rooftop, arms crossed, staring into the distance like I was contemplating the futility of ruling the dead.
“More depression! Think about your tax bill! Think about how your high school crush silence-treatment you!”
Then she had me sit on the plastic chair, one leg crossed over the other, holding a half-eaten banh mi like a royal scepter.
“Pose number 47: ‘I rule the underworld but I’d rather be eating this banh mi.’ Perfect. Now look disappointed in humanity.”
I did it. Again.
Next, she made me lie down dramatically on the dusty floor, arms spread out like I was accepting my eternal suffering.
Then came the truly unhinged part.
She pulled out a cheap plastic crown she had bought from a street vendor and placed it crookedly on my head.
“Now, King of the Dead does the Macarena. But make it sad. Like you regret every dance move you’ve ever made in life.”
I finally refused.
She stared at me with big, sparkling eyes and said in the most innocent voice:
“Please? For science?”
I did the sad Macarena.
Quynh cackled like a gremlin who had just won the lottery.
At one point, Quynh climbed onto the very edge of the rooftop like she was trying to merge with the sky for the perfect angle.
“Hold still, Hades! I need the dramatic wind-in-hair effect— yes, more suffering, more ‘why am I even here’ vibes!”
Her foot slipped on a loose tile.
She let out a very undignified “Woa— shit shit shit—!” and started tipping backward like a falling coconut tree.
I instinctively lunged forward and grabbed her arm, yanking her back onto solid ground with zero grace whatsoever.
Quynh stumbled into me, then immediately pulled away. For half a second her eyes widened behind her glasses. Then the chaos gremlin smile returned at full power.
“Wow. Did you just save me? The King of the Underworld doing hero shit? That’s illegal. Next thing you know you’ll be helping old ladies cross the street and saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ unironically. Ruins the whole ‘brooding sad boy’ aesthetic I’m going for.”
She dusted herself off dramatically, pretending to be traumatized.
“Careful, Loc. If you keep acting like a decent person, people might start thinking you have a heart. I’ll have to change your entire mythological profile from ‘depressed ruler of the dead’ to ‘secretly soft cinnamon roll.’ My professor would have a stroke.”
I let go of her arm and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
“I regret every life choice that led me here.”
Quynh laughed brightly, completely unbothered, and patted my shoulder like I was a grumpy cat.
“That’s the spirit! Perfect Hades line. Keep that energy. We’re getting great material.”
She picked up her camera again, already moving on like she hadn’t almost fallen to her death three seconds ago.
This girl was going to be a problem.
A very loud, very chaotic, very hard-to-ignore problem.
