CHAPTER 103: WINDING DOWN

The silence of the room pressed against my ears in a way that felt unnatural. It wasn’t the silence of the countryside, nor the quiet lull of night in the city. No, this was the absolute stillness of my spell closing us off from the world, a stillness that cut every outside sound and sealed us in. The muffled chaos of the tavern below, the scraping of chairs, laughter, clinking mugs—all of it was gone.

Only the shallow sound of my breathing remained, alongside the faint rustle of fabric when Selia shifted on the bed.

The inn room itself was as ordinary as they came—rough wood planks for the floor, a single table shoved to the side, a small chest for guests to hold their valuables, the bed too small for two and too big for one, its blanket worn from years of careless washing. A lonely candle stub burned weakly atop the table, its light fighting against the shadows pooled in the corners.

And yet, with the spell locking us away from the rest of the world, this space felt like a sanctuary. A place where only the two of us existed.

Selia sat cross-legged on the bed, her silver hair loose, falling over her shoulders as she examined the towering crepe in her hand. The cream clung to her lips after the first bite, and her eyes fluttered shut as she chewed.

A soft hum escaped her throat.

I swore my chest tightened right then and there.

Seeing Selia in battle was one thing. Watching her calmly dismantle the jungle monsters, light flashing from her hands, that air of untouchable Saintess authority swirling around her—it was enough to make anyone think of her as some distant figure carved from marble.

A hero from the folk tales, rather than a real person.

But this?

Watching her chew through whipped cream and fruit like a kid handed their first festival treat? That melted my heart in a way no spell, no quest reward, nor a divine miracle ever could.

She licked the side of the crepe where a blob of cream threatened to spill over. The tip of her tongue caught the sweetness, and for a moment she looked so content, so utterly lost in the simple act of tasting sugar, that I found myself grinning like an idiot.

"You’re staring again," she said without opening her eyes.

"I’m not," I lied instantly.

She peeked one eye open, caught the stupid grin plastered across my face, and let out a small laugh. "You are. At least be honest about it."

"...Fine," I admitted, raising my hands in mock surrender. "But can you blame me? You look..." I trailed off, unwilling to embarrass myself by putting it into words.

"Ridiculous?" she suggested, cream still at the corner of her mouth.

"Adorable," I corrected, before I could stop myself.

Her cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink. She ducked her head, suddenly more interested in her crepe than me, biting into it with exaggerated focus.

The silence between us stretched—not heavy, not awkward, but soft. Comforting.

For the first time since returning from the jungle, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.

That recent adventure had been... more than I bargained for, even if I managed to zip my lips and hold every complaint that I wanted to utter.

The heat of the open space, the stench of some rotting remains that no one would ever bother to clean up, the constant buzzing of insects - I could deal with those.

But the trail to my endurance? The long hours of doing nothing but walking at a brisk pace just to cover more ground that I could, at any point of our trip, see with my own eyes?

I shook my head, casting aside those less than pleasant memories.

Sure, I spent time with Selia which was great. I also managed to achieve what I wanted by making coffee not something I did but a project shared between the two of us.

But when I watched Selia fight?

She looked like a hero from the legends. Like a goddess made flesh.

But at the same time, I could still her for what I was slowly realizing her to be - just a simple, fragile girl who just so happened to have enough strength to contend with those grotesque guardian beasts of the jungle’s perimeter.

And with that perspective, Selia fights no longer appeared like a show of lights and marital prowess - they instead turned into a horror show, when a single mistake, single misstep could cost Selia not only her health, but maybe even her life.

I shifted closer, perching at the edge of the bed while she worked on finishing her crepe.

With those thoughts in my head, I had to get closer to her. Not even touch her but... just feel her presence by my side, safe, unwounded, relaxed.

"Thinking back," I started, my voice low, "we were lucky out there."

Selia’s chewing slowed. She lowered the half-eaten crepe onto the plate by her side and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Lucky?"

"Yeah," I said. "We made it out without any injury. Those adventurers..." with the injury being at the forefront of what I was talking about, it was quite obvious who I was talking about, "they could’ve died."

Her eyes flickered. I caught the faintest tremor in her hand before she folded it neatly over her lap. "I thought they would," she admitted after a moment. "For a second, I thought... it would be the same again."

Her words carried weight, heavy with the unspoken.

I knew what she meant without needing to pry. Selia had seen enough blood before I ever came into her life. Probably far too much.

"But it wasn’t," I said quickly, leaning forward. "You saved them."

"I offered them help when they needed it the most," she corrected softly. "I didn’t save them. They lived because they were strong enough to hold on until I reached them."

I frowned. "You’re selling yourself short."

She gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Maybe."

I didn’t push further. She didn’t need me to argue her into confidence—what she needed, I realized, was time. Time in silence. Time where she could bite into sweets and laugh at me for staring. Time to remember what it felt like to just... be.

So I let the silence stretch again.

She picked up the ice cream cone next, tilting it this way and that, watching the soft cream catch the candlelight. Her lips closed around it for the first taste, and the way her face lit up—like a child seeing fireworks for the first time—was enough to break through every wall she had left.

"This is unfair," she muttered between licks, her eyes bright with wonder. "Something this good shouldn’t exist."

"Sorry to disappoint," I chuckled. "But on Earth, these are normal. You can get one on any street corner."

"Then your world must be paradise."

"Not really," I said, leaning back on my hands. "You don’t want to see the price tag attached."

Her gaze softened, and for a second I thought she’d pry deeper. But instead, she simply leaned back, shoulders brushing mine as she savored another taste.

The small contact sent a spark racing up my arm.

I swallowed hard.

She didn’t move away.

"Do you think the beans will be worth it?" she asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"The coffee?" I blinked, then laughed. "Absolutely. You’ll see once I get the workshop running. People will kill for it. Well, hopefully not literally."

"I’ve never seen you so excited about something before," she said, her lips quirking upward, "not even when you were running around to get that charcoal thing started."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even as my chest swelled. "Charcoal was one thing. A means to an end. But coffee?" I shook my head. "That’s something beyond useful. It’s something that, quite literally, transformed the world I come from."

She chuckled at that, her laughter soft, almost fragile—but real.

"And how could a drink do that?" she asked while finally wiping the bit of cream from the corner of her mouth by running her thumb over it only to then put her thumb in her mouth as she licked it clean.

"Before coffee, people socialized by drinking booze and playing around. It was only when they switched over to coffee and cultured meetings over it that, rather than swinging their steel and competing who can drink more, they found time and energy to discuss more interesting topics."

We kept talking, drifting between topics—the adventurers, the jungle, the beans, the absurdity of fighting monsters for something as mundane as a drink. Every word seemed to chip away at the distance between us, until I realized we were sitting so close that our knees brushed together.

And neither of us pulled away.

Her shoulder pressed against mine, firm now. Her laughter came easier, lighter. The haunted look that had shadowed her eyes since the jungle slowly eased away.

And when she turned to me, smiling over the last bite of her ice cream, I felt my heart flip.

I leaned in without meaning to.

She didn’t stop me.

Our lips brushed, barely there, fleeting enough to leave me dizzy.

A thousand alarms went off in my head, telling me to back off, to be careful, to not ruin this.

But then she leaned in too.

Soft kisses, hesitant at first, scattered between shared breaths. Not enough to overwhelm, just enough to bridge the gap that had lingered too long between us.

Her hand found my arm. Mine hovered at her waist before resting there, gentle.

We weren’t cuddling. Not yet. But the line between wasn’t much of a line anymore.

Eventually, I leaned back, propping myself against the edge of the bed frame, catching my breath.

Selia watched me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she rose to her feet.

I opened my mouth to ask—only for the words to vanish when she swung a leg over and lowered herself onto my lap, straddling me with a calmness that stole the air from my lungs.

Her hands pressed against my chest. Her hair fell forward, brushing my cheek.

And then her lips claimed mine—no hesitation this time, no restraint. A deep, hungry kiss that left no doubt about what she wanted.

The taste of cream and fruit still lingered between us.

And for once, I let the world beyond our sealed room vanish entirely.