CHAPTER 40: [WHY DO YOU CARE?]

"I’m not joking! I mean it—I don’t plan on coming between the two of you! I swear!" Eli said quickly, waving his hands in defense. "And I think you two would make a great couple! Really!"

As soon as those words left his mouth, it was like someone had flipped a switch.

The three on the sidelines didn’t even try to hold back anymore.

Arman let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. Punzo clutched at his chest, gasping between wheezes, while Jabby laughed with a hand over her mouth, clearly trying—and failing—to maintain some composure.

"Oh—Oh my god!" Punzo managed between breaths. "This... This is gold!"

"I can’t believe he actually thinks—he... hahahaha!" Arman staggered back, arms wrapping around his stomach from laughing so hard.

Eli stood there, stunned.

Completely, utterly confused.

"I’m guessing... I’m wrong...?" he mumbled, watching the three fall apart like they’d just heard the best joke of their lives.

And then—without warning—a hand dropped onto his head.

Not gently.

A firm squeeze pressed against his scalp, and Eli winced. "T-That... hurts..." he muttered, trying to tilt his head up and see who it was.

Caelen.

Of course, it was Caelen.

"I’ll continue making it hurt if you keep saying such repulsive things," Caelen said, voice low and clipped. "I would rather die than ever have any form of relationship with that bastard. So I would appreciate it if you do not misunderstand."

"O-Okay... I’m sorry..." Eli stammered. But honestly, it wasn’t even his fault.

"I mean, it’s not his fault," Arman chimed in, still wiping tears from his eyes. "You worded it rather poorly."

’Exactly!’ Eli agreed silently, shooting him a grateful look.

Caelen finally removed his hand from Eli’s head, his expression unreadable as he turned around to face the others.

The second he did, the mood in the room snapped.

Punzo and Arman both immediately straightened up like students caught misbehaving. Jabby cleared her throat, trying to rein in her amusement.

"Sorry," Punzo muttered, posture rigid.

The laughter died instantly, replaced by a sudden, respectful silence.

Eli blinked.

Caelen hadn’t even said anything.

’They all have a completely different dynamic from the Twilight Guild’s team.’ Eli observed, eyes darting between the three obediently quiet hunters now standing behind their guild leader.

’But maybe that’s because it seems Caelen is actually scarier than Kairo...’

Kairo had an overwhelming presence, sure—but Caelen?

Caelen knew how to smile while scaring the shit out of you. He knew how to act polite, gentle, refined. He knew how to control a room without raising his voice.

And Eli had been one of the many who’d fallen for that polished mask.

One of the fans who cheered for the "Nation’s Prince," clueless to what lay behind that crown.

Caelen exhaled slowly and turned back to face him, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair in visible frustration. "Kairo was struggling in that fight," he said, tone sharp but composed. "Daresay, he was supposed to get severely injured. Maybe even lose."

He stepped a little closer, eyes locked on Eli’s face. "He wouldn’t have beaten the ogres without you."

"But—" Eli opened his mouth, instinctively trying to defend Kairo.

Caelen immediately cut him off, lifting a hand. "And despite how famously he hates being touched—even healers have a hard time going near him—he didn’t hesitate to carry you."

Caelen’s gaze narrowed, calculating.

"In fact... he fought better while holding you in his arms," he continued, tapping a finger near his lips, as if pondering the details aloud. "Your presence didn’t hinder him. It sharpened him."

Eli stood still, tense.

Caelen tilted his head, voice dropping lower.

"You were instructing him."

Eli’s eyes widened, breath catching.

’He noticed that?’

"Which," Caelen went on, stepping closer now, "I find even more interesting."

He raised a brow.

"Your ability is danger detection... and yet, you were doing more than just that." His voice was smooth, but there was something piercing in it—like he was dissecting Eli, piece by piece. "You told him what moves to use... what attacks to dodge... which way to turn..."

Caelen’s gaze sharpened.

"You were directing a battlefield like it was a game you’d played a hundred times."

Eli felt the weight of every word.

Every inch of Caelen’s scrutiny.

And for the first time—despite his fear, despite the system mission weighing over him—he realized:

Caelen wasn’t just impressed.

He was...wary of Eli.

Just as the system said.

’But why?’

It didn’t make sense.

Yes—Eli had been the one giving Kairo directions during the battle.

Yes—he’d somehow known what to do, how to move, what attacks were coming.

But dangerous? To Caelen?

How?

And then there was something else—something strange, something that made Eli’s stomach twist the more he thought about it.

’It’s like... he wanted Kairo to get hurt.’

The idea alone sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Caelen might’ve been answering him, but Eli couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still missing.

There were gaps—gaps filled with motives he didn’t yet understand.

His voice came out strained. "Why do you care?"

Caelen smiled.

But it wasn’t the elegant, gentle smile that fans knew. This one had no kindness in it—only calculation.

"I care," Caelen said smoothly, "because I know he’s looking for you."

Eli’s breath hitched.

"Kairo doesn’t usually take interest in anyone. Not even his own team. But now he’s searching, isn’t he? And if he’s searching, that means he wants you on his team. Which means—" Caelen’s voice darkened, "—you were very, very useful to him."

Eli blinked, utterly thrown.

’Is he sure he’s not in love with Kairo or something? This sounds more and more like he just wants Kairo to be his or some crap.’

At this point, his nerves were fraying.

He was confused. Exhausted. Annoyed.

"So what?" Eli muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

Caelen’s smile didn’t fade. "So," he said, "it means I have to get to you first."

’What?’

He stepped forward slightly, tilting his head.

"I’m sure you’re aware we share the number one spot in the national rankings."

Eli didn’t respond—but his silence said enough.

"For years," Caelen continued, "I haven’t been able to claim that spot for myself. Not with raw power. Not with skill. Not even with influence."

And then he paused—just long enough for the implication to sink in.

"You," he said, voice quieter now, but no less intense, "somehow made him stronger. Not physically, no—but something about you made him sharper. Made him fight differently. Everyone who watched that video noticed it."

Caelen’s gaze sharpened.

"Of course, most fools assumed he was just trying to protect you. That maybe there was something romantic there. But any smart person—" he gestured to himself with a subtle flick of his hand, "—could see the truth. You were the reason he won. You were the variable."

Caelen’s eyes narrowed, flicking to his teammates.

"And if he sees your potential—then I’ll be damned if I let him have it."

He nodded at Arman and Punzo.

Without hesitation, the two stepped forward.

Eli’s breath hitched.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, taking a half step back.

They didn’t answer.

A moment later, strong hands grabbed both his arms—firm, unrelenting.

"Hey—wait! Let go! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?!" Panic was rising now, his body twisting against their hold.

Caelen turned with effortless grace, hands slipping into his pockets.

"I’m taking you," he said over his shoulder, "on a test run."