Walking with a limp, Alexia makes her way to the house. She slips off her shoes and collapses onto the couch.

  “Heya, Markus. I'm home!” she calls across the house, then yawns. Feeling sick to her stomach, she lies on the couch, still sore from the earlier fight.

  Markus walks in, catching her mid-yawn.

  “Everything alright?” he asks, sitting beside her. “You’re never tired like this.

  “It’s been a long day… that demon got away!” Alexia pushes at her pillow before finally throwing it outside. “I’m the one they called in to catch them. Why can’t I do this?”

  Markus rests a hand on her shoulder. “No one can get all of them. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “I can,” she mutters.

  Markus heads into the kitchen, grabs a slice of the cake he made while she was away, and hands it to her.

  “Well, I was hoping to celebrate your return with cake, but I still think it’ll cheer you up.”

  “Aw, look at you, trying to be sweet. And here I thought you’d be too scared of being a freeloader.” Alexia takes a bite, smirking. “Good to see you’re learning the way to a girl’s heart is through cake. If you’d known that back at prom, things might’ve ended differently.”

  “Oh, ha-ha.”

  “Just saying.”

  Markus playfully punches Alexia’s arm, but when she flinches, he knows something’s wrong.

  “Shoot, are you alright?” Markus pulls up her sleeve, revealing a deep purple blotch blooming across her skin. “Alexia, what is this?

  “I was starting to feel nauseous when I was healing the other officer, so I decided to wait before healing myself—just to make sure the mana sickness didn’t get too overwhelming.”

  “Where’s the first aid kit? Never mind—just stay there and eat your cake. Everything’s going to be alright.” Markus doesn’t wait for an answer. He darts into the kitchen, grabs a ziplock bag, fills it halfway with ice, and wraps it in paper towels.

  Rushing back to Alexia, he presses it gently against her arm.

  “Hold that on your arm for me, okay?” Markus says as he searches the first aid kit—but can’t find what he’s looking for. “Alexia, where’s the heating pad?”

  “Markus, calm down. I keep it in the closet so I can use it when I’m sore from combat.”

  He plugs in the heating pad, then sinks back onto the couch beside her. Leaning back, he tries—and fails—to hide a yawn.

  “You need anything else? Let me know. Oh, and make sure you finish your cake—it’s good for fighting mana sickness.”

  Alexia scoops up a forkful of cake and pops it into his mouth.

  “Oh, come on, you’re not seriously telling me sugar is good for you.” She laughs and pokes Markus on the nose.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I managed to keep the Mahoishi on for a solid half hour before the mana sickness kicked in.”

  “You did what? Are you nuts?” Alexia says. “Why are you always so reckless?”

  Without a word, Markus hands her the heating pad. “Does this answer your question?”

  Alexia sighs, her gaze dropping to the floor.

  “Look, I know I get myself in trouble sometimes… but I promise—I’ll always come back safe and sound.”

  “You’re not the first person who’s promised me that.”

  “Then let me be the first one to keep it.”

  Markus’s chest tightens, memories pressing hard against his ribs. This shouldn’t be about him—not right now.

  Alexia nudges his shoulder gently

  “You never got to grieve, did you?” She looks down, her fingers hesitating before curling around his hands. “You just kept going, didn’t you? School. Work. Everything. The world never let you stop for a moment, did it?”

  For a moment, Markus doesn’t answer. The weight of her words hangs between them, heavy and quiet.

  “I’m just tired,” he says finally, checking her arm. “Maybe we can get a cup of coffee when we’re done.”

  Alexia sighs, gently pushing Markus away before activating her Mahoishi to finish healing her arm.

  “Sure thing. I’m ready when you are.”

  Once they’re both set to go, Markus holds the door open for her. Alexia gives a playful curtsey, and they laugh together as they head to the car.

  But as they pull into the Buckstar parking lot, their smiles fade. A crowd has gathered near the entrance, and something about the tense stillness in the air makes Markus’s grip on the wheel tighten.

  Two men are shoving a young girl around under a flickering streetlight. Her knees buckle with every hit, but they keep pressing in.

  “One sec,” Markus mutters, switching on his Mahoishi and tucking his whips under his sleeve. His jaw tightens. In a heartbeat, he bolts from the car, boots pounding against the asphalt.

  “Back off!” he shouts, the force in his voice cutting through the night air.

  One of the men squares his shoulders and swings a punch. Markus slips under it, feeling the wind of the strike brush past his ear. He sweeps the man’s legs out from under him—hard—sending him crashing onto the pavement. Before he can get up, Markus drives a sharp kick into his temple. The crack of impact echoes against the nearby buildings.

  “Sorry—maybe I wasn’t clear,” Markus says coldly, his voice low enough to sting. “Leave. Her. Alone.”

  The second man freezes, then tries to mask his hesitation with a sneer. “Do you even know what she is?”

  Markus cracks his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet. That’s all it takes—the two men retreat, muttering curses as they vanish into the dark.

  Markus powers down the Mahoishi, his heartbeat steady now, and kneels beside the girl. He offers his hand, eyes softening.

  “You okay, miss?”

  She doesn’t seem badly hurt—at least not visibly—but her green-and-yellow jumper dress is streaked with mud, and her hair, tied in two round buns, is messy and tangled. A faint tremor runs through her shoulders.

  “Liddle?” Alexia’s voice breaks with recognition as she runs up beside them. “Oh my god—are you okay? What happened? What did they want with you?”

  Liddle rubs her head, wincing as if the motion hurts. Her voice is quiet, almost apologetic. “Alexia… is that you? I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, you know her.” Markus glances at Alexia as she kneels beside the girl she called Liddle.

  “Liddle was in your homeroom. How did you not remember her?” Alexia teases, laughing at her friend’s empty-headedness.

  “It’s okay if he didn’t,” Liddle says softly, eyes flicking away. She twists her fingers together. “He was busy… and didn’t come to class much.”

  Markus rubs the back of his neck but lets the jab slide. Instead, he offers his hand with a small smile.

  “Well, either way… I’m just glad you’re okay. But—why would those guys go after you like that?”

  Liddle looks down at the ground, fidgeting and making a small noise somewhere between a hum and a sigh.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that,” Markus says gently. He steps toward the café and holds the door open for her.

  “How about I buy you a drink instead? I’m sure Alexia wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”

  “Yeah, that would be fun. Come on, let’s go.” Alexia gestures for her to head inside.

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  Liddle glances around, scanning the street as if checking for something unseen. Only then does she slowly step into the building. Markus notices—she’s nervous.

  And not just from the fight… something else has her on edge.

  Markus walks up to the counter, pulling cash from a yellow envelope.

  “I’ll have a vanilla latte. And what would you like, Liddle?”

  Liddle tilts her head, staring at the glowing Buckstar menu as if it’s written in some ancient dialect. Her eyes dart from one option to the next, lips pressing together like she’s trying to decode a secret.

  Markus watches her for a moment, realizing she’s not just indecisive—she’s completely unfamiliar with any of it. He wonders if she’s ever even been in a café before.

  “Venti? Grande? Where’s small, medium, and large?” she mutters, eyes wide with concern. “And what is a Dragon Drink? Did they have to fight one to get it?”

  She takes a wary step back. “This place feels like a trap…”

  Markus chuckles, stepping up beside her. “It confused me the first time too. The sizing’s weird, but you get used to it. Want me to order for you?”

  She nods quickly, still looking overwhelmed.

  “I’d go with a crème frappuccino. No caffeine—just sweet and icy. Vanilla’s my favorite, but caramel’s a pretty safe pick too.”

  “Whatever you think is good,” she says softly, still watching the menu like it might lunge at her.

  Drinks in hand—Liddle clutching her vanilla frappuccino like it might disappear if she blinked too long—the three of them step out into the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Markus catches the way she holds it, as if it’s the first time she’s ever had something like this, and files the observation away.

  Markus takes a long sip of his drink—already halfway through—and tells Alexia he’ll need to get another one. Walking beside him, she gives him a knowing look but says nothing.

  The park is only a short walk away—a green pocket tucked between busy streets and fading storefronts. Under the rustle of the trees, they head for an empty bench near the fountain. Liddle’s gaze follows the birds splashing in the water, her eyes wide with quiet wonder.

  “This is… peaceful,” she murmurs, pressing the cold cup to her cheek. “No one’s throwing rocks or calling me names. I haven’t even had to dodge anything.”

  Markus chuckles, taking another sip. “Well, not unless those two jerks from earlier come back. Don’t worry—Alexia and I can handle them.”

  His voice softens. “You’re safe now, Liddle. Seriously.”

  After a moment, he asks, “You wouldn’t mind if we took the nature trail, would you? We didn’t get the chance yesterday… and I haven’t walked it since my parents…” His words trail off.

  Alexia nods without hesitation. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  She leads them toward the winding trail, shaded by tall trees and alive with birdsong and the rustle of leaves. Markus and Alexia slip into easy conversation about the silly things they used to do as kids—climbing trees, getting lost in the woods, pretending the creek was a magical river.

  She leads them down the winding trail, the canopy of tall trees casting shifting patterns of shade over the dirt path. Birdsong drifts through the air, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

  Markus and Alexia slip into an easy rhythm, trading stories about the ridiculous things they used to do as kids—climbing trees until the branches creaked, getting lost in the woods on purpose, pretending the shallow creek was a magical river.

  After a while, Markus glances back. Liddle lags a few steps behind, sipping her drink without a word. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, and she keeps her eyes on the ground, occasionally kicking at a pebble. She doesn’t look upset exactly—but she’s clearly not following the conversation.

  “So, Liddle,” Markus says, trying to bring her into the conversation, “did you and your parents ever do anything like that?”

  Liddle flinches at the question, her gaze dropping to the ground.

  Markus’s stomach sinks. He instantly regrets asking and waves it off with a sigh. “Never mind. Uh… what do you think of those deer over there?”

  “Oh! The horns they have are lovely,” she says, perking up slightly.

  “Horns? You mean antlers?” Markus asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Alexia laughs, then glances at him—just a flicker of something in her eyes, thoughtful and maybe a little knowing—before looking down at her phone as if remembering something. “Oh no—you guys, I totally lost track of time.” She tucks her phone away with a practiced smile. “Would you two be okay hanging out without me for a bit?”

  Before Markus can respond, Alexia leans in and whispers in his ear, “I wish you luck, buddy. Remember—cake.”

  Markus blinks at her. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

  “It’s okay,” Alexia says with a wink, already walking backward. “I’m just glad you’ve finally moved on from me. Good luck—you’ll need it.”

  And with that, she turns and jogs off, leaving Markus standing there, dumbfounded, while Liddle tilts her head in confusion… then lets out a quiet sigh.

  “Is she always like that? It’s like she… hates me.”

  Markus turns to look at her—and something in the way she says it makes him pause. She doesn’t sound annoyed. She sounds hurt. Her shoulders are tense, eyes fixed on the ground like she’s avoiding his gaze.

  He gently places a hand on her shoulder and guides her toward a nearby bench.

  “Nah, she doesn’t have it in her to hate anyone. She can be a little… scrambled in the brain sometimes. Please don’t take it personally.”

  Liddle gives a small, nervous nod.

  An uneasy silence stretches between them, heavy and awkward, as if neither quite knows what to say next. The sound of wind in the trees fills the gap, but it does nothing to make it less tense.

  Markus shifts in his seat, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She’s hunched forward, gripping her drink like a shield, her gaze distant. The light chatter of the park feels far away now—like the two of them have slipped into a smaller, lonelier space.

  “Hey,” he says gently, “are you uncomfortable around me? If you want me to leave, I can.”

  Liddle’s eyes widen. “Please don’t leave. I just… don’t get it. Why are you being kind to me? Standing up for me, buying me this drink, hanging out with me at the park…”

  Markus leans forward, lowering his voice. “What do you mean? Isn’t that just… normal?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “Not really. Even people like Alexia, who seem nice, are always ready to walk away. I bet you will too.”

  Markus gives her a soft, steady smile. “I’m sorry, but you’re stuck with me now.”

  Her eyes widen again—this time with panic. “You just don’t know me well enough. Someday you’ll understand… and then you’ll hate me too.”

  A tear slips down her cheek as her voice cracks. “Can I just go home?”

  Markus exhales slowly. “If that’s really what you want… but can I at least walk you there? In case those guys come back—I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Liddle hesitates, then gives a small nod and reaches for his hand. “Thanks…”

  They toss their empty cups into a nearby bin, and Markus falls into step beside her.

  The walk is quiet, their footsteps crunching softly against the sidewalk as the sun dips low behind the rooftops. Markus matches her pace, their hands still loosely clasped—Liddle hasn’t let go, but she doesn’t speak again either.

  Streetlights flicker to life, stretching long shadows across the pavement. Markus notices the way her eyes scan every corner, every passing car, like the world might turn on her at any second. She clutches her drink in her free hand, though it’s long gone warm.

  “I like this time of day,” Markus says finally, his voice low. “Not too hot, not too cold. And quiet enough to hear yourself think.”

  Liddle nods faintly. “It’s nice… when it’s quiet.”

  They turn down a narrow side street lined with overgrown hedges and crooked mailboxes. Markus doesn’t ask questions—he just stays close, his presence steady and unintrusive.

  “…Huh. I used to live around here,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “It’s weird being back. Everything looks smaller.”

  Liddle glances at him with faint curiosity but says nothing. Markus doesn’t press the memory—just offers a quiet smile and keeps walking.

  She looks up at him, a little surprised. For once, there’s no judgment in his eyes. Just patience.

  “Here it is,” Liddle says, pointing to a run-down shed with a hole in the roof and another gaping in the wall. The yard is nothing but dry, dead dirt—no grass, no flowers, just the color of ash.

  Markus stops short, staring in disbelief. “Look… if you didn’t want me to know where you actually live, I get it. But please—tell me you don’t really live here.”

  “Um… I’m sorry if it’s terrible, but this is where I go at night.”

  Markus takes a step forward, then freezes. The leaning walls, the sour, mildew-tinged air—it all hits him like a punch to the gut, too close to memories of that apartment.

  “Yeah, no,” he says firmly. “If you’ve got anything in there, grab it. You are not sleeping in that. You’re coming to my place until we find somewhere proper. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “If you have anything here, grab it. You’re not spending another night in that thing. You’re coming with me. You can stay at my place until we figure something better out.”

  Liddle knows better than to fight a human when they get like this. She has to go along with it.

  Guilt flickers in Liddle’s eyes as she stares at the ground. Resistance only ever makes things worse. She gives a small, reluctant nod. “I don’t own anything.”

  Markus’s expression softens, but the resolve in his voice doesn’t fade. “Then we’ll fix that too.”

  She follows a few steps behind him, fingers tightening around the cold plastic cup she still hasn’t finished. He’d tossed his hours ago, without hesitation—like someone sure of where he’s going. Like someone who belongs.

  She doesn’t. Not here. Not anywhere.

  Her gaze flicks over dimly lit streets and fenced-off construction sites, every shadow making her pulse quicken. Her nerves wind tighter with each step.

  What if this is a trick? What if he’s just pretending to be kind, leading her somewhere quiet? Smiling with his teeth. Lying with warm eyes.

  And yet… when he glances back to make sure she’s still there, he smiles. Not the creepy kind. Just… tired. Like someone doing his best.

  “Welcome home,” Markus says as he steps inside, kicking off his shoes. He moves with the casual ease of someone who belongs here, but Liddle lingers at the doorway.

  Not wanting to upset him, she quickly slips off her shoes—and then her socks too, just in case. She hugs them to her chest for a moment before carefully placing them beside the door.

  “Come on, let me show you around.”

  Markus leads her through the house, pointing out each room—everything except Alexia’s. “This one’s the bathroom. That one’s just storage for now. My room’s back here, but you can stay wherever makes you feel safe.”

  As he speaks, he notices her shoulders slowly loosening, her eyes flicking around with less anxiety. The house is old but cozy, and something about his steady presence seems to be working.

  “If there’s anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable, just let me know, okay?” he says, pausing to meet her gaze.

  “Oh… um, sure,” she murmurs, drifting toward the couch. At first she sits stiffly, knees drawn in, but before long she sinks into the cushions.

  “I mean it,” Markus adds, watching her settle. “This is your home now too. I want you to feel safe here.”

  But Liddle doesn’t answer—her breathing has already slowed, her eyes closed in sleep.

  “You must’ve been exhausted,” he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  Carefully, he scoops her up. She barely stirs, only nestling closer into his chest as he carries her to his bedroom. Laying her down on the bed, he pulls a blanket over her and tucks it gently around her shoulders.

  Then, without a word, he drags a chair close and sits beside the bed. He isn’t going to let her wake up alone—not tonight.