Nikola had no idea what he was doing in Marcel's cave. The fact that the incubus even had a cave, instead of a castle, spoke volumes about how he was viewing his existence as a Lich.
The bed had black hearts carved on the bed board. The sheets were as red as sin.
Marcel was already wearing tight-fitting clothes, his robe gone. Nikola knew just what these clothes were doing to him, but he was not ready to admit it.
After all, he still knew that Marcel was just egging him on, with the end goal being a harem of very horny undead.
Or maybe even mortals.
Nikola wasn't sure if Marcel was ready to commit to mortals, or if there was something about the word "No" that had made the man want to pursue him.
At any rate, Nikola was placed in the bed, tucked in the covers, and then being offered a very generous view of Marcel's backside, as the man who wore clothes which left nothing to the imagination, went to make him soup.
Nikola tried to relax in the soft bed, but regardless of what he did, where he turned, he still could not get the scent of chocolate ice cream in summer out of his nose.
Was this the cologne Marcel wore? Or was it just his softener?
Maybe his shampoo?
At any rate, it was making Nikola hungry. And that was something he knew that he couldn't just ignore.
But how was he going to eat, when his mouth hurt when he swallowed?
The loveliest scent came from the kitchen. Nikola could smell the faint notes of chicken together with some boiling potatoes.
Marcel was making him soup.
If he had been left to Goglina, he was certain that he was going to end up as soup. It was just the way of things, when you were in a goblin tribe.
But the unfairness and ungratefulness of goblins was neither here nor there.
Nikola tried to think about the food that he was going to receive, and, more importantly, what it meant for him.
For them.
He waited there, in the bed, only for the lovely scent to keep on filling his nostrils.
What had Marcel meant when he had told Goglina that they were soulmates? Was it even true?
And if yes, what did it mean?
"Honey, the soup is done!" He heard Marcel's voice from the kitchen. Or at least, the cavern in the cave that he was using as a kitchen.
"Do you want some tea or coffee to go with it? I also have cherry juice!"
Nikola thought it over. He was pretty sure that having something warm in his mouth right now might end up with him regretting all of his life choices.
"Juice, please," Nikola managed to get out.
Marcel waltzed into his bedroom with a bowl of mana-cooled soup in one hand and a glass with something red in the other.
Soon, Nikola was propped up by pillows and being fed spoonful after spoonful of the cool soup.
It was tasty. It was making him thank the divines for the chicken's sacrifice.
It was making him think about the possibility of making it so that Marcel would cook him more soup.
And bring him more juice in bed.
"There. I put some of my own mana inside. You will be fine like rain in two hours," Marcel told him, as he gave him his last spoonful.
"Why?" Nikola found that it was already easier to speak. He smiled, as Marcel took hold of his bandages and tugged.
The brunette looked at his hands.
They were no longer blue.
"You smell like honey cakes in summer," Marcel told him, as he petted him on the cheek. "And even if we can't be together, I wish to preserve this fine scent."
"Why?" They were strangers. Nikola did not attempt to understand just what the incubus meant to him.
What he meant to the incubus was just another big mystery of life.
"I can give you the world," Marcel said, as he pressed a thumb over Nikola's lips, brushing away a droplet of soup. "But I can't change my nature."
"I don't want to be a third wheel," Nikola remained stubborn, even though he knew that this was his one big chance.
"Then," Marcel said, letting out a big sigh. "I think this is us, now. You can't change, I can't change, and we remain friends?"
Nikola nodded.
He still remembered his revelation after he had drunk the first bottle of vodka.
There was the proverb that the drunks were always honest. That their brains never let them lie.
Nikola knew in his heart that if Marcel simply said no to the harem, he was going to make him happy.
But the incubus could not.
Nikola loved the scent of chocolate ice cream coming off the incubus.
But apparently, he didn't love it enough.
"Yes," Nikola said, as he bowed his head.
"Mind if I stay by your side while you recover?" Marcel asked, as he placed the empty bowl and glass on the bedside table. "Just to hold you. I won't do anything but."
"Why are you promising something you can't give me?" Nikola said in a low tone.
Already scooting to the right so he could make Marcel some space.
"Hope dies last," was the simple answer.
****
Nikola left Marcel's cave rested and on his own two feet. He looked at the forest, thought about getting his jar of chili red pepper back from Goglina, and realized something important.
He was a stranger in a world where one had to fight.
He could not fight.
The goblin deliveries had made it so that he had to say no to the night school. He doubted that he had exercised enough in the past month to still be able to fight with a staff, let alone a morning star.
It was time he got his act together. He had money now, the goblins had meat, and Marcel had memories.
The world was calling for a new and improved Nikola.
He was ready to take it by storm.
The brunette began to hike down to Big Capybara, his system already writing him a message…