'Finally lost her.'
He chuckled under his breath, slowing to a walk.
'That crazy girl.'
'All these years, and she hasn't changed at all.'
Well, he thought too soon.
Because at the corner of his eye, he spotted her.
That golden hair was impossible to miss. Like a beacon screaming "I'M RIGHT HERE."
She had her hands clasped behind her back.
Walking suspiciously slowly.
She was trying her best not to make eye contact when he looked back. Trying to look casual, like she just happened to be walking in the exact same direction.
But she was failing miserably.
'Damn it.'
If she was this determined to follow him, that meant she suspected something.
Most likely about his identity.
Which was bad.
Really, really bad.
He stopped dead in his tracks, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out the kind of sigh that said, "I have overcome death, and yet this is somehow worse."
"Can you stop following me now?"
She stepped right in front of him—like, right in front of him, zero concept of what personal space is—and tilted her head like a confused puppy.
A very annoying, very persistent confused puppy.
"You look familiar. Have we met before?"
She squinted at him like he was a puzzle, and she was determined to solve it despite clearly not having the missing piece.
He blinked. 'Oh, this is not good.'
She leaned forward, stopping barely an inch from his face. Too close. Like, uncomfortably close.
Like someone-needs-to-explain-boundaries close.
His face went bright red—instantly, traitorously—and she didn't seem to notice. Or maybe she just didn't care.
She circled him like a shark with a short attention span.
Scanning every detail of his face. Eyes narrowed.
Then she started poking his face. Pulling his cheeks. Like she was one clue away from solving a mystery that only existed in her head.
"Have we fought before?"
He froze.
'What is happening? Why is my heart beating so fast?'
She moved back around to face him, waving her hand in front of his eyes.
"Hello? You there?"
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Then cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Thirty minutes ago. When you slammed me to the ground, followed by a knee to the gut. Ring any bells?"
"Oh, that was great, wasn't it?" She grinned. "But I mean before that."
Her eyes narrowed. "So why the running?" she asked, falling into step beside him.
"Let's see. I'm hungry. Broke. And now job hunting." He picked up his pace. "You know, the usual desperate-person routine."
She paused, thinking for a moment.
Then snapped her fingers, a devilish smile tugging at her lips.
"Well, my father is going on this huge hunt, and we do need as many people as we can get."
Shiro knew exactly why she was offering.
To keep him close. To watch him. To confirm her suspicions.
And he knew he couldn't refuse.
Saying no would only make him look more suspicious.
So he did what any reasonable person being stalked by a scary blonde girl would do.
He grabbed her hands, and his face lit up like she'd just offered him a fortune.
"Really?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "Uh—"
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" He was probably overselling it. No, he was definitely overselling it.
She tried to pull away, but his grip was stronger. "Yes, yes, now let go of me—"
"Okay, yes, you're welcome, now let go—" She tried to pull back.
But his grip tightened. "You have no idea what this means—"
"I'm getting an idea, and it involves you letting go of my hands—"
"I could kiss you right now—"
Her face went bright red. "DON'T—"
"Ok, later then," he muttered as he released her hands, grinning wide. "Thank you. Seriously. You're amazing."
She rubbed her hands, glaring at him with a mix of suspicion and embarrassment.
"Just… just remember how cool I am," she muttered, "when you're carrying supplies and complaining."
And out of all times, his stomach chose that exact moment to betray him.
"GRRRRROWWWWWL."
Loud enough that a passing merchant glanced over.
Shiro's face burned.
To be fair, he hadn't eaten real food in years. Just snakes. Raw snakes. Uncooked snakes. Snake soup (without the soup).
His stomach had every right to complain.
"So, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Do I get a pre-hunting meal, or…?"
The girl stared at him for a second.
Then started laughing.
Not a polite chuckle. Full-on, bent-over, tears-in-her-eyes laughing like he'd just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard.
Shiro stood there, confused and vaguely offended.
"What's so funny?"
She couldn't answer. Just kept laughing, wiping her eyes.
His stomach growled again, louder this time, like it was trying to join the conversation.
That made her laugh harder.
"Okay, okay—" She finally caught her breath, still grinning like an idiot. She pulled out a small pouch, opened it, and muttered something he couldn't quite catch.
Then looked at him, eyes still sparkling with amusement.
"It's coming out of your pay."
"What?!" Shiro snapped. "That's highway robbery! And what about my compensation for being body-slammed? My butt still hurts!"
She sighed, long and tired.
"Stop being dramatic. Let's go."
He followed, muttering complaints under his breath.
As they walked, he noticed something.
Nora kept glancing back at him. Not casually. Intently. Like she was still trying to solve a puzzle in her head but couldn't, and it was driving her crazy.
'She's thinking too hard about this.'
'I need to—'
"What's your name?"
The question came suddenly, without warning, without her even turning around.
And his brain—his stupid, traitorous brain—answered on autopilot.
"Shiro."
The world stopped.
'No.'
'No no no NO—'
'YOU IDIOT. YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT.'
He froze mid-step, every muscle locking up.
Maybe she didn't hear.
Maybe the crowd was too loud.
Maybe—
She turned around. Slowly. Deliberately.
Her expression had gone ice cold.
Those storm-gray eyes locked onto him like a predator spotting prey.
"What," she said very quietly, "did you just say?"
'I'm dead. I'm so dead.'
Shiro instinctively took a few steps back.
Her rapier materialized in her hand and pointed directly at his chest.
"Lift your shirt up."
His brain short-circuited.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Your shirt. Lift it. Now."
Shiro forced out a laugh that sounded way too nervous to be convincing.
"You're joking, right? Because this seems like a really weird—"
Her expression didn't change.
Not joking.
Definitely not joking.
"In front of everyone?" He crossed his arms, glancing around at the growing crowd. "I mean, I know I'm devastatingly attractive, but there are children present—"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Okay, wrong approach.
People were stopping now. Staring. Whispering.
'Wait. The crowd.'
A brilliant plan formed in his head. He could use the crowd to his advantage.
Shiro wrapped his arms around himself like he was protecting his virtue.
"You want me to get undressed?!" he said loudly. "In front of all these people?! Have a heart!"
A woman nearby frowned at Nora. "That's a bit much, dear."
An old man shook his head sympathetically. "Poor boy looks terrified."
But she didn't even blink. The comments rolled right off her.
Actually, no—it was more like their words didn't reach her at all.
She wasn't ignoring them; it was more like she literally couldn't hear them.
Her entire focus was locked on him.
And nothing else existed. It was just him.
"Shirt. Up. Now."
The rapier stayed perfectly steady.
Her eyes didn't move.
'Oh.'
'That's bad.'
'That's really bad.'
He needed a new plan.
Immediately.
So he did what any desperate person cornered by a scary girl with a sword would do.
He pulled out his ultimate technique.
Crying.
His eyes filled with tears—real ones, because he was genuinely stressed—and his lip started trembling. He lifted his shirt with shaking hands, full-body sobbing like she'd just publicly humiliated him.
Which, to be fair, she kind of had.
"I can't—I can't believe—" His voice cracked perfectly. "In front of all these people—"
The crowd gasped, murmuring more words.
Meanwhile, Nora's eyes were already scanning his exposed torso. Searching for a specific scar. And Shiro knew exactly which one.
But in the end, she found nothing.
His body was spotless.
Her expression changed instantly. The predatory focus vanished, replaced by something that looked uncomfortably like guilt.
"I…" She lowered the rapier. "I'm sorry."
He cranked up his acting to eleven.
"MY INNOCENCE!" he wailed, loud enough for the entire district to hear.
"Shh—please—" Nora's face was turning hot red.
"You PROMISED me food!" He sobbed dramatically between words. "And now—you're—humiliating me—"
And the crowd ate it up.
"Poor boy."
"Absolutely shameful."
"Wait, isn't she a noble's daughter?"
"She is! Making him strip in public like that—"
She looked around.
Their words finally reached her.
All of them at once.
Her face went through several emotions in rapid succession—shock, horror, embarrassment, and finally landing on murderous rage.
She leaned in close, eyes promising murder.
"If you stop crying right now," she whispered venomously, "I will buy you whatever you want to eat."
With those words, his tears stopped instantly like someone had flipped a switch.
"Deal."
He turned to the crowd with a bright smile.
"False alarm, everyone! We're good! Show's over! Nothing to see here!"
The crowd dispersed, muttering about youth these days.
Nora grabbed his arm in a grip that could break bones.
"Let's. Go."
She didn't just walk. She power-walked. Practically sprinted.
Dragging him away from the scene before anyone could ask questions.
"Meeting you is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she grumbled under her breath.
"Hey, I heard that…" He stopped himself right as he was about to add something.
A nickname.
One he'd given her years ago.