Kaiser's Perspective:
11:17 PM - 1/1/2018
The tent flapped violently as the blizzard outside howled, snow and wind rattling the canvas like it wanted to swallow us whole. I felt her small frame tense against mine, her hands still lingering on my chest, her gaze flicking up to meet mine.
"Can… can you help me a little, Lia?" I muttered, my voice low, careful.
She pulled back slightly, tilting her head with those wide red eyes.
"Of course, Kai… what is it?"
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then said, "Just… give me a moment."
Her brow furrowed in concern as I shifted back, tugging at my white shirt. The fabric ripped under my fingers, tearing in long, jagged lines. "K-Kai… what are you doing?!" Her voice was sharp, edged with worry.
I just smiled, letting the motion be slow and deliberate, careful to make her watch every movement. The shirt surrendered to my hands in strips until only the pieces I needed remained. I held them up, roughly measuring with my fingers, until the length was just right.
"Celia… could you… get me something sharp?" I asked softly, without looking at her.
She hesitated, stepping closer, curiosity warping her flustered expression. "I… I don't understand, Kai. What are you doing?"
"You'll see soon enough," I said, my lips curling into a teasing smirk.
Her hands glowed faintly, magic sparking, forming a knife of ice with a sturdy earth-bound handle. The blade shimmered coldly, but it wouldn't bite my fingers.
I took it, feeling the weight, then took off the last strip of my shirt, letting it fall aside.
Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and I caught that flash of something raw in her gaze — desire, fascination, her heartbeat racing.
"You can admire later, Celia," I murmured, keeping my focus on the fabric. "For now… could you grab another shirt from my bag?"
Her ears flushed pink, her eyes darting away for a moment before she stammered, "O-Ok… I… I wasn't staring, I swear! I was just… looking! That's it!" She darted to our gear, moving quickly, nearly tripping on the rough blanket floor.
I set to work, cutting the long strip. Each snip of the makeshift knife was precise — careful not to tear, careful to make the width even, careful to make it soft. The fabric curled slightly at the edges where the knife caught, the ragged rawness smoothing as I worked.
Outside, the wind whistled sharply. The tent quivered with each gust, and the sound of snow rattling against the canvas made the small space feel both isolated and intimate. I could feel her watching from across the tent, the quiet rustle of her movements punctuating the rhythm of my work.
Finally, she returned, black shirt in hand, cheeks still flushed. "Are… are you done yet?" she asked, her voice soft but trembling with curiosity.
She leaned slightly closer, head tilting as she eyed the finished design.
"A ribbon…?" She asked.
I held it up for her, tying the last fold with care. "See?" I said, voice gentle. "A perfect ribbon, just the way you'll like it."
Her lips parted, and she whispered, barely audible, "It… it really does look like a ribbon… from the way you cut it."
Her fingers twitched, hovering slightly over it, as if she wanted to touch it but couldn't quite move. I smiled, tucking the final piece into a neat coil.
"Sit here."
She sank down beside me, knees brushing mine, her breath a soft cloud in the cold air. The moment I took her hand, she fluttered—ike her heart hiccupped every time I touched her. After everything we went through today, she still reacted like this.
…Cute mess.
I squeezed her hand gently, drawing her attention.
"Celia. Do you know how to infuse cursed mana?"
She nodded, eyes bright, eager to impress me. "Y-Yes. I have to touch the thing and… and then just fuse… thenn uhhh—"
"Exhale. Let it flow out from your hand as you visualize it leaving you."
"I—I know that! I do!" she declared, back straightening as if she could bluff her way into composure.
I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my mouth. She always tried to sound so composed when she was this close to me… but holding her hand reduced her to a stuttering, red-eyed mess.
"Can you infuse cursed mana into the threads?" I asked.
Her gaze flickered to the ribbon and then to me. "…I can but—wouldn't it harm the ribbon you made… for… me?"
"It won't damage it," I assured.
She still hesitated, her fingers tightening around mine.
"Celia," I said with a quiet smile, "trust me."
Her breath hitched—like those words themselves were a spell—and she nodded.
"I… trust you."
She placed her palm lightly on the white ribbon. A faint hum rippled under her skin as the cursed mana stirred. Shadows gathered at her fingertips, crawling into the fabric.
I lifted my hand over hers, letting my palm hover just above. The moment my hand brushed over her cold skin, a shiver ran through her entire body.
"Careful," I murmured, leaning closer, voice almost touching her ear. "Lose focus… or talk… and you'll break the infusion."
She glared at me for teasing, but she didn't dare speak. Her lips pressed together, her brows knitting as she funneled her cursed mana steadily.
"Good girl."
With my free hand, I lifted the ice-knife she crafted. The blade glimmered with her mana—cold, sharp, honest.
I placed the edge against my ring finger.
Her eyes flicked up—instantly on alert. "Kai—?"
I dragged the blade slowly across my skin.
Blood welled up, warm against the cold air, streaming down my finger and slipping onto the back of her hand… then seeping into the ribbon beneath. Her entire body jolted, her hand trembling violently beneath mine.
Ouch it stung badly.
Shock. Fear. Something darker.
"Kai—K-Kai—"
She could barely breathe, let alone speak.
I pressed my hand more firmly over hers. Not letting her pull away.
Her trembling grew, almost pained, but still she didn't break the infusion.
"Easy," I whispered, cutting a little more so the blood flowed faster, richer.
"You're doing perfectly."
The ribbon drank the crimson greedily, white converting to red.
The cursed mana slid through it, merging with the blood, threads shifting and changing as if awakening to something dark.
"When blood joins the infusion," I murmured, keeping my voice low, "a Sanguine Phase forms. It alters the thread… changes its nature… and its color."
The ribbon deepened into a rich, darkened crimson—alive, pulsating faintly with the blend of her cursed mana and my blood.
Still smiling, I held her hand firm as she shook beneath the weight of what we were creating.
This was no ordinary ribbon anymore.
The moment the infusion clicked into its final pulse, Celia's breath escaped in a tiny gasp. Her hand lifted before I even processed it—then both her hands were on mine, grabbing my injured finger with sudden urgency.
"C-Celia—?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled my ring finger straight into her mouth.
My brain stopped working.
?????
Her warm lips wrapped around the cut as if her instinctive solution to "blood" was "put it in mouth." She sucked gently—trying to stop the bleeding like some frantic, affectionate little vampire.
My eyes went wide.
"…Oh."
Her cheeks flushed hard, but she didn't stop. In fact, she doubled down—her other hand glowing with cursed magic as she pressed it to my knuckle. Her mana sank into the cut, burning with that familiar sting, mixing with her saliva and accelerating the healing.
This woman was healing me with a magic spit.
I had no words.
"I see how it is," I murmured.
She shot a fiery glare up at me without letting go of my finger. Her brows furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and she gave me the tiniest "Don't you dare" head-tilt.
Then—she slapped my chest.
Lightly at first.
Then again.
And again.
All while still sucking on my finger like her life depended on it.
"H-Hey— ow! Celia—! Stopppp—!"
She yanked my hand free with a pop of her lips, healing nearly complete, and looked furious enough to knock me through the tent wall.
"WHY would you do THAT!?" she demanded.
I blinked at her. "Because—"
She smacked my chest again.
"OW—! Celia!"
"You cut yourself!" Another smack.
"It was for the infusion—!"
"You bled!"
Smack.
"I'm aware! I did it!"
She huffed, cheeks puffed, glaring like a betrayed housewife whose husband forgot an anniversary.
"You—reckless—idiot!" She punctuated each word with a shove to my shoulder.
I leaned back on my hands, letting her hit and fuss, because honestly? She looked adorable when she was mad.
"You care that much about my finger?" I teased softly.
Her face went scarlet.
"N-no—yes—of course I do! Why wouldn't I!?" She looked away dramatically, arms crossing as if to barricade her heart. "If you hurt yourself again, I'll—I'll tie you up with my chains!"
"That sounds like a threat and a promise."
"Kai!" She smacked my thigh this time.
"OW—okay! Okay! I get it, I get it!" I raised both hands in surrender, laughing under my breath. "I'm sorry, alright? I'll be more careful."
She didn't look convinced.
So I reached out—slow and gentle—and cupped her cheek with my unharmed hand.
Her irritation cracked instantly, melting into flustered warmth.
"You fuss over me like we've been married for ten years," I said, smiling softly.
She muttered, "Y-you make it impossible not to…"
Her hands slowly unclenched, sliding down to rest on my arm.
"I just… don't want you hurt," she whispered.
Hearing her flustered little whisper made something warm uncurl in my chest—an honest, involuntary smile that I didn't even bother hiding.
"Turn around for me," I murmured.
Celia blinked, surprised. "Huh? W-why—?"
"Be a good girl now." My eyes narrowed just a little.
Her breath hitched. That single line turned her spine to velvet.
She immediately turned around, shy and obedient, her white hair swaying as she faced away from me. I slipped my arms around her waist from behind, pulling her into me. The moment my chest touched her back, her whole body trembled—like she was trying not to melt on the spot.
"K-Kai…?" she whispered, her hands lifting to touch my forearms, tracing the lines of muscle like she needed proof I was real.
"Yes, Princess Celia?" I murmured into her shoulder.
I rested my head there, the warmth of her skin brushing against my cheek. Her breath faltered—soft, shaky, almost pleading.
"I figured you'd be a good girl," I said, tightening my hold just enough to pull her flush against me. Her breath stuttered, her fingers curling against my arms.
"I… I-I'm… shy…" she whispered, voice warm and trembling.
"Mhm?" I hummed, amused.
"I'm… shy… s-so… put your hands… wherever you want them…" Her voice cracked adorably.
"That boldness is going to ruin me," I chuckled softly. "Such a bold girl."
I exhaled against her neck. She shivered—a full-body shiver—leaning back into me as if her heart couldn't stay upright on its own.
"Do you like being held by me?" I asked.
She nodded slowly… obediently.
"Such a little kitty," I teased.
She puffed her cheeks, pouting—then suddenly—
"M-meow…" It came out tiny. Embarrassed. Ridiculously cute.
My soul left my body.
"Oh? Are you trying to get in trouble?" I murmured, biting back a laugh.
"Hmhp!" She tilted her head away with a flustered little huff, trying to act offended but only landing somewhere around "adorable calamity."
I slid one hand up, threading through her soft hair, patting her gently.
"So cute…" I whispered, unable to help myself.
"I—I am not cute…" she muttered defensively, face burning.
I smiled against her shoulder, pulling her closer.
"Celia," I whispered, "you're the cutest thing I've ever held in my arms."
I eased back just a little, my arms slipping from around her waist as I reached for the freshly-reddened ribbon resting on the blanket. Celia stayed still, her head not tilting—almost like she already knew I wanted her right where she was.
I held the ribbon in my hands and said softly,
"You know why I made this for you, Celia?"
She shook her head, white hair brushing lightly against my arm.
"It's because I care about you… a lot," I murmured.
My fingers slid into her hair, gently gathering it. The moment my touch grazed her scalp, she let out a tiny, flustered noise and whispered,
"D-dummy…" —the softest attempt to hide the way I was turning her into mush.
I smirked.
"I may not say it every day… that you mean the world to me…" I guided her hair back, smoothing it down with my palm. "—you do."
I lifted the ribbon, beginning to loop it around her hair. The soft fabric brushed her neck; she shivered. I aligned the ends, crossing them, pulling them through. Slowly, the white strands were gathered together beneath my fingers, the ribbon tightening little by little.
"You were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen the moment we met," I said quietly. "The silly way you looked at me—eyes bright, smiling like I was the best thing that ever happened to you."
"H-hmm…" she mumbled, flustered.
"And then came your caring side… I wasn't ready for that." I tugged the ribbon tighter, securing the first knot.
"I still remember you not sleeping… just changing my bandages." I flicked her head lightly with a finger.
She "grrr'd" softly like a kitten trying to roar.
"Then there were those cute little moments… when you spoon-fed me." I let out a soft laugh.
"Gods, the way your whole face turned red… I can still see it."
She shook her head too quickly—messing up the half-tied ribbon.
"No, no—stay still for me," I chided gently.
"Hmmmm—" she hummed, obeying… but still sounding like she was one second away from combusting.
I snorted.
"So many languages in the world, yet you choose to speak like a cow—'hmm,' 'hmmm'—adorable."
She hummed louder just to spite me, head shaking in tiny frustrated wiggles.
I chuckled, looping the ribbon again, smoothing her hair under my palm as I continued.
"And then that day… you rushed out so, so worried just because I went outside for a moment." I tied one end of the ribbon into a delicate loop.
"You can't even leave me alone without panicking, can you? My possessive little wife."
She squeaked something incoherent.
"And Levi told me," I added, tightening the bow slowly, "that you wouldn't even let Emma bring me food. So you can excuse feeding me with your own hands."
"Why soooooo?"
Celia whined, "W-what mine is mine…" and puffed her cheeks.
I flicked her head again.
"Stop hittiiing meee—!" she hissed in the cutest whisper.
I finished the ribbon's final knot, fingers brushing through her hair, straightening it.
"And then… the lap laying," I said slyly. "Every time I'm unconscious or asleep, you pull me on top of you like some prized possession… and twice—twice—you ended up kissing me."
She let out a strangled sound, face exploding red, hands gripping her knees as she sat there, trembling, the newly tied red ribbon swaying down her back.
I kept brushing her hair with my hand, slow and affectionate, pretending I didn't notice how she was practically steaming.
"Mmm. Such a jealous girl," I murmured warmly. "But that's fine… because you're mine too."
"Not only that…" I murmured, fingertips brushing her cheek.
"Your eyes had those dark spots when I returned from Sylaphine's dungeon. You weren't sleeping, were you?"
Celia's shoulders dipped a little. "I… I missed you," she mumbled, voice so tiny it almost hid itself.
Then, softer, vulnerable, "You didn't say goodnight to me… I can't sleep without it."
I exhaled a quiet laugh and rubbed the top of her head, smoothing her hair where the ribbon settled perfectly. "You're really beautiful, Celia."
She froze for a heartbeat—then melted.
I gently pulled her back into a warm back hug, her back fitting against my chest like she was made for that exact spot. My hand rested on her shoulder; hers automatically covered mine.
"You're special to me," I whispered against her ear.
"That's why I gave you my heart. Will you protect it?"
She nodded instantly, almost fiercely.
"Always. It's mine now… I'll keep it forever."
I chuckled softly, hugging her tighter from behind.
"Such a cutie."
Her fingers curled around my forearm, like she didn't want to let me go for even a second.
"Just so you know," I added teasingly, "my heart is stuck with you forever. No refunds."
Celia let out a shy little laugh—half embarrassed, half thrilled.
For a few moments, the world felt quiet. Just our breathing. Just warmth.
Then she spoke again, voice trembling slightly with emotion.
"Kai… thank you for the ribbon."
I could feel the way she held it, treasured it.
"I'll cherish it forever. I promise. I really, really do."
She hesitated—then kept talking, like something inside her finally cracked open.
"Sometimes… I lie awake at night thinking about you," she confessed, cheeks heating up. "Wondering if you're okay… if you're thinking of me too."
My hand slid down to gently rub her waist, calming her, reassuring her without a single word.
Celia continued, voice thick with happiness.
"You don't know how happy I am right now… being here… with your ribbon… and you holding me like this."
"I love you so much..."
I brushed my thumb over her hand, steady, warm, protective—letting her know I heard every word… and felt all of it right back.
"I know, Celia." My voice came out low, almost guilty.
"I know how much you love me. But… even so, you can deserve better, you know?"
Her fingers instantly tightened around my forearm—hard. A quiet, wounded grip.
I kept talking, even though the tension in her body warned me not to.