The walk home was quiet.
Lilia didn't let go of Rowan Ashford's hand the entire way.
The cool evening air nipped at her cheeks as they walked, but his hand remained warm in hers — a tether in a world suddenly too wide.
She gripped it tightly—like a lifeline. Her fingers trembling slightly, her steps a little unsteady. And he… he didn't say a word about it. He simply walked beside her, his pace gentle, like he understood.
The city had never looked this quiet before. It no longer felt magical — only silent, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Every shadow made her heart twitch. Every noise made her flinch. And yet, with him there, she felt… safer.
She'd never held someone's hand like this before.
Not like this.
Not because she needed to.
She caught herself glancing at him once or twice, eyes quickly darting away.
Why does he feel so… steady?
She hated how comforting it was.
The moment their feet hit the stone steps of her modest townhouse, the front door slammed open.
"Lilia!"
Her father stood there, eyes sharp, worry etched into every wrinkle of his usually stern face.
"Where in the saints' names were you?! It's hours past when school ends!"
"I—" she began, startled, "I'm sorry, I just—"
"You were gone for so long, Lilia," her father said, voice softer now. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Then Ashford stepped forward, still holding her hand.
"She was with me, sir," he said calmly.
Her father's eyes snapped to him like a hawk.
"With you?"
"Yes. I assigned her extra lessons. She's… struggling in class."
Lilia's father narrowed his eyes.
"Then why is she trembling like a leaf? And why is she holding your hand like a frightened child?"
Rowan didn't flinch. But Lilia quickly stepped between them.
"Papa, please! Don't blame him! I-I got lost after class and… and there were some men in the alley—bad men. Professor Ashford saved me. If he hadn't been there I—"
Her voice cracked slightly.
That did it.
Her father's shoulders stiffened. The anger faded into something heavier. Worry. Guilt.
"Lilia…" he murmured, stepping forward.
"I'm fine now," she said, almost automatically. "He got me home. That's what matters, right?"
There was a long pause.
Then finally, her father turned to Rowan again.
"…You saved her?"
"I did what anyone would have done," Rowan replied quietly.
Her father studied him for a moment longer.
Then gave a reluctant nod.
"…Fine. You may continue your lessons with her. But only if you escort her home afterward. Every single day."
Rowan nodded. "Understood."
"And if I find out you let her walk home alone again—"
"I won't."
Her father gave him one last pointed glare, then opened the door wider.
"Come in, Lilia."
She turned to Rowan one last time.
Their eyes met.
"…Thank you," she said softly.
He gave a quiet smile. "You were brave."
I didn't feel brave, she thought.
But somehow… his words helped.
As the door closed behind her, Lilia leaned against it and let out a slow, shaky breath.
I held his hand all the way home.
And it helped me breathe.
Why does that bother me more than the alley did?
*****
The moment Lilia closed her bedroom door, the weight of the night pressed down on her shoulders all over again.
She didn't bother changing clothes. Didn't take off her shoes.
She simply threw herself face-first into her bed with a muffled groan.
The bedsheets smelled like lavender.
Familiar. Safe.
But her mind was anything but.
Her thoughts kept looping back to the cold stone alley… the sneers… the rough hands grabbing at her arm… the terror that clawed its way up her throat.
How did it get so bad so fast? One wrong turn, and suddenly the world felt like a trap.
She pulled her pillow over her head.
If he hadn't shown up—
Would I have… would they have—
She couldn't finish the thought.
Her fingers clenched the edge of the pillow.
Tears pricked at her eyes again, but this time she fought them back. Barely.
I was a guy. I'm used to being left alone at night. I've walked home in darker alleys than that. But this time—this time I was small. Weak. Powerless.
She bit her lip.
She didn't want to admit it, but she had never felt so helpless in her life.
Not even when her sister died.
Not even when she transmigrated into this ridiculous otome game.
Tonight had reminded her, very clearly—
This world isn't a joke.
This body isn't a costume I can take off.
Her heart beat faster as the image of Professor Ashford surged into her mind. The way he moved. The way he stood between her and danger. The calm, the power in his magic, the warmth in his voice when he asked:
"Are you hurt?"
And then…
She cried. In front of him.
Not just cried—collapsed into him like a freaking damsel from a fantasy novel.
Lilia groaned into her blanket. "Uuuuugh…"
What the hell is wrong with me?
But even now, the memory of his hand resting on her back, of his warmth, was burned into her chest like a strange kind of comfort.
It was embarrassing.
Uncomfortable.
But… not entirely unwelcome.
"…He saved me," she whispered aloud.
Her voice cracked in the quiet of the room.
She closed her eyes, lips pressed into a thin line.
You were useless today. And he had to clean up after you. If you're going to survive in this world, you need to stop being dead weight, Lilia. You need to stop thinking like a guy playing a dumb game. This is your life now. Deal with it.
She turned her face into the pillow again.
Why does everything in this world shine so bright and still feel so dangerous?
She wanted to scream into the pillow. Not because of what happened. But because of how she reacted. Because of how she felt.
Still… thank you, Professor