***
Tiiiingg, Tinnn—
The alarm bell barely made it through its second ring before a petite hand silenced it with a swift tap.
Seraphine groggily sat up, blinking at the glowing numbers on her bedside clock.
5:01 AM.
She was never a morning person.
So why the hell was she doing this to herself?
Anyone who had been observing her for the last few months would know the answer.
There was only one person who could push her to do things outside her comfort zone.
And this time was no different.
She was forsaking sweet, blissful sleep for him.
Throwing on her clothes, she stepped out into the early morning chill, making her way toward the academy hospital. But no matter how much she tried to shake herself fully awake, her mind kept drifting back to yesterday… back to him.
Ashen.
Images flashed in her head… him decimating the beasts that would have killed them otherwise, tearing through them like a storm.
And her…
She had just watched.
Useless…. Helpless… Standing on the sidelines while he wrecked his entire body to protect them.
Seraphine clenched her fists, her usual cheery demeanor clouded by frustration.
She had acted fine when she saw him yesterday. She had smiled, joked even.
But inside?
She was far from fine.
And that's why she was here now, when everyone else was still fast asleep, to do what little she could.
Slipping into his hospital room, she tiptoed to his bedside.
Her fingers moved instinctively, tracing along his cheek, her touch, featherlight.
For a moment, she just looked at him.
The rise and fall of his chest. The peacefulness of his sleeping face.
It was rare to see him so still. So… calm.
Her thoughts drifted, and she felt herself sinking into them—
Then she shook her head.
Focus. Today, you came here to heal your man.
'No distractions. No getting lost in those kinds of thoughts. Begone, lustful impulses!'
With renewed determination, she activated Soothing Touch, channeling her mana to her fingertips.
Bit by bit, she repeated the motions now etched into muscle memory, each step far smoother than the first time she had tried this skill on him.
The system had even deemed it worthy of the Basic Stage now.
Pale blue light shimmered across his skin.
She poured everything she had into it, even as her mana reserves scraped dangerously close to empty.
Once drained, she sat beside him, shifting into her breathing technique to accelerate her regeneration.
Thirty minutes later, she was at it again.
She knew this wouldn't do much; not with how severe his injuries were and how pathetically low her skill level still was.
But doing nothing? That wasn't an option.
At the very least, this would help level up the skill. Small victories, right?
As she worked, Ashen suddenly stirred.
His eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep and disorientation.
For a second, he just lay there, looking like a man who had been hit by a truck loaded with bad news.
Then his vision cleared—
And the first thing he saw was her.
Messy golden hair cascading around her face, the kind of bedhead that looked effortlessly sexy, whether fresh from sleep or fresh from a bar fight.
She hovered over him, an unreadable mix of concern and amusement in her eyes.
His body ached like hell. His muscles felt like they had been put through a medieval torture rack. The sterile hospital air reeked of bleach and depression.
But right now, she was the only thing making this waking nightmare bearable.
Like a guardian angel showing up late for her shift at Valhalla.
He tried to coax out a greeting—maybe a "hey" or a "morning"—but his throat felt like the goddamn Sahara.
Seraphine smirked, casually tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear like she was starring in a shampoo commercial.
"You look like shit," she quipped.
Ah. So this was what they meant by love's honesty.
In retrospect, after getting the little brother treatment from none other than his future self, he probably did look like he had eaten shit.
Just as Ashen was about to sink into full-on brooding mode, his mind still tangled in the nightmare-fueled mess of his dreamscape, Seraphine yanked him out of it in the most unexpected way.
Her expression turned into pure horror.
Wide, panicked eyes. Lips parting like she'd just realized she kicked a puppy by accident. She froze mid-breath, hand flying to her mouth, and then—
"Oh shit—wait! No, not like shit shit, I mean—"
She was flailing now, scrambling to undo the damage while her cheeks flushed pink.
"You know, I meant you look like you've been through shit! Like… a warrior! A tired, handsome warrior who's fought valiantly against… life! And I adore you."
Her hands shot out, brushing his hair back like that would somehow fix the train wreck of a sentence she just spat out.
And then she doubled down.
"Seriously, you're pulling off the whole 'near-death chic' vibe—very badass, very sexy. I'm into it."
She was bullshitting so hard he could practically hear the gears grinding in her head. But honestly?
He was too busy smirking to call her out on it.
And speaking of calling things out—
'How do women always think they can smooth-talk their way out of anything?'
One second, they're roasting you alive, the next they're batting their lashes like, "Nooo, I meant it in a good way!" Meanwhile, guys just grunt and take it—because, let's be honest, most of the time, we really do look like shit.
Still, as amusing as it was watching her self-destruct, Ashen had to snap out of his mental rant before she got even louder and accidentally woke Braun, who was snoring like a dying motor just a few feet away.
He sighed.
"...I know how shitty I look, no need to fret your little head over it." His lips twitched. "As for you being here… can I take it as my personal nurse is back?"
Seraphine took a deep breath, composing herself, before flashing him a playful grin.
"Yep! I heard someone got completely wrecked, so I had no choice but to don the outfit and return to my old role as your nurse."
She winked. "So, do you feel any better, my special case?"
Truth be told, Ashen did feel better than yesterday. He could move his face now without feeling like his skin was trying to peel itself off, and talking wasn't an act of masochism anymore.
But still…
He shot her an innocent look.
"Hmmm, I think I need some of that special medicine… Cuddles."
Pausing for effect, he added, "Doc's orders. Don't blame me."
Seraphine raised an eyebrow, amused.
Then, without hesitation, she slipped under the sheets, settling in beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Well, I guess I have no choice but to administer a dose now…"
With slow, careful movements, she leaned in, mindful of his injuries, before gently tracing her fingers along his face.
A familiar warmth spread through his body as Soothing Touch activated once more.
And just like that, the dull, gnawing pain that had become his constant companion eased.
Jokes aside, Ashen was immensely grateful for Seraphine's presence right now.
She was grounding him, keeping his mind from spiraling into the abyss after the earth-shattering discoveries he had just made.
He should probably tell her that.
He really should.
His mother always said that gratitude should be voiced, after all.
But damn it, he was a little too shy to say it outright.
For a moment, he had to question his own mental age.
But hey, it is what it is.
Even grown-ups have the right to be a little shy sometimes, right?