Chapter 20 - Lively
Lyra was energetic beyond all human reason. I swear, she had tagged me at least ten times already. Ten times. And she wasn't slowing down at all despite wearing that darn dress on, her legs moving like pistons as she kicked up small tufts of dirt and grass. Unable to take another step, I collapsed onto the lawn, arms sprawled out wide like a defeated soldier left on the battlefield. My chest heaved violently as I gasped for air, the taste of copper and dry summer dirt coating the back of my throat.
"T-time out!" I shouted, hoisting one trembling hand into the air in a gesture of pure surrender. My breath was ragged, hot, and agonizingly short. My limbs felt as though they had completely turned to jelly, trembling from the sudden, unprompted exertion.
But it wasn't just Lyra who had pushed me to my limit. Onnie had completely caught me off guard. I honestly didn't think she would be that fast, but she had kept pace with the group the entire time, even effortlessly outrunning me during the last loop around the well. That realization stung a little more than I cared to admit. Not gonna lie, I was deeply embarrassed. I was supposed to have the mental fortitude of an adult, yet here I was, getting out-maneuvered and out-paced by actual children.
A young boy from the neighborhood skidded to a halt near my head, kicking a few loose blades of grass onto my face. He looked down at me, his brow furrowed in utter confusion. "What's a timeout?"
I lifted my head just an inch, still desperately trying to catch my breath. "What it means... is that I'm out. For now. Just taking a break. You all are way too fast," I muttered, flashing him a profoundly tired, defeated look.
"But you're it!" one of the girls shouted from a few feet away, throwing her arms up in immediate protest. "That's not fair! You can't just stop!"
I narrowed my eyes at the dark sky and let out a long, deeply dramatic sigh that drained whatever remaining air I had left in my lungs. "You know what? I quit."
A quiet murmur passed through the small group of children. They looked around at one another, eyebrows raised, silently communicating their disappointment. Yet, nobody really protested. They just kind of accepted it, probably even expected it from me at this point, offering nothing more than a collective shrug before turning their attention back to the open field.
Then, Onnie slowly raised her hand. "I... I quit as well," she said softly. Her voice was incredibly quiet, almost entirely swallowed by the evening wind.
Lyra perked up instantly, her sharp eyes locking onto her. She turned on her heel and jogged over, her blue hair bouncing with every step. "Oh, come on, Onnie!" she groaned, placing her hands on her hips. "You can't quit too! If one or two people quit, then the whole game gets all boring!"
Onnie froze. Her shoulders rose sharply, and her small fingers began to fidget against each other, twisting the fabric of her shirt. She looked entirely cornered, completely unsure of how to navigate the sudden social pressure. She cast a fleeting, helpless glance in my general direction.
"I... I guess I could stay for a little while longer," she whispered, her voice hesitant but entirely sincere. She didn't want to disappoint anyone.
"That's the spirit!" Lyra beamed, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile as she gave Onnie a surprisingly firm, encouraging slap on the back. "Let's go again! I'll be it this time!"
Lyra turned away and yelled a fierce warning at the rest of the kids. In an instant, they all scattered across the yard like a flock of startled birds. Lyra took off after them, a wild, competitive grin plastered across her face.
Onnie lingered in place for just a fleeting moment. Her head was angled slightly in my direction. Her eyes were closed, as they always were, yet I could somehow tell she was looking right at me. Or, at the very least, she was trying to. Her face was painted with a deeply apologetic expression, a silent message telling me she was incredibly sorry for leaving me behind to suffer in the grass alone. Then, she turned around and ran after the others, her long black hair bouncing gracefully behind her.
I watched her retreating figure go. My head dropped back into the grass with a soft, heavy thud.
Lyra had stolen my one and only friend. Just like that. Unbelievable.
Still, as I lay there staring at the sky, I couldn't even bring myself to blame Onnie. Peer pressure is an incredibly brutal thing, especially at her age. You get pulled into the heat of the moment, the laughter and the noise wash over you, and before you even realize what's happening, you're doing exactly what everyone else is doing, whether you actually want to or not.
Soaked through with sweat, my damp shirt clinging uncomfortably to my back, I dragged myself up from the lawn and stumbled inside the house. The cool, shaded air of the interior greeted me like a long-lost friend, instantly soothing my overheated skin. I peeled off the sticky, dirty clothes and swapped them out for a fresh, dry tunic. After thoroughly washing the grime from my hands and splashing icy water over my face to clear the fog from my brain, I headed up to the second floor.
I passed my bedroom and paused by the hallway window. Down in the backyard, the game was still going strong. The kids ran in wide, frantic loops around the open space, their distant laughter and playful yelling echoing through the glass. A few adults stood near the edge of the property, chatting among themselves with light smiles and easy, relaxed voices.
I sighed softly, shaking my head at the sight, and turned away.
I walked into the study room, which sat just across the hallway from my bedroom. The space was beautifully quiet, completely filled with the faint, comforting scent of old paper, ink, and fresh wood polish. This was the sanctuary where Mother, Lyra, and I usually spent our quiet mornings reading through texts or practicing our lessons. I crossed the floor and walked over to the wide window at the far end of the room.
From this vantage point, I had a perfect view of the front yard. Most of the village adults had gathered there, talking and laughing in small, close-knit groups. Mother and Father stood right at the center of the gathering, deeply engaged in cheerful, animated conversation with their peers. To the left, several long wooden tables had been arranged and piled high with platters of roasted meats, fresh bread, and autumn vegetables. The whole setup was simple, humble, and incredibly warm; the exact kind of rural celebration that didn't need to be flashy to feel entirely full.
Beyond the edge of our property, the horizon stretched out into infinity, showcasing the scattered, thatched roofs of our quiet village. Small lanterns were beginning to flicker to life along rooftops and porches as the sky deepened from a faint dark orange into a dark black sky. The dirt path leading out into the wild lands was slowly being swallowed by the gathering shadows of night. Nothing seemed out of place. The world was at perfect peace.
And yet, there I was. Alone again.
Alone.. with my thoughts.
Not that it was an unusual state of being for me. I had spent the vast majority of my existence living exactly like this. Dark rooms, quiet corners, nobody knocking on the door. Over the years, I had gotten entirely used to the silence. I had embraced it, protected it, even preferred it at times.
But every now and then, the silence gave far too much room for unwanted thoughts to crawl back in.
I leaned heavily against the windowsill, resting my forearms against the cool wood. My eyes traced the fading line of the horizon once more. In moments like this, the weight of my past life felt suffocating. I missed technology. I missed the comforting glow of screens, the ambient hum of electric lights, the safety of headphones, and the infinite web of the internet. I missed air conditioning. God, I missed air conditioning so much it felt like a physical ache in my chest.
If I had only studied engineering or computer software instead of chemistry, maybe I could be doing something useful about it now. Maybe I could have figured out a mechanical way to bring even a basic form of technology back into this new life.
But I hadn't. I had made plenty of wrong choices.
Ughhhhhh... Fuck.
A bitter, hollow chuckle escaped my throat as I hung my head, staring down at my shoes. My past life had been nothing more than a consecutive sequence of bad decisions, one right after the other. Just a long, deeply depressing line of personal failures strung together by fragile threads of wishful thinking. I slapped a palm firmly against my forehead, the sting of the impact doing nothing to wash away the sudden rush of shameful memories. All the things I could have done differently.
Even though my dream jobs had been taken by other people, by other races who were inherently better, faster, and smarter than me, I could have just pushed through. I could have refused to give up, and maybe, just maybe, my dream of becoming a true chemist could have been fulfilled. But I didn't. I just gave up when the road got rough, threw my hands in the air, and became a total loser.
"Ugh... Paul, you absolute idiot," I muttered to the empty room, dragging my hand slowly down my face.
When you find yourself completely alone at a party like this, surrounded by immense joy but entirely removed from it, your brain starts to overthink. You start remembering every single detail you wish you could permanently forget. And no matter how much you try to distract yourself, the regret always creeps back in through the cracks. I groaned aloud, gently knocking my forehead against the windowsill. The wood was cold against my skin, grounding me just enough to keep my mind from spiraling entirely out of control.
Then, I heard it. A voice, faint but remarkably clear, rising up from the front steps of the house.
"Kyro!"
My eyes widened in surprise. I quickly looked down through the glass of the window.
It was Onnie.
She was standing just outside the front door, her long black hair softly reflecting the warm lantern light from the porch. Her hands were clasped politely in front of her dress, her posture radiating a quiet, gentle nervousness.
"Onnie?" I blinked, completely stunned.
She tilted her face upward, catching the sound of the window frame. She smiled softly. "Can I come in?" she called out, her voice gentle but certain.
I stammered, caught completely off guard by her sudden appearance. "Uh... Y-yeah! Sure! Come on up!"
I backed away from the window in a frantic rush, my hip nearly knocking over the small wooden reading table behind me. My heart was pounding rapidly against my ribs, not from embarrassment this time, but from the sheer surprise that she had actually gone out of her way to look for me. Just a few minutes ago, I had been wallowing in a pit of self-pity and dark memories. Now, those thoughts vanished like smoke caught in a sudden wind.
I sprinted out of the study room and moved quickly down the hallway, eager to greet her at the entrance. But by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the living room, she was already inside. She stood quietly near the rug, looking like a polite guest who wasn't entirely sure if she was actually welcome yet.
"Welcome to my humble abode!" I announced loudly, puffing out my chest and throwing my arms wide like some kind of grand, theatrical host. My tone was entirely playful, a bit dramatic, though I knew deep down I wasn't fooling her for a single second.
She tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes still shut in that serene, unbothered way of hers. She scanned the room using her unique senses, completely bypassing the need for physical sight to take in the layout of her surroundings.
"You live in a cute house," she said, her voice soft, sweet, and entirely genuine.
"Cute?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. I smirked back, "Thanks."
I then paused.
"I thought you'd still be playing tag with Lyra and her whole crew out back," I said, scratching the back of my cheek awkwardly.
"Mmm... I kinda just slipped away when they weren't looking," she replied with a small, innocent shrug of her shoulders.
For a long moment, we simply stood there in the center of the room, looking at each other. Then, as if on some unspoken cue, we both broke into a quiet chuckle at the exact same time. The laughter was light, easy, and surprisingly comfortable, washing away the last remnants of my earlier isolation.
Before I could say another word, the front door creaked open again. This time, it was my mother. Reyna stepped into the living room carrying a high stack of empty porcelain dishes from the party outside. Her sharp eyes scanned the space, landing directly on the two of us.
"Oh, hello, Onnie. Kyro," she greeted us warmly, raising a single eyebrow in quiet amusement.
"H-hello, Kyro's mother," Onnie said quickly, offering a polite, hurried bow as her entire demeanor turned shy in an instant.
"Hi, Mom. Let me help you with those," I offered, taking a step toward the heavy stack.
"No, no, I've got it, sweetie," she said, already breezing past us toward the kitchen. I followed her with my eyes as she carefully deposited the plates into the large stone sink with a soft clatter. She thoroughly wiped her hands dry with a cloth tucked into her apron strings and walked back out to the living room.
She looked at Onnie once more, and a knowing, incredibly mischievous smirk slowly crept across her lips. "Are you enjoying the party, Onnie?" she asked, her voice dripping with warmth.
"Y-yes, ma'am," Onnie replied instantly, bowing her head just a little bit lower to hide her face.
"My name is Reyna. You really don't have to call me ma'am," my mother said with a soft laugh. "Feel free to explore the house if you'd like, you two. Just make sure you don't go into my bedroom," she added, her voice turning playful as she shot me a blatant, dramatic wink.
I simply shrugged, entirely used to her antics by now.
She gave another soft laugh and waved her hand to dismiss us. "Alright. Enjoy yourselves, you two."
After she returned to the front yard, Onnie and I exchanged a quick glance before breaking into matching smiles. Whatever lingering tension remained in the air completely dissolved.
"Come, let me guide you in! I'll show you the best spot for tonight!" I gestured her to come in.
She nodded, smiling.
Later that night, we found ourselves up on the roof. We lay flat on our backs against the warm wooden tiles, listening to the night breeze as it drifted gently over the apex of the house. The stars above were clearer, brighter, and more magnificent than anything I had ever witnessed back in my old life. There were no city lights to drown them out, no thick layers of smog to choke the sky. There was only an endless, brilliant cluster of silver diamonds scattered carelessly across a massive canvas of deep indigo.
I lay with my hands tucked comfortably behind my head. Onnie rested right beside me, her eyes closed as always, facing upward as if she were gazing directly at the stars with me. Of course, I knew she couldn't actually see them. Her mana sense was incredibly advanced and could extend far beyond the average person's, but it wasn't powerful enough to touch the heavens. Maybe she could detect a stray flock of birds flying overhead in the dark, or feel the heavy outline of the clouds if she really wanted to, but space? Space was far too distant. Her mana would burn out entirely long before reaching anywhere near the upper edge of the atmosphere.
Still, she made the effort to face the sky, as if she could picture it based on my words alone.
"That one right over there is shining real bright," I murmured, extending an arm and pointing directly upward. I saw her head tilt slightly, her acute senses following the sharp movement of my sleeve.
I pointed again, this time shifting my finger far to the left. "And over there. Another deeply glowing star."
"Woah..." she breathed, her voice filled with a quiet, childlike wonder.
"And look! A comet!" I raised my arm high into the air, tracing the faint, beautiful trail of stardust it left behind in the night sky. Her face turned along with my hand, her ears catching the sudden spark of genuine excitement in my voice.
"That's so cool," she whispered softly.
We fell entirely quiet after that, listening to the hum of distant laughter rising from the backyard and the gentle, rhythmic rustle of the wind through the nearby trees. The stars continued to twinkle above us like tiny, ancient spirits.
Then, she broke the silence. "I read about the stars in an old book once. It said they are the loyal servants of the gods, placed carefully in the sky to watch over all of us from the heavens."
I chuckled softly under my breath. Of course a book in this world would say something like that. This realm was deeply rooted in its myths, legends, and romantic, mystical explanations for everything, explanations that my scientifically trained mind couldn't help but gently poke holes through.
"Mmm... not exactly," I replied, turning my head to look at her profile. "Stars are actually massive celestial bodies made entirely of gas. Mostly hydrogen. They float around out there in the emptiness of space, and deep inside them, a powerful process called nuclear fusion takes place. That's where hydrogen atoms fuse together to become helium, and that constant fusion releases an unimaginable amount of energy. That energy is what makes them glow so brightly."
She turned her head sharply toward me, her closed eyes conveying a profound sense of surprise even without visible pupils.
But I didn't stop. I was already rambling without me noticing.
"Stars are absolutely essential for life. Without them, the entire universe would be nothing more than a cold, empty, dead place. And just like all living things, stars eventually die too. Some of them shrink down over time into something called white dwarfs. Others explode in a massive flash of light and collapse into black holes."
I glanced over to see if she was even able to follow the heavy concepts.
"Our sun is a star, too," I added softly.
There was a long, heavy pause. Onnie was staring directly at me, or at least facing me, with a completely stunned expression. Her mouth was slightly open, her dark brows lifted high up on her forehead. "The sun... is just a star?" she asked slowly, as if her brain were working overtime to process the massive weight of the words.
We remained silent for a moment before I awkwardly scratched the back of my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Sorry. I guess I went a bit overboard with the explanation."
"No, no," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm actually really curious about it. Could you... could you explain more to me?"
I blinked, genuinely surprised. Most people back in my old life would have completely tuned out halfway through a lecture like that, but she looked entirely fascinated. She even scooted a little bit closer to me across the roof tiles, eager to catch every single word.
Huh. She really was something else.
She was smart, incredibly curious, and always paying absolute attention to the world around her. It wasn't just the mature way she carried herself, or how remarkably quickly she picked up on complex games like chess or strategy; it was the simple fact that she always wanted to learn more. Even if she couldn't physically see the world, she possessed a burning desire to truly understand it.
She was like me. For real, for real.
***
Meanwhile, down by the wooden perimeter fence in the front yard, a hearty rumble of laughter erupted from a group of local farmers. There were about nine of them gathered together in a loose circle, including Thorskil and Saul. The thick, savory scent of grilled meat lingered heavily in the air, carried along by the soft evening breeze. Out in the dark fields beyond the property, hundreds of fireflies had begun to flicker to life, their tiny green lights dancing gracefully between the growing shadows.
"You've got a remarkably fine swordsman on your hands, Thorskil," one of the older farmers said, flashing a wide, toothy grin. "She really is your child through and through."
"After all, she is your daughter," an off-duty village guard added, raising his heavy wooden mug in a respectful toast. "It's only natural she'd turn out to be a natural powerhouse like that."
Thorskil smiled warmly, a deep sense of paternal pride settling comfortably into his chest. "Indeed she is. She makes me incredibly proud every single day."
The men nodded along, some chuckling into their drinks, others murmuring in quiet agreement. For a brief moment, the lively conversation lulled, the silence filled only by the rhythmic crackle of the nearby firewood and the distant, fading laughter of the children playing in the yard.
Then, Jyroh, the village captain, spoke up.
"So," he said casually, taking a slow sip from his mug before nudging Thorskil firmly with his elbow, "how is your boy doing? I'm guessing he'll grow up swinging a heavy broadsword just like his old man, aye?"
Thorskil let out a hearty, booming laugh at the suggestion. "Oh, he's doing just fine. Though I don't think the path of the sword is within his talents. It's simply not his destiny."
Jyroh raised a thick eyebrow, his interest immediately piqued. "Oh? Is that so?"
"Magic," Saul stated without a single shred of hesitation from his spot right beside Thorskil. "He is far better suited for that than he ever will be for sword fighting."
A farmer holding a large mug of beer let out a surprised, whistling sound. "Ah, well that certainly explains it. He helped me out once, you know. Watered my entire eastern crop line when the main well ran completely dry. Didn't even utter a single complaint about the hard work. Truly a remarkable young lad."
"Is that so?" Jyroh hummed thoughtfully, slowly stroking the coarse hair of his chin. "Displaying magic at that young of an age. That's certainly not something you hear about every day."
Thorskil's warm smile remained intact, though his eyes drifted briefly away from the fire, focusing instead on the darker, unlit edge of the village where the lantern light finally thinned out and the dirt road disappeared into pitch black shadow.
Jyroh noticed the sudden shift in his friend's gaze immediately.
"...Speaking of which," the captain said, lowering his voice to a quiet, serious register, "there is something important I should mention to you both. Not to dampen the festive mood, of course."
Thorskil picked up on the change in tone instantly. His proud smile faded, his posture straightening. "What is it, Jyroh?"
"Bandits," Jyroh said flatly. "My scouts spotted fresh traces on the outer ring roads earlier this morning. Clear tracks. Leftover campfire remains. They've been seen lurking around the perimeter more than once now."
Saul straightened up as well, his easygoing expression instantly replaced by the cold look of a seasoned fighter. "Have there been any coordinated attacks?"
"None," Jyroh replied, shaking his head. "That's exactly what's so strange about it. They don't approach. They simply watch us from a distance."
Thorskil frowned deeply, his gaze anchoring onto the darkened road far beyond the safety of the porch lights. "Like they're testing the waters."
"That was my exact thought," Jyroh said grimly. "They know this village isn't entirely helpless. Still, I wanted you to hear the news directly from me before rumors start flying."
A quiet, heavy moment passed between the men, the crackle of the burning firewood filling the sudden void.
"They won't try anything reckless," Thorskil said at last, his voice steady and calm. "Not while they remain unsure of our numbers."
"And if they do decide to raid?" Saul asked, his eyes narrowing.
Thorskil's eyes hardened into flint, just for a single, terrifying heartbeat. "Then they will deeply regret choosing the wrong village to target."
Jyroh watched the legendary warrior for a quiet moment, then let out a long breath and lifted his mug once more. "Well. We'll keep the guard patrols steady and doubled through the night. No need to stir up unnecessary worry on a day like today."
Thorskil nodded slowly, the extreme tension draining from his broad shoulders as he forced himself to look back toward the warmth of the celebration. "Good. Today is meant for Lyra."
Jyroh grinned widely. "Right you are, my friend."
Saul raised his mug into the air, and the other farmers quickly followed suit, raising their drinks high. Thorskil laughed, his natural warmth returning in full force as he clinked his mug against theirs. "To family."
--Kyro--
On the rooftop, the quiet conversation continued.
"Oh...!"
Onnie listened with rapt attention as I thoroughly explained the concept of space, pulling together every single scrap of astronomical information I could still remember from my university days. We remained comfortably seated on the roof of the house as the night stretched on, the passage of time entirely forgotten. Stars shimmered brilliantly across the vast expanse of the dark sky, countless pinpricks of pure light scattered like spilled silver. Below us, the party was still alive with distant laughter and chatter, but it felt incredibly far away now, entirely muffled by the height. Up here, away from the chaos, being alone with someone I genuinely liked spending time with felt infinitely better.
"You're telling me... the stars stretch very, very, very far?" Onnie asked. Her voice carried a sense of pure, unadulterated disbelief, the clear kind that made it obvious her mind was working at maximum capacity to visualize the scale.
I nodded my head without a single shred of hesitation. "Yup. Exactly."
"How far is far?" she pressed, tilting her face closer to me.
I stared up at the vast sky, desperately searching my brain for the right words to describe infinity to a child. "Okay... imagine walking. You start walking today, and you keep going every single day, never stopping for a break. You don't get tired, and you don't grow old. Even under those perfect conditions, you would still never, ever reach the end."
Her small fingers curled slightly, gripping the edges of the roof tiles beneath her. "So... there is no edge at all?"
"Not one that we know of," I replied softly. "Space just keeps going forever. And those stars up there? They aren't close to us at all, Onnie. Some of them are so incredibly far away that the light we are seeing right now tonight started traveling long before our village was even founded."
Her lips parted a little in realization. "Like... we are looking at the past?"
I looked over at her, a bit stunned.
She had pieced that massive concept together entirely on her own. Usually, back in my world, I would have had to thoroughly explain that light travels at a specific speed from a source before it hits your eyes. It was genuinely impressive how quickly her mind worked to figure that out.
"Exactly," I said, a proud smile spreading across my face. "Some of those stars might have already changed, or even entirely disappeared by now. Their light just hasn't finished the long journey to our eyes yet."
Onnie went quiet. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but a deeply thoughtful one.
I pointed upward into the dark again. "And they aren't small, either. Each one is absolutely massive. There are stars out there so incredibly huge they could swallow our entire sun whole." I had to admit to myself, I knew very little about actual constellations, just the basic scientific stuff I had casually come across regarding astronomy.
Her head turned sharply toward me, and she let out a soft, breathy laugh that was equal parts shock and total amazement. "That... that sounds entirely unreal."
"It kind of is," I admitted honestly.
The cool evening breeze drifted past our faces, carrying the faint scent of cooked meats and distant woodsmoke from the party below. Laughter echoed from the yard, softened and made beautiful by the distance. Onnie suddenly hugged her arms tightly around herself, as if the night had suddenly grown much colder.
"If what you say is true..." she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper, "then the stars in the sky must have felt so incredibly lonely."
I blinked. That was absolutely not the response I had been expecting from a science lesson.
"Lonely?" I repeated, turning to face her fully.
She nodded her head slowly. "They shine so far away from everything else. They don't know who is actually looking at them down here. Or if anyone will even remember them after their light finally stops shining."
For a fleeting moment, I completely forgot that she was a child. The words felt far too heavy, far too profound. It felt as though she had accidentally brushed against something raw and deeply personal inside me without even realizing it. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. I honestly did not know what to say to that. So, I stayed entirely quiet. I turned my eyes back toward the endless sky, letting the silence stretch out over the roof. My thoughts began to drift to a place they had absolutely no right to go.
Then, completely randomly, a painful thought crossed my mind.
I wonder how my mother is doing.
Not Reyna. Not this new life. My real mother from Earth. My birth mom. Did she cry when the news of my death finally came? Did she sit completely alone in her quiet room, staring at nothing for days on end? Or did she constantly blame herself for things she could never have possibly changed?
I swallowed hard against a sudden lump in my throat.
She is probably crying like a river right now. Or worse, blaming herself for my failures.
"So this is where you guys are hiding!"
The sudden, loud voice snapped through my melancholy thoughts like a violent whip. I whipped my head up and saw Lyra standing over us on the crest of the roof. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, and she wore a smug, knowing little grin that told me she had definitely been standing there listening to us for at least a few seconds. Her unmistakable blue hair shifted in the wind.
"Lyra?" I said, trying to steady my voice. "What are you doing up here?"
She looked up at the sky for a brief moment, squinting hard at the stars, then turned her sharp eyes back down to the two of us. "What are you doing up here?" she countered. "Watching stars? How is that any fun?"
Onnie shifted slightly on the tiles and spoke up, her voice instantly returning to its gentle tone. "D-do you want to join us, Lyra?"
Lyra looked at her, then offered a casual shrug. "Eh. Why not."
She walked over and dropped down heavily right beside Onnie, lying flat on her back as if she owned the entire roof.
"Are you completely done playing with your friends down there?" I asked, keeping my eyes firmly locked onto the sky to avoid showing any emotion.
Lyra scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes. She turned her head, looking past Onnie's shoulder and straight at me. "The boys down there kept saying they want to marry me in the future."
I grinned, the dark mood instantly breaking. "Let me guess. You told them hel—"
"HELL NO!" she cut in instantly, her voice echoing over the yard.
I burst out laughing. Figures. That was classic Lyra.
"They might be your friends," I said with a smirk, "but they're still boys. Of course they'd want a girl like you. Especially someone who can swing a sword."
She hummed thoughtfully, considering the logic for a second. "Mmm. I guess that makes sense."
Then, she crossed her arms comfortably behind her head. "But I don't care about any of that. I'm absolutely not marrying anyone until I'm at least forty."
I stared up at the stars, silently face-palming in my mind.
That is absolutely not how that works, Lyra. Very unlikely to happen in your case, at least.
Onnie let out a small, immensely amused giggle from her spot in the middle.
Lyra turned her head slightly, still pretending to stare up at the sky, but her sharp eyes slid sideways toward me. A slow, incredibly sinister, knowing smirk began to spread across her face. "So," she said casually, her tone dripping with mock innocence, "what about you, Kyro? Are you planning on marrying Onnie?"
Onnie let out a small, amused giggle beside her.
Lyra turned her head slightly, still staring up at the sky, but her eyes slid toward me. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face. "So," she said casually, "what about you, Kyro? You planning on marrying Onnie?"
I completely choked on my own saliva. I shot upright into a sitting position so fast I nearly lost my footing and slid right off the roof tiles. "LYRA!"
I whipped my head toward Onnie just in time to see her completely covering her burning face with both hands, her ears turning a deep, vivid shade of red. I sat there, entirely speechless, my brain short-circuiting.
"What?" Lyra asked, her expression a picture of pure innocence, though the massive grin on her face completely betrayed her. "Isn't that the whole reason why you hang out with her way more than any of the other kids in the village?" She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with chaotic sibling energy. "You like her, don't you?"
Her smile turned downright evil.
My right eye twitched violently. "Lyra, will you shut the f—"
"I-I'm not ready for that sort of thing!" Onnie blurted out suddenly, her voice remarkably loud and entirely panicked. Her face was now fully red enough to rival the glowing lanterns down on the porch.
There was a sudden, absolute beat of silence on the roof.
Then, Lyra completely burst out laughing. "HAHAHAHA!"
She rolled around on the wooden tiles, clutching her stomach tightly like she had just heard the single greatest joke in the history of the world.
"Quit it, Lyra," I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. "It's not funny at all."
I slumped heavily back down onto the roof tiles, staring back up at the stars, desperately pretending that my dignity had not just been publicly executed in front of my only friend. Onnie slowly, cautiously lowered her hands from her face. She peeked over at me for a fraction of a second before quickly turning her face back toward the safety of the sky, her cheeks still glowing a brilliant crimson.
The sound of Lyra's chaotic laughter continued to echo through the night, while the ancient stars above remained entirely unmoved, shining down on the three of us until we eventually, accidentally, fell fast asleep together under the open sky.
[End]