[POV: Luki]
Things started getting out of hand as soon as I finished drinking the tea.
— You like it? — Lyu asked, with that neutral tone that could be either sincere or a thinly veiled threat.
— Uh... good. — I answered, still trying to pinpoint the exact taste.
It was like a mix of mint and ginger... and something bitter. Like medicine.
Before I could ask what it was, which I probably wouldn't manage anyway, Syr appeared at my side with a cloth.
— Your face still has marks, let me clean it. — And without waiting for an answer, she was already holding my chin gently, like she was taking care of a child.
— Syr-san, I can...
— Shhh. — She smiled. — Today you won't lift a finger. Also... — she turned and shouted: — Lyu-san, bring another pillow for Luki!
— It's not necessary — Lyu replied, coming down the stairs with a pillow in her hands. — I was going to do that anyway.
— (And I said I can take care of myself, come on...) — I murmured in Portuguese. They heard, didn't understand. But even if they did, I doubt they'd care.
It was like talking to the walls. Or worse: to walls that pamper you and then compete over who pampers you more.
How and why this is happening, I honestly don't know.
At first, you could even think it was just kindness. After all, I'm all patched up. In my past life, when I broke my leg, the same thing happened, too many people wanting to help, as if a tea or an extra pillow would heal the bone.
But after I don't know how many hours... and them still this intense? Something fucked up is going on here.
It's not like I'm some brooding anime protagonist who doesn't notice when someone likes him. I notice. I just don't accept it.
Syr, for example. Or rather... Freya. It's almost certain she's the one running things now, playing house with me. With her "future husband."
Tch. As if.
Lyu is a different story. I could say she's in love with me and is showing affection. I could. But believing that...?
No.
Lyu isn't like the other women. Reserved. Wounded. Cautious. She has scars inside that most people wouldn't notice. And she was one of the few who didn't fall for Bell, the harem/ecchi protagonist.
So... why would she be interested in me?
Freya wants me because she sees something in my soul. Hestia loves me because we've shared everything since the beginning. But Lyu... what? Because I'm also an elf?
It doesn't make sense.
I really wanted to just ask why the hell they were doing this.
You know what? I'll ask.
— Why...?
Just that. A simple, direct "why." More than that and I'd probably trip over my words.
They stopped for an instant, as if trying to decipher what I meant. It wasn't hard. In a few seconds, the answer came.
— Why am I doing this? Well, it's obvious: because Luki-sama is special to me — Syr replied, her cheeks flushing, as if embarrassed.
Bare-faced lie. But convincing. Which makes it worse.
Lyu, on the other hand, didn't even bother to answer. She just stayed silent, doing what she was doing, though her eyes didn't leave me for a second.
Of course it didn't work. Why would it?
You know what? Enough. I'm tired of trying to understand. If they want to play "Young Master's servant," who am I to refuse?
I finally let myself sink into the couch, ready to relax... but then I felt it.
A chill down my spine. Like someone was watching me.
Before I could move or look around, the world became noise.
— LUKIIIIIIII-KUUUNNN!!!
— Gah?! — I grunted, when a very familiar human torpedo collided with me full force.
I felt the impact directly in my chest and the air left my lungs. If I hadn't been sitting, I'd have certainly flown through the wall.
Hestia.
Of course it was her.
— You... — I started, still trying to catch my breath. — arE kiLLing me...
— I should! — Hestia growled, burying her face into my chest like it was a pillow. — But someone already tried to do that for me.
I stood there, unsure whether to hug back or protect myself. She was hot. Literally, she seemed to have just boiled.
— Hestia, are you okay...?
— No. — she answered, curt and coarse. — But it will be. Everything will be fine, I promise. — she murmured the last part in a way I couldn't make out.
Before I could ask what she meant by that, she turned, still half clinging to me, and cast a scathing look at the two figures nearby.
Syr smiled with pure innocence, as if she hadn't done anything wrong in her whole life.
Lyu simply kept collecting the tea tray as if nothing interesting were happening.
— And you two. — Hestia began, her voice already rising. — Don't you have anything better to do?! Work's over, you know?!
Syr blinked, confused — or pretending to be.
— Well, I was just taking care of him with affection... wouldn't you want him to feel less alone, Hestia-san?
— He wasn't alone! I was... emotionally present!
— Ah... I see. — Syr took a delicate step aside, hands clasped with a gentle smile. — So now that you're here, he's in good hands, right?
That was too sweet to be genuine. Which only made Héstia even angrier.
Lyu, meanwhile, just turned toward the stairs.
— I'm going to do the dishes.
— Sure, go wash something then! — Hestia snapped, but Lyu was already out of reach and, very likely, ignoring it completely.
Syr, on the other hand, stayed there, smiling, head slightly tilted. An angel.
An angel with questionable intentions.
— Well — she said, wiping her hands on her apron. — If you need anything later, I'll be nearby. Good night, Luki-sama and Hestia-san.
— Go sleep, pest! — Héstia retorted, pulling my good hand with force. — Come on. We need to talk.
— (Hey, calm down, I only have one arm working...)
We went up to her room. Or rather, she dragged me up, puffing and grumbling under her breath, something between elven curses against me, and one or two threats against a certain silver-haired waitress.
'Freya, I don't know what you're planning but you'd better not piss off Hestia. As far as I know, in earthen myths she should be stronger than you.'
The bedroom door slammed shut with a dry BANG!.
Hestia locked it immediately, twisting the latch so hard it looked like she wanted to rip it off.
— Hestia-sama...? — I began, confused by the mood.
— Sit. — she ordered, without even looking at me.
— Wha—?
— Sit. Now.
The voice came firm. Low, but leaving no room for discussion.
I obeyed reflexively, nearly tripping over the foot of the bed as I settled. Hestia stood with her back to the door for a few seconds, as if forcing herself to breathe.
Then she turned slowly. Her expression wasn't angry. It was tired.
She ran a hand over her face, then pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and closed her eyes.
— I didn't... — she muttered. — I didn't want to come in shouting. Again.
She walked over to me, her steps heavier than usual, and sat beside me with a long sigh, pulling her knees to her chest.
— Sorry, okay? For everything downstairs. — she said, looking at the floor. — It's just... today was a hard day. And I just... needed you to be okay. Whole. With me.
The comedy had evaporated. The room was dark, with only the sunset light leaking through the window slats. Shadows stretched on the walls. And the silence now was dense, thick.
— I should be angry with you. Really.
— Why? I diDn't even did anyTHing...
— Exactly.
I sighed. Stayed quiet.
She did too. Long enough for me to notice her breathing slowing, as if she was trying to hold something in.
Without saying anything, she sat beside me, eyes fixed on her hands gripping the hem of her dress. Her hair fell over her face, giving her a strange... melancholic look.
For a moment I was confused. Was this the same Héstia? The one who was always smiling, loud and full of energy?
Something in that scene reminded me of the moments before bad news. When no one wants to be there, but both know it can't be avoided.
...
Time passed. Night had fallen, and the room sank into a dense darkness, the kind that exists only in a world without electricity. I'd learned that here, sleeping early was more than habit, it was necessity. Because the real night was really dark.
She was still there beside me. Now curled up, hugging her knees, leaning on me as if seeking support. And I gave it.
In moments like this, you don't say anything. You just stay present.
I didn't know exactly what was happening, but I knew the woman I loved most in this world was shaken. And that was reason enough to stay.
She sighed — long, heavy, like she was pushing her soul out with the air.
— Luki-kun... if I gave you bad news... really bad news... would you hate me for it? — she asked, her voice small.
— Of course not. Why would I do that? — I replied smoothly without thinking.
— It's just that... — she hesitated. — It's all so recent. You barely started your new life here in Orario, and suddenly...
She opened her mouth again, but no words came. As if saying it would profane something. As if the very idea didn't deserve to be heard.
She leaned more on me. Hid her face in my shoulder. I couldn't see her expression, but I could imagine it.
Her face must have been all twisted, brows furrowed, eyes too bright from the tears refusing to fall. Blinking fast. Mouth set in a strange line, as if swallowing a sob before it escaped.
The face of someone crying. The kind of cry no one wants to show.
Ugly. Not romantized. Pure, human.
— I'm sorry, Luki-kun... I'm sorry... — she whispered, voice trembling, loaded with everything she couldn't say.
I turned slightly and hugged her, pulling her with my one working arm. The other hand tried, uselessly, to find space between us. How I wished I had both arms in that moment. Just to hold her properly.
I felt her hands clutching my shirt, fingers trembling. Or rather, she was trembling all over. Crying softly, letting out the occasional sob.
I could feel her breasts against me, every curve of her body. But at that moment, there was no room for second intentions. None of that seemed important.
She was collapsing in my arms. And that was all that mattered.
— (Shhh, shhh... it's okay... it's okay...) — I murmured. I didn't care if she understood the words.
Somehow, I knew she did.
— Sorry... — she whispered between sobs. — It's all my fault... sob If I... if I weren't such a useless goddess... sob If I could give you more... if I... if I...
She couldn't finish. Her voice failed, lost among the sobs. Weak, choked, painful.
I started to rock slightly back and forth, trying to calm her, like a frightened child. It was hard to understand what she said, and it never was easy. In tears, it sounded like a new language.
Damn... how I hate this. I swear after this, I'll try even harder to learn to speak properly. To understand her. Like she deserves.
Even so, I felt what she meant. She was blaming herself. Diminishing herself. I don't know how I knew, I just did. Hestia always had a bright light... but a strangely fragile self-esteem. As if smiling was the armor she wore every day.
— (Hey... don't cry. You look so pretty when you smile.) — I murmured, voice soft, almost without thinking.
She didn't answer, but buried her face deeper into my neck.
I don't know how long we stayed like that. I only know that, when I noticed, we were already lying down.
She had her head on my shoulder, her body fit against mine, my good arm behind her, around her waist, in a half-tight hug. One of her fingers idly played with the hem of my shirt.
Her eyes were swollen, red. But she seemed calmer. Exhausted... but calmer.