The tavern didn't end so much as it collapsed.
By the time the last plates were cleared and the owner started wiping tables, Mira was still laughing at jokes that weren't even jokes anymore.
Leo was so drunk that every word was more serious than necessary, and Weston looked exhausted.
Alara, at least, was only slightly drunk. Her posture was still straight but her cheeks had a faint color to them.
Kyle stayed the most sober out of all of them—partly because he'd stuck to coffee, and partly because he hated the feeling of his mind slipping.
Mira slammed her mug down dramatically. "I'm telling you—I did the most!"
Leo slapped the table. "NO! I TOOK THE HIT! I WAS A WALL!"
"You were a door," Mira giggled, swaying in her seat. "A big, loud door."
"I AM THE GREATEST SHIELD!"
Weston pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leo... please stop screaming."
Alara exhaled, not quite a laugh but close. "We're leaving."
"Agreed," Weston said immediately as he stood up. "Before the owner throws us out personally."
Mira tried to stand and failed—she slid right back onto the bench. Leo stood while swaying slightly.
Kyle watched the chaos with an amused smile. `So this is what they look like when they're not trying to survive.`
Weston got Mira on her feet while he supported Leo on his shoulder.
"Westoooon," she said, eyes half-lidded. "You're soooo responsible."
"I'm cursed," Weston muttered. Then, louder. "Alright. I'm taking these two back."
Mira chuckled, then leaned toward Kyle suddenly. "Kyle!"
Kyle looked at her. "What?"
She narrowed her eyes dramatically, as if she was about to reveal a deep truth. "You're... annoying."
Kyle nodded once. "Correct."
Mira giggled like she'd won, then nearly tripped. Weston caught her.
"We're going," Weston repeated, steering Mira and Leo toward the door. "Both of you. Now."
Leo pointed at Kyle as they passed. "Protect... the leader..."
Mira turned her head back, her face flushed and bright. "And don't do anything suspicious!"
Kyle smiled faintly. "I'll do my best."
She squinted like she didn't believe him—then Weston pulled her out before she could argue.
The tavern door shut behind them, and suddenly it was quieter.
Alara finally stood up and headed out, careful with her injured leg. The healing had helped, but she didn't want to put any more pressure on it.
Kyle fell into step beside her without being asked.
Alara glanced at him. "You're not going with them?"
Kyle tilted his head toward the street. "Weston can handle those two. I'll walk you home."
Alara's lips twitched. "Fair."
They walked through Stonehelm's night streets. The city was quieter in that late-night than before.
For a moment, Alara didn't speak.
Kyle noticed she was thinking, so he didn't interrupt. He let the silence stretch until it felt natural.
Finally, Alara said, voice quieter than usual, "You didn't drink."
Kyle shrugged. "I don't like my head being... loose."
She let out a small chuckle. "A man like you would hate losing control."
Kyle smiled faintly without saying more.
They turned down a narrower street where the buildings became smaller—less business, more homes.
Alara pointed ahead with a small nod. "It's this way."
Kyle followed, hands in his pockets, walking casually. Alara's footsteps slowed slightly, and her voice softened. "Thank you."
Kyle glanced at her. "For what?"
"For tonight," Alara replied. "For the cave. For the mission. For... joining us."
Kyle looked ahead again, he could have made a joke. But instead, he answered honestly. "I'm useful... You'd be stupid not to keep me."
She glanced at him amusedly. "You're confident, aren't you?"
They arrived at a quiet part of city where the houses were small and neat.
Alara stopped in front of one of them.
A clean, simple house with a sturdy door and a narrow window with a small step at the entrance.
Kyle glanced at it. `So the leader lives here.`
Alara pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
Kyle stood outside. When he saw her go inside, he said, "Good night."
He turned slightly, ready to leave—
And then Alara's hand caught his sleeve. Not with force, but enough to stop him.
Kyle looked down at her hand, then up at her face.
Alara's cheeks were still faintly colored. Her expression was composed, but there was hesitation under it—as if she'd made the decision and was now dealing with the fact that she'd made it.
"Need anything, leader?" Kyle said calmly.
Alara held his sleeve for a second longer than necessary, then released it and straightened her posture. Her eyes shifted away briefly.
"...It's still early," she said. "And I... don't feel like sleeping yet."
Kyle's eyebrow lifted. `Early? The city's already asleep.`
Alara cleared her throat once, then added. "What do you think about coming in? Drinking something... sitting."
Kyle didn't answer immediately. Instead, he smiled slowly.
`She invites me to her house alone... a little drunk... in the middle of the night!`
The opportunity was clear before him, waiting to be taken. And Kyle would not hesitate.
"Alright," he said. "One drink."
Alara stepped aside to let him pass.
Kyle walked in, and Alara closed the door behind them.
The house was small, but not cramped. It was neat and practical. A place that made sense for someone like her.
Kyle glanced around once, taking in details. A sword rack near the wall. A clean table. A folded map and a small stack of papers.
Alara noticed his eyes moving. "Don't start judging,"
Kyle looked at her and smiled. "I'm not judging."
Alara's gaze held on him for a moment. Then she turned away toward a small shelf.
But for the first time since they entered, her injured leg betrayed her—her knee wobbled, her balance faltered.
Kyle moved before she could correct herself. His hand came out steady and caught her elbow gently, steadying her.
Alara froze.
Up close, he could see the faint sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her breathing had quickened just slightly. The alcohol had made her careless—made her forget how much her injured leg.
"You should sit," Kyle said quietly.
Alara's jaw tightened, but she didn't pull away from his touch. Instead, she let him guide her to the nearest chair—a simple wooden thing near the table.
She sat down carefully, and the moment her weight left her leg, her body relaxed slightly.
Kyle released her arm.
For a second, the room was quiet.
Then Alara let out a breath. "I'm an idiot."
Kyle sat across from her, leaning back slightly. "You're tired."
"I know I'm tired," she said, but her tone was gentler now. Less sharp. "I meant... I should've stopped drinking earlier."
She ran a hand through her hair, then looked at him. "You're staring."
Kyle smiled. "I'm just thinking."
"Thinking what?" Alara asked, her voice softer.
Kyle leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression calm but his eyes holding hers.
"You invited me in, leader," he said. "Alone."
Alara's breath hitched slightly, but she didn't look away. "I said I don't feel like sleeping yet."
"Alara."
She flinched at her name on his lips—said with that tone, it felt almost intimate.
Kyle continued, his voice gentle. "I don't think that's the only reason..."
Her eyes flickered—just for a moment, but long enough for him to catch it. Fear? Anticipation? He couldn't quite tell.
"Kyle," she started, then stopped. Her voice was quieter now, more vulnerable than he'd heard it all night. "I... I want..."
She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Her eyes flicked to his mouth for half a heartbeat.
Kyle noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile turned into something calmer, warmer.
"Alara?" he said, voice low.
Alara swallowed. Then, like she was angry at herself for hesitating, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn't long. It wasn't messy. Just a quick, direct press of lips that said more than any speech ever could.
Alara pulled back immediately, eyes wide—like she couldn't believe she'd done it.
Kyle blinked once... then slowly smirked.
`Now things are starting to get more exciting.`