The inn had finally settled into stillness.
After the long day, after the farewells, after the weight of everything that had shifted in their lives, the group drifted into sleep one by one. Doors closed softly, lanterns dimmed, and the quiet hum of night wrapped the building in a gentle calm.
But Shin couldn't sleep.
His thoughts refused to settle, circling endlessly like restless birds. He tossed, turned, stared at the ceiling, then finally gave up. He stepped out into the hallway, letting the cool wooden floor and faint lantern glow guide him.
As he walked, something caught his eye — a faint silhouette at the far end of the hall.
Someone was sitting on the balcony.
He moved closer.
Krystal.
She sat on the ledge, legs dangling freely, her back to him. The moonlight washed over her hair, turning it silver, and the desert breeze played softly with the loose strands. She wasn't moving, barely even breathing — lost in a quiet world of her own.
Shin's chest tightened.
He approached carefully, not wanting to startle her.
"You better be careful," he said gently. "You might fall down."
She didn't react.
Not a flinch, not a turn — her thoughts were too deep, too far away to hear him.
Shin stopped a few steps behind her, unsure whether to speak again. Instead, he simply watched her — the way the moonlight framed her, the way the silence wrapped around her like a soft blanket. Then she felt it. A stare.
Shin hesitated, then stepped closer.
"Krystal...?"
She blinked, as if waking from a dream, and slowly turned her head. Their eyes met.
Shin froze.
His breath hitched, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks before he could stop it. He looked away too quickly, pretending to examine the railing, the sky, the floor — anything but her.
"Shin...?" she whispered, her voice soft.
"I— I was just... checking on you," he muttered.
Krystal smiled gently.
"You look so serious," Shin added, stepping closer. "You barely noticed me. Are you alright?"
She exhaled softly.
"Yes... I am. I just dozed off for a moment. I was remembering something."
Shin stepped beside her, leaning on the railing.
"If you don't mind... would you share it with me?"
Krystal's fingers brushed the edge of the balcony rail.
"Yes," she whispered. "I remembered a time when a man I fell in love with was with me during an evening as beautiful as this one. The night was quiet, the moon was full. He reached out his hand to me, and we walked together... talking about our dreams."
Shin listened carefully, his expression softening.
"That sounds like he was a man of passion," he said. "Tell me more, Krystal."
She exhaled, the breath trembling just slightly.
"We got separated. His quest was to fight the God of Fire, Igni... he was then banished, or some say killed, and never been found or seen ever again."
Shin watched her face — the way her confidence wavered, the way sorrow crept into her eyes like a shadow she couldn't quite hide.
"I'm... sorry," he murmured.
Krystal shook her head gently.
"You've got nothing to be sorry about. It wasn't your fault."
She turned to him with a small, reassuring smile — warm, fragile, but genuine. "Really... it's okay."
She stood up from the ledge, brushing off her clothes.
"Say..." she said, tilting her head with a playful spark returning to her eyes,
"would you want to go outside and eat at the plaza?"
Shin nodded.
"Yeah... I'd like that."
They stepped out of the inn together, the cool night air brushing against their skin. The quiet hallway gave way to a lively world outside — the plaza was glowing with lanterns, shimmering lights, and the warm hum of life.
Stalls lined the plaza, each one bursting with color and sound. Vendors called out their specialties, steam rose from sizzling pans, and the scent of grilled food drifted through the air. Families laughed together, couples strolled hand in hand, groups of friends shared stories, and even lone wanderers enjoyed the night at their own pace.
Krystal's eyes widened with wonder.
"Wow..." she whispered. "It's so alive."
She turned slowly, taking in everything — the lights, the people, the noise, the warmth. Her expression shifted from curiosity to pure excitement, like a child seeing a festival for the first time.
"You've never been to a night market?" Shin asked.
She shook her head.
"Not like this. Not with... this kind of warmth."
Her expression shifted from curiosity to pure excitement, like a child seeing a festival for the first time.
Shin chuckled.
"You're really enjoying this, huh?"
"Of course!" she said, spinning once. "Look at all the lights! And the food! And— oh! That stall has glowing crystals!"
"Those are fake," Shin said.
She gasped dramatically.
"Shin! Let me believe!"
He laughed — genuinely, freely.
They approached a takoyaki stand. Shin stepped into the line while Krystal found a seat on a small wooden bench nearby.
She sat down, resting her hands on her lap, and looked toward him.
Shin stood patiently, arms crossed, waiting for their order. The lantern light framed him from behind, giving him a warm glow.
Krystal felt her heart soften.
When Shin glanced her way, their eyes met.
Krystal smiled at him — sweet, gentle, and full of warmth.
Shin froze for half a second, caught off guard, then quickly looked away, ears turning faintly red.
Krystal giggled softly.
Shin returned with the takoyaki and set it on the table.
"Smells good," Krystal said.
"You haven't even tried it yet," Shin replied.
"I don't need to. I trust your taste."
He blinked.
"You... trust my taste?"
"Mm-hmm."
He looked away again.
As soon as he sat down, Krystal grabbed a toothpick, poked a takoyaki ball, and blew on it gently. Once cooled, she extended her hand toward Shin — her other hand beneath it to catch anything that might fall.
"Ahh," she said playfully.
Shin leaned forward and took a bite, covering his mouth as his cheeks reddened. Krystal giggled again.
"Your turn," she said. "Feed me too."
Shin's eyes widened. He glanced around nervously — people everywhere.
Before he could panic, Krystal cupped his cheeks with both hands and gently turned his face toward her.
"Mister Shin," she said softly, "focus only on me tonight, please?" Shin swallowed and nodded.
He picked up a toothpick, poked a takoyaki, blew on it carefully, then extended it toward her. Krystal leaned in and took a bite, her eyes lighting up with happiness.
As they ate, they shared stories — some funny, some surprising, some that made Krystal gasp in disbelief. Shin found himself laughing more than he expected. Krystal found herself smiling more than she had in a long time.
As they continued walking, they noticed a small stall with no customers. A man sat behind it, sketchbook in hand.
Krystal approached.
"What do you sell here?"
The man brightened.
"I paint portraits using my pencils. Would you like one of you and your boyfriend? It's not that much."
Both Shin and Krystal froze.
"B‑boyfriend?!"
"We're not—!"
Before they could finish, the painter pushed them gently toward a bench.
"Perfect! Sit here. Yes, yes — just like that."
He positioned them:
Standing close.
Facing each other.
Foreheads touching.
Bodies leaning inward.
"Don't move," he whispered. "Give me a few minutes. This is my chance to prove my work is the best."
Shin and Krystal stiffened.
Their eyes met — and neither could look away.
Heat rushed to their faces.
Their hearts stumbled into a strange, shared rhythm.
"Shin..." Krystal whispered.
"Y-yeah...?"
"This is... close."
"I know."
"Too close."
"I know."
"Are you okay?"
"No."
She giggled softly.
Krystal slowly closed her eyes, leaning in — just a little — drawn to him.
She was inches from his lips when—
"It is done!" the painter shouted.
They jolted apart.
Krystal grabbed the portrait — and gasped.
It was beautiful.
Soft shading, delicate lines, emotion captured perfectly. The tenderness of the pose, the closeness, the warmth — all frozen in a single moment.
People gathered, admiring it. Soon a line formed, stretching across the plaza.
The painter bowed deeply.
"Thank you! Truly!"
Shin rubbed his neck, embarrassed.
Krystal laughed softly beside him.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I'm... alive," Shin muttered.
"That's good," she teased.
As they walked back to the inn, Krystal held the drawing close.
"Shin... can I keep this?"
He nodded.
"Of course."
Krystal smiled — warm, bright, and impossibly soft.
"I'll treasure it," she whispered.
And she didn't let go of the portrait even once.
The inn had finally settled into stillness.
After the long day, after the farewells, after the weight of everything that had shifted in their lives, the group drifted into sleep one by one. Doors closed softly, lanterns dimmed, and the quiet hum of night wrapped the building in a gentle calm.