The sky bled crimson and gold when Belrad finally appeared on the trail ahead. A small village of simple houses with red-tiled roofs, lazy smoke curling from chimneys. Around it, endless wheat fields swayed in the late-afternoon breeze, releasing that sweet scent of damp earth and fresh-baked bread.

  Belrad wasn’t exactly a hotspot for drama. Or even mild entertainment. The biggest events were harvest festivals or the occasional fistfight over a sheep that “decided” the neighbor’s field looked tastier. But that evening, something different rolled into town.

  “Hm. They’re all staring,” Jay muttered, adjusting his travel cloak.

  “It’s your desert-prince face drawing eyes,” Su Mei replied with a crooked smirk. “Or maybe it’s the fact we’re covered in mud, dried blood, and shattered dignity.”

  Layla glanced around, frowning.

  “It’s not just that… they’re… drooling, meow?”

  They were.

  Especially at Su Mei’s almond eyes.

  Farmers dropped hoes. Girls with braids and wrinkled aprons dragged brothers closer to gawk at the black-haired visitor with feline grace. One guy tripped over his own pig trying to look manly. Another offered flowers… roots and dirt still attached.

  Su Mei blinked, incredulous.

  “Oh no…”

  She tried to dodge, but the swarm of suitors only grew.

  “Beautiful stranger, accept this ear of corn as token of my heart!”

  “Wanna share pie? I helped Mom bake!”

  “Can I show you the mill? It’s very… spinny!”

  Su Mei, with the desperate elegance of a cornered cat, grabbed Jay’s arm in a death grip.

  “Everyone—this is my boyfriend,” she announced, dramatic and blade-sharp. “So save your time.”

  “Huh?” Jay’s eyes went wide, brain short-circuiting.

  “You’re pretty enough to sell it. Do me this solid, please…”

  Layla bit her lower lip. Atmosphere thickened.

  “Boyfriend…?” Arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits like twin daggers. “So that’s how it is now?”

  “What’s the problem, Laylita?” Su Mei raised an eyebrow, pure provocation.

  “Only if you think you can keep favorite status for long…” Layla glared, boiling rage followed by furious meows and hisses.

  Tension spiked. Nessa took two steps back. Jay whispered “someone save me.”

  Su Mei snapped her fingers, triumphant.

  “I know. If you think you can challenge this one head-on, let’s settle it properly.”

  “A fight?” Layla’s hand already on axe haft.

  “Better. Endurance contest.”

  “What?!” Jay and Nessa in perfect unison.

  “We’re in one of Dalmástia’s best brewing villages… So nothing beats the ancient test of bravery and audacity: who can drink more beer!”

  …

  Two tables shoved together in the village tavern’s center. Tankards stacked like wooden towers. A bard started strumming a badly-tuned lute in cheerleader rhythm. Villagers crowded, betting coins, roots, future harvests (terrible idea).

  Jay facepalmed hard.

  “Feels like this kinda thing is our default setting now…”

  Nessa, with an angelic smile, replied:

  “Yeah, Jay. We’re cursed and insanely fun to watch, for sure.”

  First tankard vanished in Su Mei’s hands almost instantly. Layla kept pace.

  Second. Third. Fourth.

  Su Mei still smiled like she was just warming up.

  Layla blinked slow, eyes glassy.

  Fifth—Layla bit the rim.

  Sixth—she giggled at nothing.

  “Heh meow… this cup’s funny… it’s got a hole on top, hic! Look!”

  “I think that’s enough, yeah?” Jay, worried.

  “Nah. Let’s see a bit more…” Nessa, disturbingly invested.

  Seventh tankard—Layla toppled backward.

  Soft snore, dreamy smile, out cold.

  Su Mei raised arms like undisputed champ, barely fazed.

  “Absolute victory!”

  Then looked at Jay and winked…

  “Uh! Wait… there’s… two Jays… guess the booze finally hit this one, hic!”

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  She collapsed into his arms like a sack of warm rice, furnace-hot and clinging.

  Jay sighed.

  “Gram’s sacred tranquility, grant the just their rest,” he whispered, tracing four seals on her back—soft blessing glow.

  “J-Jay…” Light flashed. Su Mei passed out instantly, mischievous smile intact, face buried in his shoulder like a cat claiming pillow.

  With Nessa barely containing giggles, Jay carried both to the inn room.

  First laid Layla down gentle, like returning an ancestral blade to its sheath.

  Then Su Mei beside her—but before he could pull away, she instinctively curled around Layla, full of unconscious affection.

  “Hmm… warm… fluffy…” she mumbled, already dream-deep.

  Layla answered with faint purr.

  Jay tucked the blanket over them, brushed Layla’s fallen bangs, whispered:

  “And to think we’ve fought Vortex beasts and mercenaries for days… but this feels way more dangerous.”

  Nessa laughed sweetly, mischievous smile.

  “Good night, Jay. Good luck tomorrow.”

  They left. Jay closed the door soft, village laughter still echoing.

  Twilight faded to stars, and quiet little Belrad was blessed with one truly unforgettable night.

  …

  Midnight draped the village like a thick, silent veil. The sky—darker than usual—was scattered with stars that glittered sharp enough to cut. Sissifus drifted lazily between thin clouds, while Lunis glowed with pale disinterest, half-asleep overhead. Third week of Oculum.

  In the inn’s simple room, Jay was awake—as always. Sleep came to him in small, polite doses. He wore a sleeveless white linen tunic, light and hand-embroidered in soft blue. Blue hair still messy from the day, falling over his eyes as he quietly prepared something on the worn wooden table, lit only by a gentle oil lamp. A kettle hissed on a portable stove, releasing a floral, sweet aroma laced with citrus—hibiscus blended with saber-apple, that southern fruit that tasted like sparkling candy and sunshine.

  Three soft taps at the door—like a fairy asking permission.

  Before he could answer, the door creaked open gently, revealing Nessa’s hesitant silhouette. Moonlight shimmered in her eyes, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken silences. She wore a simple pearl-white nightgown, light shawl over her shoulders, bare feet barely whispering on cold floorboards. Hair—usually neat side-braids—now fell in soft, slightly tousled waves.

  “May I come in?” she whispered, peeking inside like she was trespassing on someone else’s dream.

  Jay gave a small smile, gesturing calmly to the high-backed chair by the window.

  “Of course. I figured you might show up. Tea’s almost ready.”

  Nessa nodded, stepping in as carefully as someone walking on dry leaves, and sat delicately. Even though citrus wasn’t really her thing, she smiled and accepted the mug Jay offered, warming small hands around comforting heat.

  “Hey… sorry for coming like this, at this hour. But I thought maybe you weren’t sleeping either,” she said, voice caught between guilt and quiet intimacy.

  Jay settled across from her, setting his own mug down before answering in that gentle tone that could calm storms.

  “No need to apologize, Nessa. We’ve been traveling together long enough. You know… formalities don’t fit between us anymore.” A faint, almost shy smile. “Actually… I wanted to talk to you too. About… everything.”

  The lamp flame danced in the silence that followed.

  “We’re in constant danger,” Jay continued, soft but steady. “And with that sword you carry… even Amy said we should leave the city. I know it’s not easy. But we need to understand—at least a little—what we’re dealing with.”

  Nessa pressed the mug to her chest like the warmth could shield her from memories with claws. Eyes dropped. Lips trembled, pinching silence with a trapped sigh.

  Jay didn’t push. Never would.

  “No one’s forcing you to say anything,” he said quieter, almost conspiratorial. “But… the more we know, the better we can help. Protect you too.”

  She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. A single tear slipped free, vanishing into loose strands.

  “Thank you, Jay…” she whispered, clutching the mug like a reliquary. “I promise… I’ll tell everything. When I’m ready. But right now…”

  Nessa stared into the tea, seeing a reflection that wasn’t hers, and finished:

  “…I still don’t want to wake up.”

  The silence that followed was soft but thick. Like snow falling on thoughts that refused to be spoken.

  Jay looked to the window, sipped tea, let the moment breathe.

  After a few seconds, he murmured—half amused:

  “You know… I still can’t believe we actually got both of them into bed.”

  Nessa lifted her eyes, confused for a heartbeat, then understood. A faint blush rose.

  “Layla passing out mid-sixth or seventh tankard… and Su Mei trying to—” she said, small smile hiding exhaustion from the memory.

  Jay gave a short, quiet laugh, covering his face with one hand.

  “I didn’t know whether to laugh or pray. That was… a different kind of battle.”

  “You literally cast a sleep blessing on her,” Nessa said, trying not to laugh too loud. “And she still smiled before blacking out, remember?”

  “Haha, yeah. Pretty sure she thought she won. And Layla… at least she passed out before doing something stupid with that last beer. Never seen anyone find a mug so hilarious.”

  Nessa let out a real laugh this time—the kind that disarms sadness, even briefly.

  “Bet they’re still tangled up like two cats that fought and made up without realizing.”

  “With Su Mei clinging like an enchanted pillow,” Jay finished, toasting the air with his mug. “Five coins says Layla wakes up with a headache worse than a mandrake scream.”

  Nessa shook her head, amused, and sipped tea. Her gaze still carried melancholy, but now something else shimmered there. A quiet light. Reminder that—even under all that weight—smiling was still possible.

  Jay watched her silently a moment, then turned back to the window where moonlight slipped through thin curtains.

  “You can stay as long as you want, Nessa.”

  She nodded softly, cradling the mug like her own heart.

  For a while they sat like that: two travelers in fragile midnight, surrounded by silence, warm tea… and the certainty that even in darkest days, small spaces of kindness still bloomed.

  …

  Solariis had barely stretched its first rays when Jay—already up, serene as someone who woke under direct goddess supervision—entered the inn kitchen with one purpose: brewing the Elixir of the End Times.

  Old dented kettle, three chipped mugs, a garlic-scented wooden spoon, and a sack of local coffee powder—so black and dense it absorbed light—were his ritual tools. Jay skipped filters. Not from lack of options. From principle.

  Powder dumped straight into boiling water. The aroma that flooded the room was so brutal the inn’s few rats passed out against the walls. Final brew: thick dark sludge smelling of charred wood, sorrow, and immediate alertness.

  Minutes later, Su Mei and Layla were summoned—or rather, dragged—into the kitchen.

  Layla—hair exploding, eyes half-shut—looked like a sick kitten crossed with an angry porcupine. Oversized sleep shirt with hearts, pants clearly borrowed from someone taller (probably Nessa). Su Mei… looked perfectly normal. Lotus pose on the chair, hands in relaxed mudra, eyes half-lidded. Aura of peace.

  “This one is still processing yesterday,” Su Mei said, voice sweet and monk-serene. “That beer… contained something… demonic.”

  Jay placed steaming mugs in front of each like delivering verdicts. Nessa—washing an apple in the background—gave the pair a pitying look.

  Layla grabbed hers, sniffed… and immediately dropped it back with a thud.

  “This… this is poison, meow!” she groaned, clutching her head like it might fall off. “I can hear this coffee talking…”

  “Yeah. It says drink me,” Jay replied serenely, sipping like it was normal.

  Su Mei brought the mug to her lips, sniffed cautiously, face twitching faintly—an expression that in another life would mean “the universe is unbalanced”—then downed it.

  All of it.

  One gulp.

  “This one… is now ready to fight nefraii bare-handed.”

  Layla, meanwhile, dropped to her knees beside the bench, hugging a hand-labeled “RESERVED” basin. Nessa approached quietly, rubbing her back.

  “Honestly, Layla… challenging a monk trained in drunken fist style to a drinking contest?” Nessa said patiently, maternally, brushing messy strands from the warrior’s face. “You basically asked for it.”

  “She ‘meowed’ the provocation right in my face, meow! How could I back down?!” Layla complained—before the second wave of liquid regret hit.

  Jay shook his head, finishing his apocalyptic coffee.

  “Let’s go. Road’s waiting.”

  ?