Jerome leaned over Delia, who was lying on the bed, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. But as soon as his lips touched the girl's velvety skin, her eyes immediately opened and Delia looked at him. Her gaze was calm, but there was some kind of play in it, something sly. Jerome froze, blushing, and began to look away, but her quiet voice made him freeze.
"Did you think I was asleep?" she asked with a barely noticeable smile.
Jerome blinked in confusion, trying to find words.
"Uh... yeah. You looked... asleep," he muttered, his ears burning.
Delia raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him intently, but there was no anger or embarrassment in her gaze. Only that same slyness.
"I just wanted some quiet," she said. "And..." she smiled slightly, "to be alone with you."
These words struck Jerome like a bolt from the blue.
"You... on purpose?" was all he could squeeze out.
Delia shrugged, her face calm but her eyes twinkling.
"Jo talks too much. Sometimes I need a break from her. And then," she paused, as if considering whether to continue, "you wanted this, didn't you?"
Jerome opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He felt his cheeks begin to burn again.
"Well..." he began, but Delia interrupted him with a wave of her hand.
"Relax, Jerome. I don't bite."
She laughed softly, and the sound seemed to him the most beautiful in the world. Sitting on the bed and swinging her legs, the girl looked thoughtfully at Jerome, who had settled down opposite her. She frowned slightly, as if thinking about her words, and then suddenly said:
"You know, Jo is too serious. And too formal."
Jerome chuckled but said nothing, giving her the opportunity to continue.
"She's worse than the kindergarten teachers," Delia added, rolling her eyes. "At least they have jokes sometimes, and this one..."
She theatrically raised her eyebrows, portraying a stern face, and said in a stern tone:
"Delia, be careful", "Delia, don't fall behind", "Delia, don't you dare do anything without my knowledge".
Jerome couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, that's her job," he said, still smiling. "She protects us."
Delia chuckled and waved her hand.
"Yes, yes, she does. But she thinks too much of herself. She thinks that because she's an adult and has a gun, she's cooler than everyone else."
She pouted angrily, but there was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
"And she also thinks that I should obey," she added after a short pause. "And I can't stand that. No one has the right to consider themselves above me."
Jerome couldn't help but laugh again.
"That's because you always want to be in charge," he teased her.
Delia, unabashed, raised her chin proudly.
"Naturally. I'm always in charge."
Noticing Jerome smiling again, she added with a sly smile:
"But you are different. You are ready to kneel before me."
Jerome froze, surprised by her words.
"Why is that?" he asked, feeling his cheeks begin to turn pink.
Delia shrugged.
"You don't argue with me, you listen when I speak, and you don't try to pretend that you're better or smarter than me. That's why I don't mind you, Jerome. But Jo..."
She rolled her eyes again, feigning displeasure.
"It's as if Jo is trying to prove that I'm smaller than her, worse than her."
Jerome smiled, feeling a warm wave inside.
"Maybe she just wants you to feel safe," he suggested.
Delia gave him an appraising look and chuckled.
"Well, maybe. But still, I don't like her very much."
"Do you love me?" Jerome blurted out before he had time to think.
Delia was a little confused, but quickly found her way.
"Of course I love you," she said as simply as if she were talking about the weather.
Jerome froze, then tried to hide his smile by looking at the floor. Delia said nothing more, but her sly smile never left her face. The boy leaned back against the headboard, trying to look casual, although inside he was seething with emotion. Delia's words echoed in his head:
"Of course I love you."
He played her phrase over and over again, as if trying to find a hidden meaning in it.
"What if she's just joking?" he thought, biting his lip. "She said it so easily, so carefree... Maybe she was just playing on my feelings? Or does she really not care?"
He tried to imagine her tone, her expression, the way she looked at him. But each time he came to the same conclusion: Delia had given him no clue as to how serious she meant her words.
"Why are you sitting there so thoughtful?" her voice suddenly rang out.
Jerome sat up straight, trying to hide his confusion.
"Nothing, just thinking," he muttered.
Delia snorted, clearly not satisfied with his answer.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, squinting.
"Oh, just... about the mission," he answered quickly, hoping to change the subject.
Delia smirked and crossed her arms over her chest.
"About the mission? Or about me?"
Jerome felt his face begin to turn red.
"Why did you decide that?" he tried to evade.
"Because you look like you're trying to solve a riddle," she said with a sly smile. "And I'm the biggest riddle in your life, right?"
Jerome tried to say something, but his brain seemed to have switched off. Delia, seeing his confusion, couldn't help but laugh.
"Relax, Jerome. No need to get so worked up," she said, shaking her head. "I was just telling the truth."
"The truth?" he asked again, looking her straight in the eyes.
"Well, yes," she nodded. "I love you. As a friend."
Jerome felt the ground slipping from under his feet.
"Like a friend?" he asked again, trying to hide his disappointment.
Delia nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Of course. You're my best friend."
He wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. In the end, he just smiled, although everything inside him was clenched.
"Yes... of course, as a friend," he muttered, trying to sound sincere.
Delia, not noticing his embarrassment, jumped out of bed and stretched.
"Okay, enough sitting around. Let's go see where Jo is. She's probably got all the guards on edge by now."
Jerome nodded and stood up after her, trying to keep up. A clear picture was gradually forming in his head. Delia, as always, was being honest. She did not hide her thoughts and feelings, did not try to embellish or distort reality. And it was precisely her simplicity, her sincerity, that attracted him so strongly.
But now, realizing that for her he was just a friend, Jerome suddenly felt something change in his soul. The feeling he had cherished for so long was gradually dissolving, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste and a strange, oppressive relief.
"Well," he thought, looking at the back of her head, "maybe it's for the best. Why try to hold on to something that never happened?"
By the time they finally reached Jo Thueson, who was sitting at the rail with a clipboard in her hands, Jerome had already made up his mind about how he was going to treat Delia. He no longer allowed himself to dream of her as anything more than a friend. But at the same time, a strange resentment was growing inside him.
"How stupid I was," he thought, feeling anger boiling up inside him. "After all, I tried so hard for her, and she didn't even notice! As if all this was self-evident to her."
Jo looked up from the screen and took in both of them.
"Finally," she said with slight irritation. "Where have you been hanging around? I thought you'd been kidnapped."
"We were just... talking," Delia answered evasively, sitting down next to the agent.
Jerome silently sank into the nearest chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His mood was clearly not the best, and Jo, with her experienced eye catching this, frowned.
"Are you okay, Jerome?" she asked.
"Yes, everything is fine," he muttered, turning away to the sea.
Delia glanced at him briefly but said nothing. She seemed too intent on finding out what Jo was doing.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking over the agent's shoulder.
"Checking the route and analyzing the data," Jo responded, continuing to work. "I'd like to know what to expect when we arrive in Civitavecchia."
Delia sighed.
"This seriousness again. Maybe you could relax for once?"
"Relaxation is for those who can afford it," Jo snapped. "But I can't."
Delia grimaced but said nothing. She knew there was no point in arguing with Jo.
Jerome sat silently, trying to ignore their conversation. He looked out at the waves, trying to organize his thoughts.
"So be it," he thought, feeling a strange relief. "If I'm just a friend to her, then so be it. After all, I don't need her approval to be myself."
Jo, folding the tablet and putting it in her bag, rose from her chair and nodded towards the doors.
"Come on, children," she said. "It's time for dinner."
Delia, who had obviously calmed down after the recent events, jumped up from her seat and, shaking her pigtail, cheerfully followed. Jerome reluctantly stood up, still a little immersed in his thoughts. But as soon as they entered the wardroom, his mood changed dramatically.
The hall was huge and striking in its luxury. The ceiling was decorated with sparkling crystal chandeliers, and the walls were finished with wooden panels covered with carvings. Rows of tables with snow-white tablecloths, elegant dishes and dishes exuding aromas that tickled the nose and excited the imagination, finally displacing all recent experiences from Jerome's head.
"Wow!" he exclaimed, turning his head.
Delia laughed, turning to face him.
"I thought you weren't hungry yet after the chocolate."
"The chocolate was just the beginning," he quickly replied, feeling his stomach growl.
Jo smiled slightly as she looked at the children.
"Well, if that's the case, we'll find you a table."
They headed to one of the empty tables by the window, which had a stunning view of the evening ocean. Jo motioned for a waiter, and within minutes the menu was in front of them.
"Okay, let's not order everything," the agent warned, looking at the card.
"But everything here looks so delicious," Jerome drawled, already anticipating the feast.
Delia, leaning over the menu, looked enchanted too.
"There's lasagna here! I want lasagna!"
"And I'll have steak," Jerome added without thinking.
Jo just shook her head but said nothing. When the waiter came, she ordered something lighter for herself and let the children enjoy what they had chosen.
When the dishes were served, Jerome was completely immersed in his food. Every spoonful, every bite was so delicious that his face lit up with pleasure. However, soon he suddenly put his fork down and froze. His thoughts, like a whirlwind, covered him completely, not allowing him to concentrate on dinner. Just now he thought that everything was fine, that food was the best medicine for disappointments, but now everything was turned upside down. A sudden realization struck him like thunder.
He looked at Delia, who was chatting happily with Jo about something insignificant, and suddenly felt something new and strange boiling up inside him. He no longer saw her as the girl who had recently been the center of his world. Now before him sat the enemy, the symbol of his weakness, the one who held his mind captive.
At that moment, he remembered the dream that had recently shaken him to the core. The tournament, the spears, the glitter of armor... And the boy in armor - Damien Thorn, his opponent on horseback and with a spear. Now Jerome understood that the boy he had suddenly embraced at the end of the fight was a reflection of his own vulnerability, the romantic side that clung to hope even when all signs pointed to its futility.
"I should have let Damien defeat me in the dream," Jerome thought. "But instead I went and hugged him. And that was my defeat."
"Jerome, why are you so quiet?" Delia's voice suddenly reached his ears.
Jerome jerked back, his chair scraping on the floor, and for a moment the wardroom grew quieter. Delia, who had been laughing a moment ago, now looked at him with genuine bewilderment.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" she asked, a little confused, but with a hint of resentment in her voice.
Jo, sitting opposite him, also noticed his strange behavior. Her gaze, sharp and appraising, made Jerome feel uneasy.
"Jerome, what happened?" she asked softly but insistently.
"Nothing," he squeezed out, avoiding their gaze and looking somewhere to the side.
But inside, everything was seething. His heart was pounding as if he had just run a marathon. The idea that Delia was his enemy was now ringing in his head with frightening clarity. Her ease, her mockery, the way she treated him... All these moments that he had previously perceived as innocent jokes or friendly displays now seemed like mockery to him.
"You're acting weird," Delia said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice sounded hurt, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"I'm just..." Jerome hesitated, looking at his hands. "I'm just tired."
"Tired?" Delia asked incredulously. "We just ate!"
"That's not up for discussion," he replied coldly and stood up to leave the table.
Jo stood up as if she was going to say something, but then changed her mind. She just watched him go, then looked at Delia.
"Do you know anything about this?" she asked quietly, leaning towards the girl.
Delia shrugged, but her face showed concern.
"He's weird. He's always been weird."
On deck, Jerome paused at the rail, peering into the darkness. The cold sea air cooled his heated thoughts a little, but it did not add clarity.
"Delia is the enemy," he heard over and over in his head. "She's only pretending to care. It's all a game, a manipulation."
He clenched his fists, trying to find logic in his feelings.
"But why? Why do I think so? She didn't do anything bad... or did she?"
Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a light hand on his shoulder. Jerome turned around and saw Delia.
"Jerome, what's wrong?" the girl's voice was wary and soft, as always, but there was still something new in it.
She obviously noticed his strange behavior and tried to come closer. Irritation and anger immediately flared up inside the boy. Why was she always there? Why was she always noticing something and trying to interfere? It was too much.
"Are you sick?" she asked, her voice genuinely concerned, but he couldn't bear it.
He felt his jaws clench with tension.
"You care?" Jerome turned sharply, meeting her gaze with hostility. His eyes sparkled, and there was a caustic malice in his voice. "Yeah, you will, right? But why about me? I don't know you, and I don't want to know you!"
His words were like a blow. Delia froze in place, her eyes wide with surprise and pain. She hadn't expected this. But despite his harshness, she didn't back down. She looked at him, trying to understand what was happening.
"Jerome..." her voice was quiet, but full of surprise. "You... You're my friend. We're on this mission together. Why do you say that?"
He took another step back, his gaze cold and restless. He clenched his fists nervously, trying to regain control. But all he wanted was to get as far away from all of this as possible. From her, from his feelings, from this connection that seemed to be squeezing him more and more.
"Friend?" He grinned, but the grin was not sincere. "You don't let me into your life. You were always there, but not close. Why? Why won't you let me live in peace?"
Delia didn't know what to say. She had always thought that their relationship, although strange, was honest. She hadn't expected Jerome to reject her like this. After all, she hadn't done anything bad to him. On the contrary, she had always tried to be there for him, to support him.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Jerome," she said quietly, unable to hide her disappointment. "I've never tried to control you. But you... You're afraid of intimacy for some reason.
His eyes met hers, but now there was no anger in them, but pain. It wasn't just irritation. It was fear. He couldn't believe that Delia, the girl he had once thought of as his own, could be so close. And now he was ready to push her away. Afraid that she might awaken feelings in him that he couldn't control.
"Afraid?" He exhaled, cringing, as if the word were poison. "I'm not afraid. I just don't want to be in the same boat with you. You don't understand that, Delia. You don't understand how hard it is to be in all this..."
Delia stood there, feeling her chest tighten. Every glance at Jerome, who stood across from her with his fists clenched and his back tense, only reinforced her sense of hopelessness. She didn't know what to do, what to say. She wanted to go to him, to feel his warmth, to regain at least a little of the closeness they had had before. But now everything was different.
Her hands froze in the air, as if in some unknown pause, where there were neither the right words nor gestures. There was some coldness in Jerome's eyes - a wall behind which she could not find a place for herself. Before, she could understand him with half a word, but now... now she did not know where to begin.
"Why? Why are you saying that? What happened?" These questions were racing through Delia's head.
She tried to imagine how he felt, but her own feelings were so confused that the answers never came.
"Jerome," her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. She tried to take another step toward him, but he stepped back abruptly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I just want everything to be okay. I care about you."
But he only chuckled, as if her words were not worth paying attention to. There was no anger in his eyes, only weariness and bewilderment. He could not understand why he felt this way. Why, when she was near, everything seemed clear, and now every step she took hurt him.
"Darling," he said the word with such irritation that Delia felt her heart clench. "You don't understand how hard it is to be around you. You want to be around me, but only when it's convenient for you. And when I try to figure myself out, you just make it harder."
He turned to her and she saw his face change, anger turning to despair. His hands clenched into fists again.
"Why can't you just leave me alone, Delia?" His voice was harsh, but there was pain in it too. "I don't want to be your friend, I don't want to be anything. I... I just want you to stop being a part of this twisted game.
Delia was silent. She didn't know how to respond to this. She never thought she would hear such words from him. Tears appeared in her eyes for a moment, but she quickly held them back, trying not to show her weakness.
"I'm not playing with you, Jerome," she took another step toward him, but stopped, as if she couldn't go any further, afraid of hurting him even more. "I really don't know how you feel, but I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to be close. If you don't want that, I... I'll leave.
Her words were quiet, almost inaudible. But Jerome heard them. He heard in her voice the same sincerity that had always been with him. But now she seemed too vulnerable to him. He could not understand what was happening to him, and so his reaction was sharp.
"You don't understand how I feel because you don't want to. You don't want to understand me." He said it as if he was burning himself with his own words.
Delia froze, her eyes meeting his. They were both silent, standing there like two people who had once been close but now couldn't find each other in this vast world.
The minute seemed like an eternity, but then she took a step back. Her eyes still searched his gaze for an answer, but he had already turned away, not wanting to continue the conversation.
"Okay," she finally whispered. "I'll go. But you won't be alone. I know how you feel, even if you don't understand it yourself."
With that, she turned and walked slowly forward along the deck, past the glass doors of the wardroom where the other passengers were dining. The girl felt her heart beating in unison with each step, but she still couldn't get rid of the heaviness in her chest. All her efforts, all her attempts to understand Jerome and be close to him, seemed to have turned against her.
When she entered the cabin, everything inside her froze. The air in the room was cold and empty. She went to the window, pressing her forehead to the glass, looking out at the darkening sea. His quiet whisper, like her feelings, seemed distant and alien.
Outside on the deck, Jerome stood, alone and motionless. He could feel the cold wind cutting through his jacket, making his body shiver, but it was nothing compared to what was happening inside him. He didn't know what he was feeling. It hurt, and it seemed like it would never go away. Delia... she irritated him, but at the same time, he knew that her words were not an empty threat. She could leave, like she was now, and there was nothing he could do about it.
His gaze darted between the deck and the horizon. He felt empty inside. At first, when Delia was near, it was as if he saw nothing but her. But now... now his soul was filled not with love, but with anger. He was ready to tear her apart for what she had done to him. But, on the other hand, this anger was the result of his powerlessness, his fear.
With every minute he spent alone, he realized more and more that this could not go on. He did not know how to return everything back, how to return to the simplicity with which they began their mission.
Jerome took a step forward, fighting back the storm within him, but his gaze fell on the windows of the cabin where Delia had been. His heart was pounding harder than ever. He couldn't just stand there and watch her disappear. It was too much. He didn't want to lose her, didn't know if he could survive this moment. And he had pushed her away. It was as if there was another version of Jerome behind the wall of his mind, not allowing him to retreat. This version of him wanted to be strong, unyielding. But the real Jerome? He was broken.
"Delia," he breathed, turning on the spot as if he was ready to run to her right away. But his feet seemed to be stuck in place.
For a few seconds he stood there in indecision, and finally realized that if he didn't take this step now, he might be left alone with the same empty thoughts that had been tormenting him all this time.
He turned decisively and walked towards the cabin where she was.
When Jerome opened the door, he saw Delia standing by the window, her silhouette outlined by the soft light from the cabin. She was alone and seemed lost in her thoughts. She didn't turn around when he heard her footsteps, and only her shoulders shook slightly when he said her name.
"Delia," his voice was quiet but firm. He stepped inside, never taking his eyes off her.
She paused, and his heart sank as he watched her slowly turn around. Her eyes showed a mixture of confusion and pain that she was hiding. It wasn't aggression, it wasn't anger, it was a real, deep wound.
"I didn't want you to leave," his words were sincere, and he knew they now sounded like an admission of something much bigger than just a mistake.
Delia was silent, but her lips trembled as if she were trying to say something. Jerome took a step toward her, and now he stood at the distance they had created for themselves lately. He wanted to explain everything, but he didn't know where to begin.
"I'm just... I'm confused," he said, his voice shaking. "I can't figure out what I'm feeling, but I know I don't want to lose you. I was an idiot for acting like that.
Delia turned back to the window, her shoulders tense as a string. She took a deep breath and answered quietly,
"I'm confused too. I don't know what to do. It hurt me to see you push me away. I thought we could be more than just mission partners."
She turned to face him and her gaze met his.
"Jerome, I don't think we're both ready to be honest with each other," her voice was quiet but strong. "But I want to try."
Jerome stood there, looking at her, realizing that she was right. He was silent for a long time, but the heaviness in his soul was beginning to fade. She wasn't ready to give up, and it seemed that he wasn't either.
The boy walked up to her, reached out and gently touched her shoulder. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and his breath catching in his throat. Delia took his hand, more confidently with each movement, and the moment her fingers touched his skin, he realized there was something different in her eyes. It wasn't the look he'd seen before – not the carefree smile or the lightness, but something much deeper and more real. Something he couldn't quite place, but felt with his whole being.