"Sorry... I'm sorry... I..."
"It's okay," he said, a little startled by how deeply it affected her.
"I'm sorry... I won't look again... Sorry..." Her voice trembled as she stammered.
"It's fine already," he replied, moving to kneel beside her chair.
"Sorry... I won't do it again... Please don't leave me..." Her words not only startled Ryou but also Sera. The woman who had spent most of her life alone was now gripped by the fear of losing him. It was a revelation—just how deeply it terrified her that this unknown man might be upset and walk away. She didn't know it yet, but this fear of loss was an echo from their past life together.
Even without that connection, Sera realized she had never had anyone like him. Someone who protected her, comforted her, and even gave her shelter. She only had to avoid one thing, yet she still failed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had always been alone, but now that she knew someone was by her side, her solitude felt more like an unfamiliar, unsettling place. The idea of being "truly" alone again was more frightening than anything she had ever experienced.
"Hey, I said it's fine already," Ryou said gently, his voice softening. "I didn't want to reveal myself to protect you. My work... it's a bit dangerous, and I didn't want to expose you to that. But honestly, I don't mind you seeing my face." In fact, he wanted those honey-brown eyes to look at his golden ones. He reached for her trembling hands, silently asking for permission.
"And there's no way I'd leave you," he added, his voice steady. "I only wanted to protect you from the shadows, like before. It's okay. You can look at me now."
Sera took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart as his words sank in. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her eyes tracing the line of his honey-colored, strong arm holding hers, up to the rolled-up sleeve of his black shirt, then across broad shoulders, each one seeming strong enough to bear her weight, before moving to his Adam's apple, his chin, until her gaze finally met his—those golden eyes she had witnessed even in the dark.
They froze in the moment, caught in each other's gaze, neither knowing how to look away. Her free hand reached instinctively toward his face, but just before it touched his skin, she pulled it back, startled by the sudden impulse. Ryou, however, was faster, catching her hand and gently pressing it against his cheek.
"You can also touch," he whispered softly.
Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.
"I was just... thinking that you're not ugly like you said," she mumbled, flustered, her eyes darting away from his.
"That's good to know. Most people don't like what they see," he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His cold expression remained, but it felt as though Sera's heart was melting under that subtly curved smile.
"Are most people stupid?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.
"They said my eyes are scary," he replied.
"What? Your eyes are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen!" she exclaimed, her excitement lighting up her face.
"My eyes? Beautiful?" he asked, slightly surprised.
"Yes, don't listen to them," she said quickly. "Your eyes are so pretty that they must be envious."
"Alright, I'll just listen to you." Her words made a blush rise to her cheeks, and she lost the courage to meet his golden gaze.
Meanwhile, as Ryou looked into her eyes, a feeling he had been trying to suppress began to grow. In their past life, he had been a wolf, and Sera had cared for him from the time he was a pup. As they grew, she became the most important person in his life, the anchor that kept him grounded. He hadn't viewed their bond as maternal—he had a mother, after all, one of his own kind. But their connection had been one of strong companionship between a human and an animal, both finding solace in each other's presence, an unspoken need to protect.
But now, in this life, they were both human. And there was something between them that had never existed before—a spark that was undeniable. Ryou wasn't ready to admit it. He had never planned on growing close to her. His intention had always been to stay a shadow, the ghost of Maru, silently watching over her from afar. Even when other men approached her, he only interfered when they posed a threat. He knew his place.
Now, as they stood so close, a part of him still insisted that she was only acting this way because she feared being alone, feared losing the only protection she had ever known. He convinced himself that her feelings, and his, didn't run deeper than that.
On the other hand, Sera began to think that there's no way a man of his caliber would suddenly protect her so carefully out of a simple crush. There had to be something more. Was she an important subject? Did her bloodline have some kind of value? She had grown up in an orphanage, after all. Or perhaps there was something she didn't know about herself—something valuable that Ryou was guarding. He had mentioned his work was dangerous, and that had to be linked to why he was so invested in her.
Sera handed Ryou the fresh, Korean strawberry scented blanket, her fingers brushing his briefly. Both pretended not to notice, though the touch lingered unspoken in the air between them. She stood quietly by the couch as he settled in, her presence hovering like an unanswered question.
"The couch might be too small for you," she murmured, her gaze flicking to its length, mentally comparing it to his tall frame.
"It's fine," he replied, his tone casual. "I've slept in worse places."
Her hands clasped in front of her, her feet rooted to the floor. The silence stretched between them, taut and fragile, but neither moved to break it.
Ryou glanced up at her, noting the hesitation in her stance. She seemed reluctant to retreat to her room, as if there was something keeping her there. His golden eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than he intended, catching the faint flicker of emotion in her expression.
She shifted slightly but didn't leave. The weight of his earlier words—that this would be the last night she'd see him like this—pressed heavily on her chest. Inside, her thoughts churned. I don't want to say goodnight yet. The thought was almost suffocating, its weight making it hard to breathe.
He was here, so close, and yet the moment already felt fleeting.
Her gaze drifted to the blanket in his lap, as though its soft folds might hold the answers she couldn't bring herself to ask. The unspoken tension between them filled the room, but neither dared to acknowledge it.
Neither of them could bring themselves to acknowledge the tenderness growing between them. They might be physically closer for a fleeting moment, but emotionally, their hearts were steadily constructing walls between each other.