Garth surged toward her.
Rachael's eyes lit up in excitement. He was back. He had survived the war against the demons. And he'd returned earlier than expected.
She set her buckets down carefully and straightened, expecting him to slow as he approached. But he didn't. His pace remained unyielding. Her pulse quickened.
When he reached her, he seized her in a fierce embrace, nearly knocking her over before catching her mid-fall.
Their eyes met—her golden irises wide with surprise—and before she could utter a word, Garth pressed his lips to hers.
Instead of melting into the kiss, she stiffened. Her hands pushed against his chest, shoving with all her might. When she managed to break free, she reared back and drove her fist straight into his face.
The impact was brutal. A sickening crack split the air as his nose broke.
She stood there, breath ragged, hair disheveled beyond reason, her whole body trembling. That single blow had drained her strength.
"Have you lost your mind?" she panted. "Do you think you can have your way with me like some street rat from the slums? Pervert!"
That last word felt like a hammer to Garth's skull.
He clutched his face in mortification. The memories came flooding back—who he had been in his past life.
Back then, he had been a pervert. Not in the way others had assumed—he had never actually slept with anyone—but his antics had given everyone reason to believe he had.
The peak of his disgraceful behavior had been grabbing at women's chests or backsides and bolting away before they could pummel him.
Now, the weight of that shame made him want to punch himself in the face—hard enough to match the one she had just given him. His past self's lack of respect for women was appalling.
And worst of all...
He and Rachael hadn't even fallen in love yet.
How could he have forgotten that?
"Get up."
Rachael's voice was softer now.
Garth lowered his hand from his face, finding her still standing before him.
She kept her gaze fixed elsewhere, refusing to meet his eyes. "I said, get up."
He obeyed, and without another word, she turned and walked off. He followed, trailing behind as she led him home—his old home.
Except now, in this lifetime, it was simply his current home.
Stepping inside, he felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him. The house was even worse than he remembered. The roof barely existed, riddled with holes where the rain had long since left its stains. The walls were darkened, the wooden windows barely clinging to their rusted hinges.
Yet, despite its dilapidated state, it was clear that someone had done their best to maintain it. The place was as clean as it could be, though its ruined exterior made that hard to notice.
There wasn't much to see. Just a small, battered parlor—if one could even call it that—and a single bedroom behind the only sturdy-looking door in the house.
No kitchen. No bathroom. Cooking and bathing were done outside, in the backyard.
And that was exactly where she led him.
A small open space greeted them, mostly barren save for two large drums—one filled with water, the other only half full. A wooden table, a bench, and a Star Stone-powered cooker completed the setting.
Rachael gestured for him to sit, and he did.
Without a word, she walked to the water drum and poured half the contents of her second bucket inside. Then, retrieving a cloth, she returned to his side, took a seat beside him, and dipped the cloth into the remaining water.
Carefully, she began dabbing at the blood that had run from his nose down to his lips and jaw.
Garth sat still, unmoving beneath her touch.
The punch she had given him was stronger than her demeanor suggested she was capable of. But that wasn't what occupied his thoughts.
All he could focus on was the warmth of her fingers as she dabbed at his lips.
He found himself staring—drawn into those golden eyes, just like before.
They had always been his anchor. Whenever despair threatened to consume him, whenever all hope seemed lost, those eyes had pulled him back. Their warmth had given him the strength to push forward.
And then—
They turned white.
Cold. Lifeless.
And suddenly, she was gone.
Garth jolted violently.
"Are you okay?"
Rachael's voice cut through the haze of panic gripping Garth's chest.
Sweat beaded along his brow, despite the cool water still lingering on his skin.
"I... I'm fine," he forced out. But inside, he was anything but.
He clenched his fists without realizing it.
What kind of man was he? He had failed to protect the only woman he had ever loved. He had failed to protect his family. And now, reliving this moment, knowing what awaited them in the future…
"Never again."
The words left his lips in a whisper, but they were heavy enough to catch Rachael's attention.
She almost asked him what he meant. But the look on his face—like he was carrying something far beyond her understanding—made her hesitate.
Instead, she decided to break the silence another way.
"You made it back," she said.
"I did."
"Good. Because if you hadn't, I'd have killed you myself." She wrung out the cloth in her hands a little too aggressively.
Garth smiled. "I know."
She ignored the satchel hanging from his chest, even though she knew exactly what was inside.
"How much were you paid?"
Garth unfastened the satchel, pulling out a small pouch. He opened it, revealing three low-grade demon cores.
At most, they would sell for thirty to thirty-six shakles.
Just enough to pay off a few debts he remembered his family owing at this point in time. After that, it would cover four days' worth of three meals a day for a family of three.
Or six days, if they skipped lunch.
Barely enough.
But he knew Rachael had been expecting more—probably enough for her family as well. The upper echelons had robbed them of that, handing out scraps after sending Venators to risk their lives.
Without realizing it, Garth squeezed the pouch tightly.
Then, catching himself, he loosened his grip and smiled.
"This is just a small payout while they sort things out," he said. "I'll be receiving a lot more by the end of the week."
Rachael's eyes widened as she turned to meet his gaze. "You will?"
Her voice carried the slightest hint of hope.
And just like that, his resolve hardened.
No matter what, he would make sure this time was different.