Rafaella's cart was the first to arrive, wheels grinding to a halt on the stone pathway. Before the dust settled, the children leaped off with wild war cries, rushing toward the massive turtle hauling a wagon.
Unfazed by the mayhem, she secured a package under her right arm while deftly pinching Eclipse's scruff as the kitten lunged for it.
"Easy there," Rafaella said, amusement softening her exasperation. "Let me actually cook this first. I promise you'll get the first bite before anyone else."
The kitten squirmed in her grip, tiny paws still reaching desperately for the parcel.
With practiced ease, she hopped down from the driver's seat, Eclipse dangling resignedly from her fingers.
Rafaella lowered the kitten to the ground and called over her shoulder, "Nero, can you unhitch Taurus? I need to hide this somewhere before this little menace ruins our lunch."
She didn't wait for a reply and strolled toward the house. Eclipse immediately shadowed her, its eyes never leaving the package and the black tail flicking like a poised hunter.
I watched them disappear inside, then turned toward Taurus, who suddenly didn't seem so massive compared to the approaching behemoth.
The enormous turtle shook the earth with each deliberate step, its shell a mountain in motion. Atop it sat a figure I could barely make out.
As I unhitched Taurus on autopilot, I focused on the approaching spectacle.
Ivan and Irene circled the turtle, their cheers echoing across the courtyard as if welcoming a champion running a race. The creature finally lumbered to a stop, its massive body heaving with each labored breath.
Then she moved.
The woman atop the turtle dismounted with impossible grace. The moment her feet touched the ground, everything else blurred into insignificance.
My world narrowed to a single point of focus.
I felt the greenery, the estate, the people, everything around fading away.
I could not perceive the children cheering, the giant turtle's labored breathing, or the warm breath of the Taurus next to me.
All I could sense was the crystal clear sound of my heart pounding heavily in my chest and my eyes going wide as I looked at her.
Her face was as serene as a porcelain doll's, untouched by the time or turmoil.
A crown of snow-white hair framed her features, braided with such precision it seemed sculpted from moonlight. Each strand shimmered faintly, like frost under starlight, giving her an almost unearthly aura.
The bold splash of crimson on her perfectly painted lips created a fierce contrast against her ethereal softness.
But it was her eyes that truly captivated me.
Wide, almond-shaped silver eyes.
Like twin moons, they held the stillness of the midnight sky, as if this celestial fairy had witnessed the heavy unspoken truths of the mortal world for millennia. They rarely blinked, but when they did, it gave one a feeling of closing a sacred book, slow and meaningful.
Her beauty wasn't loud or flamboyant, but a quiet, commanding one that never begged to be noticed, yet always was.
She was the gorgeous ghost of the horror show that haunted one for a lifetime because of her otherworldly perfection.
Realizing I was staring like a moron, I quickly arranged my features.
Picking out one of the best smiles from my arsenal I plastered it on my face, hoping I could coax one in return from her composed face.
She glanced at me briefly, then turned her attention back to the giant turtle as if I were merely a stone in her path.
Ouch.
That was the third punch to the gut today.
I prided myself on my looks—one smile was usually enough to turn heads, and experience had only reinforced that belief.
Hardly a woman in Agroville hadn't shown interest in me.
I'd built up a stony demeanor precisely because the village women misread even my friendliest gestures as flirtation, escalating things until they reached the old fossil's ears—followed, of course, by endless teasing.
But this blatant dismissal, coming right after Lissy's betrayal this morning, was making me question everything.
It seems my charm was hitting brick walls today.
Looking at the frost beauty whose bearing distinguished her from any woman I'd encountered, I fought to suppress the knot forming from my wounded pride.
Maybe to her, I'm just another pretty face with nothing new to offer.
Fine. If my looks won't work their magic, I have other weapons in my arsenal.
Sigh, the things I need to do to advance my bloodline.
I approached her without hesitation, dropping my voice to that honeyed timbre I knew from experience was effective. I positioned myself to tower over her slightly, enough to pique her interest but not threaten her.
"Hey there," I said, layering a smirk into my voice. "What's a pretty lady like you doing on our doorstep?"
No response. Her gaze remained locked on the turtle, her perfect brow furrowing slightly in concern.
Seriously? Not even a glance?
Come on, at least say something. Even one word is enough. Throw me a bone here.
Before I could regroup for another attempt, an elderly man climbed down from the wagon, busily untying ropes from a massive bed frame.
"Big brother," he called warmly, "could you lend a hand with this bed?"
I nearly choked.
Big brother? Was he talking to me? This guy looked like he should be bouncing great-grandkids on his knee.
I shot him a murderous glare, wondering if he was deliberately trying to humiliate me in front of the future mother of my children.
But his expression was nothing but sincere. There was no malice or hidden jab but only pure, oblivious respect.
Annoyingly, I had no choice but to let it go.
I turned back to her.
She was still ignoring me for the damn turtle.
Time for a new approach.
I stepped toward the massive creature. Ivan and Irene were crouched beside it, concern etched on their tiny faces.
"Big brother Nero," Irene whispered, tugging at my sleeve. "Miss Turtle's sick."
I ruffled her hair gently. "Don't worry. Let me take a look."
The turtle blinked at me, wary but watchful. I reached toward one of its hind legs, only to leap back when it recoiled with a threatening rumble.
"Easy," I said soothingly, though my words weren't meant for the beast. I turned to its mistress, not wasting the opportunity to admire her face openly. "I'm one of the temple healers."
The frost beauty finally looked at me directly.
Her silver eyes assessed me as if I'd suddenly become worthy of her attention. A flicker of consideration crossed her perfect features before she offered the barest of nods.
That was all I needed.
With practiced confidence, I placed my hand against the turtle's rough side. The creature remained tense but didn't withdraw.
I let my mana probe its body, then turned back to her with my diagnosis.
"Well," I murmured, meeting her gaze, "your companion has been pushed too hard. The signs are clear: sore muscles, stiff joints, and tendons tight as bowstrings from overwork. Its pulse remains elevated even at rest, suggesting its heart rarely gets to slow down. There's severe energy depletion throughout its vessel. It's like someone who's run a marathon with a boulder strapped to their back."
She nodded silently, acknowledging my assessment.
I pressed my hand firmly against the turtle's side and activated my spell.
Green runic circles bloomed beneath my palm as my life force concentrated into a single focal point before flowing into the giant creature.
What I was doing was overkill, like using a machine gun to kill a fly.
Protocol demanded healers to nudge the patient toward natural recovery rather than guided healing by pouring life energy into it. This prevented the accidental growth of pathogens and cancerous mutations and also avoided creating dependence on the healer by weakening the patient's immune system.
The proper recommendation would have been to take ample rest and nutrition.
But I wasn't here to follow protocol. I was here to impress.
There was simply no better way to show off my boundless life force and leave a good impression than using her giant beast companion who could suck it all off me like a bottomless barrel.
Besides, doing this once or twice couldn't cause much harm. Probably.
The turtle let out a groan that bordered on euphoria before quickly clamping its mouth shut as if embarrassed by the display.
Too late though.
The sound echoed had already echoed across the courtyard.
The creature's body shimmered with the infusion of energy while it desperately tried to hold it in the embarrassing sounds of pleasure. Unfortunately, despite its best attempts to maintain dignity, the life energy I was injecting inside it was too potent, so its resistance crumbled under waves of relief and it gave up holding back.
Ten minutes later, I withdrew my hand, artfully wiping sweat from my brow like a model healer from the storybooks.
Immediately, the turtle summoned a glob of water and splashed it over the spot I'd touched as if washing away contamination.
Nice.
Pretending I didn't see that, I turned back to her with a confident grin. "Your companion needs proper rest, or you might need my services again. Actually, big sis handles most things around here, so I'm quite available. How about it? If you need a personal healer or a man with strong hands, I'm free most days."
She glanced from the turtle to me, a fleeting spark of amusement in her silver eyes.
Then she shook her head, declining my offer without a word.
"Big brother?" the elderly man called again, still struggling with the bed. "Could you help with this?"
Oh my god, I swear, this guy… read the room, man. If you can't be a wingman, at least don't spoil my chances.
Ignoring him, I persisted. "Tell you what. I'll waive the healing fee if you tell me your name." I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "May I know your name, pretty lady?"
She finally spoke her voice like crystal chimes in a gentle breeze.
"You may not."
Wow. Such a beautiful voice, like strings plucked from a god's lyre. Makes me want to hear it for a lifetime.
"Okay, but we should still discuss your companion's nutrition," I pressed, unwilling to end our interaction. "Let's not stand out here. We can move to the clinic. I've got a protein drink you would absolutely love."
"About the bed—" she began.
"Don't worry," I interjected smoothly, "we have a bed inside the clinic."
"She's talking about that bed," a calm, unimpressed voice interrupted from behind me.
I stiffened, recognizing Rafaella's gentle tone. Turning slowly, I found her standing with arms crossed, watching us.
"Haha, big sis," I offered weakly. "I was just helping this young lady and her companion. You know, doing my clinic duty."
"I know," Rafaella replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I saw it all."
All? How long has she been here?
Rafaella's knowing smile widened as the awkward tension between us thickened between us. She eventually turned to the woman with the silver eyes.
"Mrs. Lian," she said, her voice carrying a warmth that made jealousy curl through my chest. "Please forgive his... enthusiasm. He tends to get carried away when meeting new people."
Lian.
The name echoed in my mind like a perfect note. At least now I had something to call her other than pretty lady.
Wait. Mrs. Lian?
A flicker of disappointment crossed my mind before being quickly replaced by renewed determination. Like a wedding band has ever stopped me before.
The elderly man cleared his throat, interrupting my thoughts. "The bed is quite heavy," he explained apologetically, gesturing toward the wagon. "And we were told it needs to go—"
"To his room," Rafaella finished, nodding toward me. "On the second floor."
I jerked my head toward her. "Why my room? Wait, you bought a new bed for me?"
Rafaella's expression was suspiciously innocent. "Of course, silly. I had already ordered it before coming to Agroville, but they delayed production, citing a hectic schedule because of the trading caravan stationed in the village."
The old man's weathered face contorted with indignation. "That's not true, Priestess," he corrected with the careful politeness of someone who feels wronged. "We had many orders agreed upon even before yours. Madam Tsubaki only prioritized your commission because you stationed yourself in our workshop from the morning, disrupting our job." He exhaled. "Who could refuse the temple priestess when she meddles in all our projects and demands we work on your order?"
A flush of guilt spread across Rafaella's cheeks. She suddenly turned away, as if finding great interest in a nearby flowering bush.
Something warm unfurled in my chest.
I knew how deeply Rafaella valued propriety and proper conduct.
For her to disrupt others' work and make herself a nuisance was practically unthinkable. The fact that she'd done so for my sake softened something within me.
The old man continued in the same politely aggrieved tone, "This is a specialty bed crafted from ironwood. Exceptionally heavy. Normally requires at least four strong men to transport safely." His gaze drifted meaningfully toward the wagon. "If the priestess had waited just two more days, we would have had workers available to deliver it without difficulty. Now..."
The unspoken accusation in his exceedingly polite tone made me frown.
"Relax," I interrupted, rolling my shoulders with deliberate showmanship. "My strength equals that of three men, at minimum." I gestured dismissively toward Rafaella and Mrs. Lian. "Ladies, please step aside. We men can handle this ourselves."
"Big brother," the elderly man protested, "I was not joking. It is extremely heavy. The base alone weighs more than—"
"Come now," I cut him off, striding purposefully toward the wagon. "Let's finish this quickly. You're busy at the workshop, aren't you? I'm simply helping you return sooner."
I approached the bed, making a show of examining its structure.
It indeed seemed formidable. An intricate framework of dark, polished wood with elaborate carvings along the posts. The base alone looked like it weighed as much as a small boulder.
Perfect for impressing my Lian.
With a confident grunt, I gripped the frame and pulled it up, but immediately regretted my bravado.
Shit.
The thing was absurdly heavy.
Even with the old man struggling to support the opposite end, dividing the weight between us, I felt scarcely any relief. My muscles strained against the unexpected burden as we lifted it clear of the wagon.
Sweat immediately beaded on my forehead.
"See?" I grunted through clenched teeth, forcing an offhand smile. "Not a problem."
The children watched wide-eyed as we maneuvered the bed toward the house, each step a monumental effort disguised as casual strength. I refused to look at the women, focusing instead on maintaining my composure despite the growing burn in my arms and back.
Rafaella moved ahead to open the door wider, her expression hovering between concern and amusement. "You can still ask for help, you know. Mrs. Lian is an awakened," she whispered as I passed.
I Ignored her.
We struggled through the hall before beginning the ascent up the narrow staircase, each step requiring full concentration. By the eighth step, the old man's arms were visibly trembling despite me taking most of the weight. By the twelfth, his breath came in controlled gasps.
Halfway through, I spotted my Lian gliding effortlessly up the stairs behind him, her expression unreadable.
"I will take over from here," she said, her voice flowing like cool silver water.
Relief flooded the old man's face as he gratefully passed the burden on the slender woman.
Her silver eyes met mine across the bulky bed frame. Her delicate form borne the weight without a flicker of strain that it seemed almost unreal.
I tightened my grip, swallowing hard.
Don't stare, Nero. You will trip crashing this god's gift under the stupidly heavy bed.
We moved in silence, our syncing steps echoing off the narrow stairwell. On the second floor, we guided the frame into my room and set it down with care.
I straightened slowly, rubbing the back of my neck and trying not to look like I'd just run a marathon.
I snuck a glance her way.
Still no emotion on that flawless face.
She took in the room with a single, sweeping look, then paused.
"You healed my companion," she said, calm and direct. "I will compensate you in the future."
Before I could reply, she glided down the hallway like a drifting moonbeam.
I stood there momentarily, staring at the bed silently, then headed downstairs.
The old man was mopping his forehead with a sleeve. "May the goddess forever bless young blood," he muttered, casting a glance toward the silver-haired woman. "Mrs. Lian, thank you."
She offered a simple nod, already standing at the threshold, poised to leave.
I approached as Rafaella turned to the old man, her expression sincere. "I'm sorry for everything today, Mr. Hugo. Please give my apologies to Mrs. Tsubaki as well."
The old man shook his head with a chuckle and continued in his extremely polite tone, "How can I accept an apology from the priestess herself? You've already paid far more than the damage could warrant. Honestly, your visit gave me a welcome break from the busy work. Besides," he paused and looked at me, "now big brother won't pack up and run off to Agroville."
He let out a laugh like he'd just shared something really funny.
I turned sharply toward Rafaella, eyebrows raised in silent accusation.
Seriously? Did you really have to tell people that?
She quickly looked away, pretending not to notice my frown.
After a round of farewells, they walked to the wagon to depart, citing more work waiting at the workshop.
I watched their receding figure, specifically Mrs. Lian.
A slender frame and a graceful posture. A woman carved from moonlight and frost.
I smirked.
I'd have to be careful not to shatter something so delicate in the future.
Suddenly remembering Rafaella's presence, I snapped toward her.
She was already shaking her head, face buried in her palm.
Without a word, she spun on her heel and walked toward the kitchen.
Caught red-handed, I winced inside.
With a deep sigh, I followed her, determined to make amends with my gentle fairy.
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