In the following days, Ryan temporarily stayed at the castle.
Kaya initially maintained a polite distance, having the kitchen prepare exquisite meals daily and quietly brewing a pot of floral tea to place on the stone table whenever Ryan leaned back in his rattan chair smoking a cigar.
She began finding excuses to approach him more frequently.
Sometimes she'd clutch a worn nautical chart album, pointing at some sea region covered with wave patterns to ask questions; other times she'd hold a travelogue with dog-eared pages, inquiring about ships with massive sails depicted in the illustrations.
Whenever this happened, Ryan would stop twirling his cigar between his fingers and, watching the anticipation in her eyes, slowly begin speaking.
He never outright denied anything, nor did he exaggerate with embellishments. A simple "The world is vast, full of wonders" was enough to make the light in Kaya's eyes shine brighter.
She listened with rapt attention, chin propped on her hands resting on the stone table, her long eyelashes fluttering gently with his words.
Compared to Usopp's confident claims of "I've personally defeated them," Ryan's attitude of "haven't seen it but believe it's possible" instead lent those fantastical things an aura of authenticity.
She wasn't unaware of Usopp's intentions—those exaggerated stories were like colorful soap bubbles that burst into brilliant displays during her lonely moments, yet popped at the slightest touch.
But Ryan's words carried the saltiness of sea breeze, the dust of long journeys, as if those unconfirmed wonders might one day sail right into his view.
Usopp still came to the castle daily, claiming one day that he'd found gold-coin-spitting shellfish in rock crevices, the next that he'd nearly been dragged underwater by a talking octopus.
Kaya would still listen with a smile, though occasionally her mind would wander—like when Usopp mentioned the "prophetic sea turtle," she'd recall Ryan saying that morning while gazing at the horizon, "There might be sea turtles as large as islands," feeling the latter made more sense.
Once in the courtyard, while Usopp was animatedly describing the "fountain of eternal youth," Kaya suddenly turned to Ryan who had just emerged from the corridor and softly asked, "Mr. Ryan, do you think such a fountain truly exists in this world?"
Ryan happened to be extinguishing his cigar and standing up. He raised an eyebrow at the question: "Possibly. Who knows, there might even be methods of eternal life in this world."
Kaya's eyes lit up as she turned back to Usopp with a smile. "See, Mr. Ryan says it's possible too."
Usopp blinked in surprise, scratching his long nose while muttering, "I wasn't lying in the first place..."
Kaya didn't respond, instead gazing thoughtfully at the sea beyond the courtyard. She suddenly understood why she preferred listening to Ryan.
He never said "I've seen it," but always "it might be possible." This reverence and curiosity toward the unknown acted like a key, gently unlocking the door in her heart that yearned for the wider world.
Usopp's stories were dreams woven for her—soft yet illusory—while Ryan's words told her that dreams might truly be hidden in some distant corner of the sea, and if she was willing to take that step, she might one day reach out and touch them with her own hands.
.....
That afternoon, Ryan mentioned he wanted to take a walk along the shore.
Kaya hesitated for a long while, clutching the hem of her dress, before timidly asking, "Could... could I come along?"
When she heard Ryan say "Alright," her eyes instantly lit up. She turned and ran back to her room to change into a light blue dress suitable for walking, loosely braiding her hair behind her head. When she came out, her steps were so buoyant she nearly tripped over her hem.
The sunset dyed the sea a brilliant gold, waves rolling with shattered light onto the shore, leaving behind strings of bubbles like scattered pearls as they receded.
Kaya walked barefoot on the cool sand, her dress fluttering noisily in the sea breeze. Her face, no longer as pale as usual, carried a healthy pink glow.
"So... the sea breathes too," she murmured, squatting down. Her fingers recoiled at the icy touch of the foam, yet her lips stretched into a wide grin, eyes curving like crescent moons.
Ryan stood behind her, a lit cigar between his lips, watching her splash and skip through the water. Smoke drifted lazily before his eyes, twisting in the sea breeze.
Having seen her so quiet and composed in the castle these past few days, he now discovered this lively side of her—pure as a freshly washed sky, without a hint of impurity.
Such an innocent, untainted girl stood in stark contrast to the chaotic world around them.
Kaya picked up a crescent-shaped white shell and eagerly turned to offer it. "Mr. Ryan, look—don't these patterns resemble waves?"
The shell glimmered in the sunset, casting a faint pink hue on her fingers.
"Hmm, they do," Ryan glanced down at the shell, his cigar shifting slightly. But then he abruptly changed the subject: "I plan to leave tomorrow."
These days had indeed been peaceful; her innocence had briefly made him forget the troubles of his past.
But no matter how comfortable the castle grounds were, they couldn't hold him—just as seabirds never linger on one shore, his feet were destined for wilder places.
At his words, the surroundings seemed to fall silent.
The smile on Kaya's face faded bit by bit. Her fingers tightened around the shell, its edge pressing painfully into her palm.
She lowered her head, long lashes drooping to veil her expression. Her voice was so soft it nearly vanished in the wind: "...Are you heading to the next place?"
Ryan gave a noncommittal "Hmm," offering no further explanation.
Only the sound of waves washing over their ankles remained, cold and carrying an indescribable melancholy.
Suddenly, Kaya lifted her head, her lashes still damp, and spoke in a voice as faint as a mosquito's hum, yet filled with resolve: "Mr. Ryan, could you... lower your head?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow, puzzled, but obliged, leaning down slightly. He thought she meant to whisper something, but before he could ask, something soft bumped against his cheek.
Kaya jerked back immediately, hiding the shell behind her back. Her face flushed crimson, eyes fixed stubbornly on her toes. Her voice trembled uncontrollably: "Th-this is a thank you... for saving me, and... for bringing me to see the sea..."
By the end, her words were barely audible, her ears burning scarlet.
Ryan stood frozen, instinctively touching the spot she'd kissed, the warmth still lingering on his skin.
He truly hadn't expected her to dare such a thing—just days ago, she'd blush for half a day merely speaking to him, yet now she'd mustered the courage for this.
Watching Kaya standing there with her hands behind her back, shoulders trembling slightly like a frightened little bunny stubbornly holding its ground, the unease in his heart about leaving suddenly shifted into something else.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound mingling with the sea breeze. Before Kaya could react, Ryan stepped forward, cupped the back of her neck, and kissed her.
It wasn't just a light touch.
The moment their lips met, Kaya froze, her eyes wide open. The seashell in her hand clattered onto the sand, and her hands instinctively pushed against his chest.
But Ryan's arms were like iron bands, tightly wrapped around her waist, making it impossible for her to move.
The salty sea breeze, carrying the warmth of the sun, tangled with their mingled breaths. Her initial struggles gradually softened, her hands falling limp at her sides, fingers curling slightly. A shimmer of moisture clung to her lashes.
She felt like seaweed washed over by a wave—dazed and pliant, letting him lead until her lungs were nearly starved for air. Only then did Ryan loosen his grip slightly.
"Hah..." Kaya gasped sharply, her face burning as if she were holding a flame. Her lips, now glossy from the kiss, parted slightly as she stared at Ryan in a daze, her expression a mix of shock and a flustered flutter of attraction she hadn't even realized was there.
Ryan looked down at her, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Over the past few days, he had seen Kaya as an untouched white flower, quietly staying in the castle, and he truly hadn't intended to entertain any other thoughts.
But just now, she had risen on her toes and leaned in herself.
He didn't care if she was young or if she saw it as some kind of thank-you gift. Since she had extended the olive branch, she couldn't blame him for taking it seriously.
Once a kiss had started, there was no sense in holding back.
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