Night.
Kaya lay curled on the inner side of the bed, her silk nightgown crumpled and wrinkled, her shoulders exposed to the cool air.
Her cheeks were flushed with an unnatural redness, the corners of her eyes tinged with pink. Her shoulders trembled slightly from the sobs she had just stifled, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum. "Mr. Ryan... is too cruel..."
She hadn't yet sorted out the events of the day at the beach. When he had suddenly kissed her, she had frozen in fear, yet her heart felt as if it had been swept by waves, swirling with an indescribable sweetness.
She had even secretly thought that such a farewell might not be so bad—but who could have expected that after nightfall, he would push open her bedroom door?
What happened afterward felt shrouded in a thick fog, hazy and unclear. She only remembered her fingers trembling as they clutched his collar, and the overpowering tobacco scent that had invaded her senses.
By the time she regained her senses, she was already lying in the soft bedding, the tie of her nightgown loosened, the warmth of his fingertips still lingering on her exposed arm.
"This morning... this morning was already..." Kaya sniffled, tears welling up again and trickling from the corners of her eyes into her hair. "How could you..."
The words that followed refused to come out.
She wasn't a naive child. But after her father's death, she had always been ill. Aside from Kuro, who had been deceiving her, there were only Usopp's wild, fantastical stories to keep her company.
She had thought that intimacy between a man and a woman should be gradual, like in the stories she had read—with flowers, with vows—not like this... something that left her flustered and at a loss.
Yet beneath her grievances, there was a strange sense of comfort, like a small boat adrift at sea for too long, suddenly pulled into a harbor by a forceful hand. Though the impact had stung a little, it had finally, firmly, come to rest.
Ryan leaned against the headboard, an unlit cigar between his fingers, his knuckles unconsciously rubbing the tobacco roll. Hearing the intermittent sobs beside him, he frowned slightly, feeling an inexplicable headache.
Indeed, he was more accustomed to straightforward personalities like Nami's. Faced with Kaya's tearful demeanor, he felt like a bully.
He turned to see Kaya burying her face in the pillow, the tips of her ears glowing bright red, her shoulders still shaking.
Just as he was about to say something, Kaya suddenly flipped over, her red-rimmed eyes glaring at him, tears still streaming down. "Why haven't you left yet..."
Her voice was both angry and urgent, thick with a nasal tone, almost like a whine.
Ryan was disarmed by her mix of anger and grievance. His furrowed brow gradually relaxed, and he twirled the cigar in his fingers, his voice softening. "If I leave, who will wipe your tears?"
With that, he leaned in before she could dodge, pulling out a handkerchief and gently pressing it to the corner of her eye. The fabric carried a faint scent of tobacco, but it was surprisingly not unpleasant.
"Crying like this, your eyes will be swollen tomorrow," he said, his thumb brushing her heated cheek through the cloth. His touch wasn't exactly gentle, but it carried a soothing quality. "If you're upset, say it. Why hold it in?"
Kaya choked on his words, her tears falling even harder—not out of anger, but embarrassment. She raised her hand to swat his away, but her strength was as light as a feather. "You're still talking... It's all your fault..."
Her words were cut off by her own choked sobs.
Ryan set aside his cigar, freeing both hands to cup her face, forcing her to look up at him.
Kaya's eyes were red, like cherries soaked in water.
"Enough," he said, his voice lowering with an undeniable firmness. "I was reckless. I didn't consider your feelings."
The blunt apology left Kaya stunned, tears clinging to her lashes, forgotten in their descent.
She never expected him to admit fault. In her eyes, Ryan was always careless, like an untamable wind—never lingering for anyone, let alone lowering his head.
Seeing her dazed expression, the inexplicable irritation in Ryan's heart completely dissipated, replaced by a soft tenderness. He released her face and ruffled her messy hair. "Keep crying, and you won't sleep tonight."
Kaya sniffled, turning her face away, but she didn't push him out this time. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating the fine hairs on her cheeks and the tracks of her tears.
Ryan leaned back against the headboard, falling silent, simply listening as her breathing gradually steadied.
The room grew quiet, save for the distant sound of waves outside. Curled beneath the blankets, Kaya could feel his presence beside her—not too close, yet not too far—as if an invisible barrier shielded her from the night's chill.
The hurt in her heart slowly faded, leaving only a faint embarrassment and a warmth she was reluctant to acknowledge—a sense of security.
When someone finds their way into your heart, inexplicable emotions naturally follow.
She stole a glance at him and saw Ryan with his eyes closed, his jawline sharp and distinct in the moonlight. After what felt like an eternity, she finally whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible, "...Don't do this again."
The corner of Ryan's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly, a faint amusement stirring within him.
How could he not understand Kaya's thoughts?
That moment by the shore when she'd leaned in willingly, the poorly concealed panic in her eyes when he'd pushed the door open, and later, her hands resisting yet not truly pushing him away—every subtle reaction had already laid her heart bare.
In the end, he'd been too impatient.
He'd clearly seen that this girl's heart was as intricate as seaside sand, yet he'd used his usual direct approach, disregarding the delicate twists and turns of her emotions.
Kaya needed gentle, gradual affection, but he'd recklessly swept her with the full force of his advances—no wonder she'd been so flustered.
But men, when faced with something that feels inevitable, tend to overlook such subtleties. If they like someone, they draw near; if their heart stirs, they act. What use is there for "taking it slow"?
With straightforward personalities like Nami's, it was easier. But with someone like Kaya, he'd come off as rough and overbearing.
Ryan kept his eyes closed, his fingers lightly tapping the sheets.
Pure love wasn't for him—too many rules, too many precautions. The slightest misstep felt like shattering delicate glass, requiring careful coaxing. It felt more exhausting than a life-or-death struggle with the Golden Lion.
This time was just an exception.
After all, there might not be another chance like this. That bittersweet feeling—both tender and frustrating—was something he only needed to experience once.
The sound of waves outside drifted in again, carrying a damp chill. Ryan listened as the breathing beside him grew even and steady—she must have cried herself to exhaustion and fallen asleep.
In the darkness, Ryan slowly opened his eyes. By the moonlight, he glanced at the figure curled up beside him, and eventually reached out to pull the quilt corner back over her shoulder where it had slipped.
When his fingertips brushed against her warm skin, he paused. As he withdrew his hand, he inadvertently grazed her hair—soft as the fine sand by the sea.
He let out a derisive chuckle, rubbing his fingers against the bedsheet as if still feeling the texture of her strands.
What was this? Had he changed his nature? To be so cautious and restrained around a girl with red-rimmed eyes from crying, even hesitating over how much force to use while tucking her in.
He turned on his side, and the moonlight fell precisely on Kaya's face.
In sleep, she was peaceful—gone was the shyness of the day, gone the earlier distress. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing as light as a feather. In this state, she truly resembled an uncut piece of jade, carrying a raw, unpolished purity.
Ryan stroked his chin, the self-mockery in his heart gradually fading.
Perhaps… though pure love was troublesome, it wasn't entirely without reason. A girl like Kaya—clean, untainted, with no hidden agendas in her eyes, her joys and sorrows plain on her face—really deserved to be cherished and protected.
Who, upon seeing such a transparent gem, would have the heart to handle it with rough hands?
He recalled how she had laughed while holding a seashell by the shore during the day—that vivid liveliness seemed like something from another world. Fragile, yet precious.
Fine, let the little one have a peaceful night's sleep first.
-Support me in Patreon for more chapters 35+ chapters in there
patreon.com/GoddessTL
Thanks!