The sun crept toward the horizon, painting the sky in fiery streaks of orange and crimson. Rumi stood outside the Guild building, clutching the pamphlet to her chest, reality finally sinking its teeth into her optimism. The city towers cast long, spindly shadows across cobblestone streets.
"We need to find this inn before it gets dark," she muttered, scanning the unfamiliar streets.
"What's wrong? Afraid of the dark?" Rome asked, that insufferable smirk playing on his lips.
"I'm afraid of wasting money on an overpriced room because we got lost and had to settle for whatever we stumbled into." Her ears twitched with irritation. "The Wandering Inn should be three blocks north, according to this map."
The streets of Orario transformed with the setting sun. Shop owners pulled metal grates over windows. Adventurers traveled in rowdy packs, heading toward taverns that spilled golden light onto the darkening streets. A group of cat-eared men eyed them as they passed, sizing up the newcomers.
"Stop staring at everyone," Rumi hissed, yanking Rome's sleeve. "You're making us look like targets."
"I'm observing."
"Observe quieter."
The Wandering Inn appeared at the end of the street—a three-story structure of weathered stone and timber. Lanterns glowed in its windows, promising warmth and safety. A wooden sign depicting a traveler with a walking stick hung above the door.
Rumi squared her shoulders and pushed through the entrance. The common room welcomed them with the scent of hearth fire and stew. A handful of travelers hunched over bowls at wooden tables.
At the front desk, a heavy-set human woman with steel-gray hair looked up from her ledger. "Good evening," she said, setting down her quill. "Looking for rooms?"
"Yes," Rumi said, stepping forward before Rome could open his mouth. "We need lodging for a few nights while we sort out joining a Familia."
"New arrivals, eh?" The woman's sharp eyes assessed them both. "Two gold crowns per room, per night. Includes breakfast in the morning and clean linens."
Rumi's stomach dropped. "Per room?" She did the mental calculation instantly. Eight crowns total. Four nights for her alone... or just two if they got separate rooms.
The innkeeper nodded. "Per room."
Rumi felt heat crawl up her neck. She had four days to find a Familia willing to take her in. Four days before she was sleeping on the streets.
"We'll take one room."
Rome's voice cut through her panic. One room. Singular.
Rumi's ears shot straight up in alarm.
"Perfect. How many nights?" The innkeeper pulled out a worn registration book.
"Four nights," Rome answered smoothly before Rumi could recover from her shock.
"That'll be eight gold crowns."
Rumi grabbed Rome's arm and dragged him a few steps away from the desk. "What do you think you're doing?" she whispered fiercely.
Rome raised an eyebrow. "Saving us money. Do you have enough for two separate rooms?"
"That's not the point!" Her ears flattened against her head. "You expect us to share?"
"It's practical," he said, his voice low and maddeningly reasonable. "We double our time to find Familias, and we have a safe place to sleep. What's the problem?"
The problem was him. His calm logic. His casual presumption. His everything.
"Fine," she growled. "One room. But let me make this crystal clear, snow-top. You keep your hands on your side of the bed. You breathe too loudly in my direction, and I will not hesitate to use these legs to kick your teeth down your throat."
His mismatched eyes lit with amusement. "Sure, sure. Besides, if anything did happen, that guard at Babel wouldn't have to be told a lie, would he?"
Her elbow shot into his stomach before she could think. Rome doubled over with a satisfying "oof."
"Understood," he wheezed.
Rumi turned back to the innkeeper, who pretended not to notice their exchange. "One room. Four nights." She counted out her precious crowns, each coin representing hours of tips and saved wages.
"Room twelve, second floor, third door on the right." The innkeeper handed her a small iron key. "Breakfast starts at sunrise. Shared bathing facilities at the end of the hall."
Rumi nodded her thanks and headed for the stairs, not bothering to check if Rome followed.
Room twelve was... small. Clean but sparse. A single bed dominated the center of the room, flanked by a weathered nightstand and a three-legged stool. A narrow window overlooked the darkening street below. A wash basin sat on a small table beneath a mirror spotted with age.
And in the center of it all, that single, tragically small bed. A monument to her terrible decisions.
"It's... cozy," Rome said, closing the door behind him.
Rumi tossed her small pack onto the stool. "Let's get this over with. We need to plan our visits to the Familias."
"Right. The sooner we find a Familia, the sooner we get our own beds." Rome pulled the Guild pamphlets from his pocket and spread them on the bed.
With nowhere else to sit, they perched on opposite edges of the mattress, leaning over to see the maps and information. Their shoulders nearly touched as Rome pointed to locations marked on the parchment.
"Athena Familia is here, near the western wall," he said. His finger traced a path along the map. "Looks like their manor is called Aegis. Fancy name."
Rumi tried to focus on the map, but her awareness kept shifting to his proximity. He smelled of pine from the forest road, with an undertone of something sharp and clean she couldn't identify. When he spoke, his voice vibrated through the mattress, a deep resonance she felt more than heard.
"What do you think?" Rome asked.
"About what?"
"About visiting Athena first," he said, looking at her strangely. "You stopped listening."
"I was thinking," she snapped. "Athena makes sense as our first stop. They're a top-tier Familia, so they can afford to be picky."
"Which means we probably won't get in."
"So what? We start with the best and work our way down."
"Always the optimist," Rome said dryly. "But I agree. Let's learn what the big guilds are looking for and adjust accordingly."
"I'm surprised you didn't suggest Freya Familia," Rumi said, scanning the map again. "With your looks, they might actually take you."
A shadow passed over Rome's face. "Not interested."
"Why not? They're the strongest in the city."
"Too... restrictive. I prefer options where I can control my own fate."
Rumi found herself nodding. "Fair enough. What about Hermes Familia? Sophie mentioned them."
"Clever choice," Rome said, his expression brightening. "They focus on exploration rather than combat. Means they value intelligence over raw strength. Plus, they're always recruiting. We should add them to the list."
"Wait, why am I even asking you? It's not like we have to join the same Familia..." The thought struck her suddenly. Did she want to join the same Familia as him? Her ears grew hot at the idea. She immediately shook her head and jabbed at the map with more force than necessary. "Okay, so my top pick is Athena."
"And after that?" Rome prompted.
"Hermes," she admitted grudgingly. "Then Miach. They're small, but respectable. They focus on potions and healing items."
"Practical. You could learn a useful trade."
Rumi hadn't thought of that angle. "Exactly," she said, as if that had been her plan all along.
"Add Soma to the list," Rome suggested.
"And what about Quetzalcoatl? The one that's rebuilding?"
Rome nodded slowly. "Good thinking. A Familia that lost members recently is going to be hungry for new blood. They might not be as selective, and we could advance faster where there's less competition."
"That's... actually smart," Rumi admitted.
"Try not to sound so surprised." His mouth quirked up at one corner. "So our list is: Athena, Hermes, Miach, Soma, and Quetzalcoatl. We can hit all five in two days if we're efficient."
"And if none of them take us?" The question slipped out before she could stop it, revealing more vulnerability than she intended.
Rome's mismatched eyes studied her face. "Then we try the next five. And the next. One of them will recognize our potential. Besides, we have four days before we have to worry about that."
The sky outside had darkened completely. Rumi's stomach growled, reminding her they hadn't eaten since morning.
"We should get food," she said, standing abruptly to break the strange tension that had settled between them.
"Agreed."
They found a small tavern near the inn that served simple meals at reasonable prices. After eating, they returned to their room in awkward silence, the reality of their sleeping arrangement looming larger with each step.
Rumi closed the door behind them and faced the bed. It seemed to have shrunk in their absence.
"I'll take the left side," she announced, kicking off her boots. She wasn't about to undress further with him in the room.
"Fine by me." Rome removed his boots and outer shirt, leaving him in a thin undershirt and trousers.
Rumi climbed into bed fully clothed and rolled onto her side, facing the wall. She felt the mattress dip as Rome got in on the other side. They lay back-to-back, a careful foot of space between them.
"Goodnight," Rome said quietly.
"Don't talk. Sleep." She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
The minutes crawled by in tense silence. Every tiny shift Rome made transmitted through the mattress. Rumi lay rigid, hyperaware of his presence. The room grew colder as the night deepened, and her thin blanket did little against the chill.
Then she felt it. A steady warmth radiating from Rome's back. Not encroaching, not invasive. Just there. Solid. Constant.
This is ridiculous, she thought. I can't sleep like this. He's too close. He's...
The warmth seeped through her clothes, a stark contrast to the chilly room. Her muscles began to rebel against her mind, relaxing inch by inch. She found herself leaning back slightly, just enough to catch more of that warmth.
She'd grown up with seven siblings piled in one room, bodies stacked like cordwood for warmth during winter. This was no different, she told herself. Just practical. Survival. Nothing more.
Tomorrow they would begin their search. Tomorrow she would be one step closer to becoming an adventurer, to sending money home, to changing her family's future.
For now, though, she surrendered to the heat at her back and the weight of exhaustion.
He's an infuriating, arrogant, silver-tongued idiot, she thought as sleep pulled at the edges of her consciousness.
But damn, he's warm.