CHAPTER 43: JUST THIS [ELIRA]

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I didn’t need to ask where she was taking me.

Elira’s grip was firm, but not urgent. No words. No glance back. Just her hand in mine, her stride quiet but determined as we left the others behind in the living room.

I looked over my shoulder once. Sora had curled into the corner of the couch with Rin holding her, eyes still glistening from Kikoru’s mom’s death scene. Akane was sprawled dramatically across my abandoned seat, still sniffling like she had lost a family member. Mei had her phone out again, probably queuing up episode four already.

But Elira... she hadn’t said a word all night.

Not when Akane took my lap.

Not when Sora cracked.

Not even when I caught her watching me during the ending credits, something unreadable flickering behind those pale violet eyes.

And now, she was pulling me down the hall like she’d been waiting all evening for this exact moment.

We didn’t go to her room. Or mine. She led me into a quiet study near the back of the mansion—a room I didn’t even realize she knew about. The fireplace was already lit. A plush couch sat beneath a window cracked open just enough to let in the cool night air.

I paused in the doorway.

"Elira, if this is about earlier—"

"Sit."

Just one word. No sharpness. No arrogance. Just a gentle command wrapped in velvet.

I obeyed.

She knelt beside the couch, spreading a blanket across my lap. Then she climbed up and folded her legs under herself, patting the space in front of her.

"...You want me to lie down?"

"Your head," she said, barely above a whisper. "On my lap."

I blinked.

"Why?"

"Because I need to take care of you tonight."

My throat tightened.

"Elira—"

"I saw it," she interrupted gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "You giving and giving. You were there for all of them. Even when no one asked how you felt. You sat still and carried everything like it didn’t weigh a thing."

She exhaled.

"And I hated it."

There was no bite to her voice—just truth. Vulnerable, stripped truth. I’d never seen her like this. No mask. No performance. Just Elira, the highborn girl who spent so much of her life needing to look untouchable.

I didn’t resist when she reached for me again.

Didn’t speak as I shifted, easing myself sideways until my head rested in her lap.

Warm.

Safe.

Her hands threaded through my hair, slow and rhythmic. Gentle. Reassuring.

"I used to dream about this, you know," she said softly. "Before I ever met you. I’d pretend someone would lie in my lap and just... let me be soft. Let me take care of them without worrying about rank or power or what I could offer politically."

Her thumb grazed the edge of my cheek.

"No expectations. No lies. Just this."

Something inside me cracked a little.

It wasn’t just the way she held me. It was how she needed to. The need in her voice mirrored a need I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying.

I didn’t say anything clever. Didn’t try to ease the tension with a joke. I just breathed... and let her hold me.

The fire popped gently in the hearth. Her fingertips traced lazy circles along my temple. I felt the tightness in my chest slowly unwind. Every knot of tension the others hadn’t noticed—Elira was untying it one strand at a time.

I closed my eyes.

"Ren," she whispered, right before I drifted, "you don’t always have to be the strong one."

And for once... I let that be true.

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[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

💤 Objective Complete: Royal Vulnerability

✅ Elira was allowed to care for you completely for one evening.

✅ You fell asleep with your head in her lap.

🎁 Reward Unlocked: Bond Reinforcement + Access to Hidden Memory

⚠️ Penalty avoided. Confidence fracture averted.

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I didn’t know how long I’d slept.

Maybe minutes. Maybe an hour. But when I stirred again, Elira was still there—back straight, eyes distant, one hand still resting in my hair like she hadn’t moved once.

Her fingers paused when she felt me shift. I blinked up at her.

"...You’re still here," I murmured groggily.

She gave a soft smile. "Where else would I be?"

My voice was raspy. "Thought maybe you’d vanish dramatically. Or send in one of your clones to take your place."

"I’m not Mei," she replied, brushing a lazy lock of hair from my forehead. "And besides... I told you I’d take care of you tonight. You fell asleep. That’s part of the contract."

"Wait, there was a contract?" I teased. "Is this where I find out I signed away my soul?"

Her gaze dipped to meet mine—and suddenly, the air between us shifted.

Warmth settled into her expression. Not the usual flirtation she wielded like a weapon. Not the smug playfulness she used to fluster the others.

This was something else.

Soft. Sincere. Vulnerable in a way that echoed the task I’d just completed.

"I like you like this," she whispered, eyes searching mine. "When you’re not pretending to be the center that holds everyone together. When it’s just... you."

I swallowed hard.

"Elira..."

Her hand shifted, lightly cupping my cheek. She leaned over slightly, her face framed by the glow of the fire. Her long gold-blonde hair spilled down around me like a silken curtain, brushing my shoulder.

From this angle, she looked like she belonged in a stained-glass window. A saint. A goddess. A quiet storm.

And then she whispered something that completely disarmed me:

"You snore, by the way."

I blinked. "What?"

"Like a tiny fox with allergies."

I sat up, scandalized. "I do not—!"

Before I could fully rise, her arms slid around my neck.

And then she kissed me.

Just like that.

No preamble. No grand declaration. Just the press of her lips against mine, as easy and sure as if she’d been meaning to do it for years.

And I froze.

Not because I didn’t want it—but because part of me had always assumed Elira’s affections were... political. Tactical. Something meant to secure her position in the harem or get under the other girls’ skin.

But this?

This wasn’t a power move.

This was Elira letting herself feel something she’d spent too long hiding.

When she started to pull back, I caught her wrist gently.

And pulled her right back in.

This time, I kissed her.

Fully. Deeply.

Her breath hitched as our mouths met again, more urgent now. More real. I shifted beside her on the couch, one hand on her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Her fingers tangled in my shirt, pulling me closer until there was nothing left between us but shared heat and months of restrained emotion.

The kiss deepened—messy, searching, hungry. Like we were both afraid to stop.

Elira gasped softly when I pressed closer, her back arching slightly. She clung to me like she’d been starved for this—us—and maybe she had.

Between the careful negotiations of her station... the weight of being the king’s daughter... and the constant eyes on us all...

Maybe this was the first time she got to be just a girl.

And I just got to be the one she chose.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, she rested her forehead against mine.

"Ren..." Her voice trembled. "You have no idea how hard it’s been—watching you give pieces of yourself away, knowing I wanted this but was too scared to ask for it."

I held her tighter.

"You didn’t have to ask."

A smile broke across her lips—wobbly, real, devastatingly beautiful.

But because I’m me, I couldn’t help myself.

"So, about that fox-snoring comment..."

She smirked, clearly unrepentant. "I stand by it."

"You wound me."

"You’ll live."

"I might not," I said, dramatically swooning into her arms. "The betrayal runs deep. Only a kiss can save me now."

"You’re insufferable."

And yet—she kissed me again anyway.

Slower this time. More lingering.

I didn’t know where this would lead. Didn’t know how the others would react. Didn’t even know what tomorrow would look like.

But tonight?

Tonight I let myself fall.

Not as the glue holding everything together.

Not as the guy dodging affection with sarcasm.

Just as Ren.

And Elira held me like she’d never let go.

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Her fingers threaded through my hair again—slow, rhythmic, almost hypnotic. I swear she could cast sleep magic just by stroking someone’s scalp.

We were quiet for a while. The kind of silence that feels like safety.

My head rested in her lap. And even though we’d kissed—really kissed—she didn’t rush anything. She just held me. Warm. Steady.

"Ren," she said softly. "Want to hear something stupid I’ve never told anyone?"

I cracked an eye open. "Always."

She chuckled. "When I was little, I was obsessed with transformation spells. I wanted to become animals, wind, a cloud..."

"...A cloud."

She nodded. "I liked the idea of floating away from everything."

There was something in her voice—not dark, just... honest.

"So one night," she went on, "I snuck into the palace archives. Fresh out of a bath. Didn’t bother dressing."

I blinked. "...You were naked?"

"Completely. I was young. I thought I could get in, find the spell, and float away before anyone saw me."

"Did they see you?"

"Two guards. I got escorted back to my room wrapped in a tapestry."

I burst out laughing. "You got arrested naked trying to turn into weather."

"Correct."

I wiped my eyes. "You are never allowed to make fun of me for getting stuck in the dumbwaiter."

"I said it once."

"With judgment."

We laughed. But something flickered in her gaze—old embarrassment, maybe old hurt.

I tilted my head. "When was this?"

She hesitated.

"I don’t know. About eighty years ago."

My smile faltered. "...Eight?"

She gave me the deadpan elven stare.

"Elira."

"Eighty-two, technically."

I sat up slightly. "How old are you?"

"Two hundred and six."

I stared. "...I’ve been flirting with—"

"Don’t say grandma."

"—a beautiful, timeless elven lady."

"Better."

"No wonder your realm looks like a fantasy dating sim."

She laughed, brushing my bangs aside again.

"I don’t tell people stories like that. Feels silly. But it mattered to me back then. I guess it still does."

There it was.

Not the princess. Not the noble.

Just a girl who once wanted to become a cloud and disappear.

And she let me see her.

I reached up and touched her cheek. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’ve heard."

"And kind of amazing."

That made her blush—just a little.

I didn’t say more. My eyes were heavy. Her lap was warm. Her hand kept stroking my hair, slow and steady.

One of my hands rested against her thigh, fingers curling slightly into the soft fabric of her dress. The other found its way to her waist, holding her like I was afraid she might vanish if I let go.

Not tight. Not needy. Just... there. Like I needed to feel she was real.

And she didn’t move away. Didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned into it—like my touch said something words couldn’t.

"Elira?"

"Mmh?"

"If I turn into a cloud... will you catch me?"

She smiled.

"Only if you promise not to rain on my hair."

I laughed once—then let it fade.

And for the first time in a long time... I let myself be held.

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