CHAPTER 57: WANNA SHOWER TOGETHER?

The word hung in the air between them like a promise. Lia’s cheeks flushed deeper, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

The lamplight seemed to dim everything else around them, creating a private world where only they existed.

"Anything," she whispered back, her voice barely audible but carrying absolute certainty.

Ren reached up slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. His fingers traced along her jawline, gentle but deliberate.

Her skin was warm despite the cold air, and he could feel the slight tremor that ran through her at his touch.

"You’re sure?" he asked, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

Instead of answering with words, Lia rose up on her tiptoes, closing the remaining distance between them.

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, almost questioning. Then her hands found the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild or desperate. It was slow, deliberate, like two pieces of a puzzle finally deciding to fit.

Lia’s lips brushed his with the gentleness of a prayer, and Ren, despite all his sharpness, all his calculations, melted into it.

His hands moved instinctively—one coming to coil around her neck, thumb grazing her jaw, the other wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer.

She tasted like tea and something sweet beneath it, like a memory of something warm on a cold day.

And when she breathed his name against his lips, everything else—the arena, the loss, the future—fell away.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing a little harder. Lia’s eyes sparkled with mischief and something deeper.

"For someone who just got thoroughly beaten in combat," she said, her voice playful, "you certainly know how to make a recovery."

Ren chuckled, his forehead resting against hers. "Maybe I was saving my best techniques for after the fight."

"Oh really?" Lia’s eyebrows arched in amusement. "And what other techniques are you hiding?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" He grinned, taking her hand as they started walking again toward the dormitories. "Though I should warn you, some of them require more... private training grounds."

"Is that so?" She squeezed his hand, her thumb tracing circles on his palm. "Lucky for you, I’m an excellent training partner. Very dedicated to... thorough practice sessions."

The flirtation continued as they walked, their voices low and warm in the quiet pathways.

By the time they reached the dormitory building, the tension between them had transformed from desperate attraction to something comfortable and sweet, like they’d been doing this dance for years instead of minutes.

At the door leading to their room, Ren paused. "My bed?" he asked simply.

Lia nodded, her expression shifting to something more serious but no less warm. "I’d like that."

Ren held himself back from fist bumping the skies and screaming at the top of his voice.

Patience, boy!

His bed was small but organized, with two pillows and fluffy sheets. It was sparse but somehow welcoming, very much like Ren himself.

Lia settled onto his bed without invitation, drawing her legs up and watching as he moved around the small space. There was something natural about her presence there, like she belonged.

"Come here," she said softly, patting the space beside her.

Ren joined her, and they sat close together, her shoulder pressed against his. For a few minutes, they just existed in comfortable silence, processing everything that had happened.

"Lia," Ren said finally, his voice gentle but serious. "Can I ask you something?"

She turned to face him, sensing the shift in his tone. "Of course."

"During the curse siege... something happened to you. You changed." His silver eyes searched her face.

"The way you fought, especially when you... when you destroyed that shapeshifting curse. There was so much anger, so much vengeance. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind."

Lia’s expression grew distant, and she was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I was an orphan," she began. "Living on the streets, scavenging, stealing when I had to. I thought that was all there was for me."

She paused, gathering herself. "Then one day, this old man found me. He was kind, gentle. He took me to the surface, gave me a home, put me in school. His name was Henrik."

Ren remained silent, sensing she needed to tell this story in her own way.

"He was barely a carver, not much power, and he was already old when he found me. But he taught me everything - how to read, how to be strong, how to believe in myself. He was... he was the only family I ever had."

Her voice began to shake slightly. "One day I came home from school, calling his name like I always did. He was sitting in his chair in the living room, and I was so happy to see him. I ran over and started telling him about my day, about the physical exercises we’d practiced."

Lia’s hands clenched into fists in her lap. "But something was wrong. He wasn’t responding the way he should. His eyes were... empty. Glassy. And there was this smell, this awful sweet smell of decay."

Ren felt his stomach tighten as he realized where this was going.

"I asked him our code phrase," she continued, her voice breaking slightly. "Something we’d always done, just a silly thing between us.

"But he couldn’t answer. Because he wasn’t Henrik anymore. He’d been dead for hours, maybe all day, and that thing was just... wearing him. Puppeting his body."

Ren listened to Lia’s voice as if each word she spoke was a needle threading through his chest. The room felt quieter with every sentence; quieter and heavier.

But even as she told her story, even as his chest tightened at the horror of it, another part of his mind was working at full capacity.

’Okay. This is a trauma reveal. High-stakes emotional vulnerability. Respond with empathy, not logic. No jokes. Definitely no jokes. Hold hand? Wait—no. Too soon. Or maybe not soon enough?’

He shifted slightly, trying to gauge the optimal moment for physical contact based on the cadence of her voice and the tremble in her fingers.

When she mentioned the curse puppeting Henrik’s body, something cold stabbed into Ren’s gut.

Tears began to form in her eyes, but her voice grew harder. "Although the curse was probably planning to eat me too, for some reason, it didn’t do anything to me.

"It seemed to be waiting, patient, using his body to lure me close. When I figured it out and tried to run, it dropped the pretense.

"Started chasing me with his face, his voice, telling me how much it was going to enjoy consuming me the way it had consumed him."

"Lia..." Ren reached for her hand.

’That’s it. Maintain eye contact. Nod occasionally. Validate. Empathize. Look invested, not pitiful.’

’You’re not a therapist, you’re... you’re a future lifelong emotional support partner. Crap, that sounded way too intense. Just breathe. She’s not reading your thoughts!’

But Lia was speaking again, and the images she painted were brutal.

"I almost didn’t make it," she whispered. "It caught me right at the door. But then Miranda Frostweave appeared - Mirabella’s older sister. She killed it easily, saved me. But I had to see... I had to see what was left of Henrik after it was done feeding."

Ren swallowed thickly, already cataloging every word. Every detail. Because even though he wanted to comfort her now, he also wanted to understand her better, deeply, truly.

He wanted to memorize the architecture of her pain so that he would never, ever, trample over it unknowingly.

A few tears finally spilled over, tracking down her cheeks. "So when I saw that shapeshifter during the siege, pretending to be someone else, using someone’s appearance to hurt people... all I could think about was Henrik’s face. His kind, gentle face being used by something evil."

Ren pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as she trembled slightly. "I’m so sorry," he murmured against her hair. "I’m so sorry you had to go through that."

"I beat it to death," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I kept hitting it even after it stopped moving because I wanted to make sure it could never use anyone’s face again."

He expected her to collapse, but she didn’t. Her voice, muffled and fierce against his chest, was still that same flame.

"I beat it to death," she said. "I kept hitting it even after it stopped moving because I wanted to make sure it could never use anyone’s face again."

Ren tilted her chin up gently. His hand cupped her cheek.

’Now. Compliment. Ground her strength in something meaningful. Relate it to Henrik. Acknowledge her pain but remind her she’s more than it. That should do the trick... probably.’

"He would be proud of you," Ren said softly. "Henrik. He’d be proud of the woman you became, of how you protected other people from what happened to both of you."

Tears welled again, but she smiled. And that smile hit Ren harder than any rune, any attack. Because it was a smile through pain. A smile earned. A smile entrusted.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

This time when he kissed her, it wasn’t careful or calculated. It was slow and sure, but unfiltered.

A kiss not born from strategy, but from understanding. It was a silent contract. That she was seen. That her pain mattered. That her scars didn’t make her less, but more. It tasted of salt, but felt like warmth.

His mind, always so busy, went almost silent during that kiss.

’...Okay. Emotional bond has reached an estimated 67.4% increase. Affection reciprocity confirmed. Oxytocin levels likely elevated. Damn it. Stop calculating. Just...’

When they broke apart, Lia nestled against his shoulder, her breathing softening. They sat there for long, quiet minutes. No more planning, no more strategy.

Eventually, Ren stirred and broke the silence with a mischievous glint in his eyes. But in truth, it was just a smokescreen, because he still couldn’t calm his racing heart.

"I should probably shower," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I’m still covered in arena dust and frost."

He stood, paused, then glanced down at her—expression one part daring, one part amused, and another part internally screaming into a pillow.

"Wanna shower together?"