Stepping out of the bathroom, Liam's gaze immediately met Mabel's. She was still in the same spot she had been before he left, leaning subtly near the door as if she had never moved at all. He didn't acknowledge it beyond a brief glance; instead, he set the towel aside, grabbed a plain white long-sleeved shirt from the edge of the bed, and shrugged it on. As he buttoned it up, his eyes drifted toward the small hair tie lying in front of the mirror drawer. The simple thing sat there silently, mocking him with its usefulness.

'Funny how that thing could actually solve my problem right now,' he thought with mounting irritation, 'but of course I can't tie my damn hair no matter how hard I try.'

Even after watching Marcus—his father—tie his own hair into a messy bun countless times in the memories he carried, Liam had never once managed to replicate it. He had tried repeatedly in the Mind Realm, growing more stubborn with each failed attempt. For someone whose hands could wield blades, cast magic, and tear through demons without hesitation, he was tragically inept at dealing with hair. His hair. Anyone's hair. It simply wasn't part of the skills he excelled in.

'I guess I'm stuck constantly shoving these annoying strands out of my face until further notice,' he muttered internally as he pushed the loose hair back yet again.

As he did, Mabel's familiar voice drifted across the room, calm and steady. "Need help with your hair?"

Her voice made him turn almost instantly. "Was it that obvious?" he asked, his tone even but edged with mild annoyance.

"Pretty much," Mabel replied with a small scoff, a rare softness threading through her voice. "You've been fighting with it since you woke up."

Liam stared at her for a moment, then exhaled slowly. "I guess I was," he admitted. "Well… yes, I do need help. Mind teaching me how to tie my hair?"

"Sure," she said simply before walking toward him.

When she reached him, she let him pick up the hair tie, then began explaining the steps with the patient cadence of someone who assumed he'd pick it up quickly. She was used to Liam mastering things on the first or second attempt. But this time, reality proved different.

Liam failed. Over and over again. Every attempt ended with hair slipping loose, knots forming where they shouldn't, or the tie snapping out of his grip altogether.

'Wow,' Mabel thought with a flicker of amused disbelief as she watched him struggle, 'to think there'd be something he isn't immediately good at.' The hint of surprise warmed into genuine amusement. 'Honestly, I'm glad I get to see this firsthand… and up close.'

"Ugh. You know what? Forget it," Liam muttered, irritation roughening his voice as he tore apart the pathetic attempt at a bun he had managed. "I'll just deal with it until tomorrow."

The soft giggle that followed slipped out before Mabel could stop it, muffled slightly by her mask but unmistakably hers. Liam's head snapped toward her.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked, annoyance dripping into his voice.

"Oh, nothing," Mabel said quickly, clearing her throat in a failed attempt to sound composed. Watching him act like the teenager he actually was, instead of the hardened veteran he often resembled, was unexpectedly charming—and far too rare.

"Tch. Can't believe I actually asked her for help," Liam muttered under his breath as he turned away, heading for the bed.

But before he could take more than a step, Mabel spoke again. "Give me the tie."

He paused, turned, and stared at her. "Why?"

"Just give it, dammit," she said, her tone steady but insistent.

Liam gave her a confused, slightly wary look, but handed her the tie anyway. Once she had it, she stepped closer, closing the small gap between them.

"Stay still," she murmured as she reached behind his head, fingers brushing into his hair with practiced ease as she began to gather and fix it herself.

As Mabel began to work through his hair, Liam found himself tilting his head slightly to look up at her, the small difference in their height suddenly noticeable now that she stood this close. Her focus never wavered, yet her voice softened as she spoke.

"By the way," she murmured, still gathering strands neatly, "I've been meaning to thank you."

"For what?" Liam asked, his tone flat but not dismissive.

"For saving me back then… and bringing me back after I died." Her hands slowed, sincerity threading through her words. "Even if it was Aesmirius controlling your body at the time, it was still because of you. So… thank you. I really appreciate it."

Liam's eyes flicked upward to her for a moment. "You're welcome, I guess," he said calmly. "But I don't think there's any need to thank me. You'd have done the same anyway, so spare me the whole appreciation speech."

Behind her mask, Mabel smirked quietly as she finished shaping his hair, managing to tie it into a neat bun that looked surprisingly natural on him. When she stepped back enough to see the result, she found his calm crimson eyes already locked onto her hazel ones, steady and unblinking.

With his hair no longer falling into his face, his features were fully visible again, sharp and refined in a way that made her breath hitch before she could stop it. A faint blush warmed her cheeks at the minimal distance between them, but she pushed it down quickly and took a small step back to regain composure.

"There," she said, voice even. "You should find it easier to move around now."

Liam turned his head toward the mirror, studying the tidy bun. It suited him—more than he expected. The irritation he'd felt minutes ago faded as he nodded once, genuinely.

"Thank you," he said, and the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable as he looked back at her.

"Don't mention it."

He regarded her for a moment longer before asking, "By the way, did you, by any chance, have an ascension?"

The question caught her off guard. "Yeah, I did," she answered after a beat. "Thanks to you—or Aesmirius, whichever it was. I was told that while I was healing during the month after the war, I went through an ascension that pushed me to a High-Tier Seven-star."

"But how did you know?" she added, puzzled.

"Your scent's a bit different from before," Liam said evenly. "So I figured some changes must've happened to your body. Ascension was the only thing that made sense."

"My scent?" Mabel repeated, stunned—and oddly flattered.

Catching the reaction immediately, Liam clarified, "Not your physical scent—your mystic one. Dark mages can smell myst." Then, under his breath, he muttered, "Though you do smell like lavender."

The words hit her harder than she expected. Mabel straightened slightly, tension slipping into her shoulders. 'He seriously noticed the lavender? Even with the corps uniform designed to neutralize personal scent?' she thought, mortified and flustered.

"I see," she muttered at last. "Well… you should rest now. It's late."

Liam raised a brow at her, unimpressed. "Funny how everyone wants me to rest like I just came back from a battle when I literally just woke up from a six-month slumber."

Mabel blinked, accepting the point with a slow nod. "I guess you're right."

"Mmhmm," Liam hummed as he walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. "Why don't we talk for a while? I'm not tired, so I'd appreciate the company."

Mabel studied him for a moment before responding. "Talk about what? I doubt there's much to discuss."

"Why don't you tell me how much information about me is known across Amthar?" Liam asked, tone steady as ever.

She gave him a blunt stare. "Wouldn't that just be me doing all the talking?"

"Maybe. But it still helps me, doesn't it?"

She sighed, defeated by his logic. "Well, Her Majesty forgot to explain the details, but the highest-known information is simply that there's a child in the Tempest Kingdom who is the son of the late Princess Serah Magna—and that he's a dark mage. Other than that, your personal details like your name or age aren't known. People are just making assumptions."

"So, in reality," she added, "you could walk down the street and no one would know you're the dark mage everyone's curious about."

Liam absorbed her words with a slow nod, his gaze steady and unreadable in the dim room. The information hardly surprised him, yet he acknowledged it with the quiet acceptance of someone who had already prepared himself for worse possibilities.

"I figured as much," he murmured, leaning back slightly, his posture finally losing the tension it had held since he woke. "People always talk more when they know less."

Mabel opened her mouth to continue—perhaps to add something about the rumors, or the whispers that had spread across the kingdoms—but before she could get another word out, a sudden, dull thud cut through the quiet.

Her head snapped toward the sound—only to find Liam sprawled flat across the bed, limbs loose, hair slightly shifting from the soft impact.

"Liam?" she blurted as she hurried toward him, her voice sharper than before. The sight of him unmoving stirred a wave of alarm she hadn't expected. She reached his side quickly, leaning in to check his breathing, half-expecting some delayed reaction from his long slumber or the strain he'd pushed himself through earlier.

But the moment she saw the calm rise and fall of his chest, her shoulders unclenched. His expression was relaxed, completely at ease, his breathing steady—too steady for someone unconscious.

He was asleep. Just like that.

Mabel let out a long, quiet breath, her relief softening into something far gentler as she looked down at him.

"So you can sleep," she muttered under her breath, a subtle scoff hidden behind her mask. "And here you were acting all stubborn about going to bed."

She shook her head slowly, unable to suppress the small, amused exhale that slipped out.

"Honestly… you're impossible," she whispered, watching him sink deeper into sleep as though the world finally loosened its grip on him.

Carefully, she reached to adjust a loose strand of hair that had fallen from his bun before straightening up again, her expression softening for just a moment longer before she stepped back to give him space.