CHAPTER 468: CHAPTER 468: YOU REALLY THINK I NEED YOUR PROTECTION?

For a long moment, the cave was so silent, you could hear the soft dripping of water from the stalactites. Isabella’s mood had gone from celebratory to sour real fast, and the man—still crouched a few feet away—wasn’t entirely sure how.

Then, finally, she sighed. Loudly. "And why," she said, her tone flat but dangerous, "will you hunt for me?"

He blinked, taken aback. "Because you’re hungry."

The sheer audacity in his tone made her lift her head, her expression blank like she was processing whether she’d heard him right.

"And also," he added with what he must have thought was charm, "as a way of saying thank you for saving me."

"Oh, you don’t have to thank me for saving you." She waved her hand lazily, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I don’t care. Really. But if you’re that desperate, just try to stay away from me. Humph."

She tossed her hair back, crossed her legs like a queen on her throne, and reached into the air beside her.

The man frowned. "What are you—"

Then his jaw dropped.

Her hand disappeared into nothingness.

And when it came out again, it was holding a folded cloth bundle—something that hadn’t existed a heartbeat ago.

He blinked. Once. Twice. "Where did that come from?"

"Do you not understand what it means to stop talking to me?" she said, unfolding the cloth like he hadn’t spoken.

Inside were strips of dried meat, perfectly wrapped and organized, glinting faintly under the moonlight spilling through the cave ceiling. The smell hit first—smoky, savory, and unfairly delicious.

She picked a piece and bit into it without looking at him. "Tomorrow, I’m out of here," she said through a mouthful. "You go your own way. Don’t try to start a conversation."

He blinked again, eyes darting between the meat and her expression. "I have no choice," he said. "I’ve lost my memory. And I’m coming with you."

Her jaw froze mid-chew.

She swallowed slowly, blinked at him, and said flatly, "What did you just say?"

"I’m coming with you," he repeated. "You saved me. So I’m staying with you."

Isabella’s whole face twitched. "No. You’re not."

"I am."

"You’re not."

"I am."

Her voice went up an octave. "You’re not going to come with me! I am not going to be a responsibility for you!"

He stared, unfazed.

"You are a grown-ass man," she went on, pointing the half-eaten meat at him like a weapon. "You will fend for yourself. I don’t care if you’ve lost your memory, your sense of direction, or your brain cells. You are not coming with me."

He crossed his arms. "I’m going to come with you whether you like it or not. Because to be honest, I don’t really have anywhere to go anymore. I’ll stay with you—to protect you. This mountain is dangerous."

For a moment, Isabella just stared at him. Then her lips quirked.

And then she started laughing.

Like, really laughing. The kind that echoed through the cave walls, loud and hysterical. She clutched her stomach and wheezed, "Oh my gods—you? Protect me?!"

The man frowned, his ears turning slightly red.

"You really think I need your protection?" she managed between gasps of laughter.

"Yes," he said simply, completely serious.

She blinked at him, still laughing but slower now. "You’re serious?"

"Yes."

"Oh my gods." She wiped at her eyes. "That’s adorable. You’re adorable. You’re also delusional, but mostly adorable."

He exhaled through his nose, clearly offended. "You think you’re untouchable just because you have that fan?"

"Untouchable? No." She grinned, tilting her head. "Terrifying? Yes."

He frowned deeper.

"If I’m correct," she said, her grin widening, "you’re a phoenix, right?"

That question made him hesitate. His brows furrowed, eyes flicking down as if he was trying to pull a memory from deep inside. He was silent for a while.

"Oh, great," Isabella said, clapping once dramatically. "He doesn’t even know what he is. Fantastic. I have a walking mystery egg following me."

His head snapped up. "I remember some parts," he said tightly. "Yes, I’m a phoenix."

She gasped, overly dramatic. "Oh, so you do remember! Congratulations, Your Birdiness. Do you also remember where you left your wings?"

He glared at her, and she snorted. "No wings, no flames, no nothing. You’re basically a chicken right now."

That one hit. He actually looked offended. "I’m not—"

"Oh, hush, poultry man." She leaned back on her hands, smirking.

But her amusement died when she saw the faint flicker of sadness cross his face. His shoulders dropped just slightly, and he looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers like something about them didn’t feel right.

"I’ve lost the ability to transform," he said quietly. "Into my phoenix form."

Her teasing expression softened a little.

"I just know it’s gone," he went on, still staring at his hand. "Because I can’t remember who I was. Not fully."

Normally, Isabella would’ve laughed again, made some snarky remark about men and their lost abilities. But this time... she didn’t.

He looked genuinely lost. His voice wasn’t angry, just tired. It was strange hearing him sound human.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of the waterfall.

Then he straightened slightly, meeting her gaze again. "That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I stay near you—to protect you."

Isabella’s jaw dropped. "Oh my gods, you are so frustrating!"

Her voice echoed through the cave again, startling a few glowing bugs off the ceiling.

"I don’t need your stupid protection!" she yelled, pointing the fan at him.

"Fine," he said, his tone maddeningly calm. "If you don’t need my protection, then you’ll protect me."

She froze.

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. "What?"

He shrugged casually, clearly proud of himself. "Seems fair. You saved me once, after all. You can just... keep doing that."

Her brain short-circuited for a second.

"Are you insane?" she asked.

"Probably," he said, deadpan.

She stared at him like he’d just declared he wanted to marry a rock. "You’re serious."

He nodded. "Completely."

"Oh my god." She dragged her hands down her face. "You’re actually serious. You really want to follow me around the mountain, like some lost—"

"Phoenix," he said helpfully.

"Shut up."

She looked up toward the cave’s ceiling like she was praying for divine patience. "Why? Why do I keep attracting idiots?"

Bubu’s voice purred in her mind. Statistically, host, you attract trouble with a ninety-three percent success rate.

"Shut it, Bubu," she muttered aloud.

The man blinked. "Who’s Bubu?"

"My therapist," she snapped automatically.

"Your what?"

"Nothing. Forget it." She groaned, flopping backward dramatically.

He just stared at her, completely lost, while Glimora—who had been napping quietly beside the glowing moss—lifted her head and gave the man a judgmental look that said you really don’t know what you’ve signed up for, do you?

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You’re impossible."

"Thank you," she said sweetly. "Now shut up before I change my mind about letting you live."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You really are something else."

"I know," she said proudly, popping another piece of meat into her mouth. "And don’t you forget it, Bird Man."

He watched her, torn between exasperation and amusement. Then, quietly, he murmured, "You know, you’re even worse than the monsters outside."

She grinned. "That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today."