The SSS class adventurer is a divine cleric
Chapter 110: But you’re prettier
CHAPTER 110: BUT YOU’RE PRETTIER
"I’m trying to get you married, not assassinated. Look at her. Strong. Beautiful. Richer than half the kingdoms combined. You’re what, seventeen?"
"Eighteen."
"Even better. The perfect age to fall in love by accident."
Across the table, Derek was watching this entire scene with a goblet of aged forestwine in his hand, amusement twinkling in his sharp eyes.
When Sairi stepped away to refill her drink, he joined her near the firepit.
"Pushing a bit hard, don’t you think?" he said casually, swirling the drink in his cup.
Sairi tilted her head. "Oh come on, Derek. They fought together. Almost died together. You know that creates bonds."
Derek chuckled. "It also creates trauma."
"He’s a black system awakener. He’s not going to die poor or weak. And Kaitlin’s no delicate flower either. She’s got wealth, skill, and bloodlines."
"So it’s a contract then? A political marriage?"
Sairi rolled her eyes. "It doesn’t have to be. But even if it were... is it so bad if the contract ends with happiness?"
Derek glanced toward Neal and Kaitlin. She had finally spoken to him. He smiled softly, still a little shy. She smiled back, still a little uncertain.
"You might be right," Derek admitted. "Still... let the kids have their time. No need to shove."
"Fine," Sairi said, raising her glass. "But if they get married, I’m taking full credit."
They clinked their cups together in a quiet toast, letting the soft laughter and low music surround them.
Further down the tables, where the firelight dimmed and the noise faded, Kaelen sat slumped, elbows resting on the rough wood, his sleeves rolled up and a drink lazily dangling in one hand.
Alira stood beside him, arms crossed, not saying a word.
"Listen," Kaelen mumbled, slightly drunk. "I swear I was going to tell you. The whole ’I’m going loco with an epic monster’ plan? Totally going to clue you in."
Alira raised an eyebrow. "Before or after you got turned into minced meat?"
"...Before?"
"Liar."
He buried his face in his arms, groaning. "I panicked. Everything was falling apart. I didn’t want you to get dragged into it."
"You didn’t even say goodbye. And you even dare to knock me out."
Kaelen winced. "That’s why I’m saying sorry now."
She watched him for a long moment. His voice had cracked near the end. And even now, there was something behind his eyes, not fear or arrogance. Just regret.
"...You’re an idiot," she finally muttered.
"An unattractive idiot?"
"Where does that even come from?"
He pouted.
Alira sighed, then sat beside him, close but not touching.
"Don’t do that again," she said, voice soft now. "Don’t try to save anyone alone. You’re not as invincible as you think."
Kaelen turned to her, offering a lopsided smile. "So you do care."
"Say that again and I’m stabbing you."
"Wouldn’t be the first time."
They both laughed, quiet, exhausted, but together.
The fire crackled nearby, casting gold and amber light across the quiet part of the camp where they sat. The wind carried the soft hum of distant music, the muffled sound of laughter and metal goblets clinking in celebration.
Kaelen, hunched over with one arm lazily looped around his wine goblet, blinked slowly, cheeks flushed and lips loose with the honest blur of intoxication. His shirt hung half open, collar wrinkled, and boots scuffed from the recent fight.
Besides him, Alira sat with her legs crossed and posture impeccable, her snowy white hair catching the firelight like silk. She watched him with unreadable eyes, calm on the surface, but sharp, dangerously sharp, beneath. Like moonlight glinting on the edge of a dagger.
Then, in a voice that seemed far too casual for the weight it carried, she asked,
"Was she pretty?"
Kaelen blinked. "Who?"
"Kaitlin."
He let out a dry laugh, spilling wine as he swung the goblet too wide. "Ah, that girl. I’d be damned if she wasn’t pretty."
Alira didn’t blink. Her expression didn’t change. But the air shifted. Somewhere behind her eyes, something flickered like a knife being unsheathed.
"Oh really?" she said.
Her tone was soft. Ice on silk.
Kaelen was too far gone to notice. He nodded enthusiastically, wine dribbling down his chin, utterly unaware of the growing thunderstorm at his side. "Yeah, of course. Strong jawline. That noble posture. I mean, she looked like she belonged in some painting."
His honesty would’ve been commendable if it hadn’t been so suicidal.
Alira’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t speak. But her hand drifted to the small throwing knife she always kept at her thigh. Fingertips brushed the hilt like a promise.
Kaelen continued, completely oblivious.
He paused for another long sip, then lowered the goblet and turned, arm swinging wide, catching her shoulders and pulling her closer. The movement was ungraceful, lopsided, and sudden. But he didn’t let go.
Alira tensed, stunned by the unexpected contact.
Then, with his eyes half-lidded and voice thick, Kaelen mumbled something that probably saved his life:
"...but still, I’d say you’re prettier."
The world paused.
The wind changed direction.
The knife in Alira’s hand stopped halfway from leaving the sheath.
She turned toward him slowly, brows slightly raised, eyes narrowing. "What?"
Kaelen grinned like an idiot, cheeks flushed red, not from embarrassment, but alcohol. "You’re prettier and normal," he repeated, as if stating some fact as obvious as gravity. "Normal. In a good way. She’s a scary battle maniac."
He leaned his head against her shoulder, sighing. "Don’t tell her though. She looks like the type to stab a guy."
Alira blinked.
Once.
Then again.
And then, just once, she smiled. Really smiled. The kind that curled slowly, reluctantly, like it didn’t want to but couldn’t help itself.
She let him lean against her for a moment longer. The firelight danced between them. Her free hand moved slightly, brushing some hair away from his face. No words. Just a gesture, fleeting and unspoken.
He was drunk. She wasn’t.
But still, somewhere deep beneath her usual calm and calculated mask, her heart skipped a beat.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath. But her voice had lost its edge.
Kaelen didn’t hear it.
And if he did, he’d only laugh.
The music carried on in the background. Above them, stars shimmered over a world that, for now, was still intact.
And as the night stretched long, and the embers of the fires burned low, the scars of battle slowly gave way to the first flickers of peace.