CHAPTER 36: A RARE ITEM

(Evelina’s POV—Deep in the Game Forest)

The forest swallowed us whole.

Cold air clung to my wet skin, biting through the remains of my dress. My hair dripped down my back, each drop a reminder of the river that had nearly killed me... and the hands that dragged me back.

Rowan walked beside me, one arm still firm around my waist, anchoring me every time my knees trembled.

We didn’t speak.

We didn’t need to.

The only sounds were the snap of branches under our feet and the distant hum of engines—far behind us now, but not far enough.

A forest under a bridge.

Of course.

This cursed game bent physics when it wanted tension.

But even that wasn’t what unsettled me.

Someone sent the assassins. And there were only three possibilities left: Theo Vinter. Kael Valtore. The Hartgrave family.

Rowan’s fingers brushed my hip—a whisper of contact, stabilizing me as I stumbled over an exposed root.

He didn’t look at me. Just murmured, "Careful."

That... tone. Not cold. Not detached. Something else. A chill—not from the wind—ran up my spine.

We walked a little further until the fog thickened around us like smoke. My breath hitched from the cold; I gripped Rowan’s sleeve without thinking.

He felt it.

His arm immediately wrapped tighter around me, pulling me closer to his side, shielding me with the warmth of his body without hesitation.

"Miss," he said softly, "you’re freezing."

I didn’t answer.

Because out of nowhere—

CRACK.

A branch snapped behind us. Both of us turned instantly.

Rowan pushed me slightly behind him in one fluid motion, his hand already on the knife strapped inside his soaked pant leg. His body shifted—shoulders squaring, breath steady, eyes turning into weapons.

Silence buzzed.

A few falling leaves drifted past.

No movement.

No shadow.

No attacker.

Rowan didn’t relax.

Neither did I.

"Miss," he murmured low, "we’re not safe here. The assassins may have followed the river."

"They wouldn’t," I replied coldly, "not if they believe we drowned."

He didn’t answer. He didn’t agree. He didn’t disagree either. His hand found mine—firm but careful—and guided it to rest against his coat sleeve.

"Stay close," he whispered. Commanding. Soft. Terrifyingly gentle.

I didn’t pull away.

The fog thickened, swallowing the trees in pale grey. The cold seeped into my bones, making my legs heavy and my breathing thin. My throat burned with leftover river water.

"Miss," he said quietly, "we need shelter. Now."

"I’m fine—"

"You are not," he cut in, sharper than I had ever heard him. "Your body is trembling, your lips are pale, and your breathing is unstable. Hypothermia will set in if we keep moving."

I opened my mouth to argue—but he stepped closer. Too close. His hand brushed my cheek.

It was freezing. His fingers were warm.

"Let me take care of you," he said, voice low and absolute. "Please listen to me this once."

The words struck me harder than any bullet tonight. And before I could speak—

DING!!!

A faint system window flickered.

[System: Rowan’s Emotional State—UNSTABLE] [Warning: His protective instinct is increasing.] [Affection: +2% → 34%]

Rowan Arcturus—the man who barely blinked at death—was unraveling because of me.

His eyes held mine, sharp and desperate, before he said, "Miss, you must trust me."

A command wrapped in devotion.A plea wrapped in steel.

I exhaled, long and controlled. "Alright."

His shoulders loosened—just slightly. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, soft and unguarded, something no one else would ever see.

And then—WHOOSH!!!

My stomach dropped.

My vision tilted.

My entire world lurched upward. Because Rowan—the calm, disciplined, strictly-by-the-book Rowan—scooped me into his arms without warning.

"WHAT—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING—??!!!!!!" My scream went straight into his ear like a grenade.

He visibly flinched.

Honestly, I think I saw his soul try to jump out of his body.

He blinked at me, stunned, water dripping down his jaw.

"I... merely lifted you, Miss," he said slowly, "because you were... walking too slow."

His expression stayed calm.

His heartbeat did not.

And then—DING!

[Rowan Affection—34% → 33%][Cause: You yelled directly into his ear.]

Ughh...this damn rookie system.

I glared so hard at the sky that even God closed the tab.

"Fine," I said through clenched teeth, "just... move."

Rowan steadied his arms around me—one under my knees, the other supporting my back.Cold forest air hit my skin as he adjusted me closer, like shielding a flame from the wind.

His voice dropped low, almost a whisper brushing my cheek. "Yes, Miss."

He walked.

Silent.Sure.Deadly.

Each step cut clean through the fog as if even the forest obeyed him.

Branches cracked under his boots. Leaves rustled. Somewhere far behind us, water splashed—something following.

But Rowan didn’t look back.

His grip on me tightened—firm, possessive, and terrifyingly certain.

"Rowan?" I murmured.

"Hm?"

"You can... Put me down now."

"No."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He didn’t falter.Didn’t look at me.Didn’t even pretend to reconsider.

"You are cold, weak from water intake, and your legs are unstable," he said, voice even but trembling at the edges. "I am not risking you falling again."

I stared at him.

He really said that.

He really meant it.

The forest thickened around us—dark, quiet, humid—and the wind carried the faint scent of danger.

Rowan kept me close to his chest, one arm tightening when I shifted even slightly.

...

He adjusted his hold, bringing me closer for warmth, his jaw brushing my hair. And just like that—carried in Rowan’s arms, fog swirling around us, danger closing in on every side—

We moved deeper into the forest.

Into the darkness.Into the unknown.Into whatever trap—or fate—waited next.

And Rowan held me as if the world had to kill him before it ever touched me again.

***

(Continuation—Forest Shadows)

"Where are we even going?"

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were scanning—not the path.

The air.

Listening. Calculating. Hunting.

"...Somewhere safe," he murmured finally.

He shifted me slightly, keeping my weight balanced as his boots crushed through undergrowth.

"And how exactly do you know where ’somewhere safe’ is?" I asked coldly.

He didn’t hesitate. "Because saving you is the one thing I am absolutely certain of."

My breath stilled. Before I could respond, he stopped walking, saying, "Found it."

We pushed through a curtain of thick branches, damp and heavy—and then—half-hidden by vines and shadows, its wooden frame swallowed by moss—stood a cabin.

Old.Abandoned.Forgotten by the world.

My eyes narrowed. "Wow...we really found something."

Rowan’s arms tightened around me. "This is a perfect place."

He stepped forward slowly, almost soundlessly.

His entire body shifted into silent-danger mode—shoulders low, steps precise, movements controlled.

Predatory.

"Rowan," I said under my breath, "is this a good idea?"

"It’s the only option," he murmured. "You need warmth. Dry clothes. Shelter."

His eyes flicked to me, jaw tightening. "You’re shaking."

...I was.

Not from fear.

From cold.

From exhaustion.

From nearly drowning.

But also from the way he held me—like letting go wasn’t allowed.

We reached the cabin door. It was old but intact, the wood swollen with moisture. Rowan positioned me against his chest with one arm—the other hand braced on the door.

"Stay close to me," he murmured.

"I am literally in your arms—"

He kicked the door open.

B A M !

Dust exploded into the air. Spiderwebs trembled in the corners. The stale scent of abandoned life clung to the walls.

It was dark—but not empty.

Rowan stepped inside, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. He shifted me behind his arm, even though I was still held in both.

He moved through the cabin silently.

Checking.

Listening.

Calculating.

Finally—after a full minute—he exhaled.

"...It’s good."

He carried me deeper inside, toward the old wooden bed in the corner. Put me down. But—

He didn’t.

Instead, he looked at me as if debating something internal. Something heavy. Something he didn’t want to admit.

"You’re freezing," he said quietly.

"And?" I arched a brow.

"I will light the fire."

I blinked. "How will you do that? We’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere."

He looked straight into my eyes, voice steady and terrifyingly confident: "I’ve watched many shows where men survive in the forest."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

"...Men vs. Wild," I muttered. "I see. Continue."

He nodded, completely serious—as if Bear Grylls was now his spirit guide—and set me gently onto a dusty chair before crossing the room toward the old fireplace.

I watched as he gathered broken wood fragments, old cloth, and debris with efficient, soldier-like precision. Each movement sharp. Intentional.

Then—

Spark.

Crackle.

...A flame caught.

And in less than a minute—

WHOOSH!Fire bloomed inside the hearth, heat licking the cold air, warm light spilling across the cabin walls.

I blinked.

"...You actually did it."

He turned his head slightly, a faint glint passing through his eyes. "Of course, Miss."

Of course.Just Rowan things.

I sighed, letting the warmth slowly wrap around my frozen skin.

Good. At least we wouldn’t die of the cold.

I pushed myself up from the chair, scanning the shadowed cabin while Rowan carefully fed more wood into the fire.

Dust.Old furniture.An overturned chair.A backpack in the corner—probably whoever fled.

Then—Something shimmered near the edge of the dusty shelf.

A faint glow.Soft. Pale. Unnatural.

I frowned and stepped closer.

"...What is this?"

My fingers brushed aside dust—and then—

Because lying there, half-hidden beneath an old book, was something.

Something rare.

Glowing faintly like crystallized moonlight.

DING.

[System: RARE ITEM DISCOVERED—Memory Fragment: Type ???][Warning: This fragment contains data.]

Data? What kind of...?