Inside the inn, the world seemed carved from timber and tempered by warmth.
The walls, beams, ceiling — all wood, yet arranged with deliberate harmony, as though the carpenter had followed a single aesthetic creed and refused to betray it. Lanterns hung like low, golden moons from iron hooks, their light pooling softly over polished floorboards that had endured countless boots and stories. The scent of roasted meat drifted through the air, thick and comforting, mingling with ale, spices, and fresh bread. It clung to hair and clothes like memory.
Men laughed over tankards that met tables with dull thuds. Women spoke in hushed clusters. Waiters navigated the crowd with the fluid confidence of those who knew the rhythm of this place by heart.
Into this lived-in warmth stepped something that did not belong.
Noa and Vionette walked straight down the center aisle toward the counter, neither rushing nor hesitating. They moved like a calm current cutting through a noisy river.
"Hello," Noa greeted, lifting his hand in a casual wave that carried neither arrogance nor deference. "Is there any rooms left?"
It wasn't his voice that stilled the room — it was contrast.
Heads turned slowly, conversations thinning into curious silence. Noa's face seemed sculpted rather than born, too symmetrical, too clean to belong to the countryside. He carried himself with an ease that hinted at something beyond village upbringing, as if the dust of the road could not quite cling to him.
Beside him stood Vionette.
Her white hair shimmered under lanternlight, mocking even the sun outside as if it had borrowed brilliance from winter's first snowfall. Her crimson eyes held a depth that unsettled — not bright, but rich, like wine poured too darkly in crystal. The high-quality dress she wore was neither flamboyant nor plain; it was simply precise, fitted like nobility disguised as simplicity.
"Yes. We have two rooms left," the brown-haired receptionist replied, her smile polished and professional. "Would you like to order those two rooms?"
Her posture remained perfect, her tone steady — but inside her mind, composure fractured.
Gosh… he's so handsome. Is he a noble? Though…his eyes make me uneasy. Will I get to speak to him again?
She imagined fleeting futures — a longer conversation, perhaps a smile directed only at her. It was foolish, she knew, but fantasies bloom fastest where reality is dull.
"No. One room is enough."
The words fell like a hammer through thin glass.
The imagined future shattered instantly.
"U-Uhh… okay." Her smile trembled just slightly at the edges, like porcelain tapped too hard.
"How much is it?" Noa leaned forward onto the counter, resting one elbow casually, his expression calm as though he had not just crushed someone's romantic subplot.
"Two silver per day."
Vionette leaned toward his ear, her breath cool against his skin. "Are we ready?"
"Yes. Let's go to the room."
They turned toward the wooden staircase that spiraled upward like the spine of the building, ascending toward quiet.
And then—
Grab.
A thick hand closed around Vionette's wrist.
The man was bald and broad, muscles layered thick beneath a white shirt stretched near its limit. Brown trousers tucked into leather boots completed the image of someone accustomed to intimidation as a language. He was slightly taller than Vionette, but nearly triple her width.
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"
The room held its breath.
Vionette turned her head slowly, unhurried. Her crimson eyes met his with a gaze so cold it could have preserved meat through winter. Instead of frowning, her lips curved upward faintly.
"Ara~ how rude."
The bald man blinked.
She was smiling.
Noa did not turn around. He continued climbing the stairs, each step deliberate, as though he trusted the world behind him to arrange itself.
Vionette reached calmly into her purse and retrieved a gold coin.
"What the hell are you doing, ya—" His grip tightened.
Ignoring him, she withdrew another coin.
Swoosh.
Both coins spun through the air, flashing gold beneath lanternlight like twin falling stars. They landed near two other men of similar build.
The men bent down and picked them up.
"It really is a gold coin."
"A real one."
They examined the engraved symbol, weight testing in their palms. It was genuine — heavy with both metal and opportunity.
"Two more after he's dead," Vionette said lightly, as if ordering dessert.
The men exchanged glances, grins spreading wide.
"Consider it done."
"Yeah."
The bald man's bravado faltered. His eyes darted around. The receptionist stood frozen with both hands over her mouth. Other patrons stared — not at him, but at the coins. Gold had a way of rearranging loyalties faster than morality could protest.
What the hell?
His grip loosened unconsciously.
Vionette slipped free and brushed her wrist as if dusted by something unpleasant.
"Well, have fun you guys," she waved sweetly.
"Wait—no—"
He was shoved backward as the two men advanced. Others joined in, some for greed, some for sport. Violence blossomed like wild laughter.
"AHHH!"
The scream echoed as Noa and Vionette reached the upper landing without once looking back.
…
The room upstairs was modest, yet peaceful.
Wooden walls embraced the space in warm tones. A simple table sat near the window, a small clay pot resting atop it like a finishing touch from someone who believed details mattered. A single chair stood beside it. Curtains framed the window, through which the city shimmered under fading sunlight.
It was nothing like the royal castle — no marble floors, no chandeliers dripping gold — yet it possessed a natural beauty, as though carved from forest rather than ambition.
When Vionette entered, Noa was already lying back on the bed, one arm draped across his eyes.
He had not fought any battles that day. He had not cast spells or drawn blades. Yet his mind felt exhausted, tangled in threads of mystery and unanswered questions.
"Let's start tomorrow, okay? It's already getting dark anyway," he murmured, eyes closing.
Vionette watched him for a moment. The bravado he wore in public slipped away here, replaced by quiet fatigue.
She smiled softly and jumped onto the bed beside him.
"Okay."
***
Morning crept in like a cautious guest.
"Uaaah~"
Noa stretched, arms reaching upward as golden light filtered through the curtains and painted the room in gentle warmth. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth open in a yawn that felt embarrassingly human for someone who pretended to be mysterious.
He turned his head.
Vionette was still asleep, clutching the blanket tightly as if guarding treasure. They both remained in their usual clothes, having collapsed without ceremony.
I guess she was more tired than me.
He smiled faintly and adjusted the blanket over her shoulders.
Her body was fragile — not weak, but delicate in the way porcelain held beauty at the risk of cracking. Her spirit burned bright, but her body paid the price.
Knock-knock.
Noa stood and opened the door without hesitation.
A grey-haired man in his late thirties stood there, glasses resting over steady black eyes. The receptionist and another woman stood beside him.
"Please forgive us if we interrupted you," the grey-haired man said, glancing briefly toward the bed.
"No, no. We haven't even kissed yet, so don't go that far," Noa replied bluntly, raising a hand.
The receptionist's eyebrows squeezed together.
Don't lie. Who sleeps in the same bed before even kissing, you idiot?
"Anyways, what's your purpose?" Noa's gaze sharpened, assessing threat and intention.
The trio bowed.
"We apologize for yesterday's trouble in our inn. As the owner, I take full responsibility."
He's the owner?
Noa tilted his head slightly.
"It's okay, dude. No one died anyway." He paused internally. That baldy might've though.
"I've been meaning to ask, why are people leaving the city?" he asked casually.
"You must be a foreign visitor," the owner replied. "A dragon has reportedly appeared in the forest outside the kingdom. Civilians are evacuating as a precaution."
So it's in the forest.
"Well, thank you." Noa closed the door before the man could continue his words.
Thuck.
"What happened?" Vionette sat up, rubbing her eyes.
"A cleanup for that baldy. And…
"And?"
"Information about the dragon."
She slipped her jacket back on and began fixing her hair in the mirror.
"It's in the forest."
"Eh? The forest?" She sighed. "That forest is full of monsters. It will be difficult to breach thorugh."
"That dangerous?" he asked, leaning back on the bed.
"Yes. We should gather more information first and try to find it at a later date."
While closing his eyes and half-listening to Vionette speak about gathering information, Noa suddenly realized something.
His eyes flew open, bright and mischievous, like a child who had just remembered where the hidden candy was kept.
"That means…" he turned his head slowly toward Vionette. "We can cuddle on each other again until then."
The room fell silent.
Vionette's hands, which had been carefully fixing the smooth fall of her silver hair in the mirror, froze mid-motion. A strand slipped through her fingers unnoticed. Her eyebrows shot upward, and a faint crimson bloom spread across her cheeks.
"…You like to cuddle up at night?" she asked slowly, as if testing whether she had misheard him. Then her eyes widened. "WAIT. What do you mean 'again'?"
Noa blinked at her, unbothered by the sudden rise in volume.
"Yeah," he replied calmly, as if stating a simple fact about the weather. "You hugged me tightly during last night."
"…"
HUUUUUH?!!
Images she could not remember flooded her imagination in exaggerated flashes — arms wrapped around him, clinging like a koala, maybe even drooling. The humiliation built rapidly.
Sigh.
Whatever.
Vionette stood from the chair near the mirror with deliberate elegance and walked toward the bed slowly.
She leaned forward onto the bed, but unlike him, she faced downward, placing her elbow against the mattress and resting her head lightly on her palm. Her silver hair cascaded over one shoulder like spilled moonlight. With her other hand, she reached out and gently pressed a single finger against his lips.
"?!!"
Noa's eyes widened instantly. His breath caught in his throat as if she had stolen it.
"You like to cuddle that much?" she asked, her tone firm yet laced with quiet amusement. Her crimson eyes were half-lidded, studying him closely. A teasing smile curved her lips — not wide, but dangerous in its subtlety.
Her finger remained resting against his mouth.
"You were the one hugging me."
"That is not the point."
She pressed her finger slightly firmer against his lips, as though silencing him physically would strengthen her argument.
"And besides," she added softly, leaning closer, "why didn't you push me away if you disliked it?"
He blinked.
"I didn't say I disliked it."
She paused as heat rushed to her face, blooming vividly across her cheeks.
"You—!" she started, but her voice lost momentum halfway.
Thud.
"Kya!"
In one swift movement, Noa rolled and gently pushed her down onto the bed, bracketing her with his arms on either side of her head. The mattress dipped beneath their weight, and her silver hair fanned out like frost across the pillow.
He leaned over her with an exaggeratedly arrogant grin, though the faint flush creeping up his own ears betrayed him.
"You blushed while saying that, you idiot," he murmured, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary.
"You're embarrassed, aren't you?"
Vionette turned her face away immediately, eyes darting to the side as if the wooden wall had suddenly become fascinating.
"I am not," she muttered.
"You are."
She slowly turned her head back toward him, intending to push him off with a witty remark and reclaim control of the situation.
"You know," Noa said softly, his voice losing its earlier bravado, "if you don't want to cuddle… I won't complain."
Vionette blinked.
"That's not what I said."
"Then what are you saying?"
She hesitated — which was answer enough.
"You're the one who said I hugged you," she mumbled weakly.
"And?"
"And… maybe you should be grateful."
Noa raised an eyebrow. "Grateful?"
"Yes." She lifted her chin slightly, regaining some of her composure. "It's not every day you get to be held by someone as refined as me."
"Oh? So it was intentional?"
Her eyes widened.
"I did not say that!"
He laughed softly under his breath, the sound low and warm. Before she could protest further, he leaned down.
"Mmm"
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, neither rushed nor forceful, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a promise neither of them had voiced aloud.
Her eyes widened at first.
"?!!"
She hadn't expected him to actually do it. But then she remembered his earlier comment to the grey-haired man — We haven't even kissed yet.
So this was him correcting that.
This idiot.
Her initial shock melted into something else. Her fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt. Instead of pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
This guy is unbelievable…