Player Chapter 35. Coincidence?
Silence.
He stared at her.
"You aren't afraid I'm going to do anything?"
She crossed her arms lightly.
"I said it already. You're the one afraid about reputation."
He smirked faintly. "I am…" Then he stepped closer.
Her breath caught slightly.
"But…" He moved until she felt the edge of the wall behind her.
He placed one hand beside her head against the wall.
Cornering her.
Not aggressively.
Just close.
Very close.
"I'm still a man, Elena," he said quietly.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"And the only problem about sharing a horse this morning," he continued, voice low and dead serious, "was because I rode with a man."
Her face went red instantly.
"I wouldn't complain if it was you."
The way he said it.
Calm.
Direct.
No teasing.
Her pulse skyrocketed.
She swallowed.
The room felt warmer.
Too warm.
She placed her hand gently against his chest to create a little distance.
"No."
He blinked.
She held his gaze.
"You still have to sleep on the bed."
He looked mildly confused.
"This is your room," she added softly. "You shouldn't be the one taking the sofa."
He studied her face.
She wasn't flustered now.
Not teasing.
Not joking.
Just honest.
"I trust you, Riven."
The words landed differently this time.
Not dramatic.
Not desperate.
Just steady.
Her eyes softened.
"I'm serious."
He stared at her for a long second.
Then slowly…
He moved his hand away from the wall.
"Fine," he muttered lightly.
She smiled.
For a moment, the air between them felt different.
Not heavy.
Not dangerous.
Just warm.
Her heart was still beating too fast.
She cleared her throat softly and stepped back.
"I will take a bath first," she said, trying to sound normal. "It's been such a long time I haven't showered properly."
She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
The sound of it clicking shut felt strangely intimate.
The shower room inside his Pocket Dimension was absurdly modern. Glass panel. Chrome fixtures. Warm lighting. A mirror that didn't distort her reflection like polished metal in the temple did.
She stood there for a moment, just staring.
Then she turned the water on.
It ran clear and strong.
Not from a bucket.
Not carried by acolytes.
Just… there.
She stepped under it.
Warm water cascaded over her hair and shoulders.
She exhaled.
For the first time in a year…
She wasn't bathing in a temple basin.
She wasn't careful about being seen.
She wasn't worried about rumors.
She let the water soak into her skin.
And she thought about him.
Riven.
Her heart fluttered at the name.
She leaned her forehead against the cool tile and closed her eyes.
He was good looking.
She hadn't let herself fully register that before.
Athletic build.
Broad shoulders.
Lean muscle from actual combat, not decorative training.
Sharp jawline.
Dark eyes that always looked like they were calculating something.
And when he smiled.
It was reckless.
Boyish.
Dangerous.
It was kind of weird when he said he was single.
How?
How was he single?
The way he responded to things… it reminded her of a certain rich heir she met at the gala.
A boy with sharp suits and lazy confidence.
The one who pretended not to care because he was used to being watched.
She knew that world.
She was an heiress too.
She knew how to smile properly.
How to speak carefully.
How to hold posture at formal events.
Before she went abroad to study fashion design and stayed alone in an apartment, she had attended so many galas.
Her parents would say.
"Behave."
"Smile."
"Don't embarrass the family."
And she would.
She knew how to act.
Maybe that was why she got the role of the Saint in this world.
Because she already knew how to wear a mask.
Because she already knew how to be hope when she didn't feel like it.
But sometimes…
Sometimes she wanted someone to see her.
Not Saint Elena.
Just her.
And somehow… Among everyone…
Riven didn't care about her Saint role.
He talked to her like she was a person.
Teased her.
Argued with her.
Didn't bow.
Didn't worship.
Maybe that made him different.
That familiar confidence.
That competitive spark.
That way he cornered her just now and said…
"I'm still a man, Elena."
Her cheeks warmed under the shower.
"Nope, nope, nope," she muttered to herself.
She closed her eyes.
And her mind drifted.
Galas.
Teenage years.
Flash of camera lights.
High heels she hated wearing.
Then…
Childhood.
Her first gala.
She was maybe seven.
Small.
Dressed in a beautiful white dress her mother picked out.
She remembered how tight the ribbon felt around her waist.
How heavy the chandelier lights were.
How boring adults' conversations sounded.
"Behave," her mother had whispered.
She tried.
She really did.
But a gala was torture for a seven year old.
So she wandered.
Just a little.
Then more.
Then…
She got lost.
The ballroom corridors looked identical.
Tall doors. Gold trim. Soft carpet.
Her small shoes made no sound.
She remembered the panic rising in her chest.
The tears.
She had curled into a corner behind a large decorative plant and sobbed quietly.
She didn't want to embarrass her parents.
She just wanted to go home.
Then…
Footsteps.
A boy appeared.
Around her age.
Well-dressed but slightly disheveled.
Hair messy.
Eyes bright.
"Why are you crying?" he had asked.
She sniffled. "I'm lost."
He stared at her for a second.
Then giggled.
"Great! I'm lost too!"
She remembered wanting to cry even more.
He had scratched his head awkwardly.
"Hey, don't cry. Here, take my last candy."
He had handed her a wrapped candy.
She had stared at him suspiciously.
Then he said, "Come follow me. I know where to go."
She remembered thinking…
He didn't look like he knew where to go.
But she followed him anyway.
He walked confidently at first.
Then hesitated at intersections.
Then…
His eyes lit up.
He ran to a small corner near a decorative statue.
Picked something up.
Unwrapped it.
And popped it into his mouth.
She gasped.
"You shouldn't eat random food from the ground!"
He blinked at her.
"I left it there."
"…What?"
"I usually take a bunch of candies before I start my adventure," he had explained proudly. "And put one at intersections so I can find my way back."
She had stared at him.
That was absurd.
Ridiculous.
Creative.
Brilliant.
"We just need to find more candies," he had said confidently.
And they did.
Tiny wrapped candies at corners.
Hidden trail markers.
Following them back to the ballroom.
She remembered her mother scolding her gently afterward.
But she also remembered…
The boy grinning proudly when he found his father.
Like he had solved a quest.
The memory made her chest ache softly.
She opened her eyes under the shower.
Water still running.
Heart still racing.
Riven.
Competitive.
Creative.
Absurdly confident.
Smiling like the world was a puzzle he could beat.
She let out a slow breath.
Was it just coincidence?
Or…
Her heart thudded harder.
No.
That was impossible.
The world was big.
Too many people.
Too many children at galas.
She shook her head slightly.
"It can't be," she whispered again.
Still.
The way he talked.
The way he strategized.
Her lips curved faintly.
She rinsed her hair and turned off the shower.
Wrapped herself in a towel.
Looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Her cheeks were pink.
Her eyes softer.
She looked less like a Saint.
More like a girl.
She touched her own reflection lightly. "I'm not alone anymore," she whispered.
Her heart fluttered again.
Maybe she was falling too fast.
Maybe she was clinging because she was lonely.
Maybe.
But when he said…
"You're not crazy. I'm here."
It didn't feel like an illusion.
It felt like… Home found her again.
She dried herself slowly.
And prepared to step back into the room.
Where he was waiting.
Unaware that somewhere between tea leaves and dragon fights… She had already given him her heart.