Scarlett didn't move from his side after the hug. She sat beside him on the edge of his bed, her presence soft and calm, like a cup of tea in winter.
She brushed her fingers gently through his hair, smoothing it like she had when he was young.
"You're not sick, are you?" she asked, watching him with quiet concern. "You never let me hug you this long when you were younger. In fact, you'd usually groan about it."
Ryo smiled faintly and looked away. "Guess I finally grew up."
"Hm," she teased softly. "Or maybe you just got hungry enough to tolerate motherly affection."
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low. Everything felt so normal. So impossibly normal.
But inside — his heart was chaos.
Don't act differently, he reminded himself. Don't make her suspicious.
She smiled at him once more, then stood gracefully, brushing the folds of her robe into place. "Come down soon, alright? I'll make your favorite — that sweet lotus porridge you pretend not to like."
She left the room with a rustle of silk and warmth still lingering in the air.
And when the door clicked shut behind her—
Ryo exhaled. Long. Tense. Bitter.
He sank back onto the bed, dragging a hand down his face.
"…Idiot," he muttered to himself.
What the hell was that?
He clenched his jaw.
"You were supposed to take it slow. Stay cold. Distant. Just like before."
That was the plan. Pretend to be his old self. Little by little, earn their trust again. Slowly fix what he broke — without raising suspicion.
But the second she stepped into the room…
Her voice.
Her scent.
Her warmth.
Ten years without it. Ten years wishing for it. Ten years too late.
He clenched his fists, knuckles white.
"…Damn it, how could I not break?"
His voice cracked — but only for a second.
"Can you really blame me?" he whispered to no one. "I held my mother again. I heard her laugh again. I…"
He shut his eyes tight.
"I didn't see her for a decade. Not even once. Not even in dreams."
Silence wrapped around him like a second skin.
He didn't cry.
Not yet.
He'd wasted tears in his last life, crying over people who left him in the dirt.
But this time…
He'd protect what mattered. No matter how slowly. No matter how quietly.
No matter how much it killed him to act like nothing had changed.