Chapter 4: Morning Breath
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Sunlight filtered softly through the thin canvas of the tent, casting a golden hue on everything inside. Rylan stirred, the warmth of the morning battling with the cool breath of air wafting through the unzipped flap. For a moment, he forgot where he was. The texture of the sleeping mat beneath him, the strange, unfamiliar smell of the forest—and then the feeling of something soft, warm, and very much alive pressed against his side.
He opened his eyes slowly.
White-blue strands of hair spilled across his chest, a rhythmic rise and fall brushing against his arm. Esdeath. Her face was turned toward him, lips barely parted, her expression peaceful. And dangerously close. His right hand was tangled beneath her waist. Her leg—no, both legs—were draped over his.
"God...damn," he muttered under his breath.
His body reacted before his brain could issue any commands. He shut his eyes tight.
Don't move. Don't think. Just... breathe. Please, don't wake up.
Too late.
"You're stiff," came a calm, low murmur. Her voice was still laced with sleep, but he heard the smirk behind it.
"Y-Yeah," Rylan croaked. "Uh. Morning wood. Totally normal. Definitely not your fault."
She yawned lazily, not moving. Her leg slid an inch higher.
"Mm. I don't mind. It's flattering."
Rylan groaned. "Can you please not say things like that while lying half-naked on top of me?"
She lifted her head slowly, eyelids heavy with drowsiness. "You could ask me to stop... or you could admit you enjoy it."
"You already know I enjoy it," he muttered, face flushed.
She smiled, then finally sat up, letting the covers slide off. Her form-fitting black underlayer clung to her in all the worst best places. She stretched, arms overhead, toned abdomen shifting beneath pale skin.
Rylan turned away. Fast.
"I'm going to go wash my face. And maybe dunk my head in a river."
She didn't stop him.
The forest was crisp with dew, the stream nearby glistening in the light. Rylan knelt at the edge, cupping water into his face. He splashed himself again. And again.
She's just messing with you, he told himself. This is what she does. Dominate, tease, control. That's her thing.
And yet... last night didn't feel like domination. When she let him rest against her shoulder, when she touched his arm so gently, when she said she'd wait for him—that wasn't the Esdeath he knew from the manga.
That was someone real.
[NOTIFICATION: AFFECTION LEVEL WITH "ESDEATH" HAS INCREASED TO 24%]
[NEW PERK UNLOCKED: SHARED INSTINCT (Lv.1)]
[PASSIVE ABILITY: YOU GAIN A SLIGHT BOOST IN REFLEXES WHEN IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO HIGH-AFFECTION SUMMONS.]
"Huh," Rylan said, rubbing his eyes. "That actually sounds useful."
Back at camp, Esdeath was already dressed in full uniform, folding the tent with precise movements.
"I scouted a path east," she said as he approached. "There's a coastal town nearby. Barkridge. It's a minor hub, mostly fishermen and smugglers."
Rylan blinked. "How do you even know that?"
"The system uploaded a partial map of this region into my memory. I made sure to request tactical data when I was summoned."
"Right. Tactical waifu. Forgot."
She tilted her head. "Would you prefer a less competent one?"
He chuckled. "Nah. You're perfect."
She looked surprised.
Only for a second.
Then she looked away, a faint blush touching her cheek. That, more than anything, confirmed she wasn't just teasing anymore. Something had shifted between them.
"Let's head out," she said, voice a touch softer than usual.
The road to Barkridge was quiet, winding through patches of bamboo and coastal cliffs. They passed a few wagons—traders or wanderers—but kept a low profile. Esdeath wore a hood, and Rylan tried not to look like someone traveling with a walking nuclear threat.
The town itself was built in tiers along a rocky slope, wooden houses stacked against each other, ropes and pulley baskets connecting balconies. The harbor reeked of fish and old rum.
"Reminds me of the slums back home," Rylan muttered.
Esdeath scanned the crowd. "Low-tier pirates. Drunk men. Pickpockets."
"Charming."
They found an inn called The Slippery Eel. Five xxxx berries a night. The innkeeper was half-blind and didn't ask questions. Perfect.
Their room was small. One bed. Again.
Rylan sighed. "This is becoming a trend."
Esdeath tossed her coat onto the bed. "I won't complain. Will you?"
"No, but my self-control might."
They explored the market that afternoon. It was loud, chaotic, and full of sharp smells. Rylan bartered for fruit, while Esdeath quietly memorized faces.
"That man," she said at one point. "Third stall on the left. His hand hasn't left his coat. Watch your purse."
Sure enough, the moment Rylan turned, the man bumped into him.
A swift elbow from Esdeath dropped him.
"Subtle," Rylan whispered.
She smiled. "Would you prefer frostbite?"
Suddenly, shouting erupted down the street. A group of thugs emerged from a tavern, one of them bruised and bleeding.
"Where's the bastard who humiliated Grem?!" a thug yelled. "He knocked out our lookout! Show yourself!"
People scattered.
Rylan froze. "Wait. Grem? As in the guy Esdeath backhanded into a crate yesterday?"
"Yes."
The group turned. One of them pointed. "There he is! The punk with the white-haired demon!"
Rylan groaned. "Really? It's that easy to stand out?"
Esdeath stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. "Shall I kill them?"
"No! No, just... don't go full psycho. Please."
She sighed, disappointed. But she obeyed.
The fight that followed wasn't pretty. Esdeath didn't kill anyone, but she made sure bones cracked and egos shattered. Rylan punched one guy in the jaw—his first real hit.
It felt... good.
Later, back at the inn, Rylan collapsed onto the bed.
"I'm so not cut out for this," he groaned.
Esdeath sat beside him, wiping blood from her glove. "You're learning."
He looked at her. "Am I? Or am I just watching you wreck everything while I hide behind you?"
"You stood up today. You made choices. Fought."
"Barely."
She leaned down, her face inches from his.
"Next time, you'll do more. And the time after that, more still. I believe in your potential, Rylan."
He blinked. "You do?"
"Of course. You're mine."
He flushed. "You keep saying that like it's totally normal."
She smiled, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.
"Sleep well, summoner."
As she lay beside him, sliding under the covers, the system pinged one last time.
[NOTIFICATION: AFFECTION LEVEL AT 28% - BONUS: NIGHT COMFORT (Lv.1)]
[PASSIVE BUFF: YOU HEAL FASTER WHILE SLEEPING NEAR HIGH-AFFECTION SUMMONS]
Rylan stared at the glowing text for a while.
Then he turned over, heart pounding.
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