I squatted next to Mr. Witson and draped an arm around his trembling shoulders.
"My poor man," I said softly, giving him a sage, mournful look. "Sometimes destiny works in mysterious ways. There's no fighting it. We just… accept."
I let out a deep sigh, heavy with imaginary sorrow. "That's what happened to my first love too."
Mr. Witson blinked up at me, eyes wide. "Your… first love?"
"Aye." I nodded solemnly. "She was a stunning lass. The kind of girl who made every day feel like a sunrise. Even during the apocalypse, you'd think you were still in heaven."
My voice shifted into the soft ache of unrequited love. "I still remember the first time I saw her… those eyes, like twilight on still water. Her lips, more tempting than forbidden fruit. That mile-wide smile—gorgeous. Everything about her screamed perfection."
"She sounds too good to be true," Mr. Witson whispered, captivated.
Even Raven, who had seen me lie about my lunch preferences without blinking, was spellbound.
"Yes. That's right," I said, my tone turning cold as winter. "And that's why fate took her from me."
Mr. Witson inhaled sharply. "She… she died?"
I wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of my eye. "An epidemic swept through our town. Took her. Took many. But she… she was the worst loss of all."
I turned away and covered my face, letting silence hang like a curtain.
Mr. Witson gasped and clutched his chest, utterly consumed by my fictional pain.
Then I looked back at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "But I learned to move on. For her sake."
"For… her sake?" he echoed, lips trembling.
"Yes." I flicked my hair for effect. "Because she wouldn't want me to drown in sorrow. No, she'd want me to smile. To live. For both of us."
Mr. Witson stared down, clearly shaken, reflecting hard.
"Don't you remember what Miss Raven said?" I prompted gently. "She wanted you to be happy. Because… she loved you."
Mr. Witson shook his head, pain returning. "But she hated my poetry…"
"She did," I said, nodding. "But even so, she said she loved you before she left."
"She did?" Mr. Witson and Raven both said, eyes widening.
I shot Raven a warning glare before turning back with an angelic smile. "Of course she did. You were just… too overwhelmed to hear her final words."
Mr. Witson slapped his hands over his mouth as tears poured down his face. "Oh… my love. I understand now. I truly do."
He rose to his feet with newfound resolve. "I will move on. But I shall never forget my first love, Raven."
"Attaboy." I gave Mr. Witson a firm pat on the back. "I'm so proud of you."
He turned, misty-eyed, and pulled us both into an unexpectedly heartfelt hug. "Thank you… I'll never forget you two."
Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away—slow, purposeful, like he was heading off into the epilogue of his own melodramatic tale.
We stood there, waving until he vanished down the path.
"And he just left us," I said, deadpan.
Raven gave a small, tired smile. "I'm just glad Mr. Witson can finally move on."
"He better," I huffed. "Or I'll kill him myself."
Raven blinked. "By the way, I didn't know you had a tragic first love."
"I didn't." I nonchalantly picked at my ear.
"What?!" Raven gawked. "But it was so convincing! I could feel the heartbreak!"
"Of course it was." I grinned. "I just stole a story from one of those overly dramatic movies and sold it like it was mine."
Raven froze in place, mouth half-open, brain visibly buffering.
I yawned and stretched. "Anyway, since we're done here, let's go back. I need a nap."
And with that, I strolled off, leaving Raven behind—still frozen in disbelief, questioning everything he knew about storytelling, tragedy, and me.
We finally arrived at the inn—limping, dragging our feet, and looking like survivors of an emotional warzone. Neither of us said a word. The silence between us wasn't awkward; it was sacred. The silence of two people who had been through far too much nonsense in a single day.
The moment we stepped into our room, we collapsed face-first onto the bed. No decorum, no grace—just a synchronized flop of exhaustion.
I let out a low groan, muffled by the pillow. "I think every single muscle in my body just declared mutiny."
Raven echoed my misery beside me. "I didn't even know I had muscles in half these places. Why do my earlobes hurt?"
We lay there, sprawled out like dead starfish, the soft creak of the mattress and our combined groaning the only sounds in the room.
My brain was soup. My limbs, jelly. But somehow, I still found the strength to mumble, "Next time we agree to help someone with a love problem, punch me."
Raven gasped, scandalized. "How can I hurt you?"
"Fine. I'll ask Isaac," I muttered, flopping onto my side with the grace of a collapsing potato sack.
And with that, we surrendered to the bed. For the first time in what felt like centuries, the world was still.
The next morning arrived like an unexpected slap from a soggy sock.
Sunlight pierced through the curtains in golden daggers, landing directly on my face like it had a personal grudge. I groaned, flipping over with the elegance of a rotting pancake. The bed squeaked in protest.
Across the room, Raven stirred.
Then snorted.
Loudly.
Like a goose being strangled mid-flight.
I cracked one eye open and turned my head. His face was smushed against the pillow, hair sticking up like he'd been electrocuted in his sleep. Drool glistened on the corner of his mouth, and for some inexplicable reason, one of his socks was stuck to his forehead.
I blinked at him.
He blinked back.
There was a long silence before I finally asked, "… Why is your sock on your face?"
He slowly reached up, peeled it off, examined it like it might explode, and then muttered, "I… don't know."
We stared at each other for a beat longer.
Then we burst out laughing.
It wasn't polite laughter. It was full-on, undignified wheezing—the kind that made your ribs hurt and tears stream down your face. The kind of laugh that only comes after barely surviving a flamethrower-powered romance machine and an emotionally unstable ghost simp.
Eventually, we quieted down, wiping tears from our eyes. Raven flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.
"Still tired?" I asked, stretching with a dramatic yawn.
"Yes," Raven groaned. "Not as bad as Master's training, though."
"Well, too bad," I said, dragging myself upright. "We've still got one more mess to clean up."
He squinted at me suspiciously. "What mess?"
"We're facing the butler, of course."
Raven visibly shuddered, his entire body trembling. "Must we…?"
"If you ever want to leave this place, then yes." I shrugged.
Without another word, he crawled back under the blanket like a defeated soldier retreating to his trench.
I raised an eyebrow at the cocooned mound. "What are you doing?"
His voice came muffled from under the blanket. "I… need to mentally prepare myself…"
"For how long?"
A teary-eyed Raven popped his head out of the folds. "For…ever…"
I reached out and pinched his cheek. He yelped.
"Running away from problems doesn't solve them," I scolded, giving his cheek another tug.
When I finally let go, both sides of his face were glowing like ripe tomatoes.
I snickered.
Raven whimpered.
With a groan, I flopped back on the bed. "Alright, fine. We can hold off for a few more minutes."
He nodded and retreated fully into his blanket burrito once more.
I stared up at the ceiling, my mind pleasantly empty. 'Of course, if I said that out loud to Isaac, he'd probably smirk and say something like, 'Hold off for how long? Forever?''
I groaned inwardly. 'Ugh. Now I want to smack Isaac's smug face.'
I rolled onto my side. Raven was still tucked in, a small breathing lump under layers of fabric.
"Raven?" I called out.
No response.
I frowned and raised my voice. "Raven?"
Still nothing.
With a sigh, I grabbed my pillow and hurled it at him with all the grace and precision of a javelin thrower in a grudge match.
BAAM!
The impact was so forceful, it knocked him clean off the bed.
THUD!
"ACK!" Raven shot up from the floor, dazed, the blanket still clinging to his head like some kind of sleepy ghost costume. He blinked groggily and looked around in confusion. "What happened…?"
I leaned over the edge of the bed, glaring down at him. "I thought you were doing mental training. Were you seriously just asleep?"
He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, cheeks flushed. "I, uh… accidentally fell asleep."
"Uh-huh." I narrowed my eyes.
Raven blinked at me, then tilted his head. "Did you call me for something?"
"Nothing special," I said with a shrug, flopping back onto the mattress. "I was just going to tell you something interesting."
That got his attention. He scrambled up onto the bed again and sat cross-legged like a kid at story time. "Alright. I'm all ears."