Aya's face burned the moment her eyes fluttered open.
Nine.
The usual sharpness in his gaze was absent. There was no smirk, no furrowed brow—just the quiet, unguarded stillness of sleep. The early morning light softened his edges, casting a golden hue over long lashes resting against high cheekbones, over a strong jawline that seemed less intimidating when slack with slumber. His lips, so often curled into a knowing grin, held no trace of mischief.
She stared, unmoving. His arms were locked around her, firm and unrelenting, holding her snugly against his warmth. Steady, familiar warmth.
A flutter stirred in her chest.
Then—
"Sleep, Aya. It's still early."
His voice, low and husky with sleep, sent a shiver down her spine. Though his eyes remained closed, there was no mistaking the quiet amusement laced within his tone.
Aya tensed.
"I want to bathe," she muttered, her body aching with the remnants of their night together.
Nine shifted. The sheets rustled as he reached for his robe, slipping it off and draping it over her shoulders without a word.
Aya scowled at his touch.
"What?" His lips quirked. "I won't do it." He spread his arms lazily. "Just come."
She hesitated. When she moved, the soreness in her limbs made her bite her lip, her legs trembling as she tried to sit up. Then—
She felt it.
A hot flush climbed her neck as realization struck. Their mingled release still slipping out from her, a lingering reminder of how he had never once pulled away.
Her eyes darted to Nine.
He watched her knowingly, his smirk widening.
Aya glared.
Nine chuckled, effortlessly scooping her into his arms.
The crisp morning air greeted them as he carried her outside. The world was quiet—birds chirping in the distance, the scent of dew-kissed earth filling the space around them. The small wooden house nestled within the trees stood as a peaceful contrast to the life of blood and steel they had once known. Wildflowers swayed gently, their colors vibrant beneath the morning sun. Nearby, a natural hot spring let off delicate tendrils of steam, its water shimmering.
Nine walked carefully, mindful of every step as if afraid of jostling her too much.
Once they reached the water's edge, he let her go, but his hand remained, steadying her. His grip was firm yet gentle, fingers warm against her skin.
For a moment, he simply watched her.
"You won't go back on your word, right?" Aya met his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation.
Nine sighed. He slid the robe from her shoulders, letting it slip to the ground before stepping into the water himself. He settled on the edge, arms spread in invitation.
"A child," he murmured, his gaze lowering to her stomach. "What would we name it?"
Aya narrowed her eyes. "Nine. Don't ignore my question."
He exhaled, tilting his head back. "I won't."
"You better not." Her voice hardened. "If you dare, I'll kill myself. And the child."
Nine's brows lifted, his hands raising in mock surrender. "You won't kill our child."
"Make me," she challenged.
Nine opened his mouth, then hesitated. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he nodded.
He moved closer, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss against her fingers.
"Yes, your majesty," he murmured.
Aya shivered.
"Stop that," she muttered, flicking water at his face.
Nine wiped it off with a slow grin.
"We were both virgins, yet we did well," he mused, laughter bubbling in his chest.
Aya blinked.
Then, unexpectedly—she smiled.
His laughter was soothing to the ears. So beautiful that she found herself momentarily mesmerized by it.
Her gaze traced the scars marking his body. Unconsciously, her fingers reached out, brushing over one along his shoulder.
Nine tilted his head at her touch.
"Why are you going this far?" she asked.
It wasn't the first time she had asked.
And, as always, his answer was the same.
"I'll tell you someday."
Aya's fingers curled. Frustration simmered in her chest as she turned her back to him.
"Your answer makes me doubt your words," she muttered, her hands clenching beneath the water. If he truly intended to leave the life of battle behind, why wouldn't he tell her why?
"Aya…"
His arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder.
"I love you," he murmured. "I always will."
Aya faltered.
Her heart squeezed, but she turned her head away.
"Then stop your games," she said firmly. "Don't join the competition."
Nine hummed, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. "I will."
Aya turned her face toward him, skeptical.
Nine took the opportunity to steal a kiss, deepening it before she could react.
She pushed at his chest. "I can't. I'm sore."
Nine clicked his tongue. "Come. Let me make it better."
Aya narrowed her eyes. "Nine—"
But he was already pressing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, trailing lower, his hands moving with practiced ease, kneading the soreness from her thighs as he rinsed her body.
His breath grew heavier. Teeth grazed against her skin, lips closing around the curve of her shoulder.
Aya gasped, gripping his wrists.
"Bad! Nine, bad!" She smacked his face.
Nine blinked, tilting his head. "You're treating me like a dog."
"Because you act like one!"
Nine burst into laughter.
Aya huffed, pushing herself up. Water slid down her body, exposing smooth skin.
Nine whistled appreciatively.
"Don't," she warned. "Carry me back."
Without argument, Nine scooped her into his arms, stepping out of the water. He used his damp robe to cover her as they made their way back.
As they passed their carriage, Nine called out lazily—
"Colla, no breakfast in ten minutes, and I'll chop a finger off."
The carriage rocked violently in response.
"Right away, boss!" Colla's voice shot back.
Aya sighed. "You're too hard on her."
Nine shrugged.
By the time they arrived inside, Colla had just finished cooking.
Aya leaned toward her, whispering, "I kept him busy for a bit."
Colla smirked. "Thanks."
Later that afternoon, their group was ready to set out.
Aya sat inside the carriage, comfortably wrapped in a fresh robe. Nine, however, was persistent—his arms never strayed from her as he pulled her onto his lap.
Colla took the reins.
The wheels turned, and their journey westward began.