Morning broke pale and cold, mist curling off the fields beyond the inn's open doors, the fog clinging to the ground like a blanket, muffling the sounds of the stable hands preparing the horses. The smell of travel bread and weak tea lingered in the air as passengers drifted back toward the carriage, their breaths visible in the chill, cloaks huddled tight.
The arrogant adventurer woman was already there, seated in the same corner she'd claimed yesterday, her gear in perfect order—sword propped beside her, pack at her feet. She was eating a strip of dried meat with small, efficient bites, her eyes scanning the yard for any sign of threat.
I climbed in opposite her and gave a casual nod. "Early riser."
"I prefer being alive," she replied without looking at me.
"Practical." I settled in, stretching my legs just enough to make her shift hers slightly, the space between us charged with unspoken awareness.
She glanced at me then, her storm-gray eyes assessing. "And you are?"
"Jin," I said, meeting her gaze.
"Aria." She didn't offer a hand, her tone flat but not hostile.
The name suited her — short, sharp, no unnecessary syllables, much like her—efficient, no frills.
The merchants boarded next, their mugs steaming in the cold air, followed by the scholar clutching his satchel. The carriage lurched forward as the driver cracked the reins, wheels churning the damp earth, pulling us back onto the road that wound through misty hills.
The name hung in the air between us, a small bridge built in that exchange. She didn't speak again immediately, her gaze turning to the window, but the silence felt different now—less like a wall, more like a pause.
The road stretched on, the mist burning off as the sun rose higher, revealing fields of wildflowers and distant farmsteads. The merchants' chatter filled the carriage, debating the capital's markets, their voices rising over the rumble of wheels. The scholar dozed, head against the window. Aria sat motionless except for the slight bounce of her leg in time with the road's bumps.
I let the silence sit for a few minutes before speaking again.
"You're a professional," I said, glancing at the sword beside her.
Her gaze flicked to me briefly. "You have an eye for the obvious."
"Obvious isn't always bad," I said. "Sometimes it means I know where not to underestimate someone."
That earned me the faintest shift of her lips — not quite a smirk, but close.
[System: Desire Tongue II active — low-level suggestion embedded.]
[Target reaction: Guarded amusement.]
I leaned back. "So, what's in the capital for you? Work? Adventure? Or just a fondness for city noise?"
She studied me for a heartbeat before answering. "Work. And not the kind that leaves time for idle conversation."
"That's a shame," I said, meeting her gaze. "Idle conversation can be the most dangerous kind."
Her eyebrow twitched upward at that, but she didn't bite — not yet. She turned her head back toward the window, watching the open fields slide past.
By midday, the road narrowed between tall hedgerows. The driver slowed, muttering something about ruts. Aria's hand drifted to her sword hilt without conscious thought, a reflex I filed away.
"You expecting trouble?" I asked quietly.
"In my experience, trouble doesn't send invitations," she said. "It just arrives."
"Then maybe it's lucky we're on the same carriage," I said.
This time, she looked at me directly — a measuring stare. "We'll see if you're worth the space you take up."
[System note: Influence at 6%. Target no longer dismissive, shifting to cautious interest.]
That night, we stopped at a larger roadside inn, one with separate rooms for paying guests. The merchants and scholar split costs for a shared room. Aria booked her own without hesitation.
I lingered at the counter until she was gone, watching the clerk jot her name in the ledger. Then I took the room next to hers.
Not to push — just to be close enough that the idea of me wasn't far from her mind.
The following morning, as we loaded into the carriage again, she glanced at me and said, "You're still here."
I smiled faintly. "Get used to it."
She didn't answer, but her gaze lingered a fraction longer than it needed to.
[System forecast: Opportunity for closer interaction during upcoming event.]