As Christie reluctantly agreed to meet Kevin, a hint of playful warning tinged her voice. "Okay, fine. I'll be there. Just wait up." Her emerald eyes sparkled with amusement, daring Kevin to test her patience.
Fifteen minutes later, Kevin stood at the doorway, exuding a quiet confidence that commanded attention. His broad shoulders filled the frame, his shirt loose but hinting at the strength beneath. A life outdoors had bronzed his skin, and faint lines around his black eyes gave him a rugged maturity that contrasted with his messy haircut. He looked up to see Christie walking down the stairs.
With poise, Christie descended the staircase, and Kevin's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just her beauty; it was the way she carried herself, with an effortless elegance that seemed to command the air. Her dark hair tumbled in deliberate waves, and her simple dress hugged her in just the right places. Kevin found himself staring, caught in her spell.
Christie noticed and felt a thrill of joy. She always enjoyed watching Kevin's composure crack, and she reveled in the knowledge that she could still make him stare like a love-struck fool. But she couldn't help but mutter, "Why did fate bring me such a man?" as she pressed a palm to her forehead, playing the part of a dramatic heroine.
Kevin's lips curved into a half-smile. He knew her act and how to play along. "Maybe it's because fate thought even a goddess needed someone hopeless to balance her out," he said softly, his tone shifting from playful to reverent. "I still wonder how a man like me ended up with a woman like you – so impossibly graceful, sharp, and beautiful. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to believe this isn't a dream. You're real. You're mine. And all I want is to worship and protect you."
The weight of his words lingered between them until he ruined the moment. "Besides," he added with a wolfish grin, "if I don't send lustful gazes at you, who else should I be sending them to? Actually… how about a quickie before we head out?"
Christie's face flattened into deadpan disbelief. "You really are impossible," she muttered.
Half an hour later, they stood side by side on a vast expanse of farmland, the sun high overhead. The air was warm, and their hair and clothes were slightly disheveled – a quiet testament to Kevin's earlier suggestion that Christie had reluctantly indulged. As they surveyed the fields, their smiles quickly shifted into something more professional.
The farmland stretched wide, with strange crops blanketing the soil. The locals called them bunishi – plants with a prickly exterior like a pineapple but an earthy body like a potato, tinted in a murky shade of purple. They gave off a scent faintly like curry rice, and though dangerous if eaten raw, their cooked flesh was prized for its medicinal properties. Christie tilted her head curiously, while Kevin's expression settled into a serious, knowledgeable gaze.
"Let's split up," Kevin suggested. "We'll cover more ground that way."
But Christie wanted to walk with him. "But I wanted us to walk together," she replied, her voice lilting with plaintive insistence.
Kevin blinked at her. "Together? After what just happened thirty minutes ago, you're still not satisfied?"
Her emerald eyes widened before narrowing into a glare. "Kevin De Loise! You shameless, naughty man!" Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and frustration. "All I wanted was to spend time with you while we worked, but here you are pushing me away."
Her words hit him like stones, pulling at old promises and tender memories. Kevin sighed, drawing her into his arms. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I only wanted to finish this quickly so we'd have the rest of the day together."
Christie gasped, then smacked his arm, cheeks flushing with delighted embarrassment. "Kevin!"
He chuckled, and she melted. But she held firm. "Still, we're walking together. I won't budge on this."
Kevin groaned in mock defeat. "Witch. Fiend. You've played me again, haven't you?"
As they walked, Christie breezed past him with a triumphant sway of her hips. Kevin followed, muttering under his breath about how many times she had outplayed him.
But then Christie stopped, and Kevin bumped into her. Before them lay devastation – a section of his precious crops flattened as if a drunken giant had decided to nap there. His heart clenched; four months of tender love and care gone in a single stomp.
The true shock came when his eyes fell on the cause – an unconscious boy lay sprawled in the wreckage, bare and frail, no older than sixteen. Silver-blue hair fanned across the ground like liquid starlight, gleaming even through the grime. His face was haunting – delicate yet impossibly striking, with a beauty that felt less born than crafted.
Kevin's first instinct was suspicion. A mage in disguise? A demon taking human form? But then he noticed the boy's soft cheeks, still rounded by youth. His body bore no scars, no calluses, no hardened muscle – nothing like the sons of farmers and workers.
Christie, however, said nothing. She just stared at the boy, her face pale, her lips trembling. Kevin asked cautiously, "Christie? You okay?"
Her silence stretched too long, and then he saw her face – heavy with sorrow and longing, as though she were looking at something she had yearned for all her life.
Kevin's stomach twisted. Had she been bewitched? Enchanted by this devil?
Christie knelt slightly, her eyes flicking over the boy's form. Her hand lifted, hovering uncertainly in the air, as if she meant to check whether he was still breathing. "Kevin, I – I…" Her voice cracked, uncertain.
That was enough. Panic surged through him, drowning reason. No. Not after everything. She can't.
"Stop right there," he snapped, desperation sharpening his words. "Don't say it. Don't you dare."
At last she looked at him, her emerald eyes clouded, unreadable. Her lips tightened before she finally spoke in a quiet, steady voice. "Why not? You know this is the best choice… given our current situation."
Kevin blinked, his world tilting on its axis. The woman he loved – the woman who had just been in his arms – was slipping away before his eyes, and she was choosing him – the unconscious, silver-haired monster.