Night draped the ruins in muted shadows, broken only by the orange flicker of a small fire that Haru and Olga had managed to keep alive. Smoke curled lazily from toppled beams and blackened walls, drifting over uneven ground. The chaos of the day had receded into silence, leaving only the occasional sound of shifting debris or the faint rustle of animals in the distance.
Haru sat beside Olga, careful not to crowd her, yet close enough to observe. She remained alert, her body tense even in the quiet, and every movement she made—the subtle shift of her weight, the adjustment of her grip on her sword—spoke of her skill and vigilance.
'She's strong, precise, cautious… but one mistake could end her life tonight. I can't let that happen,' Haru thought, keeping his expression neutral. He needed a reason to stay by her side that would make sense without revealing anything unusual.
"You're quiet," Olga said finally, her voice cutting through the night. "All evening you've moved and acted, but barely said a word. Why?"
Haru tilted his head slightly, choosing his words carefully. "I'm observing," he said. "I want to make sure we're ready for anything. Patterns, positions, potential threats… it's easier to survive if you think a few steps ahead."
Her eyes narrowed. "…Most people just charge in or run without thinking. You're different."
"I've had some experience," Haru said carefully, keeping it vague. "Not here, not exactly like this… but enough to notice danger and act before it's too late."
Olga's gaze lingered on him, skeptical yet curious. "…You think you can anticipate danger? Bold. And maybe… useful."
'Good,' Haru thought. 'She accepts my reasoning as skill or intuition. That's enough for now. Trust will come gradually.'
Hours passed with minimal conversation. The fire crackled between them, a small barrier against the chill and darkness. Occasionally, they exchanged observations about the ruins or directions of approaching shadows, subtly confirming their understanding of the battlefield. Haru continued scanning every movement, both hers and the surroundings.
"You didn't hesitate in the fight today," Olga said quietly, her voice carrying a note of curiosity. "Most strangers either run or fight recklessly. You… didn't do either."
Haru exhaled slowly. "If I had rushed in without thinking, someone could have been killed. If I had hesitated, the same. I learned to move when it matters."
Her eyes studied him for a long moment. "…That's unsettling, almost unnatural. But it makes me feel… safer. For now, at least."
'She's beginning to see me as reliable. That's all I need tonight,' Haru thought. 'Not affection. Not explanation. Just enough to survive together.'
They let silence stretch across the ruins, punctuated only by the occasional snap of fire and the distant sound of night creatures. Olga's alertness remained, but the tension in her posture softened slightly. Haru continued observing her carefully, studying her movements, reactions, and instincts. Every detail might be useful tomorrow or the next day when the real dangers approached.
"You'll stay with me?" Olga asked after a while, voice quieter than before. "Most people wouldn't willingly stick around someone like me."
Haru met her gaze, calm and steady. "It makes sense to stay together," he said. "We both survive better that way. That's all."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, processing the simple explanation. "…Practical. Not overly sentimental. That suits me."
Hours later, the fire dwindled to embers. Haru rose slightly, scanning the distant horizon. Celestine's fortress was visible atop the hill, untouched for now—but he sensed danger approaching. Alicia and Maia were elsewhere, surviving in their own ways, naturally positioned in the unfolding chaos. Haru did not speak of them; their presence was simply part of his observations, a context for planning his next move.
'One person safe tonight,' Haru thought quietly. 'No extraordinary knowledge. Just observation and intuition. That's my advantage here. Olga is unharmed, the villagers are safe, and tomorrow I move to the next challenge.'
Olga adjusted her armor quietly, sitting slightly apart, still alert but no longer tense. Haru observed her, making mental notes of her posture, habits, and reactions—every detail useful for the road ahead.
"We'll move at first light," he said softly. "There's more that needs attention tomorrow."
Her eyes met his, searching for hidden meaning, but found none. "…He's steady. Practical. That's enough for now."
The night ended not with confessions or romance, but with cautious trust, earned through action, and the first taste of influence Haru had over the unfolding events. He had survived, Olga had survived, and the path to rewriting tragedy was beginning.
As the last embers glowed, Haru allowed himself a quiet thought: 'Next, Celestine. Step by step, rewriting what is supposed to happen. Observing, planning, surviving. Every decision matters.'