Marcus stood frozen, caught completely off-guard.
He glanced at Elena, hoping for some kind of rescue. Instead, she simply looked at their clasped hands with cold indifference, then looked away. There was no protest, no intervention—just a silent acknowledgment that she was lending her "husband" to her sister for a while.
Before he could object, Victoria had already grabbed him and was pulling him down the slope toward the open lawn beside the villa.
Under these bizarre and utterly unavoidable circumstances, Marcus was practically half-dragged, half-pulled by Victoria across the manicured grounds toward the open lawn slope that descended beside the villa. The autumn air was cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of lake water and the crisp perfume of falling leaves. He had no real choice in the matter. When a woman—even one with the mental age of a five-year-old—decided she wanted something, resistance proved almost immediately futile.
After stopping at the slope's edge, Marcus felt extremely awkward. He had grown up with a life trajectory that had almost zero intersection with activities like "kite flying"—pursuits that belonged to childhoods of leisure and innocent fun
More importantly, he was now facing a "big child" whose biological age was nearly thirty but whose mental state might only be around five years old.
This felt harder to navigate than being sent on a high-risk mission.
Although it was called kite flying, Victoria seemed far less interested in actually getting the kite airborne and far more interested in him. One of her hands clung tightly to the cuff of his jacket while the other gripped his wrist with surprising strength. Her fingers were slender and delicate, radiating a warm body temperature that made his skin prickle with discomfort.
The way she looked at him disturbed him in ways he couldn't immediately articulate. Her expression was pure, unfiltered, and full of dependence—a quality he rarely encountered in the calculated world he inhabited. This unguarded trust made him uneasy. It felt too genuine. It felt like a vulnerability he wasn't prepared to be responsible for.
Before engaging in the "intimate contact" required for his point-farming missions with Elena, he'd rarely spent time in close proximity with women. Being led by the hand by a non-target female like this was genuinely a first, which instinctively triggered his resistance. His body wanted to pull away. His training wanted to assess threat levels. His mercenary instincts wanted to minimize contact and emotional entanglement.
If it weren't for that cursed Fortune system and the goal of surviving this world, he probably wouldn't casually touch Elena. Now, being touched by a woman other than Elena made him uncomfortable in every possible way—his skin felt too sensitive, his muscles too tense, his mind too aware of every point of contact.
Just as he was trying to ignore the warm sensation spreading from his wrist, Victoria's hand slowly slid downward, naturally taking his palm. Her fingertips even tentatively slipped into the spaces between his fingers, and for a moment, it seemed she intended to interlace them completely—the gesture of lovers, not of a caretaker and a "child."
This overly intimate action made Marcus's heart jump. He raised his head in confusion, meeting Victoria's eyes directly.
Those eyes still overflowed with childlike expectation, crystalline and transparent: "Hold hands," she demanded softly, her tone as innocent as morning light
But in that same instant—a flicker so brief he almost questioned his own perception—Marcus caught something else. Beneath that seemingly pristine clarity, there was the ghost of a smile. Not a childish smile. Something sly. Knowing.
It vanished like a stone's ripple on disturbed water, too fast to be certain, so quick he wondered if the autumn sunlight had simply played tricks on his vision. Or if his paranoia was inventing threats where none existed.
He suppressed the creeping wrongness in his gut and, ultimately, did not pull his hand away.
Instead, he told himself: She's just a child. Her mind is stuck at five. She doesn't mean anything complicated by this. It's just how children show they like someone.
Stop overthinking. Even your instincts can be wrong.
Every few steps, he turned to look back at Elena, hoping she'd notice something was wrong and come help him. But Elena was completely absorbed in her painting under the ginkgo tree. She didn't even glance in his direction. To her, Marcus was just background scenery.
He gave up on rescue.
Fine. I'll just take care of her for a while.
But the warmth of Victoria's hand stayed with him, and so did that strange feeling that something wasn't right.
When they reached the top of the slope, Marcus finally got his chance. He gently released Victoria's hand and took the Owl Kite she'd been holding.
"Sister, stand right here and don't move," he said kindly, pointing to the flat ground. "I'll get it flying for you."
Victoria did exactly what he said. When her face relaxed and stopped making those exaggerated childish expressions, she almost looked normal. Her profile was beautiful—calm, elegant, with the grace of someone who used to be an important young lady.
But the very next second, she ruined it.
"Big Doggy, run! Run fast!" she shouted, pointing forward with all the authority of a small child.
Marcus had no choice. He ran down the slope with the kite string in his hand.
His running scared the white herons by the lake. They took off all at once, their wings making beautiful shapes against the blue sky.
But kite flying was harder than he expected. He reached the bottom and looked back. The kite wobbled in the air once, twice, then fell straight down onto the grass.
From the top of the slope, Victoria's mood went up and down with the kite. When Marcus ran, she giggled. When the kite fell, her mouth drooped with disappointment.
"Again!" Marcus jogged back up, picked up the kite, and tried once more.
The autumn wind was getting stronger—perfect weather for flying, but hard on him.
He ran back and forth until he was breathing hard. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked the back of his shirt. His legs felt heavy.
Finally, after many tries, he figured it out. A strong gust of wind caught the brightly colored Owl Kite and lifted it high into the sky.
The kite soared steadily against the blue, its wings flapping like it was really flying.
Victoria clapped her hands and started to run toward him. Her face was completely happy.
"Big Doggy, great! So great!" she cheered.
Marcus also sighed in relief and smiled at her.
Immediately, he subconsciously looked at Elena Nightshade under the distant ginkgo tree, held the kite string, waved his hand in her direction, and called out loudly:
"Elena, look this way! It's flying!"
Hearing the voice, Elena Nightshade merely raised her head slightly, glanced coolly in his direction from afar—her expression still blank, her eyes as indifferent as an autumn lake—and then lowered her head again, focusing on her canvas.
At that exact moment, Victoria suddenly spread her arms like wings and ran straight at Marcus. She crashed into him with full force, arms wrapping around him.
"Big Doggy!"
The next second, Marcus felt as if something large and warm had suddenly adhered itself to his entire back.
Victoria was half a head shorter than him. She was currently rubbing her soft, fuzzy head affectionately against his neck and chin, her breath warm against his skin. But what made his entire nervous system scream in alarm was the way her well-developed chest—undeniably, unmistakably mature despite her infantile behavior—was pressed deliberately or perhaps "unintentionally" against his back and shoulders.