"Slow down, darling. You look adorable when you're like this," Darius said, leaning forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands.
Ashel glared up at him, cheeks puffed with food. "Wha—what are you staring at me for?"
She went right back to devouring her meal like someone might steal it any second.
Darius chuckled softly, that infuriatingly charming smile tugging at his lips. "Hmm… are you getting flustered?"
"Shut up." Ashel turned away, pretending to ignore him, her focus entirely on her plate.
Darius didn't stop watching her—his gaze warm, almost annoyingly fond.
"Am I… forgetting someone?" Ashel muttered, trying to remember.
Darius's expression soured instantly. The thought of her thinking about someone else clearly didn't thrill him.
"You'll get a headache if you think too hard," he said, forcing a smile. "How about we check this place out instead, Ashel?"
"Mmph, yeah, sounds good," she mumbled through a mouthful of food. She stood up in excitement—only to slam the table so hard it cracked in half.
"Oh no! Why did it break?" she panicked. "Let's just run!"
Before Darius could react, she grabbed his hand and bolted for the door.
"I could've paid, you know," he called after her, but they were already outside.
"Catch those thieves!" the owner shouted, charging after them with a kitchen knife in hand.
Ashel looked back and shrieked. "Eek! He's terrifying! Run faster!"
Darius chuckled, scooping her up and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of rice. "Guess I'll handle this part."
The knife narrowly missed Ashel's head, slicing through the air as she dodged in slow motion.
"Run faster, Darius!" she yelled, gripping his coat.
He swerved left, the furious chef rushing past them in the opposite direction.
"Phew… we're safe," Ashel sighed in relief, her heart still pounding.
Darius set Ashel down and chuckled. "You're so naive—I told you, I could've paid that owner."
"What?! You're saying this now? Are you serious? If you could pay, then why didn't you?!" Ashel shouted, still catching her breath.
"C'mon, darling, I did tell you. You just didn't listen," he said with a grin, then chuckled. "You really are an interesting one."
"It's not funny!" Ashel huffed, crossing her arms in frustration.
"There you go again, acting all cute," Darius teased, watching her with that annoyingly warm smile before sitting down.
"I am not acting cute," she muttered, dropping down right where she was standing with a pout.
Ashel sat there pouting, refusing to look at him. Her cheeks were still a little red—not that she'd ever admit it.
Darius leaned back against the nearest wall, arms crossed. "You know, you have a real talent for chaos," he said. "Everywhere you go, something breaks."
"That table was weak! Not my fault!" Ashel shot back, glaring.
"Mm. Weak table, strong appetite. Tragic combination."
She groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Ugh, stop teasing me already!"
Darius smiled to himself, but there was a softness behind it this time. He watched her for a moment—her messy hair, the smudge of sauce near her lip—and sighed. "You've got something on your face."
Before she could react, he reached over and gently wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
Ashel froze. The world went quiet for a beat too long.
Her heart thudded, loud and unreasonable. "Wha—what are you doing?!" she stammered, batting his hand away.
"Relax, I'm saving your reputation. Can't have the mighty Ashel walking around with food on her face."
"I'll save my own reputation, thank you very much!" she snapped, standing up in embarrassment.
Darius laughed under his breath. "Sure. You're doing great so far."
She glared at him again, but her lips twitched, betraying the start of a smile. "You're impossible."
He tilted his head, voice low but warm. "And yet, you keep running into me."
Ashel turned away, pretending to scan the street. "Only because trouble follows you around like a curse."
"Maybe we share the same curse," he said quietly.
That made her pause. She glanced back, eyes narrowing. "...You're weird."
Darius smiled faintly. "Takes one to know one."
The tension broke. Ashel sighed dramatically. "Fine. Next time, you're paying. No heroic dashes. No tables destroyed."
He gave a mock salute. "Deal, darling."
"Don't call me that!"
"Too late."
She groaned. "I hate you."
He chuckled. "Good. That means you'll think of me longer."
Her cheeks flushed again. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe. But you're smiling."
Ashel quickly turned away—but she didn't deny it.
A chill wind swept through the street.
"Well, well," Darius muttered, his tone shifting. From the dark valley ahead, a man with a tough, battle-worn body emerged, followed by three others. Their boots crunched against the gravel in perfect sync.