Hug.
A hand pressed against his back, warm and certain, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if afraid he might vanish if held too loosely.
For a moment, Voren didn't breathe.
The world narrowed to the feeling of arms wrapping around him, to the gentle weight leaning into his chest, to the faint scent of something familiar and comforting. Sunlight filtered through the window behind her, catching strands of hair and turning them into living embers. The room, moments ago filled with mana residue and quiet concentration, softened into something else entirely.
The hug wasn't rushed.
It wasn't hesitant.
It was the kind of hug that came from habit, from trust built over time, from the certainty that this was where one belonged, even if only for a moment.
Voren's hands hovered in the air at first, unsure, fingers twitching as if he had forgotten what to do next.
Then it hit him.
The realization crashed into his chest so hard it almost hurt.
She was here.
Alive. Warm. Real.
His vision blurred before he could stop it.
The girl pulled back just enough to look at him, confusion flickering across her face when she noticed his expression. She had striking red hair, not the deep crimson of nobility or the artificial dye of city folk, but a natural, sunlit red that looked almost soft when the light touched it. It framed her face loosely, tied back with a simple ribbon that had seen better days.
Her eyes were a gentle amber, clear and expressive, always seeming to carry a quiet concern for others before herself.
"Iris," Voren breathed.
The name felt heavier than it should have.
She tilted her head. "Voren?" Her brows knit together slightly. "Are you… okay?"
That was it.
His arms moved on their own.
He pulled her in.
Not gently this time.
He wrapped both arms around her, tight enough that she gasped softly, her body pressed fully against his. There was no space between them now. Her forehead brushed his collarbone. Her hands instinctively grabbed onto him for balance, palms flattening against his back.
For a second, she froze.
Her heart was racing. He could feel it. Rapid, startled beats beneath his touch. Her body was warm in a way that had nothing to do with cultivation or mana. It was the warmth of life, of closeness, of something fragile and precious.
Voren buried his face lightly into her hair.
She smelled like home. Like grass and sunlight.
His grip then tightened, just a little.
Too tight.
Her cheeks burned as heat rushed up her neck. The tips of her ears turned red, and she shifted slightly, clearly flustered.
"V-Voren," she stammered softly, voice muffled between them. "You're… you're hugging me really tight."
He didn't respond right away.
Because in his mind, another image tried to surface. Iris standing in the crowd at the arena. Iris screaming his name. Iris watching him die.
It hadn't happened.
But it could have.
The thought alone was enough to make his arms tremble.
He had built this bond himself. Not inherited it. Not borrowed it from the memories of the boy whose body he inhabited. Iris was his. Not in possession, but in connection. She was proof that this world wasn't just a setting. It was a place where he chose to live.
And in that other future, he died. Losing her.
"Voren?" she asked again, softer now. "What's wrong?"
That snapped him out of it.
He pulled back abruptly, realizing just how intimate the moment had become. His hands dropped to his sides as he took a step back, cheeks red with embarrassment.
"I— I'm sorry," he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to— that is—"
He looked at her.
She was staring at him with wide eyes, face still flushed, lips slightly parted as if she didn't know whether to tease him or worry about him.
"…Did something happen?" she asked, quieter now. "You've never hugged me like that before."
Awkward silence settled between them, thick and uncertain.
Voren opened his mouth, then closed it.
What was he supposed to say? That he died? That he regressed? That he saw a future where he might disappear from her life forever?
Instead, Iris spoke first.
"I heard you awakened," she said, forcing a small smile as if trying to ease the tension. "An A-ranked class mage, right?"
Her eyes brightened a little. "I wanted to come earlier, but I was out of town with my grandma. I'm sorry I couldn't congratulate you on time."
The moment eased.
Voren exhaled slowly and nodded. "Yeah. It… happened the day before yesterday."
"That's amazing," she said sincerely. There was no envy in her voice. No bitterness. Just genuine happiness for him. "I knew you'd do great."
She hesitated, then added, "The Oakhaven Mage Academy entrance exam is in three months, right?"
He nodded again.
People might have called it an ordinary question, but it wasn't.
Iris knew. She had always known.
She didn't want him to go.
Not because she hated Oakhaven. Not because she feared mages or despised ambition. But because Oakhaven meant distance. It meant separation. It meant watching someone she cared about walk forward while she stayed behind.
Iris couldn't awaken.
No class.
No affinity.
No mana.
She was bound to this town, to ordinary days and ordinary worries. And she accepted that quietly, without resentment, without complaint.
But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
She never said it out loud. Never asked him to stay. Because she knew Voren's dreams weren't small. He wanted to rise. To lift his family's name. To stand somewhere higher than the place life had assigned him.
Stopping him would be selfish.
Stopping him would be cruel.
But what about her?
Did her feelings matter less just because they weren't grand?
She swallowed those thoughts and smiled anyway.
"That's great," she said. "You've been talking about becoming a mage forever. It's finally happening."
They moved to sit by the window, the awkwardness fading into something more comfortable. Iris began talking about her trip, animated hands describing the bustling market, the strange foods her grandmother insisted on trying, the way she nearly tripped over a basket of apples while bargaining.
Voren listened, smiling.
He had heard this story before.
Every word.
Every detail.
But it didn't feel old.
It felt precious.
At some point, Iris reached into the small satchel she carried and pulled something out.
"I almost forgot," she said, holding it out to him.
It was a pendant.
Simple. Modest. A small piece of polished metal with two names engraved on it, carefully etched by hand.
Voren Kaleid.
Iris Vale.
She watched his face nervously. "I saw it at the market and thought of you. It's not expensive or anything, but…"
He took it gently.
His fingers closed around it, warmth spreading through his chest.
He remembered this moment.
He remembered accepting it the first time.
But this time, it felt new again.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I love it."
Her shoulders relaxed, relief washing over her face. "I'm glad."
She smiled, then looked at him seriously.
"No matter what the world throws at us," Iris said, voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes, "we'll always be friends. We'll always be there for each other."
Voren clenched the pendant in his hand.
This time, he believed it more than ever.