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Seeing her cry, I panicked. The usually mature, steady, and graceful Himeko was now crying before me like a wronged little girl; the impact was too much. "Of course not! How could I hate you, Himeko!" I waved my hands frantically, explaining incoherently. "You're so mature and beautiful, with such a great figure... any man would like you! I... I just thought... it was a bit sudden..."
Hearing this, Himeko's crying seemed to lessen, but the tears still wouldn't stop. She looked at me with hazy, drunken eyes and asked in a low voice: "Then... can you... chat with me for a bit?"
"Of course," I agreed without hesitation. I helped her sit properly on the edge of the bed and sat beside her, maintaining a little distance.
"I..." Himeko bowed her head, her voice carrying a hint of melancholy and self-deprecation. "Me... it seems since I stepped on this Express in my teens, I've never left... my whole youth seems to have been tied to these cold star rails and this ever-moving train..." She paused, her tone even lower. "On the Express... although there are excellent men like Dan Heng and Mr. Welt... but..." She gave a bitter smile. "Dan Heng is a Vidyadhara; they don't seem to have the capacity for reproduction and care little for matters of love. Mr. Welt... he's a very, very good person, but before he boarded the Express, he was already married. I can't exactly..."
"Without realizing it... I... am almost thirty..." Her voice carried a hint of disbelief. "You might not believe it if I said it... I've actually... never had a proper romantic relationship..." At the end, she seemed unable to suppress the bitterness and sorrow anymore and began crying heartrendingly again, her shoulders shaking, tears wetting the front of her clothes.
Looking at the woman before me—no longer the fearless Navigator, but just a fragile woman pouring her heart out under the influence of alcohol, crying for her lost youth and lonely reality—it felt as though something had pierced my heart. It turned out that beneath her mature and reliable exterior, she hid such loneliness and vulnerability. A strong protective urge and sense of pity surged within me.
I no longer hesitated and reached out to pull her soft, warm body into a gentle embrace. "Himeko..." I rested my chin on her soft, alcohol-scented hair and said as gently as possible, "From now on... just come to me. Whenever you need, I'll always be there for you."
The crying in my arms gradually stopped. After a while, Himeko lifted her tear-stained face and looked at me with misty eyes. Suddenly, she broke into a smile—one of heart-stirring beauty. "Trailblazer... you're truly gentle..." she said with a thick voice, though her voice was clearer than before, and a spark returned to her eyes. Then, before I could say anything, she leaned in again and pressed her lips—still marked with tears and alcohol—against mine.
This time, I didn't push her away. Perhaps I was moved by her tears and vulnerability, or perhaps I was drawn to her beauty, which was like a clearing after a storm. Or perhaps... I simply couldn't resist this invitation from a mature woman, thick with drunkenness and dependence. I closed my eyes, tightened my arms, and pulled her deeper into my embrace, responding passionately to her kiss. Our lips and tongues tangled once more—this time without hesitation or worry, only a rising heat of intense, alcohol-infused emotion.
The kiss with Himeko was deep and consuming from the start. Her lips, warm and plush from the alcohol, pressed firmly against mine, parting almost immediately to allow her tongue to slip inside with surprising hunger. I met her eagerly, our tongues sliding and curling together in slow, wet circles that grew faster and more desperate. I sucked gently on her tongue, tasting the sweet-cocktail residue and her own rich, mature flavor, while she moaned softly into my mouth, the vibration traveling straight to my core. Our saliva mixed freely, creating wet, obscene sounds as we kissed for long, breathless minutes—lips nibbling, tongues dancing, occasional light bites on her lower lip that made her gasp and press even harder against me. The kiss left both of us panting when we finally broke apart, thick strings of saliva connecting our mouths until they broke.
This kiss felt entirely different from March 7th's green, tentative first kiss. Himeko's lips were soft and warm, possessing the full elasticity unique to a mature woman, and were laced with a strong scent of alcohol and her unique fragrance—a mix of high-end perfume and the mellow aroma of coffee. This complex scent wasn't off-putting; rather, it acted as a catalyst, instantly igniting the fire within me. She kissed hotly and proactively, even with a sense of reckless abandon from the alcohol. Her tongue was nimble, almost aggressively entering my mouth, tangling and chasing my own. I could clearly taste the sweet remnant of the cocktail in her mouth, mixed with her warm, moist saliva, flowing into my mouth with every tangle. This near-domineering demand and sharing left me a bit caught off guard, yet I was intoxicated by it, nearly suffocating in this whirlpool of alcohol and hormones.
As the kiss deepened, Himeko's soft body pressed even closer. Through our clothes, I could clearly feel her staggering fullness—plump and elastic—pressing tightly against my chest, rubbing slightly with the tangle of our tongues and the rhythm of our breathing. This drunken, unreserved closeness and the stimulation from that soft touch made the last string of my reason snap. A heat I couldn't suppress surged from my lower abdomen; my body had an honest, hard, and hot reaction.