Chapter 51: Just For Today
The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains as Seraphina gently combed her silver hair in front of the mirror. She sat poised on a small, round chair that exuded quiet elegance. Her posture, graceful and composed, mirrored her noble bearing. The room around her was spacious, with a grand bed draped in velvet sheets at its center. Every piece of furniture reflected refined taste and aristocratic charm—undeniably hers. This was Seraphina's private room.
"All done," she said with a sigh as she stood up. "Now it's time to wake up that lazy husband of yours, Seraphina."
Silently, she made her way to Kael's room, the cool marble floor chilling her bare feet. She knocked once. No answer. Slowly, she pushed the door open and peeked inside.
But the room was empty. Aside from a few pieces of furniture and the bed, there was nothing else.
She narrowed her eyes at the messy bed sheets. "Not again…"
Then she walked over to the side of the bed, her movements calm and deliberate. With practiced care, she began smoothing out the rumpled sheet, each motion carried out with quiet elegance. When she was done, she let out a soft sigh.
"He didn't even bother to fix his bed," she murmured.
Then she descended the stairs, each step slow and deliberate. Her pale fingers brushed along the railing, the silence of the mansion wrapping around her like a second skin. Her voice, though quiet, was laced with irritation.
"He must've fallen asleep on the sofa again," she muttered. "Why does he always do that? He has a perfectly fine bed in his own room..."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, annoyance building.
"What if he catches a cold? The wind turns sharp at night... That idiot never learns."
As she reached the living room, her pace slowed. Her eyes scanned the plush, sofa.
Empty.
She tilted her head, silver strands falling over her shoulder. Then she blinked.
Still empty.
"...Huh?"
She walked a few steps closer, checking again—as if Kael might somehow appear if she looked hard enough. She glanced toward the dining table and the kitchen. Still, no one was there. The place was silent and empty. Her brows furrowed.
"He's not here... Not upstairs either. Don't tell me…"
Her thoughts spiraled quickly, cold logic giving way to rising irritation.
"Did he actually wake up before me? Is that even possible? Don't make me laugh. This is Kael. That lazy bastard would rather sleep face-down in the mud than wake up early to train."
She stood still for a moment, eyes narrowing as suspicion took root.
"…But what if he actually woke up early and started training?"
She shook her head and turned, lips tightening.
"Tch. Fine. I'll check. Not like I care or anything."
She made her way outside, stepping onto the stone path that led to the left side of the mansion. remained a deep navy, softly illuminating the stillness of early morning. The morning breeze brushed against her skin, stirring her long silver hair. The training ground lay just beyond the flower plants, quiet and still.
Her eyes darted around.
No one.
"Not here either…" she murmured, crossing her arms. Her voice dipped lower, colder. "That idiot better not have run off to avoid training. If he did…"
Her lips curled into a sharp smile.
"I'll break every bone in his body."
Suddenly—
"Hah... haah… wait… Darling—!"
She turned her head.
Kael came jogging from behind her, panting heavily. His hands dropped to his knees, body hunched over as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Haaah… Good… morning, honey," Kael wheezed, every syllable dragging as if wrung from his chest. A crooked grin tugged at his lips, hopeful… desperate.
Seraphina turned fully as the morning breeze stirred, lifting strands of her hair like whispers of silk. Her gaze was unreadable, her voice absent of thought. "Good morning," she replied.
Kael froze. His breath hitched. His eyes widened as though struck. Slowly, he rose from where he knelt, the movement almost reverent.
"…Wait," he breathed. "Hold on. Did you just…" He took a step closer, heart pounding against his ribs. "You replied. You replied to my greeting."
The words escaped like a gasp of wonder.
"You did, didn't you?" His voice cracked into a laugh, soft and amazed. "This isn't a dream, right? It's real—it has to be. You said it. You actually said it." He placed a hand over his chest, dramatic and trembling. "Good morning," he echoed her softly, like a sacred phrase. "It was beautiful. Like music. Like heaven opening its doors to—"
"Don't be stupid."
Seraphina's voice cut through him like ice. She stood still, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frigid disapproval. "I didn't say anything. You must be hearing things."
He blinked. "No… no, I swear you did—clear as day! Your voice was soft, but it was real. It was sweet and perfect and—please—say it again. Just once more. Please, darling… please."
"Shut up."
But Kael, unrelenting, pressed his hand harder against his heart, his eyes pleading. "Honey… please."
Seraphina's face twitched. Just a fraction. Her gaze shifted for an instant. A blush threatened beneath her cold exterior—but she smothered it quickly.
"Whatever," she muttered, rolling her eyes, her voice stiff. "Where have you been? I searched the entire mansion. Honestly… I thought you'd run off like a coward."
He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Training, obviously. Can't you tell? I'm all sweaty and out of breath. I told you I wouldn't slack off anymore, didn't I?"
She raised an eyebrow, silent. Her eyes drifted to him—not in a rush, but slowly, skeptically. As if trying to decide whether his words were worth believing.
Her gaze settled on his neck first—damp with sweat. Then it rose, slow and deliberate, to his jawline, where moisture glistened faintly. His face was flushed, his expression unsteady. His hands trembled at his sides, fingers twitching from spent effort.
His forehead was slick with sweat, and the strands of his usually messy brown hair—typically falling unevenly across his forehead, some dipping just above his gray eyes and curving toward his jaw near the ears, others crossing between them from either side—now clung to his skin, plastered down and partially covering his forehead.
Still, she said nothing for a moment. Just watched. Then, finally, her eyes met his.
A pause.
A breath.
"Well…" she murmured, her voice cool, unreadable. "You did good."
Another pause.
"I still don't trust you," she added, her tone flat, matter-of-fact. "But—" a slight shift in her stance, just barely — "I'll let it slide. Just for today."
He mentally exhaled. "That went way better than expected." Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he muttered aloud, "So cold… even after saying good morning… how could you be so cruel, my love?"
"Stop calling me that! I'm nothing to you."
He grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief as the thought ran through his head: "Okay, that was close. But the lie's holding… barely. She has no idea I skipped all her training. Haven't even slept yet. Still, I did promise I wouldn't slack off… Just for today," he reasoned. "I'll take it easy—make up for it later. Honestly, I deserve an award. Or a nap. Yeah… a nap sounds better."
Then she glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing like blades. "And don't fool yourself into thinking that 'Good morning' meant anything. It slipped out. Just empty manners. Nothing more."
He chuckled, defeated yet strangely satisfied. "Got it. 'Manners.' Sure, sure." Still, he couldn't help but think, "At least she admitted she said it."
She didn't reply; instead, she took a step toward him. Then another. Her pace was slow, deliberate—each movement seeming weighed by thought. Kael simply watched her approach, his eyes tracing the slender lines of her gown. The gown wrapped around her like a cocoon, soft and close, hiding every curve. It was as if she wasn't meant for anyone's eyes—just hidden, just hers, entirely private. As always, her walk was graceful—measured, almost rehearsed, like a dance meant only for him. When she finally stood before him, she paused.
"You can sleep now," she said flatly. Her voice carried a strange gentleness… one that didn't match her usual tone. Then, almost like it slipped out, she added, "But where did you sleep last night? On the sofa again, or in your room?"
He stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. "Sofa."
She sighed—long and sharp. "Seriously? Is there a room shortage in the mansion or something? Every time I tell you not to come into our room, you end up on the sofa anyway. Why?"
"Maybe I'm just deeply in love… with sofas. You ever think about that? The shape, the feel… unmatched." He steps forward slowly, eyes narrowed with a theatrical glint. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he lifts his hand to his chest, mock-wounded.
"But tell me—" He leaned in slightly. That small motion brought him close to her. His voice was low, coaxing. "Were you worried about me?"
He straightens, his gaze sweeping the open sky and earth below like a slow-moving spotlight. "Did you lie awake all night, staring at the ceiling—haunted by the ghost of my absence?"
He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance between them until only a feet remains. His hand rises, fingers splayed, as if painting the moment in the air. "Did the hours drag on—endless, silent, cruel—without the sound of my breath beside you?"
He clasps his hands behind his back, chin tilted just enough to feign noble tragedy.
"Were you tossing and turning, whispering my name into the dark... like some tragic heroine?"
Then, with sudden intensity, he leaned in—just a little too much. His eyes lifted, locking onto hers, the edges soft with something unspoken. A quiet breath of laughter escaped his lips. The space between them shrank, narrowing to a mere breath. She stood tall, unmoving, while he continued to close the distance.
Now, they stood so close—yet she said nothing.
He was now level with her chest, his presence brushing the edge of intimacy.
And even though he was only acting, the nearness made his heartbeat falter. This was a choice—deliberate, practiced.
But his heart didn't care if it was or not.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
It started beating fast—continuously, rhythmically—as his legs began to tremble slightly while he tried to steady himself. Then—
"Come now, be honest…" he said, his voice dropping just a little. "You missed me. Desperately, didn't you?"
Then the realization hit him. "What the hell am I doing? Getting this close to her...?
But yesterday—she did the same to me. So... maybe today it's my turn. Still, I need to be careful. If I somehow fall on her, I'm dead."
She shot him a glare—sharp enough to cut steel. Yet her heart fluttered, just a little. He stood so close that, even though she couldn't feel his breath through the fabric of her gown, it felt as if she could. That illusion alone was enough to steal a heartbeat. But her eyes remained cold, a perfect contrast to the stir within.
For a second, Kael actually flinched, feeling her cold glare not just in his chest, but deep in his bones. He took a step back, giving her space—because if he hadn't, she might've killed him with that glare alone.
"No," she said, her voice flat, brittle as frost. "Don't be ridiculous. I was better off without you. I slept just fine—easily, in fact. No disturbances. No need to keep my guard up. It was quiet. Peaceful."
But then his eyes shifted, and he threw his arms up in exaggerated disbelief, his voice rising in pitch—growing more theatrical with every word. "Wait—wait. Hold on. Are you telling me that for the past three years we've been sleeping together… you never let your guard down?"
He staggered backward, one hand flying to his chest in mock heartbreak, the other dragging down his face as if wiping away invisible tears.
"You can't be serious," he gasped, drawing out each syllable like an actor in his final scene. "Me? Me? I'm just a weak, lovable little adventurer! A sweetheart! A cinnamon roll!"
He gave a sniffle. Then another, louder, more pitiful. "You wound me, darling… I'll carry this betrayal with me to the grave. Right next to my dreams of being your favorite person."
Seraphina didn't blink. Didn't even twitch. She looked at him the way one might look at spoiled meat—disgust, with a touch of impatience.
"Do whatever you want," she said. Cold. Icy. Final. "It doesn't change the facts."
She turned away from him slightly, arms folding across her chest. Her posture was still and rigid, like a fortress wall.
"And it's not about you being weak or strong," she continued, tone suddenly clinical. "When someone sleeps, they become vulnerable. Most of their senses shut down. If someone touches them—or does anything else—they won't know until it's too late."
Her gaze slid back to him, steady and full of cold. "That's why I can't trust you. Not with that."
The words hit him like a slap, and Kael recoiled with a dramatic gasp, stumbling back a step.
"You… you…" His voice trembled, full of wounded betrayal. "You are a monster. How could you think like that? I'm just a foolish boy with a big heart! That's why you're doing this, isn't it? Because you know I'm too innocent for this cruel world!"
He sniffled again, louder this time. "Well fine then! I won't ever sleep near you again. Never! Not even if you beg me! Hmph!"
Her brow twitched. Just slightly. She opened her mouth, paused, and then—
A laugh. Dry. Low. A single breath of sound, humorless and brittle as dead leaves. "Too bad," she said, voice like a razor's edge. "I don't have my sword with me today."
His mouth opened, closed, then opened again like a fish flopping on dry land. "But… but you still have your lightning magic, don't you?" he whimpered, tone edging into desperate flattery. "Your sweet, sweet lightning magic…"
She smiled. Not kindly. Not fondly. It was a slow, sharp stretch of her lips, more like a predator baring its teeth.
"Want some?" she asked, voice almost playful, like a mother offering sweets laced with arsenic.
He yelped and threw his hands up. "No thanks!" he squeaked, stumbling backward so fast he nearly tripped over a root. "No need to share!"
She still wasn't done. Lifting her hands to chest level, she splayed her fingers slowly. Deliberately.
Zzt! Zzt!
Tiny sparks burst to life at her fingertips, snapping and curling like snakes made of lightning. Her eyes glittered with amusement now—cold, dangerous amusement.
"It's quite tasty," she murmured, letting the sparks dance across her knuckles. "Hurts just right. It'll make sure you feel everything."
"I'm good! Really! I swear!" He ducked behind the nearest tree, hugging it like it might offer protection from a thunderstorm wearing heels and judgment. "See? Look at me! Practicing safe distancing!"
She lowered her hands at last. The sparks faded, but her smirk lingered like a shadow. "Coward," she muttered under her breath.
Kael peeked out cautiously from behind the tree. "Say what you want, but cowards live longer."
"I married a child," she said flatly.
He stepped out from behind the tree, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulders with exaggerated flair. "Ahem... Correction—you married a gentleman."
"A gentleman?" She looked at him, deadpan. "You mean the one who hides behind trees? Or the one who nearly cried when I made him do push-ups yesterday?"
"I'm just a humble man," Kael said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "What more could you possibly want?" He shifted his hand to adjust his hair, trying—rather transparently—to play a part that didn't quite fit. "And despite everything, I remain a gentleman... and, if I may say so, a rather handsome one at that."
Seraphina gave him a long, unimpressed stare. The morning breeze tugged lightly at her silver hair, but her expression didn't move an inch.
"Lame," she said at last. "What kind of guy calls himself handsome?"
"You wound me, darling." Kael said, stumbling back like she'd stabbed him in the heart. "That was uncalled for. You didn't have to say it like that. I shall now commit suicide out of pure heartbreak."
"Go ahead," she replied coolly. A smile crept onto her lips, but it was crueler than comforting. "It'll save me from this nightmare of a marriage."
He raised an eyebrow, then placed the back of his hand on his forehead like a tragic actor on stage. "No, I refuse. If I die, you'll be left alone, and that would break your icy little heart."
"Don't worry," she said, flicking a strand of hair behind her shoulder. "I'd actually celebrate. Maybe even smile for once."
"I don't believe you." He turned away, arms crossed, looking toward the empty sky. "I can't die now. I must live… to annoy you another day."
"Tragic," she paused for a moment then added, "Truly."
"No, it's actually sweet," he said with a smirk. "You should be grateful—I'm not throwing myself off a cliff just for you."
"Unfortunately for you, I don't feel grateful at all. So do us both a favor—head to the mansion cliff and jump.
"Nope." he said coolly. "Not gonna happen."
Seraphina smiled—barely. It was so faint, it vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
Then, suddenly, her expression shifted.
Something unreadable passed over her face. A flicker. A thought. Maybe doubt. Maybe decision. She wasn't looking at him—just staring straight ahead, silent. Still.
Then, without warning, she spoke.
"There's…"
She bit her lower lip, arms folding tighter against her chest. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her sleeves, like she was holding herself together.
"There's something I want to tell you," she said—quickly, almost stumbling over the words. As if saying them too slow might stop her altogether.
Kael froze. He turned fully to face her, as if he hadn't expected anything like that. But then his eyes sharpened, locking onto hers.
That shift in her voice. The way her body tensed.
Something had changed.
He stared at her hands. Her face. Noticing the stillness, the tension. And then—
A grin tugged at the corners of his lips, spreading slowly like a sunrise. "Oh no… No, no, no… Don't tell me—don't you dare tell me—you're about to confess your undying love for me!"
He spun in place dramatically, cape-less but pretending he wore one anyway, fluffing the imaginary fabric with flair. "Wait! Let me prepare myself!" He reached into thin air, mimed adjusting an invisible tie, then clutched his chest like a swooning nobleman. "I'm not ready for this kind of emotional weight, Darling!"
She narrowed her eyes, fighting the urge to throw something at him. Her lips twitched, but she suppressed it, looking away as a soft hue of pink crept onto her cheeks.
"...I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath.
Kael blinked. He didn't catch it at first. "...Wait, what?"
Her eyes remained fixed on the ground. "I said I'm sorry, okay? Don't make me repeat it."
He stared at her, completely still as though something unnatural happened. "She apologized? Did that actually happen? But… for what?"
His thoughts spiraled for a moment before settling on a single realization. His eyes narrowed, catching the subtle movement of her fingers—so small, so delicate, it could barely be seen. And yet, his heart skipped a beat. The realization struck him.
"Damn… she's actually cute when she's like this. But if I'm being honest… 'cute' doesn't suit her."
He lifted a hand to his eyes, as if trying to wipe away a dream—or the lingering idea that the apology had been just that: a dream. But in the end, he told himself not to be so dramatic.
"For what?" he asked, quieter now.
Her fingers curled into small fists at her sides. "...Last night," she said slowly. "I—was just talking nonsense. I got angry over nothing. I know that. I thought about it afterward and... it didn't feel right. Not how I usually act, and not how I wanted to act." She paused, as if regretting even saying that much. "...That's all."
Kael gave a lazy shrug, his tone casual—but his eyes held something deeper. "Then you don't need to apologize. I'm not mad or anything. Not even a little." He paused, gaze lingering on her as a crooked smile played at his lips. "You're just... you. My cold-hearted, lovely Queen."
His voice dropped, quieter now—almost tender. "Though I have to admit... I'm shocked you actually apologized. Didn't think you had it in you."
He leaned back, letting out a soft chuckle that carried a hint of disbelief. "Looks like my icy honey is melting."
Then his smile faded into something more bittersweet. "Careful now... you're slipping, honey. You're slipping away." The final words lingered in the air, laced with teasing—his smile returning, softer now... and tinged with sadness.
Seraphina scoffed, turning away from him with a flick of her hair. "Whatever. I'm going to make breakfast." She paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder. "You should go take a bath—you look like a corpse."
"But... don't you have training this morning?" he called after her.
"Yes, I do. But judging by the bags under your eyes, you clearly need more sleep, don't you? It would feel wrong to let you rest on an empty stomach—especially after I said I'd make you breakfast every day. So don't act surprised when you find some leftovers. That's the best you're getting."
"Leftovers again?" he said. "But the way you said it... it almost sounds like you're actually making it for me."
She didn't reply and simply started walking. As she did, Kael stood there, grinning like an idiot. His heart thudded in his chest — maybe from the lack of sleep, or maybe from watching her like that. Just being herself.
He raised his arms to the navy sky, as if addressing the very heavens themselves, and cried out with passion: "Oh glorious morning sky! Bear witness to this divine miracle!" he cried out, spinning in place like an over-the-top stage actor. "My darling wife—yes, my wife—the one who claims to hate me—is skipping training… for me! She's going to make breakfast! For me! And yet—yet!—she says she can't stand me. Tell me, how does that make any sense?" He paused, then jabbed a finger toward the sky as if scolding it. "Isn't that madness? Hypocrisy? Emotional sabotage? I demand an explanation!"
Seraphina paused mid-step. Her fingers twitched at her side. She could've ignored him—pretended she hadn't heard a word. But she didn't. And the way he shouted like an idiot… if they were in a village, the entire place would've heard him. Then, slowly, she turned—not fully, just her face and shoulder angled slightly in his direction. A fleeting glance. A flicker of something unspoken. Nothing more.
But her eyes—those clear, glacier-blue eyes—something had changed. They weren't cold or sharp anymore. Something soft shimmered—vulnerable and transient. It was like when ice catches the sun... that kind of reflection. Fleeting, delicate.
The wind stirred, brushing past her like a breath. It caught her long silver hair, sending it flying—wild and weightless.
Strands curled around her face, dancing across her cheeks and lips, cloaking her in motion. As the sun rose, its golden light caught in her hair, making it shimmer like spun silver.
She raised a hand slowly, almost absently, fingers gathering the silken strands and gently tucking them behind her ear.
Her lips parted—not into a smirk. Not a chuckle. But something else. A quiet curve. It was sweet. Barely there.
Then—
She spoke.
Or at least, it seemed she did. Her voice was too soft to catch. Too quiet to hear. Like a whisper carried off before it could reach him.
The wind took it. Stole it. Left him with only silence.
And without another glance, Seraphina turned back around... and began walking forward. Each step she took echoed with the weight of something unspoken.
And Kael... he just stood there, staring at her back, listening to words he never truly heard. Everything had happened so quickly, he couldn't process it—not at first. He didn't know where to focus: on the way she looked, a part of the morning light and wind, or on the words she was saying.
He blinked, only then realizing he hadn't caught a single word."Huh? What? Wait—what was that? I didn't hear!"
He darted forward like a man chasing treasure. "Tell me! What did you just say? I wanna know now, darling!"
She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossing defensively. "Nothing. Just said you're brainless."
Kael recoiled as if struck. "Hey!" He clasped his hands together and gave her the saddest, most pathetic pout he could muster. "I'll cry, I swear!"
Seraphina sighed. "Why are you like this?" she asked, a slight pink tinge dusting her cheeks as she looked away. "Honestly. You're worse than a stubborn child."
Kael didn't reply this time. He walked beside her in sudden silence. Because, truthfully... he didn't know. Not why he acted the way he did. Not why she made him feel the way she did. Maybe—just for today—he could accept not knowing.
All he knew was that even in her coldness — or maybe because of it — just like that, she made his heart ache in the best way possible.
---
(Chapter Ended)