Chapter 59: The Most Complicated Woman 1
Behind Kael, Seraphina sat perfectly still. She probably hadn't even noticed him. At any other time, her sharp instincts would've sensed his presence—but not now. It was as if her senses had shut down. Her gloved fists clenched a little tighter as the silence pressed in around her.
The sky had long given up its color. The sun had sunk long ago, leaving behind a quiet indigo night. The trees around her barely moved, their branches frozen in the still air, and the lamp above the empty park flickered faintly, casting uneven light over the bench.
Seraphina was alone. Her hands rested on her lap, fingers loosely entwined. She didn't move. She didn't blink much either.
The world continued around her, distant—like a dream she didn't want to remember. Then a whisper, soft and ghostlike, brushed past her ear.
"Darling..."
Her head turned—sharply at first, then slowly. As her gaze swept across the area, the only thing in sight was the empty stone path a few meters away. Other than that—no one. Nothing. Only the faint creak of branches above.
She stayed still for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, lips parting just a little in thought. Her gaze returned back to her lap.
"Darling, don't ignore me like that…"
The voice again—tender, dramatic, playful—warm like a fading ember. Her head turned the other way this time. Still nothing.
"Tch. Great, now I'm hearing things," she thought, annoyed.
A long silence followed. Even the night seemed to hold its breath.
"No use looking around. You won't find me, darling." His voice came again, now more relaxed, amused. "I'm not standing behind you or anywhere near. I'm speaking from a little closer than that... Guess where?" He paused, then added with a smirk, "From your heart, of course."
It was then that she finally realized—she hadn't just been hearing things. He was actually there. Maybe beside her, maybe behind her—but definitely there. It was obvious. Yet, she didn't respond to his words. Not because she couldn't, but because she chose not to.
"Don't think I'm some kind of ghost, okay?"
A chuckle followed. "I mean, not yet."
Then... movement. Just barely out of focus. Behind her, near the edge of the clearing, a figure leaned casually against a tree—the same one whose branches stretched above her. One leg was bent, foot pressed against the trunk, hands tucked lazily into his pockets. His head tilted slightly back, resting against the bark. Though his gaze was fixed on the sky, a small, knowing smile played on his lips. As the wind arrived, the hair that clung to his face fluttered slightly.
"What are you doing here?" she asked suddenly, flatly. There was no emotion, no warmth in her voice—only cold, tired curiosity.
"Can't you see, Sweetheart?" His voice dropped theatrically. "I'm trying to reach your heart. But it's so icy, so slippery—I keep sliding off every time I try to climb."
He paused for a moment, then grinned—dramatically.
"It's really not fair, you know. I risk internal frostbite for you. The least you could do is build some stairs in your heart so I can climb up more easily."
She blinked slowly. Barely amused.
"Idiot," she murmured under her breath.
Though she whispered the words, he still heard her. "Yes, yes, I am," Kael said proudly. "But I'm your idiot, Honey." His tone turned softer. "Now, tell me... why do you look so off tonight? Sitting here like the world doesn't exist... clenching your fists like you're holding it all in."
A small twitch of her jaw. Barely noticeable.
"Nothing." Her voice even colder than usual. "I was just tired. Thought I'd rest for a bit."
Kael clicked his tongue dramatically. "Liar."
She didn't flinch—not even a little. But something about her voice had changed. Still, when she replied, her expression gave nothing away—was it annoyance or anger? No one could tell. "I'm not lying. You're making things up again. Not everyone who sits on a bench is heartbroken, you know?"
He tilted his head slightly, letting the moonlight graze his cheek slightly.
"Mmm… then explain your voice, Darling." He straightened his posture, though now he simply stood still. "It used to be sharp as winter steel. Now it sounds like shattered glass. You say 'nothing' but it trembles. It's not like you at all, you know?" He turned slowly, taking one step, then another—each movement deliberate, as if time itself had slowed to match his pace.
Behind her bench stood another, silent and waiting. Between the two, trees and plants formed a living wall, and he moved toward it quietly.
Her fists clenched a little tighter, but her voice stayed calm. "Stop being so pushy, Kael. I'm telling you, it's not like that. I'm just tired from work—nothing more."
He stopped in the end of the bench and turned toward the tree. She couldn't see him—he was behind her now—but she could feel his presence hanging in the air. Then he exhaled, a slow breath that lingered in the cold like a ghost.
"Seraphina," he whispered her name gently. He had said it many times before, but this time, it was different. "You know I'm not always dramatic, right? Okay, maybe ninety-nine percent. But the other one percent—I mean it when I say… if there's something you want to say, say it. I'm not here to mock you. I swear."
"Didn't I already say it's nothing?" she snapped, her voice sharper now.
"And I'm not leaving until you talk to me, sweetheart." His voice lowered, heavier this time. "I'm your husband, aren't I? So tell me—what's the point of being one if I can't even be here when my wife needs me?"
She lifted her head sharply, eyes locked on the distance—as if her gaze alone could cut through the air and stab him, even without meeting his. "You're not my husband. And I'm not your wife."
"Okay, okay…" He gave a small smile. "Then I'm your wife, and you're my husband. Does that work?"
She didn't respond to the question. Her cold gaze stayed fixed on the distance, but something flickered across her face—gone in an instant. A silence stretched between them — not empty, but dense, as if something unspoken hung heavy in the air. Then, slowly, her lips parted and curved into a soft smile. Maybe it was genuine… or maybe not.
But Kael didn't even realize she had smiled — not even a little. His thoughts and gaze were elsewhere. He was still focused on trying to get her to speak. As he walked back toward the tree once more.
After a moment of searching for the right words, Kael gently brought his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. "Well, darling… do you want to relax your mind?" he asked, a small grin on his face.
"My mind is already relaxed," she replied, voice cool and composed.
He nodded slowly, undeterred, his tone turning theatrically accusatory. "Lying again, huh? Come now, just be honest, sweetheart. If you really want to relax your mind, there are plenty of ways to do that, you know… but among them all, I've discovered the greatest one. Want to know what it is?"
He paused, waiting—but she didn't answer.
"Would you like to sleep in my lap?" he asked suddenly, his voice soft—strangely sincere—though a playful grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
There was a pause. His words lingered in the air, as if the silence itself repeated them. Seraphina blinked slowly, her expression still unreadable.
"…Huh?" she muttered, not looking at anything. Her tone was flat, dry—like she was pretending she hadn't heard him at all.
"I'm saying," he repeated, dragging out the words with exaggerated patience, "if you're interested, you can rest a bit. In my lap. It might help calm you down. No pressure. Just silence and peace, I swear."
"Your lap, huh?" she echoed in a near-whisper. Then, after a beat, she closed her eyes briefly. "Hmm… tempting… but the bench feels far more comfortable than you ever will be. It's hard and cold, sure… but at least it doesn't talk."
Kael let out a quiet breath of amusement, lips twitching into a smirk. "I see," he murmured. "Then you're a fool. Passing up the once-in-a-lifetime chance to sleep on the lap of the one and only Kael… tsk, tsk."
"…And who the hell is he?" she asked, still not opening her eyes.
He gasped—mock horror in every breath.
"You mean to tell me you've never heard of him? He's famous across all of Velhart. Whispered about in dark taverns… sung of in drunken lullabies…"
She cracked one eye open, unimpressed.
"…Known as the—wait for it—'Weakest Adventurer in Velhart.'"
Seraphina sighed. A long, weary sigh that felt like it came from the depths of her soul. "That lame title again," she muttered, her voice dropping. "What a disgrace."
He clicked his tongue and winced, hand to his chest. ""Oof. Harsh. Cold as always, Captain."
"Better cold than pathetic," she murmured. After a pause, she added, "At least I don't introduce myself with failure as a badge of honor."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong." Kael paused in front of the bench and dropped onto it, letting his elbows rest on its backrest, legs slightly parted.
"Am I?" she asked suddenly.
"Yes, you're." His grin faded, just a little. His voice dropped—quieter now, more sincere, almost like he forgot he was trying to be dramatic. "We, the weakest…" he began, slowly, "must always stand back up."
He paused. As he slowly reached forward, the wind carried his hands—and with it, a single leaf floated down like snowfall. It landed softly in his palm. He stared at it for a quiet moment before continuing. "Let the strong people swing their swords, show off their glowing powers, summon lightning wolves or whatever. Fine. But us weak ones?"
He turned the leaf slowly between his fingers, studying it in silence—each movement precise, almost as if he were handling a weapon. His gray eyes turned cold—dark and sharp, like steel. A smirk crept across his face, not dramatic, but cold and controlled. Then, with a sudden flick of his hand, he tore the leaf apart. "We exist too, you know. We're the reason they look strong."
He paused as his voice coming back, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. "...I mean, if everyone were strong, nobody would stand out, right? Somebody's gotta be at the bottom so the top looks higher."
Seraphina tilted her head, expression unreadable, voice cold. "So you're saying your weakness has value now?"
"Exactly!" he said, snapping his fingers. "I'm essential. Like a baseline for failure."
"Interesting theory," she said flatly. "But failure dressed up in purpose is still failure."
"Oh, please," Kael rolled his eyes. "I'm not a failure. I'm just… plot development. Character growth fodder. The moral support guy. You know the type—since you read so much, I'm sure you've seen them. The so-called background character. Every great story needs at least one guy who keeps getting beat up but keeps showing up. That's me. I'm inspirational, dammit."
She didn't say anything, but Kael kept going. "We weak... we don't run away. We can't afford to. We stay. We suffer. We stand back up, no matter how many times we fall."
Then after a small pause, he smiled to himself, a little crooked. "...Well, most of us don't run. I do. Occasionally. Strategically. You know, for safety purposes. Usually when swords are involved. Or fire. Or screaming goblins. Or—oh, there was that one time an orc chased me through the entire forest... Long story."
"Call it what you want. At the end of the day, you still run," she replied, her voice laced with cold disdain.
Kael shrugged. "But I like to think of it as… intelligent retreating. But even when I run, I come back. Eventually. Late. Slightly injured. But hey—back. That's what matters."
"Aha..." she muttered, and said nothing more.
He had expected a few more words from her, but she didn't respond. He thought about staying quiet a little longer. Maybe that would be easier. But after a moment, he rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his pants in a distracted motion.
Then, without thinking, he began to pace. Slow steps at first—back and forth, just a few feet each way. The silence pressed in, heavier with each pass, like it was watching him, waiting for something.
He didn't know why it unsettled him so much. Why he felt the need to speak again. To say something. To her. He just… did.
There was no clear reason, no words forming in his mind, only the quiet tug of an urge he didn't quite understand.
After a few more turns, he returned to the tree and leaned against it once more. This time, he crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes fall shut.
Maybe if he focused, the feeling would pass. Maybe a thought would come. Anything. Something.
But as the silence stretched on between them, his unease grew stronger. In the end, he couldn't bear it any longer and had to say something—anything—to her. His voice was low at first as he finally spoke. "Seraphina…"
No response.
He tilted his head. Maybe she didn't hear. Or maybe she just didn't care.
He tried again, this time leaning back at the tree a little, his voice more deliberate. "Seraphina… hey, Seraphina."
She finally turned her head a fraction, her voice cold, sharp. "What now?"
Kael smiled slightly. That frosty tone of hers — strangely familiar. He didn't know why, but even though the silence unsettled him, hearing her voice somehow steadied his heart. "There's something I've been thinking about asking you. For days, actually. But I never got the chance. And, well, you seem… sad. So, I was wondering…" He paused, let a dramatic grin crawl across his lips, "Can I take advantage of your sadness?"
Seraphina's head tilted slightly, just enough to show confusion or maybe disbelief. "…What?"
"Well," he said, shrugging, "I've heard this psychological fact about womens…"
She rolled her eyes the moment he said "psychological fact," but he kept going.
"When a woman says yes, it apparently means no. And when she says no, it means yes." He grinned. "I mean, it's not like I had any other women around to confirm it, so I figured… why not ask you?"
Seraphina's brows twitched slightly. Still, she remained silent. But then—finally—she lifted her head, her expression filled with sheer disbelief. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth parted slightly in irritation.
"…Where the hell did you hear that bullshit logic?"
Kael leaned back dramatically, "Hm… I think I overheard an adventurer say it. Not that long ago. That's why I'm so interested. You know, research purposes."
Then he smirked to himself. "That's a lie, of course. I made it up just now."
Seraphina exhaled hard through her nose and looked away again. "I guess they were brainless like you. I expected a little better from you… but you disappointed me."
Kael blinked. At first, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he turned and peeked around the tree, just enough to catch a glimpse of her. "Whoa, hold on. What kind of disappointment are we talking about? And hey — don't dodge the question! Just answer me. I'm genuinely curious. Like, really curious."
Before she could speak — not that she was going to — he raised a hand as if cutting her off preemptively. "And if you're about to ask why I'm asking this… I'll answer first: Isn't it obvious? You always say 'no' to everything. So if this… fact is right, that means you've been secretly saying 'yes' to everything this whole time. Think about it." He winked.
She stared forward again, expression unreadable, though her jaw tensed slightly.
"Is he really trying to make sense of that nonsense? Does he really thinks this would work on me? What an absolute airhead…" She bit the inside of her cheek.
Kael, meanwhile, was fidgeting again. Rocking on his boots like a child waiting for attention. "Why are you ignoring me?" he whined. "Just say something! Come on!"
Still nothing.
"Heyyyy!" he shouted suddenly, voice louder than it needed to be.
Seraphina finally turned to him in an instant, her blue eyes narrowed and cold, her voice sharp and cutting. "Do you want someone to find us here? If you keep yelling like that, we will get attention. I know this spot's quiet, but it's not invisible. If anyone sees us together—have you thought about the consequences at all?" She exhaled sharply, her breath misting. "Oh. Wait. Of course you haven't. You never do. So please, I'm begging you—shut up."
Kael scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Oh~ yeah, my bad. You're right, I don't really think about consequences at all."
He moved to the other side of the tree—not behind it, but off to one side, where he could sneak a glimpse of her again. Then he let out a quiet sigh.
"Anyway… why are you even here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be home already? Go make dinner. If you're late, it only wastes my time. I'll have to wait, and I'm already feeling hungry. So just go home and make dinner."
Kael tilted his head, gazing at her like she was a puzzle he never quite solved. "Nope. Not going home."
She didn't respond. But he kept going, leaning a little to the tree, voice quieter now — softer.
"I'm staying. Doesn't matter what you say. I'll stay right here… just in case your heart slips and lets something out."
Her fingers clenched slightly in her lap. Her voice cold. "You do realize I don't want you here, right?"
He blinked slowly, eyes fixed on the shadows dancing like ghosts in the distance. "I do. But does it really matter?" he murmured. "You know, sometimes, silence speaks louder than words ever could. The heart's most painful cry is often the one it hides behind quiet. Maybe that's why you're so silent now—because the noise inside is just too much to put into words."
She didn't reply, but her fingers twitched in her lap—subtle, involuntary. Maybe because he was right. Maybe because the truth stung. But all she did was tighten her expression, as if bracing herself against it.
"Honestly," he said gently, "I'm not going to force you to talk about what made you like this anymore. It's up to you now. If you ever want to talk, I'll be here. If it's later, that's fine. If you need to wake me in the middle of the night just to talk, that's fine too. I'll still listen."
He gave her a faint, almost wistful smile.
"Just… don't keep acting like this. It doesn't suit you. Your coldness and anger—they used to define you. But now, the way you're speaking… it feels like you're trying too hard to sound okay, and it's not working. And sitting here, like the world doesn't exist, staring into nothing—that's not the Seraphina I know."
He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. Then he added:
"The Seraphina I know would've picked up her sword and trained until the thoughts got too tired to chase her."
She heard every word. At first, she didn't move. Not even a breath stirred her stillness.
Seconds passed.
Then—slowly, almost reluctantly—she lifted her chin toward the sky. Her hands shifted to the edge of the bench, gloved fingers curling into a tight grip.
The night breeze slipped through, gentle but persistent. Strands of hair, loosened by its touch, fell from her shoulder and clung to her face in quiet disarray.
Leaves swirled around her, caught in the restless wind, but she remained still. As the gust softened, a sigh escaped her lips—soft, weary.
With it, a faint wisp of mist, pale and smoke-like, curled into the air. It lingered for a heartbeat, then faded into the night.
And in a voice so soft it almost dissolved into the silence, she whispered, "Do you love me, Kael?"
Her voice cracked slightly at the end. Just enough to reveal what she had tried to hide.
Kael froze.
Of all the things he thought she might say, 'Do you think you know me better than I know myself?'. But she did something else, something he would never expected from her mouth. It struck him like lightning in a clear sky—sudden, jarring, and disarmingly honest.
She didn't even give him space to retreat into silence. Her eyes stayed on the sky as she continued, calm but firm.
"Don't act dramatic," she said, her voice steadier now, though still quiet. "I just need an answer—from your heart. No pretense. No hesitation. Just tell me the truth." As she finished speaking, her voice wavered slightly at the end. Silvery strands of hair curled around her face, as if trying to hide the expression she couldn't.
The night was thick around them. The stars shimmered like distant lanterns above, and a hush settled on the world, as if nature itself waited for his answer.
Kael looked at her—but not fully. His eyes hovered, then dropped. He inhaled, as though something heavy had lodged in his chest. And when he finally spoke, the softness in his voice had vanished.
"I don't, Seraphina," he said, gaze turning distant—cold. "I don't love you."
She laughed—but it was empty. A short, bitter sound that slipped out before she could stop it.
"I figured," she murmured.
Silence wrapped around them again. Not uncomfortable. Just… hollow. Heavy with everything left unsaid.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke again. Slower this time. Gentler.
"But if I'm being honest… I do think of you as someone special. Maybe even more than that. Someone like family. Or… someone I could spend a lifetime beside. Not in passion or fire—but in peace."
He stopped, choosing his words with care.
"You know this already, right? I never had a real family. Grew up in an orphanage… I never really understood what having one truly meant. Nor did I ever want to learn."
He looked over, but she was still watching the sky. Her expression still unreadable.
"But now… maybe because of you… I think I do understand a little. What it feels like. What it means to have a family. I don't know why you asked that question out of nowhere. Maybe you just needed to hear the truth."
A quiet breath passed between them.
"And the truth is—I don't feel that kind of love for you, Seraphina. I don't." He let the words rest there, simple and honest. "That's all I can say."
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(Chapter Ended)