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Like an elephant with its migration routes, Korin never forgot who stepped into the tiny indoor garden of the Mystical House, when they came, and how long they stayed. He simply preferred to avoid meaningless chit-chat while misting his quickvine arms, and that garden was the only place with a functioning nozzle.
More often than not he had to endure people’s less-than-desired remarks about his not-flesh arms, each one soaked with pity he almost threw up at the very notion.
(Once, someone had asked him, “Can you graft your hand with, say, a branch from a mango tree? Imagine how convenient it’d be to pick mangoes right off your arm and snack on the go?” He still thought about it sometimes. It was an incredibly stupid question, yet somehow it refused to leave his mind.)
The Wilders usually gathered in the mornings to tend the greenery, loud and easy to avoid. It made sense they’d seek solace in this place, even if it was a far cry from the Dark Forest. Some Lightbearers showed up around midday to tend their research samples. Graveborns rarely appeared, yet one who looked like an artist liked to hog the space for hours to paint. The Maulers mostly brawled elsewhere, but one seemed oddly invested in the medicinal herbs planted here. Interesting enough, but not Korin’s business.
They all had certain patterns easy to remember with a very minimal deviation. Yet the owner of the house seemed to have no pattern attached to her. She came and went as she pleases, understandable given it was her place to begin with. But she was the only variable he was never able to account for, and the unpredictability unsettled him albeit only for a little bit.
It wasn’t that Korin was ungrateful for the solace she’d offered to all of them, it was just that he couldn’t understand her. For him, the best way to handle something you don’t understand was to avoid it, especially since there was no benefit in trying.
Putting his thoughts aside, he walked purposefully towards the secluded room while hoping it’d be empty. No use worrying about things that might not happen and his arms were in dire need of misting.
No noise, good.
He went in already knowing what to do. Korin moved with precision, in a way that the next user of this room wouldn’t even notice a thing, as if not a single item moved nor a strand of hair left behind. The man opened the door very carefully and it barely creaked . He expected solitude and peace while doing just what had to be done. Nothing more, nothing less.
But alas, the dreaded had come to fruition.
Dura above. Anyone but her.
He stopped dead in his tracks upon the sight of her with the stupid misting nozzle in her hand. When their eyes met, hers lit up way more than enough to brighten up the entire room. There it was again: that look that might have meant something . Korin didn’t dare to put a name to it yet, and hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that.
“I knew you’d come eventually!” Accompanied by her smile, she extended her hand, gesturing for him to come closer. “You always pick odd hours, I see.”
To avoid people and you , first and foremost . Though he kept that to himself.
“Merlin,” he acknowledged her presence as civilly as he could manage. The veteran promptly turned on his heel and walked away from the chaos he was about to step into.
“Good day.”
“Wait!”
Perhaps a little bit of him did want to see where this would lead all the way through the very end. And so, he chose to give her a chance.
“Don’t you need to tend to your arms? Isn’t that what you do?”
“Can come back when you’re done with the nozzle.”
“Oh, I’m actually finished so you can use it now.”
Contrary to what she’d said, the misting nozzle remained cradled in her battle-worn hands. Merlin stood still, her head tilted in quiet expectation. She wasn’t asking outright but the way her palm opened toward him was crystal clear: she was waiting for him to make a choice.
“Please don’t tell me you’re about to ask what I think you’re going to ask.”
“Can I—”
“I can do it myself,” He’d always done this by himself, why would now be any different?
“I know you can, but would you let me?”
No hint of pity in her tone, that was at least one thing he appreciated. But something about the way her eyes lingered a second too long didn’t sit right with him. Korin wasn’t a fool, he could always tell when something was coming.
The man was no stranger to the concept of attraction. He'd had his share of quick, convenient fun back in the day. Temporary indulgences were quite common in the army though not spoken of so freely among soldiers, let alone the public. And the way Merlin looked at him echoed that, though not quite the same.
It was something else. Something more , something that he was not built for.
The silence stretched into what felt like an eternity until a sigh finally slipped past. Realization hit him like a bull as there was no talking his way out of this. Korin eventually relented, though he made it very clear he was displeased with the situation.
"Fine. Make it quick."
Hesitation weighed down his steps toward the mage who had waited so patiently. Slowly, with uncertainty, his arms eventually settled atop her palm. Her hands trembled just enough to betray how hard she was trying not to let her excitement spill over and drown them both.
There was no doubt she was carrying out the task with utmost care, but Korin wasn’t even watching what she was doing. It was the way her brows knitted, the faint twitch of her nose that caught his attention. Ridiculous, really, how she could do just about anything and made him drop his guard almost completely.
Dura be damned, he barely cared anymore whether she was misting his arms in the right spots.
“You pay too much attention to it.” Oh, now he was making small talk? Just to distract himself?
Outrageous.
Truly.
“Just spray the surface.”
“Mmm,” a quiet hum, followed by a quick glance up at him before she turned back to his prosthetics. Funny, the way he hadn’t noticed before just how cute she looked from this proximity. “Had to make sure everything was misted. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
A grunt. Whatever, really. It’s not like he was enjoying the way she held his arms anyway, nor the sweet tone of her voice, nor her delicate hands that were just too stubborn to let go of his. None of it meant anything.
Right?
Finally satisfied, she looked up at him with a small, warm smile settling on her face. The kind that made something in his chest curl and tighten until it hurt in a way he refused to understand. Korin berated himself for letting this happen, for letting himself to feel when he shouldn’t.
He had nothing to offer her in return.
“That should do it, right?”
“Yes,” followed by a barely audible thanks, but her ears perked up at it anyways.
Her hand didn’t linger, it stayed with no intention whatsoever of pulling away. The grip tightened in desperation as if afraid he might slip away. Perhaps keeping him there with her was enough, even if only for a moment longer.
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face and her mouth ran faster than her doubt could catch.
"Would you let me do this again? Only if you’d let me, of course."
The question slipped out almost like a promise: "Say, same time next week?”
That should have made him tense. Should have solidified his reasons for cutting this off. And yet, the pull of curiosity was undeniable. It made him think that someone like him was worthy to indulge in her offer.
(And for a second—just a second—he wanted to.)
But what came out of his mouth was the reply he had trained his mind to give. His expression hardened as he withdrew his prosthetic arms away from her.
"Do you take amusement in toying with people like me, Merlin?"
The way her breath hitched in an instant meant his words had landed harder than intended.
“I’m confused,” Merlin was stunned at how quickly things had taken a turn for the worse, “Have I—did I say something wrong?”
“Those words,” Korin faltered. He should’ve just walked out and let it go, yet a part of him desperately ached for confirmation. “You said such sweet words. Like you meant them.”
He was scared.
To want was to invite disappointment, and he’d learned not to chase.
Yet, she answered in a heartbeat. “I meant it.”
He knew , and the truth came down crashing like something too heavy, too unforgiving to hold.
“Save it for someone who’s actually worth it,” never in a million years would he entertain the idea. He didn’t dare.
“Not me, Merlin. I was never meant for something like that.”
“What—“
But Korin didn’t wait for her response as he walked away in a hurry, not even sparing a glance. A soldier was trained to know when to retreat, and this was one of those times. Whatever hope of him indulging in such feelings was promptly discarded, burned with every step he took.
The door remained open, yet Merlin couldn’t bring herself to catch up to him. It took what little was left of her just to stare at the space where he could’ve stayed, if he chose to.
Oh, if only he had chosen to.
Korin need not be there, the man had already chosen a path he knew best.
“The usual,” he muttered, voice rougher than usual.
The rowdy suspects rarely showed up when the moon barely shone, just dark enough to tempt a drink but not yet late enough for chaos. He knew exactly when to slip in before the noise arrived. Only the quiet ones were here, the kind he could tolerate after a glass or two. Yet even they kept their distance tonight.
The stench of his foul mood leaked and most people didn’t even dare to meet his gaze.
“Oh, hello, good sir!” Most people knew better than to greet Korin like that, but his fellow Lightbearer gave no fucks about it. Valen strolled up to him, a handsome grin stretched wide across his face.
The man talked like he’d never run out of topics. “Your mood seems worse than usual.”
“I’m not in the mood for your chit chat, Valen.”
“Well, you never were!” Valen was undeterred by the glare Korin shot his way, “Okay, okay, sorry! But it’s not good to brood by yourself, not when the stars shine so brightly out there!”
No reaction, just an exhale.
Dolly slid over a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Korin gave her the smallest nod, more acknowledgment than thanks. His tired eyes fixed on the glass like it might offer answers he wasn’t ready to swallow.
Suddenly, her eyes shot up at the knight, lips pursed together like she was trying to put two and two together: “Valen, is it…?”
“What? Oh—” Valen blinked at her, his brain processing everything at a rapid pace.
“Oh.”
“I think so,” Dolly mouthed vaguely, loud enough for Korin to catch, her brows lifted with urgency as she nudged Valen with her elbow. “Go ask him.”
Again, not his business. He didn’t want to know. Bars were bound to be full of meaningless gossip and this place was no exception.
Valen leaned in carefully toward the veteran who still hadn’t touched his whiskey. His voice was now cautious, meant only for the three of them. Dolly pretended she wasn’t part of the conversation as she polished already-clean glasses with a cloth.
“You know, we saw Merlin earlier.”
He squinted, already sure he wouldn't like where this was going: “So? Congratulations, I guess.”
“She asked for the strongest shot I had and said she was drinking her heartbreak away.” Dolly dropped the act eventually but her hand didn’t; she scrubbed the glass so hard it almost shattered in her grip.
“What did you do?”
“Slow down. What makes you so sure it was me?” The man was genuinely caught off-guard, trying to stay calm despite Dolly pressing him relentlessly, “This place and the entire city adores her. It could’ve been anyone.”
“Oh, we’d know it’s you.” A dismissive wave from Valen cut him off, he definitely not buying the deflection in the slightest: “You’d be surprised how often your name makes it into her daily vocabulary. Not just anyone’s name.”
Korin rolled his eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Korin said this, Korin did that. Did you know Korin typically shows up at the indoor garden at very odd hours?” That sing-song lilt took form in Valen's voice with a little too much accuracy for Korin's comfort, “That’s right. Now I know your schedule too, against my will, mind you! So yeah, we’d know.”
“What did you do?” Dolly repeated, her voice nearly a hiss, each word pressed with a strong emphasis.
He flinched. No talking his way out of this one yet again, funny that it had happened twice in a single day; he cursed his incredibly shitty luck. Unease slowly crawled up his throat and left it parched, and thus he downed the entire drink in one go, and let out an exhale loud enough to turn a few heads.
Korin relented, bitterness in his tone, but a surprising weight lifted off his shoulders the moment the words left him: “I said something I didn’t mean.”
The words hung between them longer than he liked. Dolly and Valen exchanged a look, way less sharp now dulled by the weight in Korin’s voice. Whatever they’d expected, it hadn’t been how much it cost him to admit vulnerability.
Valen didn’t let the silence linger, but his voice had softened, “Look, I don’t know exactly what happened… but maybe fixing it isn’t as complicated as it feels. Just say what you meant. That’s probably all she wants.”
“And what if it’s too late?”
His eyes found Valen’s. Exhausted, for sure, he’d rather be back on the battlefield than dealing with this: “What if going there only makes things worse? I'm just some old coot who can’t even speak straight when it matters.”
"Well," The barkeep didn’t cut him off this time, she was noticeably careful with her words now: "But drinking your guilt away is not going to fix anything, right?"
“When you get older, and when life stops filling you with hope every morning, you…” He glanced toward the corner of the room, eyes fixed on nothing. “You learn to retreat from the things you want. The things you could ruin just by hoping for them.”
But Korin wasn’t done, not with what he’d been holding back. His voice was low and quiet now: “I want, but that doesn’t mean I should. And in this case I’ve got nothing to offer her.”
A sigh escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut in a silent ache.
“I’m not what she deserves.”
Now it was Valen who sighed, this wasn’t how he thought the night would go. He’d always known the older man carried more than he let on, but that didn’t mean he should be denied the chance to want something.
“You don’t get to decide what she deserves,” Valen said quietly. “You only get to decide if you mean what you say, and let her decide the rest.”
Korin recognized it for what it was: not pity nor a lecture. He was mature enough to bite back the sarcastic reply that hovered in his head.
“Talk to her,” Dolly added, pouring another into the glass waiting on the table. “You’re an adult. So is she. Have a little faith will ya?”
She nudged the glass toward him, perhaps a bit of liquid courage was what he needed after all.
“She’s down by the docks,” it sounded almost like a gentle reminder. “You know which one.”
Her words held him like reassurance, and he downed the newly poured whiskey in one go. He did need the liquid courage now that he’d made up his mind to talk to her. Perhaps Valen and Dolly were right that it was never his place to decide what she deserved. And perhaps he was done pretending he didn’t want her.
Was he really meant to keep denying himself the things he longed for?
The thought of Merlin slipping away settled heavy in his chest. He couldn’t bear the idea of that, not when he finally understood just how much he wanted to be with her.
And so Korin stood up abruptly. “I’ll get some fresh air.”
There was a pause, long enough for Dolly to line up her shot, her tone unmistakably teasing the older man now: “Lovely night for dock air!”
“I’m not going to visit her,” he added quickly though his feet were already moving one step closer to the docks.
“Of course not.”
Valen raised a brow and silently offered Dolly his hand, which she slapped with a victorious grin. “Do pass by the docks while you’re not visiting her!”
While Korin turned just enough to glare over his shoulder, wincing at the way they were already celebrating. “You’re both insufferable. Do you know that?”
He didn’t bother waiting for their reply as he swung the door open with more force than necessary, a burst of motion he could hardly control. His feet carried him forward yet his chest clenched with hesitation. He was the one who had left her. And now, he was crawling back with nothing but the wreckage of himself.
How would she even look at him?
There was a non-zero chance he’d only make it worse. But he shook his head—he’d made his choice. He couldn’t lose her just because he hadn’t said the things he meant.
It didn’t take long to reach the small docks near the house. The air felt colder here, the creak of boats accompanying him like a chorus of doubt.
And then he saw her. Dolly had been right, no doubt about it. Merlin lay near the edge of the dock as her legs dangling over the water, feet idly swinging. Her face was tilted to the sky as if the stars were whispering something only she could hear. Korin followed her gaze upward for a moment. Valen hadn’t been exaggerating either—the stars really were exceptional tonight, scattered like distant prayers, and he could only hope it was a good omen. Or maybe they were just watching. Korin didn’t mind either way.
He stepped closer, though his boots hadn’t yet touched the worn planks. That’s when he heard the soft sniffles coming from her. And it broke him knowing he was probably the reason for them.
Korin was only a few steps away now. Just a little farther and he’d be at her side, ready to try and make things right.
He announced his presence with a question. “May I sit with you?”
“Oh, great! Of all people—”
Merlin jerked upright so fast from where she’d been lying that her balance betrayed her. A sharp gasp escaped as her arms flailed. The edge of the dock suddenly became too close and the water too eager to welcome her in its embrace.
She managed only a single word as her eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck!”
Korin lunged without thinking, thankfully years of instinct honed on the battlefield snapping into place. His hand caught her arm just as she tipped toward the water, and with one swift, desperate pull, he yanked her back. They landed hard with a thud against the dock with him sitting, Merlin half-collapsed into his chest, one of her legs still dangling over the edge like a ghost of what almost happened.
“You’re here.”
He murmured, holding her close but careful not to cross any boundaries they hadn’t yet defined. And there she was: breathless, shaken, but dry. Except for her red eyes and lashes still wet with tears.She clutched his back, fingers digging into muscle, her heartbeat wild against his ribs.
Dura be damned, it felt so good to be in his embrace—she wished she could stay like this forever. He smelled faintly of sandalwood and something warm beneath it. It grounded her, lulled her into an aching calm.
And then, quieter still, he hesitantly patted her head and added, “You’re safe.”
“I was not about to drown in front of you,” she muttered. “That’d be so… embarrassing.”
He looked down at her, his hand remained steady on her back, “If you had, I’d have followed you in. No hesitation there.”
“I should be angry at you, you know?”
Merlin pulled away, careful this time, not to tumble toward the water again. The subtle shift in distance made his heart ache.
“Earlier today, you made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me. And yet, now—” She broke off, her eyes darting anywhere but him. Her voice wavered before she continued, “You’re here now. Holding me. Saying things I used to dream of hearing. What exactly do you want from me, Korin?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
He began, only to stop short as he swallowed hard. The voice in his head screamed not to mess this up, growing louder with every second that passed. He tried again, he wasn’t going to run this time. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
“You think I’m playing games,” anger flaring in her voice. “Like I don’t know what I want.”
His reply came too fast, too unfiltered. “Can you blame me? I couldn’t make sense of it! How could someone like you look at me like that?”
“But I do!”
Frustration spilled from between her lips, practically begging him to understand. Then, softer, the crack in her being almost audible: “I do look at you like that.”
He just stared at her, every word he’d ever learned dissipating into thin air. It took a monumental effort just to let her know he’d known all along.
“I noticed.”
“Huh?”
“I think I’ve always known.” His tongue felt bitter. “I just didn’t let myself believe it. I couldn’t. Being wrong would’ve ruined me.”
“But you weren’t wrong,” she said, barely above a whisper, yet the world around them seemed to hush as Korin could only hear her.
Hope glimmered in her eyes: “Does that change anything, Korin?”
For the first time in his life, he let himself reach for something he’d always believed was beyond his clunky grasp. But this time, he dared himself to indulge.
She’d laid her heart bare. Now it was his turn.
“I want to stay.” A pause on his end. “If you’ll still have me.”
“Then stay,” she whispered way too eagerly, her voice trembling despite how steady she tried to sound. “But don’t—don’t say it if you’re going to leave me again.”
He didn’t flinch this time. The man reached for her hand, threading his quickvine fingers through hers, then pressed her palm to his chest to let her feel what she’d done to him. A man who should’ve outgrown this kind of giddiness was undone by the way she looked at him.
“I won’t.”
“I want to believe you,” she promptly replied. This time it was her turn to hesitate. “I really do.”
And Korin saw it. He noticed everything, he always had. The way her fingers curled when she was nervous. The way her gaze flicked to his mouth and darted away, like she wanted something she didn’t trust herself to ask for. She was holding back. After everything they’d said and hadn’t, he couldn’t blame her for being cautious.
But gods above, he wanted to close the space between them.
To prove it to her, one step at a time.
“I see it,” he said quietly. Not accusing, but merely teasing jabs. “Even when you try to hide it.”
She didn’t answer in words, but the blush that bloomed across her cheeks was so vivid, even the evening light couldn’t hide it.
“A question for you, Merlin.”
One hand came to rest gently on her cheek. He tilted his head toward her, slowly, to give her every chance to pull away if she wanted.
“If I keep going, will you stop me?”
Her voice was the faintest whisper she’d ever spoken.
“No.”
And with that, the space between them vanished like it had never been there at all.
His lips brushing hers gently, with the kind of care meant for prayers to Dura. It was a simple one, soft and full of meaning—an ache laid to rest between their lips now finally unfolding as relief. Her hand grasped at his shoulders, grounding herself in the moment. And for a moment the world held still, even time paused to witness them. There were no grand promises being made, just the two of them: both riddled with flaws, choosing to be there, together.
She was the first to pull away, breathless, her heart still thundering from the thrill of it despite how brief it had been. She blinked up at him, and the look on his face was so impossibly tender it nearly undid her.
“You feel real,” she sighed, “I keep thinking I’ll wake up.”
“I’m right here.”
Korin leaned in again, because the first kiss hadn’t been enough. Not even close.
“Promise me you’ll stop me if it’s too much?”
She arched her brow, “Why, can’t get enough of me?”
“Mmm. Maybe.”
And then he kissed her again, deeper this time. She met him with equal fervor like they’d both been holding back for far too long. Neither of them gave a flying fuck who might see. His hand slid to the back of her neck, anchoring her to him like he couldn’t bear to let go, and of course she’d let him, she’d always dreamed of this for months now.
Korin kept going—he’d been biting back the urge to do so and now he wanted to devour her like the delicacy she was. His experience showed, guiding her into a kiss so deliberate, so undeniably hungry that she was gasping for air by the end of it.
Merlin pulled away yet again to catch a breather, her palms were still on his jaw, “Show off.”
“That was just the opening, just so you know.”
“Huh,” she chuckled, fingers threading through his hair now. “Cocky!”
Even he couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, you made me this way.”
“You haven’t answered me, you know.” Merlin nudged his cheek with her nose, playful now. “Will you let me tend to your arms, say, same time next week?”
The last time she’d asked him that, he’d stormed off as he was convinced she was toying with him. But now with her in his arms and her voice softer than he’d ever imagined, it felt different. It felt like the beginning of something he might actually look forward to.
Korin exhaled through his nose, almost like a laugh. Ridiculous, he thought, how easy it would be to say yes to anything she asked now.
And gods above, he wanted to give her everything: his time, his trust, the whole damn world if she asked. But they weren’t in a rush, were they? He chose to stay here, in this very moment with her, one step at a time.
“Yeah,” he said, voice certain now: “Same time next week.”